Chapter 72
Chapter 72
"Hiding your skill level was one thing, but those movements surpassed even that. Tch, you've been concealing quite the artifact, Prince Logan."
The voice was no longer forcibly distorted—clear and dignified.
The Moonlight Knight, Flanz, had abandoned his disguise.
From the start, his reluctance to step forward had likely been due to his unique Force.
Now that he'd revealed his silver Force Blade, there was no point in pretending.
"I'll take that artifact as tuition. Is it inside your armor?"
"Huh? Tuition?"
"A lesson in the dangers of the world. A noble brat wandering alone gets ambushed by bandits on his way home—that kind of lesson."
"Aren't you ashamed to call yourself Moonlight Knight?"
"...Frankly, I'm so ashamed I'm going to make this lesson extra intense. At least you came far enough out here—that's a small mercy."
Unlike before, Flanz's voice now carried a palpable killing intent.
"Surround him so he can't escape."
With that quiet command to his subordinates, he moved instantly.
Spot.
His earlier attack had been nothing more than a greeting—this slash carried the momentum to cleave the world diagonally.
Logan barely twisted away, relying on his heightened physical abilities.
The moment he tried to counterattack—
A chilling killing intent forced him to roll backward.
Whoosh.
A silver flash sliced through the space he'd occupied, accompanied by a terrifying sound.
Logan barely dodged, cold sweat dripping down his back.
'A whip?'
Though it passed in an instant, the elongated silver Force Blade had lashed out like a whip, completely independent of the sword's direction.
As if confirming it wasn't an illusion, the whip-like silver light began occupying the surrounding space, targeting Logan from all angles.
Slash.
Whoosh.
Crash!
"Tch!"
Blocking the relentless sword strikes was exhausting enough, but the Force Blade extending over two meters from the tip lashed out unpredictably like a whip.
The movements of the sword and Force grew faster, soon weaving an illusionary silver wave that enveloped the area.
A silver spectacle pouring from the blackened sky.
One of the masked men muttered absentmindedly at the sight.
"Moonlight..."
Of course, Logan, trapped at the center of that silver tide, was having the worst time of his life.
He'd been using Heavy Pressure Slash since the start, but it was utterly ineffective.
Gritting his teeth, Logan decided to lay all his cards on the table.
"Hah!"
Golden light shimmered along his blade, and eight golden waves surged forth to clash against the silver tide.
"Ugh!"
Kwaaaang!
Though not as refined as the silver waves, the sheer force of the golden tide devoured the space, overwhelming everything in its path.
As silver and gold Forces collided, a deafening roar sent dust billowing in all directions.
Flash!
A golden streak cut through the thick dust, crossing the battlefield in an instant.
"What the—?!"
"Wait. Flanz's Force is unshaken."
Even without the enemies' voices, Logan could feel it too.
His face, hidden in the dust, paled with despair.
'Damn it! No feedback. It failed.'
Divine Sword Secret Arts: First and Second Form—Wave-Cutting Slash and Iron-Severing Slash. Using them back-to-back had left Logan drained.
Because of that, he couldn't clearly sense the direction of the killing intent surging toward him.
"Ugh!"
His only option was to rely on instinct—thrusting his sword forward while hurling himself backward.
Crash!
"Ghk!"
But it wasn't enough to fully block the attack. The impact sent Logan tumbling across the ground before he barely managed to rise.
As the dust settled, Flanz's face was revealed—his mask had flown off.
His hair, pupils, even his skin—normally pale—were now flushed red.
Judging by his aura, it wasn't from injury.
"That was thrilling. If I'd let my guard down, I'd be dead. Impressive. How did you manage that? Surely this isn't another artifact... Could this be Sword Duke's secret technique?"
'He's more talkative than I expected.'
Huuu.
Cough.
Logan tried to steady himself with deep breaths, but it was futile.
Without the Wind God's Boots amplifying his abilities, he would've coughed blood and collapsed from that last attack.
'Still too early to face him.'
The Moonlight Knight Flanz had been renowned as a top-tier High Knight for over a decade.
For Logan, who'd only recently reached High Knight, holding his own this long was already an achievement...
"...Like hell I'd accept that!"
"What?"
Cough.
Spit.
Hacking up the blood rising in his throat brought momentary relief.
"Want to see another one of Sword Duke's secret techniques? Mind waiting? I'm still a bit rough with it."
An exhausted body, depleted Force, an enemy stronger than himself—all he had left was sheer audacity and luck.
Fortunately—
"Oh! Really? Fine, I'll humor you. Show me, young master."
Flanz, visibly excited, displayed either carelessness or the height of arrogance.
'Perfect!'
The moment those words left Flanz's mouth, Logan poured everything he had into his blade.
Only one thing remained for him to rely on.
Divine Sword Secret Art: Third Form.
A technique he'd barely grasped the direction of even after nearly a month as a High Knight.
'I can do it.'
Groan.
His muscles were weak, his Force flickering, and a formidable enemy stood before him, eyes gleaming.
The worst possible conditions for focus.
Yet he wrapped his trembling limbs in Force, forcing them steady, and channeled every ounce of energy to replicate the pattern of the new technique.
