266. Knights of Charlemagne vs Rin - If You're a Pro, Act Like One (15)
266. Knights of Charlemagne vs Rin - If You're a Pro, Act Like One (15)
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The Song of Roland's effect has ended.
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The moment the message appeared at the edge of her vision, Serin had no choice but to stop moving.
'Has it already been ten minutes?'
The instant the question crossed her mind, the brilliant golden light that had suffused her faded rapidly, and her body returned to its original state.
The body that had felt featherlight yet brimming with immense power suddenly lost its strength and felt heavy.
When she instinctively looked ahead.
'His willpower, at least, really is like Roland's.'
She saw a knight whose appearance could only be described as utterly wrecked.
The silver armor that had once radiated brilliant light was now badly crumpled in nearly every spot, his arms and legs were drenched in blood, and even his blond hair was stained red with gore.
Yet even so, Roland's eyes had not lost their fighting spirit.
'Is that impressive, or what.'
In Another World, you couldn't feel pain, but other sensations came through vividly.
The heaviness of the body, the enervation as if it refused to obey, the unpleasant helplessness from all the status effects.
"..."
When the wrecked knight suddenly kicked off the ground and surged toward her, Serin couldn't help but be a little surprised.
Roland, who had launched himself as if he'd been waiting for this moment, was still under the effects of The Song of Roland. As she watched him charge in far faster than before, Serin raised her sword.
'Thirty seconds at most.'
Then The Song of Roland would end too.
The wrecked Roland charged in swiftly, carving afterimages as if reproducing the golden trails Serin had shown throughout the match.
—Weight of Resolve.
As Roland reached her and swung his sword down in a great arc, a light so brilliant it was dazzling settled upon the blade.
Serin, who had naturally moved to meet his sword, instinctively twisted her blade at the last moment.
The instant she saw the blade shining as if it held radiance itself, her instincts screamed that she must not meet it.
And her judgment was absolutely correct.
——!
The two swords narrowly missed each other, neither achieving its purpose.
BOOOOM!!
A massive boom erupted from Roland's Durandal as it slammed into the ground, and the entire space the sword had struck exploded.
The ground hit directly by Roland's sword collapsed outright, sending out a shockwave of immense force.
'...What kind of destructive power is that.'
Even Serin, who had dodged the attack, couldn't believe it.
He'd deployed the skill so quickly that she'd assumed it couldn't be that strong, but the actual destructive force was absurd.
Step!
Immediately after, Serin put a large distance between them, and Roland raised his sword, fixing his gaze on her.
Roland, who had taken Serin in with deeply sunken eyes, kicked off the ground.
BOOM!
A boom erupted from beneath the golden knight's feet as he kicked off, and he began surging forward, scattering brilliant golden light with every step.
Each time, Serin focused solely on evading rather than meeting Roland's sword.
...
From then on, Serin's movements remained composed as she continued to evade the golden trails embroidering the space with acrobatics bordering on the divine.
BOOM! BOOM!
Even though Roland's movements under The Song of Roland's effect were faster, Serin, who slipped past every attack by a hair's breadth, was nothing short of mystical.
As a result, Roland carved countless aftereffects into the hapless ground.
He was beginning to feel impatience, sensing his limits.
'How can this be.'
He couldn't stop swinging his sword, aware of the blade that seemed to touch but narrowly never did.
This was his last chance, and there was nothing after this.
Because the moment he stopped swinging would mean the end.
In the span of mere seconds, Roland swung his sword like a madman while Serin evaded with deft footwork and body movements.
She too was concentrating to the absolute limit, to the point where not a single other thought entered her mind.
SWISH!
Then, as she twisted her head and her silver hair fluttered out, the golden trail stabbed through empty air, and Roland's frenzied assault finally came to a stop.
Immediately after, Serin put a large distance between them again, and the golden light that had clung to Roland's body faded away.
"...Hah."
Roland, who no longer pursued her, stood still in place, and the tip of Durandal that he had swung at Serin now pointed downward.
His eyes no longer held the fighting spirit they'd had before, and he wouldn't even look at her.
"..."
Within his wrecked state, his lowered head let his blood-soaked blond hair slowly cover his face.
Having completely lost his will to fight, he had laid himself bare and defenseless.
Looking at Roland, who seemed to be signaling his end, Serin calmly raised her sword.
If she swung now, the long, long battle would come to an empty conclusion.
'So in the end, he's just giving up.'
She looked at Roland with complicated feelings.
In the Roland she saw now, another 'Roland' kept overlapping.
Even the sight of a knight who had shown everything now facing his end looked similar, and that similarity created a strange sense of dissonance.
