Clash with the Mad Dog Izeltier (3)

The instantaneous speed of my preemptive strike was on par with Lucia's.

Through spars with her, I'd crafted a useful opener. The Imperial Sword's blade swiftly targeted Izeltier's throat.

Clang—

Izeltier barely blocked the attack with the flat of his massive zweihander.

'He reacted. As expected of Izeltier.'

It was a bit disappointing, but that first blow had been bait to provoke him anyway—I hadn't gone all out.

His reaction, however, was different. His eyes sharpened with focus.

"What the hell? That opener?"

It wasn't rage at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠incoming strike. It was surprise. Bewilderment.

"You don't look like the type to use swift strikes. Didn't expect you to pull something like that. Nearly got me."

As he spoke, Izeltier's aura shifted. He gripped his zweihander at a slant. I tightened my hold on my longsword, gauging the distance between us.

'No openings.'

Nearly two meters of hulking muscle, wielding a brutish greatsword to match. Unless he let his guard down like before, breaching that reach to land a solid hit wouldn't be easy.

'Rush in sloppily, and I'll be the one who gets wrecked.'

Izeltier's gaze locked straight on me. The killing intent he'd been radiating in all directions until moments ago now converged solely on me.

"Fearless bastard. Swinging first without a word? Pretty feisty for a plain-looking guy."

That murderous pressure now targeted only me.

A man emanating killing intent like a monster's demon aura. Agnes's rosario was clearly warning that this guy was dangerous.

'Sorry, Mom.'

But like a rebellious kid ignoring his mother, the Reinhardt blood in my veins was already boiling over, impossible to contain.

I wanted to clash with him for real. Facing off early against the main villain of Part 2 would sharpen my swordsmanship immensely.

Izeltier bellowed.

"Fine! My turn to come at you!!"

"Go ahead."

More polite than he looked. But that blade matched its savage owner.

Vrrrrm—

The slanted greatsword swung vertically down to crush me.

'What momentum...'

Even without mana, it carried enough raw power to split a boulder.

The brutish greatsword's swing looked sluggish at first glance due to its sheer force.

But 'perception differs. It's fast.'

With that monstrous strength driving it downward, it couldn't be slow. Even a graze would be fatal.

Boom—

A strike that seemed intent on cleaving me in two. But Izeltier's sword didn't touch me—it slammed into the ground.

"George dodged it!"

"Another crater in the floor! What kind of insane strength is that...?"

"But doesn't that mean it's slow since it's so powerful? If George can dodge it?"

No. The prejudice that powerful heavy strikes must be slow held some truth, but the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time it took to draw that vertical line was a mere instant.

Too clean a trajectory and speed to call brutish. It was even faster than the swift-striking Goethe from earlier.

'Dodging was impossible.'

Yet the blade's end had struck the floor, not me.

Izeltier spoke again, sounding impressed.

"Hoh. Couldn't dodge, so you parried. At the perfect timing, nudging my trajectory just enough. Not a technique anyone can pull off."

"You saw through it. Spot on."

He was right. Twisting away sloppily would've gotten me killed. He might look like a brute-force guy, but Izeltier was a battle-hardened mercenary.

'A half-hearted dodge or retreat, and he'd instantly redirect that swing with his raw power.'

Even at the peak of that strike's power and acceleration, he could alter its path in a heartbeat.

Faking a vertical plunge to target my side would've been child's play for him.

So I'd met his blade head-on, feigning a clash, and deflected it.

"You're worth crossing blades with. Heh. Rene's divination was spot on. Said something fun would happen in the arena today. Guess it was about you!"

That opening strike had been a probe. Now that he'd gauged my skill, Izeltier got serious.

"Try blocking this one!"

The killing intent thickened. No more feints—this was his true blade, infused with his will.

"If you're worth keeping alive, you survive. If not, you die. Heh. Isn't that more fun? A blood-soaked duel where loser dies and winner lives."

His stance shifted. Until now, not even a sheet of paper could slip through his guard.

Now, it was riddled with openings. In contrast, the menace in his zweihander had doubled.

'Izeltier's sword form. I get it.'

He disregarded his own safety. Win the clash, and he lives. Lose, and he dies. A single exchange decided it all.

'No need to hold back. Even if he dies, as long as he wins.'

Nothing like Pantheon's green cadets. This was the edge of a blade that had taken lives versus one that hadn't. The sharpness and resolve were worlds apart.

A mercenary who found purpose only on the edge of death, more at home in battle than breathing. Killing intent only a natural-born fighter like Izeltier could emit.

Vrrrrm—

The air around us quivered with his overwhelming presence. His sword arced in a massive semicircle toward me.

'Then I'll—!'

I stood on the same battlefield. Time seemed frozen; my senses sharpened to the extreme.

Killing intent so thick it made my body tremble. Izeltier had no intention of holding back. He was striking to kill.

His greatsword hurtled like a natural disaster. Fail to handle it, and I'd die. Mana or no mana—for I couldn't use it either.

But his strike hadn't reached me yet. And in every scenario I envisioned, my death wasn't one of them.

'Let's do this!'

