Uninvited Guest 3
Licht stepped out of the manor with calm strides. Lena had tagged along with Sebrik at some point, trotting to keep up.
In the middle of the unkempt garden, Licht took a slow, deep breath. The sunlight poured down warmly.
"Fine day. Almost a pity to stain it with blood."
Bail stood opposite him, slowly running his hand along the sword sheath at his waist. His tone was remarkably serene for someone on the verge of a duel.
"I've been wondering for a while. Have you been hiding your power all this time?"
"Never."
"Fair enough... If you had, the family head would've noticed. He wouldn't have exiled you to this rundown annex under the pretense of 'rest.' Like this."
Bail glanced around at the manor and surroundings.
"......"
"Was it then? When you pathetically flew back from the young master's strike. Did you have some epiphany? Not that it matters much."
Bail pressed on without pause.
"I know you trained with the sword since you were a kid. That you had real talent, too. But in the end, you couldn't wield aura. There's no emptier phrase than 'a genius without aura.' What about you?"
He stared straight into Licht's eyes.
A genius without aura.
'Meaningless.'
The bastard was right. No matter the sword talent, without aura, it meant nothing. The greatest wall dividing knights from the rest—that was aura.
Mana was the same. Yet countless people spent lifetimes stuck as Sword Runners or at the 1st Circle, unable to break through. That's why knights who handled aura and mages who wielded magic were called those blessed by mana.
"I... first picked up a sword at seven. Our family has guarded the Barbalte line for generations. I awakened aura at thirteen, reached Sword User at your age. Became a Sword Expert two years ago. Our starting lines are worlds apart—you, half-abandoned by the family."
He poured out the words like a complaint.
"You're rambling. Did that woman give you this as your last chance?"
"...Lucky bastard who just barely awakened aura. Hoping for another fluke? That time was pure luck. Seventeen years honing aura in my body, swinging the sword—that's no span you can match. You really think you can beat me?"
He was cornered. This must be the last chance that woman gave him. The emotion seeping into his words now stemmed from that.
'Pathetic.'
That's why it was pathetic. The days without awakening aura. After eighteen years, he'd finally woven his first ring. It took just three years to link five mana rings, and four more to reach the 7th Circle—by then, he had no equals.
Five rings for peak Sword Expert, six for Swordmaster, and surpassing seven to claim the 8th Circle—he'd slain Orkin's Seven Swords alone. Even with the Holy Sword Alfred, the continent's only Grand Swordmaster beyond Swordmaster, watching.
Just as Licht had aimed for the 9th Circle.
'No way I lose.'
That's why he was certain. With just two rings, he could cleave the bastard's sword.
"...Enough chatter. A true knight speaks with his blade. Don't you think so, as a swordsman pursuing the sword's pinnacle?"
Shring.
Bail drew his sword. A clean, flawless draw. Sunlight shattered on the exposed blade. A basic longsword in form, unassuming on the surface—but no ordinary blade.
You could tell just by looking.
"...Lunarium."
"You know it? Surprising."
Bail gripped the sword loosely. Unlike Licht's training blade. In an instant, formless energy rippled, and blue-flame-like aura bloomed along the blade.
Licht hadn't drawn yet.
Bail smirked.
"Scared?"
"......"
"No need for seconds. Those two servants can witness. Though it's four against one... but you wouldn't dodge behind technicalities."
"Young master...."
Sebrik and Lena stood a bit away. Licht had just picked up his gloves moments ago. Their master had accepted the duel—no place for mere servants to interfere.
Licht ignored their gazes. He drew, revealing the crude training sword.
Hummm!
His two rings spun faster and faster, mana humming between them. Mana threads unraveled from his fingertips, wrapping the blade like a sheath.
Dazzling radiance burst forth. The momentum was worlds apart from his prior 1st Circle display.
Bail's eyes widened late in realization.
"You—that's...!"
"No more words."
He kicked off the ground.
Shweeeee!
The white blade streaked with an afterimage. Faster than before. To Bail, it blurred into a hazy gleam.
He raised his sword too late for a counter—the heavy impact jolted up his arms.
A reflexive groan escaped.
"Th...!"
Licht gave no quarter.
Clang! Claaang! Caaaang—!
Pure white sword strikes hammered in. The blade's path formed a single line. Bail parried, his Lunarium clashing with the plain training sword. Blue aura and white mana sprayed wildly.
'Impossible...!'
His vision spun. Bail reeled inwardly. The weight transmitted through his blade-tip was on another level.
What? Had it really changed? Or...
'Expert?'
The thought flashed, melting away as a blade pierced his blind spot. He barely twisted aside, deflecting outward.
Creeeeang—!
Vibration surged up his arms again. His wrists numbed. No time to rest—the twisted white blade charged once more, white mana streams rising along it.
Bail condensed his body-wide aura at his heart.
Whoosh!
Blue flames flared brighter, clashing with Licht's blade.
Booom!
