Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: To the North Once More (4)
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He retraced his memories. It was during the training camp, that night when they faced off against the Wraith Legion. The White Flame that struck down like a pillar from the heavens.
'You can't push through with a contest of power.'
Even if he unleashed the sharpest slash, he wondered if he could fully cut through that White Flame. And even if he did, Dein could just unleash it again... If it turned into a war of attrition like that, there was no need to think long about who would lose.
Ban awakened Ropo's senses. Time and space grew hazy, and he could almost see the White Flame dwelling within Dein flicking its tongue, ready to devour him at any moment.
In that instant, Ban saw illusions of the White Flame engulfing him dozens of times. Each time he hurriedly shifted his steps to the side, Dein—who had clearly been about to make a move—hesitated repeatedly, glaring at Ban.
'What is this? It feels just like fighting someone from the Iseo Clan. An illegitimate child of the Iseo Clan? No, that can't be. Even if he were illegitimate, if he had the talent, they would have accepted him as one of their own...'
It was an odd sensation. Whenever Dein moved to attack, Ban's body swayed like the sunset glow, slipping into the position hardest for Dein to target. Each time, Dein missed his rhythm and they fell back into a silent standoff.
'What an odd fellow.'
Dein narrowed his eyes as he watched Ban. The young man Anya liked. In truth, more than just checking if he could handle the north, Dein wanted to see if he was worthy of Anya.
And his conclusion was that Ban was a trickier opponent than expected. He wasn't just a swordsman who bulldozed with raw power and skill. A foreboding premonition gripped Dein, as if getting too close would mean getting firmly bitten.
'...This is strange. There's no way a swordsman could beat me.'
He adhered strictly to the Nahar style of combat. That meant turning opponents to ash before they could even close the distance.
Melee fighters like swordsmen inevitably struggled against him. Yet Ban was different somehow. Dein occasionally fired flames to keep him in check, but each time, Ban ghosted into his blind spot, closing the gap.
This wasn't someone he could face with half-hearted resolve. So Dein smiled all the more satisfied. Finding an opponent who could truly draw out his White Flame wasn't easy.
White Flame overflowed from Dein's body like molten lava. It enveloped him in a spherical blaze. Within the pure white flames, Dein's equally white form flickered in and out of view. He looked like a crude scribble on blank paper.
"I'll warn you first. It'd be best not to try slashing me carelessly."
"......."
Ban didn't respond. There was no need to heed the warning. He already knew the White Flame cloaking Dein wasn't some ordinary flame. He'd calmed a rampaging Anya multiple times.
If he didn't properly channel his Qi, even mere contact might melt his blade. But he had no reason to worry. The old, inexperienced him might have, but now he was beyond fretting over whether to infuse his blade with intent. His hand was the sword, and the sword was his hand. Even in a casual sweep of sword light, he could now weave in the subtleties of sword aura.
'You still haven't grasped the feel of it, have you.'
The rewards of training without drawing his sword were paying off. By striving not to cut anything, Ban had learned to greatly suppress his swordsman's presence. No, it wasn't just "greatly suppress"—it went beyond that.
If Ban willed it, a drawn sword could seem undrawn,
an undrawn sword could seem drawn.
"......!"
Ban hadn't leaped. Nor had he made any sudden movement. Yet in that moment, his blade had sliced halfway through Dein's White Flame.
But Ban was equally startled. Dein's White Flame was far denser than he'd imagined. And its reactivity was incredible too. If things had gone as planned, his blade should have reached Dein's flesh, but it barely penetrated before getting stuck, as if trapped in mud.
"Ha!"
Dein's eyes gleamed. He'd thought Ban had talent but was too young for great expectations—yet he was proving more capable than anticipated.
Dein's White Flame extended like vines. Some like arrows, some like fists, some like axes. The White Flame pouring from dozens of directions seemed poised to skewer Ban in an instant. And with his blade caught in the flames, no matter how fast he moved...
It looked hopeless.
"Wh-what...?"
One of the soldiers gaped dumbly. He'd kept his distance to avoid the fight's aftermath, so he couldn't grasp the situation properly. Ban's blade had been stuck in the White Flame, on the verge of defeat in a heartbeat...
When had all of Dein's White Flame blades been snapped?
