Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: The Lost Technique and an Unwelcome Arrival
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Loan immediately extended his Narrow Path, sticking to Antoine like a leech.
"Just as I thought. I'll observe a little longer."
With that, he began to attack Antoine with Sheville, his fists, and his feet, holding nothing back.
"You speak too freely."
Antoine quickly regained his composure and retaliated.
He neutralized Loan's attacks in a variety of ways—using his greatsword as a shield, deflecting Sheville with the wind from his blade, or using the sword as a pivot for a kick.
Then, once he created the distance he wanted—
he unleashed a flurry of strikes without hesitation.
A hazy web of light dazzled Loan's eyes. It was beautiful to behold, so he took it all in before stepping aside.
When the same attack came again, he didn't dodge, instead meeting it with Sheville.
Clang!
As he did, he observed how Antoine planted his feet, how he took and maintained his stance and stride, and how his mana—circulating before concentrating in an instant to affect muscle and blood flow—influenced the thrusts and swings of the greatsword.
He committed every detail of Antoine's body and mana movements to memory.
He was reminded of his time at the Union academy, where he had relentlessly dismantled and interpreted magical formulas and verses.
*'I really did live diligently.'*
To the point that he could reminisce—
the mental load was far less than when he was deciphering magic and creating formulas.
Dodging a strike, Loan spoke.
"The Albre swordsmanship has a consistency to it. It's all about flow."
If the swordsmanship of Oscar and his son was defined by its overwhelming power, the Albre family's style was defined by its elegance.
They both use greatswords, yet their philosophies are different.
"The key is the organic connection between each technique..."
In that instant, the greatsword filled his vision.
It was the same horizontal strike Loan had just mentioned.
Barely blocking it with Sheville once again, Loan realized something.
His guess about the lost secret technique had also been correct.
"This strike is excessively powerful."
Excessive. Out of place.
A sense of disharmony, like an elegant sentence coming to an abrupt and hasty end with an unexpected period.
Loan wanted to examine this feeling of disharmony, now etched into his mind, more carefully.
*'To do that, I'll have to end this match.'*
Exchanging blows with his opponent to grasp the essence of the swordsmanship had consumed a tremendous amount of mana, but.
*'It's enough.'*
He still had more than enough to dodge Antoine's now-transparent attacks and fire a bullet of air.
Thwaaang—!
The roar of a highly compressed mass of air, released in an instant, striking the flat of the blade.
Antoine staggered back, then froze, staring blankly at Loan.
Loan was pointing his index finger at Antoine, and Antoine knew full well that Loan hadn't missed.
Had it struck him, a fatal wound would have been unavoidable.
"I couldn't even react. I've lost."
Loan gave a respectful nod.
Whether it was the shame of losing to a boy his son's age or the frustration of entrusting his family's fate to an outsider, Antoine left without a word.
Loan had something to say to him, but knowing it wasn't the right time, he remained silent.
"Thierry. Get ready."
said Adelaida, the family head, who had been watching.
Her voice was much deeper than he'd heard. The old woman's gaze was also profoundly somber.
Next was the match between Thierry and Lucas.
"If you're ready, let's get this started, Sir Thierry."
An overwhelmingly powerful greatsword style clashed with an elegant one.
Many of those watching reacted to the swordsmanship Lucas displayed.
Had Antoine been there, he would have fallen into a strange reverie upon seeing Lucas's swordsmanship, which was a mirror image of his own father's.
As everyone voiced their thoughts on the contest between two similar yet different sword styles,
Loan watched their duel, reviewing the swordsmanship principles he had formulated in his mind.
Amid the clamor, only Loan was calm.
At last, the two greatswords met with a tremendous shower of sparks and a deafening roar.
"Hoo! Then I'll be the one to fight in the duel against the Pobel family!"
Lucas shouted, breathing heavily.
A victory earned against an opponent who could generate aura with his greatsword.
It was a result the Albre family found difficult to understand, and the same was true for Loan.
*'My assessment was too harsh. It seems I've been particularly strict with Lucas, Sienna, and Sophie.'*
He also had a faint inkling as to why Lucas was so strong.
*'The energy he's radiating, his external mana emission, is especially strong today.'*
It's perfectly natural for refined mana to be projected outward according to one's emotions and will.
But usually, it only manifests as an imposing presence.
After all, one typically distributes and concentrates mana within the body to execute their techniques.
By that principle, it's a natural step for a swordsman to focus mana into their sword and create an aura.
*'Lucas is different. It's like he's burning his own body with mana. I get the feeling his physical abilities are constantly rising during combat. Is it because of Sophie?'*
Though he's influenced by his emotions, his mana control during the actual fight is remarkably natural.
Just like how Loan himself used Convection as naturally as breathing.
If so, he has nothing but room to grow stronger. He just hasn't yet accepted the sword as an extension of his own body. Of course, understanding this requires a sufficient level of intellect.
In any case, Lucas, having earned his place through sheer skill, turned to Loan and asked,
"So what happens now?"
"We need to be perfectly prepared."
"How?"
"By making you and Mr. Antoine stronger."
Answering thus, Loan gazed steadily at Adelaida.
Not just her, but all the members of the Albre family wore dark expressions.
It was ironic.
They had secretly hoped the Union would step in to fight a battle they couldn't win, and had been disappointed by Loan and Lucas, yet now that the two boys had defeated the family's first and second-best swordsmen, they couldn't seem to get their emotions in check.