An explosion erupted. Vision flickered. Massive shock hurled Bail back. Across from him, Licht steadied himself after rebounding, expression impassive—as if it were nothing.
"Young master...?"
"Whoa...!"
Sebrik voiced doubt, Lena awe, at the unbelievable sight. To them, the white streak had entangled the blue flames, overwhelming and pushing them back relentlessly.
A speed no ordinary eye could follow.
Bail rose slowly, biting his lip.
Words spilled unconsciously.
"This... this can't be...."
"Can't make sense of it?"
Bail looked up. Licht's pitch-black eyes stared down.
"The moment you don't understand why, you've already lost."
He added,
"You're inferior."
Inferior.
That single word.
"You... groveling to mere butlers until days ago, and you dare...!"
Bail spat, suppressing rage surging to his scalp.
He realized too late—his body was already charging. He thrust fiercely. Straight-line attack. Blocked. Two more swings, then he loosened his grip.
Clang!
The rebound flung his sword back. He didn't resist—spun with it.
Slaaash!
Blue flames traced a perfect circle. Licht stepped back. Momentum flipped; Bail unleashed strikes to seize control.
But.
'What?'
His blade, exploiting openings, bounced off effortlessly. Counters came razor-sharp, poised to slice.
Shlick!
Pain flared with blood as his mind blanked momentarily.
Don't let emotion into the blade. But knowing and doing were different.
His sword was fully dismantled. He couldn't predict moves—Licht's blade arrived before he swung. Deflect twice, slashed once. His leather armor shredded raggedly.
'I'm losing.'
Defeat—the word.
'Me... losing?'
Hard to accept. The truth he'd denied. He had to admit it.
Swordsmanship, aura control, reaction speed, judgment—all inferior.
Bail's aura versus Licht's mana. Precisely, a Sword Expert knight's aura against a 2nd Circle mage's mana. In raw power, Bail's aura won.
But it meant nothing. Tiny accumulations built overwhelming disparity.
Bail felt his years crumble like sandcastles. Their standings, their views—worlds apart.
Slaash!
Licht's blade grazed Bail's wrist—the hand gripping the sword. Blood sprayed from the gash. Bail's right arm drooped limp. His knees buckled too.
In the now-silent garden, Licht spoke.
"You've lost, Bail Crane."
"......"
"Admit defeat."
Bail's lips worked soundlessly. Licht gazed down impassively. His eyes lacked focus.
A rasping voice scraped from Bail's throat.
"...So I have."
"......"
"Second young master... you've been hiding it from the start. All seventeen years."
Licht didn't reply.
After a silent moment, Bail bowed his head, resolute.
"Can't... end like this. Just me...."
Crunch crunch.
Chewing sounds from his mouth.
Licht's eyes narrowed. Mana spread from his throat through his body.
'No way.'
Sensing the mana flow, Licht leaped back.
Shatter!
Blue sword strikes rained where he'd stood. Scattered weeds. Gouged earth erupted.
"...Queerix."
"......"
"Mad dog. Too embarrassing to call you a knight anymore. No honor."
"Shut up! For you... I...!"
Bail's eyes spun. Veins bulged blue over whites. Hand veins turned fully blue, red vanished.
"This was... my last chance. Cut you down and return to normal... No, if you'd just stayed broken like always...!"
"Young master!"
"Master! Front, front!"
Sebrik and Lena rushed in late, sensing the change. Bail was faster.
Formless aura cloaked him; scenery warped behind. Peak Sword Expert. Near-pure Queerix exploded his aura, blue flames surging massively on his charging blade.
Only no aura blade—power neared peak Expert knight.
"Se...cond young master...!"
Bail spat in fury.
'Ah.'
The world slowed. Time stretched raggedly. Charging Bail seemed frozen. Sebrik, Lena, his own reflexively raised right arm—all halted.
'Deflect?'
Even now, Bail's blade rose slowly over his head. Blue aura twice the blade's length loomed huge.
'No—deflect and he dies.'
Licht's rings: just two. To surely beat an entry Expert, needed 3rd Circle. He'd overwhelmed Bail because the fool was a green entry Expert with no real combat.
Oncoming blade. Max mana from two rings couldn't match peak Expert density. Sword durability at limit. Clash would cleave him blade-to-body.
'From the start...'
This was the plan?
Hummmm!
Two rings ignited like explosions. Even in slowed time, the spin accelerated fiercely. Ambient mana warped, sucked to his heart.
One, two, three, four, five. Over the two established rings, three temporary ones layered. Rushing mana roughly circled.
Third ring. Fourth. Fifth. Innate mana control crushed resisting rings, weaving them. Forced acceleration resonated them, bursting mana outward.
This instant, radiance from his right hand bleached the world white.
5th Circle. Five rings.
'Mana Blade.'
Booooom—!
Pure white sword-qi shot straight from his hand. Time snapped back.
Fury-blinded Bail's eyes flashed—but too late. The crescent qi sliced the garden unhindered.
Splurt!
Severed right arm flew with crimson spray. A beat later, screams erupted.