Chapter 112
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: Choice (2)
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Gerkken and I parted ways in the waiting area as we passed through the corridor.
I headed to the 3rd Sword attackers' waiting room, while Gerkken went to the 3rd Shield defenders' room.
The 3rd Sword attackers' waiting room was a bit cramped, but there were only about fifty people inside. They all sat there with tense expressions.
I plopped down in an empty seat. But then someone slid right up next to me.
"Are you out of your mind?"
It was Elise.
"?"
I stared at her, wondering why she was suddenly questioning my sanity. Elise nodded to herself as if it made perfect sense.
"Yeah, I guess you are. Why the hell did I give you that tier list?"
"...Are you the one who's sane? Talking to yourself."
Suddenly, Elise pulled out her tablet PC and shoved it toward me.
"Take a look. It's not like you can back out now anyway."
"What—"
"Gerkken's a left-handed swordsman. He favors strikes that flow from left to right. His weak spot is on the sword side. Even in defense drills, that's where he..."
Elise rattled off the info like a coach, then abruptly stopped. Probably because of my face. I must've looked like I'd seen a ghost—no, was she actually a ghost?
I asked her sincerely.
"...Why are you doing this all of a sudden?"
"..."
Elise bit her lip slightly.
"Just read it. It'll help."
She shoved the tablet PC into my lap and stood up.
Right on cue, the speakers overhead crackled to life.
─The Swordsmanship Studies practical exam, 'Sword and Shield,' will now begin. Swords numbered 1 through 20 and the 20 shields they've selected—please proceed to the dueling arenas.
The duel time limit is six minutes. With 225 teams total—450 participants—this massive exam should move along smoothly. There are twenty dueling arenas, after all.
While waiting for my turn, I glanced at the tablet PC Elise had left behind.
It was a frame-by-frame breakdown of Gerkken's swordsmanship, analyzed by some Swordsmanship Studies professor or private tutor.
─Gerkken is a left-handed swordsman. The outer side where he grips the sword—his right side—is flawless. Perfect, even...
His only relative weakness seems to be on the grip side. Meaning, strikes coming from his left give him a bit of trouble.
Overall, his defense on the grip side—his left hand—is the slightest bit lax, but even that's A-grade. Everything else is S-grade.
"That's scary."
And it was no joke. This footage wasn't from an Endex training hall. It looked like sparring at some dojo or arena, secretly recorded. Who shot this? Where'd they get it? And who creepily dissected it in the background?
"This is what kids go through for college entrance."
Now that I'm one of them, I get it.
Kids don't have it easy at all.
─Team 1 has concluded. Swords 21 through 40 and their selected shields 20—proceed to the arenas.
By then, the first round had already wrapped up.
My heart started pounding.
Gerkken.
I closed my eyes, picturing him.
From what I knew, he was a hexagonal swordsman. Perfect in every aspect.
That flawlessness only grew more solid with time.
If Soliet reached the pinnacle with Absolute Sword—swordsmanship beyond any system—Gerkken achieved the ultimate essence within the system itself.
So, if there was even the slimmest chance—a single timeline where I could beat Gerkken.
If there truly existed one moment in my life where I could defeat him...
It had to be now.
While he was still just a student, and we were only competing on fundamentals.
─Team 3 has concluded. 61 through 80 and their opponents—come forward.
I opened my eyes.
It was my turn.
"Number 77. Number 450. This way."
In the coliseum hall, the referee pointed to the central dueling arena. The main stage, you could say.
I stepped up onto it.
The duel hadn't even started, but spectators trickled into the stands one by one. Seniors who'd already finished their exams. They all watched us intently, along with the cameras and scouts' piercing gazes.
Among all these cameras, there was Zia Libra.
You must be watching too.
"The time limit is six minutes. We'll now distribute weapons."
The referee handed out swords as he spoke. Mine was a longsword matching the length of the Askal Family Sword. Gerkken got a standard broadsword.
"These are reverse-edged swords with special treatment."
Reverse-edged swords had far less lethality than normal blades. With special treatment, no one was dying here.
"The attacker deploys the Five Forms Three Sword Style or its variations. The defender counters it. Any swordsmanship deviating from the Five Forms Three Sword Style will incur penalties. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
We answered in unison, and the referee stepped aside from between us.
Gerkken came into full view across the arena.
I looked at him.
The sheer pressure radiating from him now... it was overwhelming enough to draw a hollow laugh.
Like a mountain.
Just standing there, he crushed the space around him. Not a sliver of carelessness, not the tiniest gap.
An immovable mind.
I had to shatter that solid stance. And honestly? It felt good.
It meant he was serious.
"Begin."
The referee signaled the start.
I drew my sword. Tossed the scabbard to the ground.
No time to waste. Every second mattered.
No need for fear. I was here in the present.
First, footwork.
I kicked off the ground and swung.
The first form: Slash. A single strike concentrating the sword's full power.
Gerkken raised his blade flat.
Chaeng—!
He blocked it effortlessly, but my opening move was already in motion. The instant our swords clashed, I twisted my body and blade.
I unleashed Five Strokes.
Five lines slashed in an instant, like a single blow—the heaviest form in the Three Sword Style.
────!
Gerkken defended. He staggered back a couple steps, absorbing the impact.
But it wasn't over. I chased after the retreating Gerkken and hammered down another Five Strokes.
────!
A normal swordsman would've panicked. Five Strokes was a single-strike form, not meant to chain like this.
But I wasn't normal.
I had a reinforced body that could pour out single strikes like combos. A durable frame that wouldn't shatter no matter how I swung.
Again, I twisted my waist and knees like a serpent, resetting my stance, and unleashed a third Five Strokes.
────!
Gerkken blocked that too.
I'd expected as much.
I didn't pull back. I transitioned straight into thrusts.