Loan fanned the flames of their complex emotions.
"Lady Adelaida. In the duel against the Pobel family two days from now, Lucas and I will participate."
"And the other?"
"It will be whichever of your children learns the lost secret technique first."
"What?"
At his unexpected words, Adelaida's voice cracked. She asked again,
"Explain what you mean in a way I can understand."
"Lucas and I may have won, but that doesn't guarantee an absolute victory in the duel against the Pobel family."
Adelaida thought he was half right and half wrong.
If he could win so easily against Antoine, then Loan couldn't be considered a mere Runner.
Still, she couldn't be optimistic that they would definitely win against the Pobels. Especially not the other two.
But that wasn't what was important right now.
"I'm asking about the lost secret technique. How do you know of it, and how could it be learned?"
"I added my own reasoning to the information gathered by the Union's administration. And I had an epiphany while crossing swords with Sir Antoine. If you show me the family's inherited secret manual, I believe I can be more certain about the missing part. I will complete it and teach it to you."
His words were absurd on many levels.
The claim of gaining an epiphany from a single duel, the demand to see a family's secret manual, and the vow to complete what was missing.
"What kind of bizarre..."
"It is, of course, a matter for you to decide, Lady Adelaida. But if you lose the duel, it will all become impossible anyway. And if your children can properly learn it beforehand, they will grow stronger."
It was all hypothetical, but difficult to refute.
Especially since he had shown such a confident attitude from the moment he arrived at the Albre estate. And now, he had even proven himself.
Even so, it wasn't easy to grant permission so readily.
As if understanding the matriarch's hesitation, Loan smiled and said,
"A mage does not covet a swordsmanship manual."
Loan continuously created and dispelled fire, ice, water, and mist at the tip of his raised index finger.
* * *
Two days later.
The mountain slopes surrounding the Albre estate were noisy from early in the morning.
It was because the members of the Pobel family were making their way up, and the reason for the commotion became clear the moment they came into view.
The first thing that caught the eye was the procession of flags.
They were lined with the crests of southern Versa families Loan had seen in books.
As families renowned throughout the continent, most of them were martial houses.
The flags served as trophies, proof of the Pobel family's campaign of seizing secret techniques.
But the real commotion followed after that.
"They came up the mountain like that...?"
As if in answer to someone's incredulous sigh, a procession of palanquins, carried by manpower, began to arrive in a long line.
The men carrying the palanquins were no ordinary people. Not a single one of them had broken a sweat.
Watching from behind the Albre family members, Loan immediately understood the Pobel family's intentions.
*'It means they can be thrown into battle if need be.'*
They all had excellent physiques and dense concentrations of mana.
Since they couldn't openly assemble a large army, this was their indirect way of preparing for an equivalent.
*'There must be over thirty palanquin bearers alone.'*
But he wasn't overly concerned. He had sent a message, so he trusted that reinforcements from headquarters would arrive soon.
While Loan's gaze was fixed on the distant forest, the occupants of the palanquins began to step out one by one.
He could easily identify them from the facial descriptions he had memorized from the files.
A burly man stepped to the front of the group. It was clearly Pierre Pobel, the eldest son of the Pobel family.
"Was there such a scenic place in our territory? If I trained here, I'm sure I'd grasp any technique that's been eluding me in no time, hahaha!"
His booming laughter startled the mountain birds, which had just settled down, sending them flying all at once.
He looked to be in high spirits, as if he were visiting the home of a close friend.
How could he be so shameless when he was no better than a robber?
Loan thought that if the man weren't Sophie's stepbrother, and if he himself weren't acting as a champion for the Albre family—
*'he would have taught him about human decency and proper character. About the etiquette and principles one must uphold to live in this world.'*
Age alone does not command respect. If one lacks intellect, it is right to teach them.
Loan hoped he would get that chance when they decided the order of the duels.
"I was quite surprised. I thought perhaps your legs were troubling you. I was worried you'd forced yourself to come to keep your promise, but I'm relieved to see you walk without any trouble."
A sarcastic remark aimed at the palanquin procession.
responded Antoine, the eldest son of the Albre family, in an exceedingly gentle voice.
He was not the same man from two days ago.
Confidence and composure were ingrained in his gaze, his gestures, and every word he spoke.
"Hahaha, the loyalty of my retainers is so excessive it's almost embarrassing. It's been a while, Sir Antoine."
"You must have been shorthanded. If not for the purpose of your visit, I would have greeted you warmly. A shame, Sir Pierre."
After the greetings, sharp glares were exchanged. Antoine, too, looked like he was spoiling for a fight.
Loan felt a slight inclination to yield the pleasure of dealing with Pierre.
"The family head is waiting. Please come inside."
Soon after, those who had been obscured by the palanquin bearers began to walk one by one toward the Albre mansion along the narrow path that had opened up between them.
The second son, Selig. The captain of the guard, Arnaud. And a few other unfamiliar faces. After several of them had passed,
Surrounded by an impenetrable escort, exuding an immense aura of mana, his eyes gleaming with a light of madness and desire—
Marquis Maurice de Pobel, head of the Pobel family, appeared.
He had a sturdy build and sharp, chiseled features. His only physical flaw was an eyepatch, suggesting an injury to one of his eyes.
But what astounded Loan more than anything was the man's inner self.
*'Is he even human...?'*
Just as Loan was reeling from that turbidity,
Sophie was walking slowly behind the Marquis.
Her eyes were empty, her gaze fixed on nothing at all.