The Answer
In war, a mage's value utterly eclipsed that of a knight. If knights were the flowers of the battlefield, mages were its gods. Their overwhelming firepower let them strike the enemy from afar with impunity. Had magic been an art anyone could pick up, warfare would have devolved into soldiers cowering behind walls or in trenches, flinging spells at will. This truth held even at the master level, which was why the mages of the Pentagram received far greater reverence than Aura Masters.
"─So you've finally shown yourself, Duke."
"Damn it... Chantalka..."
But that only applied in the domain of war. When the fight descended into pure combat and tactics, a mage could never defeat a knight. It was why the barbarians had never breached the Great Wall in the north, despite it being guarded by the Duke—a master-level mage. It was also why the Duke never strode out to sweep the invaders away himself, preferring instead to lazily lob spells from atop the wall.
In a full-scale war, the Duke's side with its superior numbers of mages would hold the advantage. But if it came down to a direct battle...
"Now we can finally end this wretched war. Wouldn't you agree?"
An Aura Master. Against barbarians who possessed a great warrior, they stood no chance. Chantalka hadn't been seen in recent days, and the Duke had rushed down in alarm upon spotting Kyle, who should have been far away in the central region. It had been a mistake.
The Duke stared at Chantalka with a face as hard as stone.
"You filthy barbarian bastard."
"Hahaha! That's right. I suppose you're ready to get trampled by us barbarians now?"
Shing— Chantalka drew the sword hanging at his waist. It wasn't forged from steel, but ground from the bones of monsters that roamed beyond the northern border. True to its origins, the blade lacked a keen edge, but such things were irrelevant to an Aura Master. Not when facing an Aura Blade that could shear through anything it touched.
Fwoosh—! A pure white aura flared like flames.
As the Duke bit his lip, sensing the approach of death, Kyle stepped forward and blocked his path.
"You."
"Your Grace, that thing— is there any way to stop it?"
"...The only thing that can block an Aura Blade is another Aura Blade."
"A shame."
Kyle had thought that if the Duke possessed any means of stopping an Aura Blade, the two of them together might be able to drive the man back. They stood right before the Great Wall; a short climb and they could escape. But if there was no way to block it—regrettable as it was...
"Go first, Your Grace."
"What are you—"
"Better one dies than both... If I die and you live, you can still stop him. But if you die, everyone inside this Great Wall dies with you."
From a rational, logical standpoint, it was right for him to be the sacrifice here. The Duke, however, clearly didn't see it that way. His face only grew more rigid as he remained rooted in place.
"Hurry!"
At Kyle's roar, the Duke finally began to move. Seeing this, Chantalka let out an amused snort.
"You really think I'll let him leave?"
In that instant, Chantalka charged straight at the Duke, paying Kyle no mind whatsoever. He believed a mere Expert-level knight could never harm him. And he was right. An Aura Master's body naturally circulated aura with every breath, granting it enough resilience to shrug off an Expert's strikes with a laugh. He could even deliberately release aura to block stronger attacks. Still, with the fight against the Duke looming, it seemed he wouldn't waste any aura.
I can do this.
Kyle snatched up the sword rolling across the ground, planted himself in Chantalka's path, and brought his blade against the man's own. Though his sword carried aura, it began to shear apart like paper the instant it met the Aura Blade.
But the Aura Blade had a structural weakness.
"Hup—!"
He twisted the half-severed blade sideways, aiming for the flat of Chantalka's sword. Unlike the edge wreathed in an Aura Blade that could cut through anything it touched, the flat possessed no cutting power. If Chantalka had poured out his aura without restraint, it could have incinerated everything it touched—but he wasn't wasting aura. Kyle slammed the broken half of his sword against the flat of Chantalka's blade and shoved with all his strength, deflecting it sideways.
"Oh?"
Just a little. That tiny twist was enough.
Chantalka's sword missed the Duke. In the brief opening that followed, the Duke soared into the air and landed atop the Great Wall. No matter how powerful an Aura Master might be, chasing a mage who had taken to the sky was pointless. One would only be pelted mercilessly from above.
Having lost the Duke because of a single knight he had dismissed, Chantalka began to chuckle.
"How amusing. Truly amusing."
After laughing for a long moment, Chantalka suddenly wiped the mirth from his face and glared at Kyle with murderous intensity.
"The world rarely goes as we wish... but to be thwarted by a whelp like you."
The next instant, Kyle was blasted backward as if struck by a truck. Whether his organs had ruptured or not, an agonizing pain like his mind being bleached white tore through him as he vomited thick clumps of blood.
After rolling across the ground for some time, Kyle fought to regain his balance and rose. The moment he did, Chantalka appeared right before him.
"Such a perfect opportunity."
