254. Knights of Charlemagne vs Rin - Finir Lumia (3)
254. Knights of Charlemagne vs Rin - Finir Lumia (3)
***
There is no royal road when it comes to weapons.
All that matters is the wielder.
That had always been Serin's belief, and she considered it the correct answer.
Victory or defeat decided by a difference in weapons had never applied to her, and no matter how many beings she faced, it always felt like a matter of the wielder, not the weapon.
It had been the same in Black Ark, when she had faced countless threats.
When she overcame all those threats, she believed her own skill had been superior. On the rare occasion she tasted defeat, she believed her own skill had been lacking.
But now.
—CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!!
As she swung her sword like flowing water, as if relying on instinct alone, meeting her opponent's rapier again and again, Serin was vividly feeling a sensation she had never felt before.
A freedom as if the weapon were her own limb.
An instant transition between offense and defense, with no constraints whatsoever.
Moreover, she needed neither the extreme, minute focus required when wielding the Crescent-Moon Weight, nor the careful judgment required when holding a greatsword.
Simply swinging her hand at whatever attack she saw, meeting it head-on—right now, she was keenly feeling the utility of the one-handed sword.
'If I had a shield here too, it would be beyond comfortable.'
The thought suddenly crossed her mind.
If she were holding a shield in this state, she wouldn't feel even the slightest crisis or momentary tension.
—CLANG!!
In an instant, she swung her sword up hard, widening the distance from her opponent.
"..."
She glanced at her right hand, faintly trembling from the recoil.
The impact of weapons clashing was definitely greater than with other weapons.
'There's definitely a difference in power.'
The one-handed sword felt clearly weaker than other weapons in terms of sheer destructive force.
The power behind each strike was definitely less than with other weapons. Perhaps that was only natural.
But there was a freedom of movement that surpassed all of that.
Simply swinging her sword at whatever she saw and meeting it instantly allowed her to handle nearly any situation on the spot.
WHOOOOM!
As the distance widened, she saw the rapier glowing even more brilliantly.
And though her opponent's rapier once again underwent countless transformations, tracing countless golden trajectories,
she felt no sense of crisis.
The brilliant golden trajectories embroidering the empty air without pause—Serin's utterly clear blue eyes watched them without losing track for even a moment.
As her focus on handling her own weapon nearly vanished, reading her opponent's offense and movements actually became easier to see.
'I'll knock it away.'
Along with that split-second thought,
—!
A blood-red aura surged violently over the crimson blade of Durandal in Serin's hand, and immediately a blood-red trajectory was drawn like a flash of light.
CLANG!
Immediately after, along with the parry success effect, the rapier blade that had been rushing toward Serin's heart bounced away futilely.
If she could perfectly read her opponent's timing and meet the blade, no technique was needed.
That was why, without using any skill, she could now counter her opponent's "skill" with a strike simply imbued with energy—she was, in fact, adapting to the sword through this duel.
Hours earlier, she had been getting a feel for the sword against monsters, but crossing blades with a live pro player and building sword proficiency was on a completely different level. Through this match, her sword proficiency was rising exponentially.
"...!"
Her opponent shot her a shocked look at being parried, his composure breaking, but Serin simply held her ground calmly. She did not try to exploit that opening to end the duel.
'Not yet.'
Even if she could end it, ending it now would make accepting this scrim meaningless.
Clench.
And Olivier, perceiving Serin's movement, hardened his expression even colder and bit his lip hard.
'She's holding a sword, so how can she exert pressure similar to Jeanne d'Arc...!'
Her opponent was clearly not Jeanne d'Arc, who currently stood at the pinnacle of knights.
A Dancer Class.
And one known as a user who wielded the Crescent-Moon Weight, at that.
But for some reason, within only a few minutes of crossing blades, he was feeling a helplessness so thick it made him think of Jeanne d'Arc.
No matter what technique he unleashed, his sword could not reach her.
No—his techniques were not merely blocked completely; as if showing she had room to spare, his opponent was now even demonstrating parries.
'...Ha.'
The gap in skill was too obvious to deny.
Short of throwing a desperate gambit, no matter what technique he deployed now, there was no answer in a frontal fight.
Slither.
Olivier's legs straightened, both feet aligning as if gathering to a single point.
His earlier intention to warm up lightly since this was the first match had long since vanished. Olivier's eyes now held Serin's figure completely.
Standing her ground with haughty composure, sword pointed downward—for a moment, the image of Jeanne d'Arc with her jet-black hair overlapped with her.
Those pitch-black eyes that always stood aloof and arrogant, looking down on her opponent.