I raised my Imperial Sword, answering with my own sword form's intent.

Kclang—

Our blades clashed in midair.

***

But that single exchange ended it.

"Both of you, stop! Duels between fighters are forbidden outside matches!! What the hell are you doing?!"

The bout halted. Arena guards and mages had swarmed to surround us, preventing further chaos.

"Tch. Meddlers."

Izeltier lowered his zweihander first. I withdrew my entangled Imperial Sword.

The crowd erupted.

"George... George blocked that monster sword!"

"That longsword's like a toothpick compared to Izeltier's greatsword. How?!"

"Does George have monstrous strength like Izeltier?"

They were right. Izeltier's greatsword hadn't bisected me. His killing strike had been halted by my Imperial Sword.

Our full-force sword forms had collided in the air. Izeltier said to me,

"That wasn't a joke or probe. But you charged into my trajectory first, meeting it head-on. You've got a solid sword form."

True to his strength, he'd instantly seen through how I'd blocked him.

'Before his sword form completed. My Second Form's First Stance struck first.'

My thin sword lacked his heavy blade's power. But technique overcame it.

"Your blade reached me before my strike peaked. A thin sword thrust with maximal instantaneous acceleration—not swift strike, but pure acceleration power. For that moment, it matched my blade's force."

Exactly as he said. My thin sword's thrust took the shortest path, a majestic strike augmented by peak acceleration.

'That acceleration boosts speed and power.'

Seizing his trajectory first. Clashing before his form fully manifested let me halt that brutish greatsword.

I'd claimed first strike.

Crackkk—

But I couldn't save my Imperial Sword from ruin. Cecilia had reinforced it, but it was still just steel.

'Gotta visit Cecilia again.'

Meanwhile, arena staff dispersed the crowd. Izeltier grumbled regretfully,

"Tch. Wanted to cross blades more, but draw it is. Still got my fun, so I'll call it."

A draw. Truth be told, without the staff's intervention, if the fight continued, I'd have lost.

With his endless battle experience, that sword demon would've quickly countered my form and thin sword.

'Still, unscathed against the Execution Squad's leader? That's a win. Most players in Part 2 game over against him.'

He left final words.

"Anyway, not the last time. Confirmed there's fun prey in this arena—good haul. A skilled swordsman like you will reach the finals. Heh. Let's bet our lives there."

With that, he turned away. Mad Dog Izeltier was a battle maniac, but surprisingly cool in retreat.

'Finals, huh.'

Not facing him now. But I wasn't satisfied with this either.

Not my first brush with the strong. Grand Master Wilhelm, Master Captain Michael, Pantheon's top instructors.

'But this was my first life-or-death clash.'

The gap between spars tailored to my level and real combat was stark.

Good call entering the tournament. It reacquainted me with my current strength—and the foes ahead.

As the system alert said, something dormant inside me had awakened.

'Next ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time, I'll win for sure. Izeltier.'

The Reinhardt blood still burned hot. I turned to Lucia beside me.

"Lucia. Let's head back. And if you're okay with it, stay at my mansion tonight."

"Y-Yes? My lord... S-stay over?!"

She'd misunderstood for a second.

"I mean as a sparring partner. Don't want to lose the feel of facing that guy."

"R-Right. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠misunderstood."

Somehow disappointed, Lucia left the pleasure quarter with me for the mansion.

***

Next day. Saturday.

Lucia stayed at my mansion until late morning.

'Did I overwork her too much?'

After the bout with Izeltier, the lingering high refused to fade. We headed to the training hall and swung swords until late.

Now, Eirin, Lucia, and I were having breakfast together.

Eirin said to Lucia,

"The sparring went quite late, but glad you're in good condition, Lady Lucia. Was the bedroom comfortable?"

"Y-Yes, fine. But it was a bit warm, so I sweated..."

"Oh my. That explains the damp sheets when I changed them this morning. I'll open the windows next time. Didn't expect you'd sweat that much..."

"Y-Yeah... Sweat. I sweat a lot normally..."

Lucia's face flushed pink. As a woman, she might be embarrassed about heavy sweating.

'Probably not just sweat.'

Truth was, after last night's spar, I'd entered her dream via incubus trait.

Not to steal her essence—rather, to give her mine.

'She worked hard sparring, after all.'

Having properly drained Rene's essence, I was brimming with vitality. In her wet dream, we'd fully entwined.

So waking up, there might've been more than sweat. I ate breakfast listening to their casual chat.

"So, that music drama Teria's Lovers you saw with Lady Cecilia and Young Master..."

"Ah. Cecilia mentioned. Super moving..."

Eirin and Cecilia had grown close, so the two got along well.

'Still, they probably know I slept with Lucia. Dislikes Lilia but okay with Lucia?'

I'd changed from last year's playboy. But my lower half was even more of a philanderer now.

Having heroines I'd bedded together felt oddly thrilling.

As we finished eating and enjoyed tea time, a visitor arrived at the mansion.

"Glory to the lion's valor that tames the north winds! Chloe humbly greets Viscount Yulian!"

A woman with a fan in hand, clad in a flashy noble dress. Another A+ fate-grade heroine: Chloe.