258. Knights of Charlemagne vs Rin - Great Severance (7)
258. Knights of Charlemagne vs Rin - Great Severance (7)
***
Serin tightened her grip on Durandal as she watched the pitch-black darkness surge toward her.
WHOOOM!
A blood-red aura churned violently along Durandal's blade, heralding the approach of a massive technique.
—Great Severance.
In that instant, Serin's hand wielding Durandal carved out a single enormous diagonal line with restrained movement.
————!!
The blood-red light, beautiful beyond measure, blazed brilliantly as it rushed to meet the oncoming pitch-black darkness.
CRACKLE!
The darkness and blood-red light collided immediately, the two massive waves of light fiercely repelling each other as they began to erupt into a tremendous burst of radiance.
WHOOOOSH!
The clash of immense forces sent storm winds howling across the entire area.
The aftermath whipped her silver hair wildly across her vision, but Serin watched the collision of power through clear eyes.
'More than I expected.'
The talent of the player called Angelica, faced directly, exceeded her expectations.
And that was because, despite having crossed swords with her quite a few times now, she could see no particular opening.
Even as she continued to press in, wielding Roland's swordsmanship, the female knight calmly received each strike.
What impressed her was that even though she herself was executing fundamentals close to perfection, her opponent met her with composure, as if she too had her own mastery of the fundamentals.
Even after executing the technique, the hand gripping Durandal trembled faintly.
"..."
Serin glanced at it and let out a hollow laugh.
She crushed Durandal in her grip to still the trembling.
Merely meeting her opponent's blade was enough to make her hand tremble faintly.
That was how heavy and powerful Angelica's sword was.
Each strike her opponent swung lightly was, in itself, no different from an attack carrying immense force.
She had been conscious of the mythic weapon called Laevateinn from the start, angling her blade to deflect the force, but even so, she couldn't fully divert all of it.
That was why the hand gripping her sword kept feeling like it was coming apart.
'I can't drag this out.'
CRACKLE!
The two forces that had met head-on and fiercely repelled each other soon began to twist, their trajectories veering up and down as if interlocking.
Facing the massive greatsword-class technique called Great Massacre, the decision to use Great Severance with Durandal, a one-handed sword, was nothing short of reckless.
Because if they met head-on, Great Severance, a one-handed sword technique, could never overcome Great Massacre, a greatsword technique.
So she had deliberately carved a diagonal line to divert even that technique, aiming Great Severance at the dead center of Great Massacre.
And the result.
WHOOOSH!
The black aura of Great Massacre, its trajectory twisted sharply, carved a great pitch-black line across the sky as if splitting it apart, displaying its might,
BOOOOM!
While conversely, the blood-red aura of Great Severance, its trajectory twisted downward as if slammed into the ground, gouged a massive scar into the earth, leaving destruction in its wake.
"What in the..."
As Angelica voiced her disbelief at the unexpected result, Serin immediately kicked off the ground.
—Leap.
She hurled her body into the air, executing the technique.
As her form rose high into the air and naturally rotated, her pale legs familiarly took on the blood-red aura.
—Single Kick.
Her rotating leg traced a swift line of blood-red light as it struck the empty air, and a small burst—bang!—erupted.
Her form, launched skyward by Leap, accelerated to its limit and shot toward Angelica like a beam of light.
Clink.
Angelica, gripping Laevateinn's hilt with both hands, felt a question rise at the sight.
'What?'
She already knew about the technique that let her kick off the air and accelerate.
But the direction she was launching herself was strange.
Right now, she wasn't heading toward her, but rather further ahead.
She was shooting like light toward a place that wouldn't reach her.
As Angelica watched with doubt, Serin landed a few meters ahead, just as she'd expected.
But in that instant, she showed an irregular movement no one could have predicted.
BOOM!
As if she had no intention of stopping the speed she'd landed with, she stomped down hard on the ground and accelerated again, shooting forward in a straight line like light.
"...!"
Angelica's eyes flew wide at the sight.
Contrary to her expectation that the speed would drop, her accelerated velocity hadn't decreased at all.
Angelica immediately swung Laevateinn, executing the fastest technique she could respond with.
—Strike of Ruin.
She raised her sword swiftly and brought it down like lightning, black aura churning,
And by then, Serin had closed the distance and was executing her own technique.
—Benish.
Gripping Durandal with both hands, Serin twisted her body in an instant and carved upward with a great slash.
In the moment they executed their techniques toward each other, neither of them had executed a technique for defense.