'No matter his background as Sword Duke's disciple, sparing me is the best he'll do. He'll take the Wind God's Boots and Lux, leaving me a cripple. Snap out of it!'
Logan fueled his malice by imagining what Count Bifrost would do—and thankfully, it worked.
Groan.
It took time, but the Force obeyed his will.
The image constructed in his mind slowly took form.
"Got it..."
The moment Logan gritted his teeth and swung—
Flanz was already before him, sword aimed straight at his heart.
'Damn it...'
Facing death, time seemed to slow to a crawl.
In that stretched moment, Logan finally noticed the coin-sized hole in Flanz's right chest—undoubtedly left by his earlier Iron-Severing Slash.
And the faint trickle of blood from Flanz's lips.
But instead of triumph, it brought only emptiness.
'This bastard...'
Only then did Logan realize Flanz's flushed face and excited tone had been a bluff.
His dulled senses had prevented him from feeling the impact clearly, and his narrowed vision had hidden the truth.
Worse, he'd foolishly believed his own bluff had worked, wasting precious time.
The one fooled wasn't Flanz—
'It was me.'
As the pale-faced enemy loomed closer—
Logan's rage poured into the incomplete technique.
Groan.
A golden pillar, ten meters tall, erupted above Logan's head.
A colossal sword—over a meter wide—took shape, resembling a giant's blade.
In that hyper-focused moment, where time itself seemed to slow—
Only Logan moved at normal speed.
And with a roar, he brought the sword down vertically.
"Die!"
"You first!"
Kwaaaaang!
The giant sword struck with a deafening crash.
Rumble.
The earth shook as if struck by an earthquake, and thick dust blotted out the dim moonlight.
"Sir Flanz!"
"Captain!"
Hiiiiing!
"What about us?!"
"F-find the captain first!"
The three panicked High Knights only found their leader after the dust settled.
He sat slumped beside a fissure in the ground—dozens of meters long and deep—with hollow eyes.
Cough.
"...I dodged. I should've died with him."
Even as he coughed blood, the top-tier knight kept muttering the same words, unable to tear his gaze from the split earth.
His eyes held the vague terror of someone who'd glimpsed the unknown.
Cough.
Clatter.
Logan spat blood repeatedly as his stolen horse galloped onward.
Though he'd managed to escape by stealing the enemy's horse after his own died in the fight, frustration gnawed at him.
'I could've killed him...'
Flanz. He'd had the chance to finish off a top-tier High Knight.
If only that last slash hadn't shaken his insides.
The regret was inevitable, but in hindsight, it was just greed.
'Without the Wind God's Boots, I'd be dead.'
Moreover, Flanz's power had significantly waned due to his injuries.
That was the only reason Logan had escaped with internal damage.
But.
'Next time... I can win.'
As a High Knight, he'd nearly defeated a top-tier High Knight.
Considering the exponential gap between their levels, it should've been impossible.
The secret techniques and treasures he possessed were powerful enough to defy logic.
Gaining that certainty alone was worth it.
Perhaps it was the relief that came with it—
Logan could no longer hold onto his fading consciousness.
Hiiing.
Thud.
As the riderless horse galloped on, a shadow tumbled into the dust behind it.
For an ordinary person, the fall would've been fatal—yet the fallen rider's lips curled into a faint smile.
The MacLaine Territory was in an uproar.
The Grand Prince, who'd left for Bifrost, had returned two weeks later—without a word, and looking like a beggar.
"Fell asleep on the horse and tumbled off. Hahaha."
Though he laughed off the absurd excuse, no one dared question him.
Except one person.
"You lost the horse but at least kept your sword."
"Of course I kept the sword. Took it from those bastards—"
"So it was Bifrost's doing after all?"
Logan had been about to boast of obtaining the Wind God's Boots, but his father cut him off with a grave expression.
"Yes. I thought I'd prepared enough, but it was almost disastrous. They seemed to hold me in... unusually high regard."
"...Anyone with eyes would. Still, you're back safely—that's what matters."
'Probably because of Sword Duke, not me.'
Though his father's newfound pride in him felt slightly excessive, that wasn't the pressing issue.
"Should we formally protest to Bifrost...? No, we shouldn't, right?"
"Correct. For now, endure it."
On his way back, Logan had been ambushed by the Moonlight Knight Flanz and three High Knights.
If MacLaine protested, Bifrost would dismiss it outright—
Where's the proof?
How could a mere 21-year-old survive an attack from such forces unscathed?
Then they'd twist it into a matter of honor and escalate the conflict.
It was too soon for that.
"Officially, I attended the Count's birthday and left with gifts, so they'd struggle to justify any accusations."
"...Our family's weakness forced you to endure this humiliation. I can't face you."
"You kept the sword, at least."
"Of course I kept the sword. Took it from those bastards—"
Logan smiled inwardly as his father clenched his teeth, resolve hardening.
'Good. This is enough for now.'
While the family continued building strength before the civil war, Logan had other tasks ahead.
'First, I'll polish those brats. Then...'
His gaze turned toward the northeastern sky—where the capital, Gran, lay.