But staring directly into those blue eyes, so unlike that dark, pitch-black gaze, Olivier tightened his grip on the rapier and resolved to end it with his next attack.
'There's no other way anyway.'
The moment he thought it, he unleashed his technique.
—Finir Lumia.
In that instant, Olivier's form vanished from the spot as if disappearing.
FWOOOOSH!
A cluster of light like golden fragments scattered faintly through the air,
and his entire body, moving through space as if blinking, was dyed gold.
That golden trajectory no longer traced any transformations.
It was like a killing strike aimed at a single point, thrusting forward.
Watching it, Serin's eyes finally lit up, and the corners of her lips curved.
'So you're finally showing it.'
The reason she had kept the duel going despite being able to end it was precisely to see that technique.
As she crossed blades, she had been continuously reproducing Roland's swordsmanship, letting her opponent naturally feel it.
And if she showed it now, against that technique, she believed she could deliver a massive shock to her opponent and the rest of the Knights of Charlemagne.
Step.
Rather than retreat, she stepped forward to meet that golden line.
The rapier's golden light surged toward her, radiating a bright cluster of light, but she swung her sword as if she didn't care in the slightest.
Extending the sword as if flowing forward.
Her blade, sweeping up diagonally, was perfectly straight.
***
"That stance...?"
"Looks like he's throwing a gambit."
The moment Olivier took that peculiar stance, the players seated in the audience all spoke up.
It was a technique with no fallback. A preparatory stance for a technique that, if it failed to finish the opponent, was no different from admitting defeat.
From the earlier exchanges, even the pro players could all feel who currently held the advantage.
That Rin held the advantage.
At the moment the other players realized it, the stance Olivier showed was the preparatory stance for the highest-destructive-power technique among Knight Class skills, excluding Awakening Skills.
"Was Rin originally a Knight Class? No, even if she was a knight, that level of skill right now makes no sense."
Even as Mina spoke in a daze, Hamin couldn't give any particular answer.
She simply stared endlessly at Rin, as if focused entirely on that moment.
Hamin felt puzzled by Rin's motionless figure.
'Why isn't she creating distance?'
Even seeing his stance, clearly about to throw a gambit, Rin made no response.
She simply held her ground, as if plainly waiting for him to use the technique.
From the way she had handled techniques while crossing blades earlier, she clearly seemed to know about knight skills.
Yet for some reason, even seeing "Finir Lumia," one of the greatest techniques of a rapier-wielding knight, she was utterly composed.
And then, the moment the gold-dyed knight in her vision unleashed the technique and embroidered the space with gold as if vanishing,
Hamin clenched his hand.
By now, any response from her was already too late.
'Surely she isn't going to deliberately throw the match...'
The moment that absurd thought even crossed her mind,
the golden cluster of light that had been brilliantly embroidering the space vanished in an instant.
"...A new skill? No, can a skill like that even exist?"
"Rin, was that a skill just now?"
As Mina and Yena blinked blankly and let out deflated voices,
"..."
Hamin thought she had momentarily seen wrong.
The golden trajectory cutting through space had been incredibly fast, even though she had definitely been watching consciously.
Fast enough that responding would be impossible without preparing in advance.
But in that instant, a blood-red line bizarrely sliced through the air, and that alone extinguished the golden light.
To be precise, a single blood-red line that struck away the tip of the golden rapier thrusting toward Rin's heart.
'...How is that possible?'
Even having seen it herself, she couldn't quite understand how that timing had been matched.
And on top of that, the bizarre twist of the wrist at the moment of striking the blade away, followed by a sword precisely piercing the throat.
It was like watching the motions of some technique she had never seen before.
***
The two women watching the broadcast of the scrim showed different reactions.
"Whoa! Serin won!?"
From Seoyun's perspective, Serin had seemed to be helplessly caught by the sudden attack, so she had watched nervously. The result brought her pure delight.
Sua blinked.
"Well, of course Serin winning is only natural, but..."
What on earth was that movement just now?
It wasn't a skill. No—if a skill like that existed, there was no way I wouldn't know it after playing as a knight for tens of thousands of hours.
But more than any skill... Serin's movement just now had looked exactly like using a technique.
And a technique she had never seen before, at that.
That movement—perfectly countering the opponent's attack and cutting his throat—if that wasn't a technique, then what could possibly count as one?
As Sua recalled the scene, still bewildered and full of questions,
Seoyun beside her let out a small laugh.
"Sua, be honest. You're bad at the game, aren't you?"
Before it started, she had clearly said she would explain things well, but in reality, she had done nothing but exclaim in admiration, let alone explain.
"...Maybe I am."
Sua let out a hollow laugh, started to say something, then stopped.