SHNK! SHNK!
In a split second, the two swords, stained black and blood-red, crossed toward each other,
And the two blades, each carrying its aura, achieved their respective purposes.
"..."
"..."
At a distance close enough to feel each other's breath, Serin and Angelica met each other's gaze.
Blue eyes like a clear lake, and contrasting them, burning red eyes crossed their lines of sight.
The result was plainly revealed.
Serin, struck directly by Angelica's lightning-fast downward slash, had clearly taken damage close to near-death.
But the damage Angelica had taken was beyond words compared to Serin's.
The red blade had pierced straight through the center of the black armor, its crimson edge exposed.
Fwoosh...
A glow arose and warmly enveloped Angelica's form, erasing her traces, and the light then shone upon Serin, fully restoring all the wounds she had taken.
—Victory!!
Serin slowly withdrew her sword at the golden notification filling her vision.
Shing.
Sheathing Durandal and straightening her posture, she was smiling with satisfaction before she even realized it.
***
As the match result appeared, Yena materialized in the spectator seats.
"In the end... I lost."
She settled down near Sihyeon and murmured with a soft sigh.
At her expression, which seemed both relieved and regretful, Sihyeon smiled faintly.
"Still, out of all the matches so far, you showed the most potential, didn't you?"
Sihyeon answered calmly, as if telling her she'd done well.
"Is that how it looked to you, Sihyeon?"
Yena blinked and stared at him blankly.
As if asking whether he really saw potential in her.
"Yeah. In the next match, I don't think it'd be strange at all if you won."
At Sihyeon's attitude, answering as if he meant it, Yena made a peculiar expression, as if she were happy and not happy at the same time.
'...I don't know.'
His words made her feel good, but the impression she'd gotten from actually dueling Rin felt like it belonged to a different realm.
She hadn't quite felt a 'wall,' but she had felt the same pressure she'd thought was overwhelming when facing Jeanne d'Arc.
It was definitely different from watching from the spectator seats.
When she actually crossed swords with her, it was like facing a ghost with an indistinct form.
The sensation that no matter how she swung her sword, it couldn't properly reach her opponent.
In that final moment when they exchanged attacks, she had definitely felt contact, but even that, the instant their eyes met, she had realized.
That it would be hard to win.
In the moment their swords crossed toward each other, Rin had twisted her body strangely to avoid a direct hit—she had doubted her own eyes even while watching it directly.
She hadn't been able to properly execute her technique in the sudden situation, but still, if she had landed a direct hit on a vital point, she could have aimed for a draw.
But Rin had twisted her body as if she'd predicted even that.
"..."
Seeing Yena lost in thought, Sihyeon looked at her and didn't say anything more.
He too had been feeling something more with each match he watched.
The emotion was like fighting spirit, like a desire to improve.
The more he watched Rin, the stronger his will to cross swords with her became.
The way she swung her sword, her style—it was a kind he had never seen anywhere, and it had a charm that made him watch as if spellbound.
A feeling of something never seen before, yet like another set of fundamentals.
When she dueled Yena, that feeling reached its peak, and Sihyeon found himself watching as if utterly entranced.
And before he knew it, a strange confidence welled up—that he could do it too.
......
When the third match ended, the barrier of light surrounding the Colosseum faded.
It was a brief rest period.
Since Serin couldn't fight ten matches in a row, they had agreed to take ten-minute breaks in between and then resume the scrim.
Step.
As she climbed from the Colosseum up to the spectator seats to rest, the other players' gazes turned to her as if it were only natural.
"..."
"..."
Even under the silent gazes watching her, she walked on with composure.
She looked as if she were accustomed to this kind of situation.
Rustle.
Amidst that, Hamin suddenly rose from his seat.
As he began walking toward Serin, who had seated herself at one side of the spectator area, Mina's gaze blankly followed Hamin's back.
'Why?'
She wanted to ask why he was suddenly approaching Rin, but the words wouldn't come out.
It was an unexpected situation, and Mina found herself struck dumb, as if she'd swallowed honey.
And at the end of that path, Hamin reached Serin.
As she saw Hamin smiling faintly and speaking to her, Mina could only stare blankly at the sight.
The question 'why?' wouldn't leave her head.
'Refuse. Please refuse.'
She wanted Rin to refuse. She didn't want to see the two of them together at all.
But as if cruelly trampling on her hopes.
Serin nodded calmly, and Hamin soon settled down near her.
They seemed to be having some kind of conversation. The sight of them stole Mina's gaze as if by force.