Banquet 6
Strands of white mana extended in all directions. The density pouring from the four rings was on an entirely different level from before. It was comparable to the aura of a top-tier Sword Expert.
A pure white glow illuminated everything around them. That light, almost holy in its sanctity, drew every eye inexorably toward it.
"What is that...?"
"Wasn't it just a rumor...?"
The scenery warped along the golden holy sword. The extremely compressed mana was refracting the light in the air.
The nobles let out low groans. The heated atmosphere had suddenly cooled to ice.
I expected as much.
The star of this event was supposed to be Evan. It had to be. As the heir to Barbalte, Evan had built a reputation and prowess far beyond the ordinary, while the discarded bastard son—who hadn't even awakened his aura by the spring of his seventeenth year—was in a league of his own when it came to expectations.
Rumors of him awakening aura or defeating the eldest son's exclusive knight were just that—rumors. Basic magic was one thing; condensing mana to that density was entirely another.
No one welcomed it. Aside from a scant few, everyone wore expressions of utter bewilderment.
Evan, eyes bulging, spat through gritted teeth.
"You..."
But only for a moment. He reined in his emotions and assumed his stance. He knew dragging this out with words would do no good. What mattered was showing the results.
Barbalte's secret swordsmanship, permitted only to direct descendants.
Something I don't have.
Licht didn't know Barbalte swordsmanship. The reason was simple: no one had ever taught it to him directly.
Before leaving the family, the only swordsmanship Licht had wielded was the kingdom's standard forms. Three basic techniques: thrust, overhead slash, and horizontal cut. The kind of rudimentary swordplay that lowly footsoldiers practiced, left gathering dust in the study.
That was it.
He wanted to learn more, to advance further. But the kingdom's standard swordsmanship couldn't contain him.
His skills had skyrocketed after leaving the family and starting as a mercenary. Packs of jackals preying on passing travelers. Thieves and bandits attacking every night. Renowned mercenaries, proud knights—all of them. He absorbed it all. Their fighting styles, the way they swung their blades. Every one.
Once was enough to see it. He didn't even need to ask for instruction; he internalized it all on sight.
That was why Licht didn't favor any particular swordsmanship. He learned what he needed. His sword had no fixed form. It wove together everything he'd mastered into one seamless whole.
"What is that?"
"I've never seen that stance before."
"No foundation at all..."
"No, that's not right. Could it be some lost clan's secret technique? It's too refined to have no roots..."
Licht took his stance. Even to nobles versed in the sword, it was a bizarre form they'd never witnessed.
This will do.
The swordsmanship he'd mastered right before dying. The one that had helped him cleave through the holy sword Azure Flower and Orkin's seven swords. Orkin's imperial secret swordsmanship, used alongside the Ascension Sword.
Shyrta.
Hummm!
As he assumed the first stance—the foundation of all forms—the rings ignited like blazing furnaces. The Ascension Sword trembled faintly in his grip, as if delighted.
Different from Palenia's upright sword or Girga Kingdom's erratic style in the central region. Straight yet impossibly sharp. Orkin's imperial secret swordsmanship, honed over five hundred years. It was the ideal Licht had envisioned.
Whoosh!
Blue flames erupted along Evan's blade. His face, deadly serious now, glared at Licht with utter focus.
Only a handful recognized Shyrta. While most held their breath watching the scene, a few stared at Licht in shock.
It wouldn't connect. His vision held only the enemy before him.
Thud.
Evan struck first.
Boom!
Aura exploded outward. His blurring form charged without hesitation.
In that instant, a strange ringing filled Licht's ears, and his perception of time stretched.
Evan slowly raised his sword overhead. The first strike aimed straight for his neck.
Licht's gaze locked on the blade's tip.
A feint?
Up.
The sword's path twisted. Right at the moment before their blades met, from the opponent's feet.
With senses sharpened to crystal clarity, Licht swung the Ascension Sword upward.
Claaang—!
A clear metallic ring echoed as blue flames intertwined with pure white mana.