'......He cut them.'
Anya's eyes widened. It was a technique she'd never seen. At first, she thought it might be Ban's third sword—the Scattering Sword. But he wasn't wielding his signature ironwood sword, and above all... that afterimage held a mystery incomparable to the Scattering Sword.
She knew intuitively. It wasn't that his blade was too fast, leaving an afterimage. For a true instant, his sword had multiplied into dozens.
'He's grown distant.'
He'd changed. It wasn't just his aura or demeanor. The essence of him as a swordsman had shifted. They'd spent years together. So even after a year apart—or longer—she thought she'd never lose sight of him.
Yet watching him now, she couldn't help but understand, much as she didn't want to. How long that single year had been.
The vast gap between the Ban she knew and the one here now.
Boom!
Dein's fist descended. It was a fist of White Flame. Perhaps realizing petty attacks meant nothing no matter how many, Dein had abandoned the dozens of strikes for one massive fist. Larger than a sturdy ox, it seemed it would reduce anything it touched to ash—but Ban didn't flinch before it.
'Power isn't everything.'
In the end, combat came down to who shattered the other's heart first. No matter how mighty the hammer, if it didn't reach the heart, it was meaningless. And one of Ban's few edges over Dein was his superior ability to read people.
'The limit of the White Flame Squad is something like this, after all.'
Even in a situation where one misstep would cost a chunk of flesh, Ban calmly assessed. Dein wasn't naive. He wielded power vast enough to question if it was even allowed for a human, and he handled it adeptly. Against the Seeds of the Night, it might have sufficed. Fundamentally, his White Flame repelled those of the night from approaching,
and if he charged with killing intent... just unleashing it crudely would overwhelm most fodder.
But wielding such immense power, Dein inevitably showed weakness in finer movements. He lacked the precision to decide life and death with a finger's twitch. Of course, without it, most wouldn't dare approach him anyway—they couldn't even cut the White Flame cloaking him. Even Ban had only sliced halfway through it.
'......If he really wanted, he might cut through entirely.'
The problem was that would require slashing with intent to kill Dein too. Not suitable for a spar.
It didn't take Dein long to realize this spar had no end in sight. Soon, he recalled the White Flame enveloping him. He shook his head at Ban, who hadn't broken a sweat.
"I didn't expect Citadel Academy's level to have risen this high. Or is it just you? You don't seem tired at all."
"You seem brimming with energy yourself, Dein."
Ban smiled faintly. Dein too hadn't properly sweated, despite turning the surroundings to chaos. Dein's gaze darkened.
"You think you can cut me?"
"......Don't you think you could burn me if you wanted?"
"Ha, we're both awfully full of ourselves."
Dein grinned. He didn't let petty pride drag the fight to a conclusion. They possessed different kinds of strength. Power against the night and power against people were bound to differ.
Dein eyed Ban's bamboo sword. It had been drawn just moments ago, yet now it was sheathed.
'......Like he's possessed by a ghost.'
It was an incomprehensible swordsmanship. Facing Ban felt like battling hundreds of swordsmen. What training could produce such skill? That night at dinner, when he casually asked, Ban had smiled and replied,
"I trained without holding a sword."
An incomprehensible answer.
After the spar with Dein, Ban's reputation among the lighthouse folk soared. At first, he was just Anya's classmate, nothing more or less—but holding his own against Dein changed that.
"Who's stronger, the captain or that guy?"
"Ask a stupid question! No way he's stronger than the captain!"
"But the captain didn't exactly dominate, did he?"
"He was going easy, that's why!"
"......Even 'White Flame Fist' came out."
Such conversations would spark, and Hwan would clear his throat, interjecting with evidence of Ban's strength. Not everyone hung on his words, but after the flames of debate flickered out, Ban loomed a bit larger in their minds.
Even so, permission to head north didn't come easily. Sometimes Ban considered sneaking over the wall, but there was no need to stir trouble. Especially not for Anya's sake—he didn't want to cause her more hassle.
Fortunately, one small incident arose to alleviate his boredom.
Ban rested his hand on his longsword's pommel and asked.
"What did you say?"
—Bring me blood! Fresh, warm blood of a wicked spirit!
The self-proclaimed Holy Sword Kishin had awakened from its slumber.