Not one line. Not two. Nine thrusts in a flash, targeting high, low, left, right.
It was thrust-speed territory, but Gerkken twisted his blade every which way, blocking them all. Like playing a violin.
From there, I chained into Eclipse. Six strokes, five, four. Exactly as Soliet taught me. Gerkken sidestepped away. I pursued, flowing from thrusts into Five Strokes.
Jam the thrust into his blade first—chaeng—!
Lead with my body instead of the sword.
The thrust naturally morphed into a slash, shoving his sword aside in that stance, then slam down—!
"!"
Gerkken faltered for the first time.
A form bordering on brawling. A strike burning through the body to execute.
Yet still within the Three Sword Style system.
Tung—!
He was flung back.
Finally, the mountain-like stance cracked. His balance crumbled.
No more orderly duel from here.
Chaotic dogfight.
Couldn't let Gerkken's feet plant. I led with my shoulder, twisting my body wildly as I swung.
──! ─! ─! ────!
The clash of steel rang out madly. Deafening sword-song. At some point, it became pure rhythm.
I warped my sword path every instant. Target: only Gerkken's left hand.
But by the book, I couldn't land a scratch. The longer this dragged, the more my stamina burned.
───! ─! ─! ─! ─────!
So I mixed it all: Five Forms, Three Sword Style, everything etched in my Notebook.
Feint thrusts into massive slashes, massive slashes into feint thrusts.
Chain single strikes relentlessly, slip thrusts between combos.
A fully twisted, yet precisely honed style of my own.
Soliet called it insane variable swordplay.
"Hup!"
Sweat droplets sprayed across the arena. Blood seeped through them.
Not mine.
Gerkken's grip.
From that unbreakable body—one that seemed immune to wounds for life—blood trickled.
In that split second, I smirked at his left hand.
Gerkken twitched one corner of his mouth.
His version of a smile, no doubt.
─────!
A massive clash. Gerkken's stance wouldn't recover, and even his counters were slowing.
The moves I'd prepped in my head were spent, but now I just let my body pour out the sword freely.
──Chae-aeng!
Every sword clash swelled the fire in my chest. Excitement surged through my veins. My whole body pulsed like a heart.
Kung───!
I could win.
No.
I'd won.
—Just as that cocky thought flashed through my mind.
Jjeok—!
A cracking sound made me freeze. I hastily leaped back a step.
"Hoo..."
Gerkken exhaled deeply. Like a sigh of relief, certain of victory.
I looked at my blade.
It was breaking.
Part of the longsword shivered, crumbling to the dirt.
"..."
I stared at Gerkken wordlessly. His sword was still intact.
A sudden curiosity hit me.
Had he planned for this?
Looking back, whenever he blocked, he always struck the same spot on my blade. Obsessively targeting the midsection. Meanwhile, he used every inch of his own sword.
Minimizing damage to his broadsword while overloading mine.
"Number 77."
The referee called my number.
Simple logic.
In a sword duel, a broken sword means you can't continue.
"Forfeit...?"
No way in hell.
I snatched the fallen blade shard from the dirt. The referee's jaw dropped. Gerkken's brow arched.
I nodded at Gerkken's left hand. The bleeding had worsened.
Not just burst skin. A clear wound.
One I inflicted.
Gerkken reset his stance. I gripped just the blade shard and unleashed Eclipse.
───!
Our steps met, six strokes clashing—his grip slackened, and I had no hilt.
──!
Five slashing strokes sparked flashes and air-ripping whistles; my body felt ready to burst.
Chaeng───!
Finally, Eclipse's last four strokes.
Full moon to new moon.
─! ──! ──!
Gerkken endured three of four, but on the fourth, I wove in a whip-around.
Whiriririk──!
My blade bent, slipping past his guard.
Puk—!
"...End!"
The referee shouted.
I was still dazed.
"Six minutes. Time's up."
Gerkken's shoulder bore my blade shard. No blood, thanks to his gear.
"Time is up."
The coliseum fell deathly silent.
My right hand, clutching the reverse edge, was caked in blood. Gerkken's left matched it.
"Step back."
I retreated slowly. Gerkken pulled the shard from his shoulder.
"The winner is..."
I watched the referee.
His face flushed like ours, he declared:
"Sion Askal."
My name.
Strength drained from my body.
One knee buckled on its own, and air erupted from my swollen lungs like vomit.
Gerkken still stood tall. His breathing already normalized.
I looked up at him.
A faint, incredulous smile played on his lips.
I was incredulous too.
...Isn't it weird?
First time I've ever beaten you, across past and present lives.
And ironically, you're still the one looking down on me.
"Impressive. Both of you."
The referee said. Gerkken sheathed his sword and turned away. He stepped down from the arena.
"But, Sion Askal, right? Swinging like that wrecks your body. You'll burn out fast. Looks like you've already pushed too hard... Get checked at the hospital."
Same worry as Soliet.
Everyone's got the same eyes, huh.
"Yes."
I stepped down too.
I glanced back at Gerkken for no reason. He looked back at the same time.
Our eyes met.
No special meaning in it.
With that final glance, we parted.
A crowd had already gathered around Gerkken's exit corridor. Mine...
Elise was there.
She watched me with a strange look.
Normally, I'd ignore her. But not this time.
I walked straight to her. No hesitation.
She flinched back instead, clutching her pant leg tight.
"Hey. This is kinda weird, but. Pfft."
I ended up laughing without realizing.
"Thanks to you, I won."
It sounded ridiculous even to me, but that tablet PC.
Telling me Gerkken's weakness—left hand—straight-up let me win.
"...!"
Elise jolted. She backpedaled suddenly.
Her lips mumbled, like she wanted to say something but couldn't.
Tadadadot—!
She bolted away at full sprint.