Step.
As she slowly approached Roland, she pushed away the thought of finishing it in one stroke.
She simply walked toward him slowly, signaling the end.
'He exceeded my expectations.'
Even including the earlier scrim against G1, this was the longest match she'd played.
In a way, it was a little funny.
Because she couldn't say Roland was the most skilled pro player she'd faced.
Among the players she'd encountered, Astolfo, the ace of the Knights of Charlemagne whom she'd faced in the immediately preceding match, and G1's Minseong were both so strong it was hard to rank one above the other.
In terms of raw talent, within the Knights of Charlemagne, the player named Angelica had the greatest potential.
Roland's fighting style, which stuck to fundamentals without any variables, was easy to handle.
Yet ironically, Roland had taken the longest of all of them.
Step.
When Serin reached Roland and slowly raised Durandal, Roland's still-lowered head lifted toward her.
Then their eyes naturally met.
"..."
"..."
Serin's clear blue eyes, revealing no emotion, and Roland's blue eyes, sunken in despondency.
Looking into Roland's eyes, Serin felt she vaguely understood why things had come to this.
His refusal to allow a critical hit no matter what was, in a sense, worthy of praise.
She'd attacked with pure strikes without using skills, but she hadn't expected him to block all of them.
At some point, maybe I'd gotten stubborn about finishing Roland without using any skills.
When she reached the distance where extending her sword would reach him, Serin stopped and parted her lips.
"The match isn't over, so pick up your sword."
At her words, Roland let out a dazed, hollow laugh.
"We both... already know, don't we."
After The Song of Roland ended, he could no longer ignore the fact that nothing he did would let him win.
He'd held on for over ten minutes, blocking her attacks, but holding on alone couldn't win.
No, it was as if he'd known the outcome from before the match even began.
If even Astolfo couldn't beat her, his own chances of winning were practically nonexistent.
When Roland didn't raise his sword at that thought, Serin spoke calmly.
"Then why don't you just surrender?"
At her suggestion that he surrender, Roland shook his head faintly.
"...There's no surrendering in a pro tournament."
In a scrim run under the same rules as an official match, surrendering was like an unwritten rule that must never be broken.
As he acknowledged her, Roland felt something close to resignation. It was like waiting for defeat.
The fighting spirit that had blazed so fiercely when they first crossed swords had turned to a handful of ash and would not reignite.
'...Pathetic.'
Feeling that he'd hit another wall, a belated sense of helplessness seemed to crush him.
As Roland's expression, unable to escape the trauma of defeat, sank even deeper.
Serin, watching him, frowned in disbelief.
'There's no surrendering in a pro tournament.'
So, asking her to just kill him now sounded like nothing more than a ridiculous play on words.
Shing.
She raised Durandal and pressed the flat of the blade against Roland's cheek.
Tap.
Then, as if lightly slapping his cheek, her sudden movement turned Roland's head to the side.
In that moment when Roland was stunned by Serin's rude behavior.
"Can't you see the other players watching you right now?"
Serin pressed him, as if scolding him instead.
Then Roland dazedly became aware of the sight before his eyes.
In his turned gaze, he saw his teammates in the spectator seats.
"You've fought well this whole time, so what's this at the very end? If you're a pro, act like a pro and raise your sword until the end."
Even as Serin added those words, Roland stared blankly at them.
When he saw them all looking at him, the heart of Roland, who had been seized by a deep sense of defeat, wavered greatly.
Flinch.
His hand gripping Durandal trembled violently.
Serin, noticing his change, sighed and spoke again.
"If what I just did upset you, I'm truly sorry. But I didn't do it with bad intentions. So raise your sword until the end."
Then Roland's sword, which had been pointing downward, slowly rose, and Serin smiled lightly and put distance between them.
Roland covered his face with his free hand, biting his lip as he struggled to shake off his tangled thoughts.
'Like an idiot...'
He shouldn't have done that at the end.
He shouldn't have shown that side of himself just now.
Belated regret and a crushing sense of self-reproach.
As his hand dropped and Roland's eyes regained their fighting spirit, Serin raised her sword and prepared a skill.
A person who blamed himself and sank into defeat needed to recognize where he stood.
Seeing that Roland seemed to have realized it quickly, Serin felt relieved.
'Well, at least his mindset's changed a little.'
Then Roland's sword rose high as he prepared a skill, and both of them readied themselves for the end.
————!!
Then blood-red light, charged with intense power, and brilliant light clashed violently, and at the end, Serin mercilessly cut Roland's throat in a single stroke.