***
"This is..."
"The bastard son's skills are really that level?"
"Circle magic. They said he learned Circle Magic. But can a mage wield a sword like that?"
"It's the opposite. He's not a mage using a sword—he's using Circle Magic as a substitute for aura. Even then..."
"Impossible. He must have cheated. Evan is... he's a Sword Expert, right?"
"You might not know, but that power wasn't built in a day or two. And that swordsmanship—what is it? I've never seen it before, yet it feels a step above Barbalte's secret techniques..."
"Even at Duke Barbalte's investiture decades ago, it wasn't this impressive..."
The last remark drew nods from elderly nobles who had attended Duke Barbalte's ceremony years back. The mocking atmosphere toward Licht had long vanished.
It was far beyond a simple spar. The level was too high.
"Shyrta..."
Clang!
Blades clashed. Mana surged over the silver edge and golden blade, aura blooming alongside.
A nearby noble, hearing someone's murmur, asked curiously.
"Shyrta? What are you talking about, old timer?"
"That's no ordinary swordsmanship. It's Orkin's."
"Orkin? You mean the Orkin Empire?"
"Hold on. What do you mean? Orkin swordsmanship?"
"It's the Orkin imperial secret sword. Passed only to direct imperial blood. How does the bastard son..."
The old noble trailed off. The banquet hall fell silent. Continuous metallic clashes rang out. Particles of light bloomed and faded around them.
Amella Pavria's face, watching, grew rigid by the moment. At some point, she found herself biting her lip without realizing it.
The duel, which she'd thought would end quickly, was dragging on.
No—worse.
He's being pushed back?
My son?
Evan, who had maintained the offensive, was now scrambling just to block Licht's strikes. Amella was primarily a mage, but as Barbalte's lady, she had some knowledge of the sword. Yet that bizarre swordsmanship wasn't just matching Barbalte's secrets—it was overwhelming them.
"Whoa..."
"I thought the bastard son might hold his own, but this good...?"
Such voices pierced her already frayed nerves. She whipped her head around to see her niece in a pure white dress, eyes sparkling, and a familiar mage in a deep navy robe emblazoned with Barte's emblem.
Unaware of her aunt's twisted scowl, Aren continued.
"Truly impressive. It's not just mana control... I don't know much about swords, so maybe I shouldn't say this, but no peer could match the eldest son like that—yet he's pressing him."
"Fourth Circle. He linked one more. No doubt."
"Looks that way. Hah. How long since he started Circle Magic?"
"Maybe... a bit over a month?"
"Insane. Is that even human?"
Aila ignored Aren’s crude words, deeply agreeing herself.
Gazing at the fight, she suddenly asked.
"Aren."
"......"
"Aren?"
"...Y-yes? Ah, speak, miss."
"What if Licht wins here?"
"The bastard son? If he wins..."
Aren couldn't continue. He'd never considered it.
It was a given. This was unmistakably a stage for Barbalte's heir. There had never been an exception. Evan had to win.
But if the unthinkable happened?
It's over.
The reputation Evan had built would vanish like a mirage. If the opponent were a top Expert knight, there might be excuses, but this was the bastard son they'd all dismissed.
Even the crown prince's investiture would look awkward.
And he doesn't even seem interested in succession.
In the short time she'd observed him, Licht seemed unbound, hating constraints. A free spirit with no intent to claim the heirship. If Evan lost now, House Barbalte would take a severe hit.
Barbalte was Arhen's sword. Its head was the king's sole knight.
Clang—
Clang-clang!
Shlick!
"Hngh!"
"The eldest son..."
"It's over."
The nobles sighed. For the first time, Evan took a real hit. Blood seeped from the shallow gash.
Just a graze. Barely.
"You...!"
"......"
Evan's sword was pushed back. Licht whipped his blade around swiftly.
Evan's face crumpled in humiliation. The white light blooming over the Ascension Sword grew even brighter.
***
Something's off.
Licht pressed the attack. Quite some time had passed since Evan switched to defense. It should have ended long ago, but Evan stubbornly parried every strike.