Swish—! The sword came flying in. Kyle reflexively raised his own to block. But Chantalka had predicted the block; he changed trajectory mid-swing and smashed into Kyle's thigh. A heavy shock ran through him. Kyle dropped to one knee. Before he could recover, another brutal blow slammed into his stomach.
Fuck... I'm going to die...
It felt like he'd been turned into a soccer ball. Kicked, smashed with the flat of a blade, slashed, carved up—every strike carried the clear intent not to kill him quickly, but to torment him. He could feel Chantalka's fury at losing the Duke radiating through every blow.
"Cough!"
Sent flying once more, Kyle spat out fragments of his innards and forced himself up. He'd lost too much blood. His head spun. His vision refused to focus. The moment he blinked, he saw a blade swinging straight for his skull.
—No.
What saved Kyle in that life-or-death moment was the swordsmanship he had cultivated his entire life. He let the unaura'd blade flow past him, then from that same flowing stance, raised his sword high.
Meyer Style, Fourth Form: Imperial Strike.
The emperor's blow that could force the entire world to its knees came crashing down.
Chantalka, receiving the Imperial Strike, let out an admiring sound as he regarded Kyle.
"Hoo— Now that's an interesting technique."
With his sword raised overhead, Chantalka grinned and brought it down exactly as Kyle had done.
"Like this?"
Imitation Imperial Strike.
A downward strike identical to Kyle's—yet far more menacing—slammed into him. Unlike Kyle, who would be completely drained after using it once, Chantalka as a true master continued raining blows down without pause.
Boom—! Boooom—!
Impacts that threatened to shatter both his arms poured down relentlessly.
"Did you truly believe such petty tricks would work on a master?"
Chantalka watched the trembling Kyle with a mixture of pity and respect. A body that looked ready to collapse at any second, yet those eyes—those eyes still refused to surrender. Had Kyle been born not as an enemy but as someone of the same tribe, the same bloodline, Chantalka would have taken him as an adopted son and raised him with pride.
"The little tricks you call 'secrets' or 'essences'... to those of us who have reached the master rank, they are nothing more than ordinary strikes."
A secret art simply referred to swordsmanship that contained aura most efficiently. But did someone who had truly reached the master level even need such things? Swinging a sword any way one pleased would make it a secret art. In other words, secret arts were merely techniques created by ordinary men who could never become masters, in a desperate attempt to imitate them.
"What a pity. Had you been born with the same blood as us, our tribe would have gained another great warrior."
Chantalka raised his sword. He'd toyed with the boy long enough. It was time to finish this and return.
Fwoooosh—! Aura blazed along the beast-bone blade. Having completed his preparations to kill Kyle without fail, Chantalka looked down at him.
"Any last words?"
"......"
Even to the question, Kyle remained silent, staring blankly into empty space. Chantalka scratched his cheek, wondering if he'd beaten the boy so badly he'd gone mad.
Kyle wasn't in any state to care about the warrior standing before him. It wasn't his physical condition. It was his mind.
—To masters, it's just an ordinary strike?
Chantalka's earlier words upon reaching the master rank had struck the wall in Kyle's mind like a hammer. A powerful surge of inspiration exploded through his brain. Why were Aura Masters called Sword Saints? Why did one need to train swordsmanship so rigorously just to externalize aura? The answer was unfolding before him now.
"I see you have none."
As Chantalka brought his aura-wreathed sword down—Kyle remained staring at the ground, muttering to himself.
Just as Chantalka began to feel disappointed that the end of such a fine warrior would be this pathetic, an ice spear came flying from afar and struck his blade with a heavy thud, knocking it aside.
"─Duke!"
The only mage on this land capable of deflecting his sword with pure magic power was the Duke alone. Realizing this, Chantalka whipped his head toward the Great Wall. The Duke, who had climbed to safety atop it, was now flying back this way to save Kyle's life.
Foolish man.
Chantalka set Kyle aside for later and strode toward the Duke. He didn't believe the half-dead knight could possibly interfere again. The boy would die if left alone anyway. With that thought, he moved past Kyle—only to feel a spine-chilling premonition and twist his body to the side at the last second.
"─What?"
With a look of pure shock, Chantalka turned around. There stood Kyle—the same Kyle he had beaten into a bloody rag. Never mind how the boy could even stand in that state; the aura radiating from him was anything but ordinary.
"......Why is a master..."
"What?"
"Why is an Aura Master called a Sword Saint?"
Fwoooosh—! Aura erupted from Kyle's sword. Chantalka's eyes flashed at the sight.
"I've found the answer."
"Ha... Haha... Hahahaha—!"
Chantalka threw his head back in a booming laugh, then gripped his sword tightly as he regarded the great warrior before him. A peerless warrior stood in front. A great mage capable of killing him approached from behind. In other words, he was trapped.
"I might still be able to take one of you with me."
Having spoken, Chantalka charged straight at Kyle. Soon after, sword clashed against sword.