He's keeping up with my reactions?
Impossible. In his previous life, only the Ascension Sword itself could match Licht's reaction speed.
His rings were half-broken now, his body far weaker than before. Yet for Evan to keep pace with mana-accelerated thought—that was unnatural.
He looks fine on the outside.
Licht thrust with his blazing white sword.
Clang!
Clang-clang-clang!
The Ascension Sword slid down Evan's blade. Grimacing fiercely, he knocked it away.
The follow-up came instantly.
Shlick!
"You...!"
Evan's face twisted in agony. A meaningful hit at last.
Licht didn't respond. He poured more mana in; the sword hummed hungrily, greedily devouring it as if craving more.
Boom!
"Guh!"
Screeech.
Evan jammed his sword into the floor and slid back. A long sword mark scarred the banquet hall floor in an instant.
A brief silence fell as he slowly rose.
As expected.
Evan lifted his head, fierce blue glows emanating from his eyes.
Licht murmured softly.
"Pathetic."
"...What?"
"Let's end this."
He gripped the Ascension Sword lightly. As Licht's aura shifted, Evan's blade—now reset in stance—shone with denser blue aura than before.
Confirmed.
Suspicion turned to certainty. Matching him with four linked rings was proof enough. Realms advanced by sudden enlightenment, sure—but not with that gap.
Unless Evan was a continental prodigy.
He's not.
Licht tightened his grip. He lowered his stance, stepping forward with his left foot.
Shyrta, third form. Aquilo.
Shuuuua!
He kicked off the ground, unleashing dozens of strikes in unison. Shyrta's third form was a barrage of ultra-fast slashes.
The four rings—squeezed to their limit—spun furiously. Evan belatedly raised his sword.
Clang-clang-clang-clang!
Sparks flew. Aura and mana fragments melted into the air. Even against the net of strikes, Evan reacted. His reflexes were truly wondrous.
Each parry deepened the mana waves flowing over his eyes.
Boom!
The final slash dropped low; Evan leaped back, dodging.
Thud-thud-thud.
Hah...!
Dust rose where the Ascension Sword had struck. Evan chuckled inwardly.
The last strike. Blocking it would have meant serious injury.
But he dodged. Mana refined by circles wasn't infinite. That barrage must have drained his mental strength.
I win.
Thud.
His body moved with the thought. All in a flash.
In the bluish-tinged world, Evan charged forward. He condensed his remaining aura at the blade's tip.
Whoosh!
Brilliant blue aura surged past the blade's edge.
"The eldest son finally!"
"Counterattack! Counterattack!"
"Push him back!"
Roooar—!
The tide turned; cheers erupted anew. The eldest son, transcending Expert walls. The bastard son's unexpected resistance against expectations.
But the end was Eldest Son Evan's victory. A perfect story.
Riding the wave of cheers, Evan's lips curved into a grin.
It's over.
The blue aura at his raised sword tip blazed toward the ceiling.
Shrieeeek!
Golden sword-light streaked through the rising dust.
Craaaack—!
"......!"
His body lost balance in an instant. The rapidly approaching Ascension Sword carried enough mana to make him drop his own.
"This... impossible...?"
The Ascension Sword spun in the air. Evan, head tilting up involuntarily, muttered in confusion, unable to process.
And through the dust came a single figure.
Azure Flower.
Fwoooosh!
A bluish glow gathered over his right hand. The ethereal blue holy sword manifested at Licht's will.
Mana swirled around his heart like a vortex. He linked it over the four rings.
The temporary fifth ring joined, five circles spinning madly, erupting pure white radiance beneath his right hand.
"Mana Blade!"
Someone's shocked cry. But it didn't reach Evan.
Reason fled his eyes, now dyed deep blue.
"You..."
Fierce mana unraveled like thread.
"Who are you...?"
BOOOOM—!
Mana detached from Azure Flower arced into a crescent. The blade of pure white radiance sliced across the banquet hall's center.