A Withered Flower Blooms Again (1)
It was not a pleasant morning of birdsong and sunlight. What opened instead was a morning filled only with the sound of hymns.
I lifted my head and looked around. Yoru was nowhere to be seen—she must already have returned to her scabbard. After clinging to me like that last night, she had wanted to sleep alone after all?
From today onward, my only task was to wait for Violet to wake.
That was how it was supposed to go.
Knock, knock—!
"Brother, Sister Baekseol requests that you come to the training grounds."
"…I'll get ready and head out."
Calling me down to the training grounds first thing in the morning meant her body had been burning for a fight through the night.
Honestly, I would rather have stayed locked in my room. But if I did, she would simply smash my door down and come in herself—that much was obvious. So I washed my face, changed clothes, and left the room.
With Yoru, of course.
"Did you rest well last night, Brother?"
"Yes. Thanks to your consideration, I slept as comfortably as if I were in my own home."
I wasn't being polite—it was the truth. I had nearly been stuck in a room that was nothing but white, but they had assigned me an ordinary one and I had passed the night in peace.
There had been a few… complications with Yoru beforehand, but all's well that ends well.
"Still, to think Brother Farcion would come to the Holy Kingdom in person. I was truly surprised."
"Haha… so was I."
In truth, the Holy Kingdom was less a nation gathered to drive out the profane than a prison for those who had lost the Continental War—a cage designed so that any impure movement from the Alliance's defeated could be crushed at once.
There were people here I would rather not meet Baekseol among, and I had not wanted to come… but the situation was what it was. I had no choice.
"Just around this corner and you'll reach the training grounds. I have other duties, so I'll take my leave here."
"Thank you for guiding me."
The priest offered me a Holy Kingdom bow; I returned an Imperial one. The exchange was a little strange, but that was not what mattered.
Whoosh— whoosh—
The moment I rounded the corner, a pure white figure came into view.
She was swinging a sword, generating wind pressure that a slender double-edged blade should never have been able to produce.
She had surpassed Sword Saint and Sword King and reached the realm of Sword Emperor. In the truest sense, she was one who reigned over the sword. An ordinary knight could bring ten carriages and still fail to leave so much as a scratch—or even set foot inside her domain without dropping to his knees.
This is going to be rough.
Judging by her aura, even borrowing Yoru's power would make this a hard spar.
From today on, this lady will not lend her power unless the situation is truly dire. Remember that.
I could just force it if I wanted to, couldn't I?
After you fell asleep last night, I asked the Master. She laughed and granted my request. So put any thought of using my power today out of your head.
…
Lellasion. Truly a busybody of a person… no, a goddess.
"Hey. I'm here."
"…Late."
"Late? I came the second you called."
She did not answer. She simply looked at me and settled into her stance.
"Haa. That's just like you. Sundome rules—stop before the blade lands. Fine?"
"…Stance. Take it."
Ugh, this woman.
Refusing her and getting attacked before I was ready did not appeal, so I drew Yoru from her scabbard and took a proper guard.
We stared each other down. Then, without any signal, we both lunged.
KRAAANG—!
Baekseol's swordsmanship was built on Flowing Sword and Illusion Sword. Techniques of similar standing that were nearly impossible to combine—yet she had fused them into one style that was a nightmare to face.
Every attack that came in was deflected and bled away.
At the same time, the strikes flying back mixed feints and true blows until the real threat was almost impossible to read.
How was I supposed to win against that?
What else? Crush her with my ability.
Humm—!
At my command, the swords planted throughout the sparring ground began to rise, jetting blue light. Baekseol pressed me harder, determined not to give me the space to conduct them—but I had commanded them just fine against three-to-one odds. One person leaning on me was almost cute.
She softly diverted the flying blades, shattered some with her hilt, and cut down every sword that came for her.
"…Kh…"
Clang— clatter-clang—!
With uncanny footwork she slipped and bled away blades swinging from every direction at once, gradually finding her rhythm against the storm. Not a chance.
Dolce. Softly.
"…Ugh…!"
The swords that had been flying in a steady tempo slowed just a fraction—and became far harder to deflect. Baekseol lost her rhythm.
In a bout between skilled swordsmen, losing your rhythm meant exposing an opening. This was the moment.
If I wait for her now, I only lose.
KRAAANG—!
In the breath where she knocked one blade aside and prepared to flow the next, I stepped into her domain and brought my sword down.
The sensation at the tip was cold steel. She had parried that and stopped my blade—I could only click my tongue in admiration.
"…I… imagined it… a lot…"
"Yes, yes. Well done, my little one."
Humm—!
Swinging a sword myself did not stop me from conducting the others. If I kept her blade pinned and kept directing, the win was mine.
"…Cheap…"
…That actually stung a little.
She used the very force of my sword pressing hers down, spun a full circle, cut away every blade flying at her, shifted her stance in the same motion, and thrust straight at me.
I had varied direction, angle, and tempo of every attack—and she still cut them all down. I had no idea how.
Fwoosh—!
Blue sword-aura, far denser than the last time I had seen it, rippled along her blade as it streaked for my gut.
I had just pulled my sword down from hers; my stance was broken. Blocking that thrust with my own blade was impossible.
As if she knew it, a tiny, almost invisible curve touched her otherwise expressionless face.
Well, I can't block it. With a sword, that is.
Using the forward collapse of my posture, I poured mana into my legs and waist for power and spring, kicked off the ground, flipped once in the air to clear her blade—and in the same motion seized her head with one hand and slammed her into the dirt.
KRAAANG—!!!
Hard enough that cracks spidered across the packed earth of the training ground.
…Was that not a little much?
Was it, though?
Hoh… impressive.
The instant she registered that I had dodged and grabbed her head at the same time, she had recovered her sword and slashed my arm. Fine cuts now laced the limb.
She had already layered sword-aura onto the blade; even when I tried to heal with mana, some unknown force kept interfering with the recovery.
"…Again."
"Suit yourself. But I'm using magic."
"…Unfair… pants…"
"…Even if you say that, I'm not going easy. Is there an enemy on a battlefield who shows you consideration?"
"…Hmph."
To Baekseol, magic was a natural predator.
Imperial novels sometimes featured cutting through magic, but that was pure fiction.
When had fire or water ever been something a sword could slice? Earth or metal magic, maybe—but pure elemental magic could not be cut, so she was forced either to dodge every spell or raise sword-aura and try to sever it.
In a fight between masters, even one wasted motion like that was enough to tip the balance.
"…Then… bare… hands…"
"…Fine. Do that."
Strangely, Baekseol loved crossing blades—and she also loved fighting with fists and feet.
That was why, even after I had cut her sword during the Battle of Relion Castle, she had instantly discarded it and charged me bare-handed.
Mm… bare-handed combat. This lady would like to watch as well.
Suit yourself.
Fwoosh—
"…!"
Yoru appeared in midair without warning. Baekseol startled for a heartbeat, then seemed to understand what I had done and gave a small nod.
What was that? For some reason it put me in a bad mood.
This lady will serve as referee. No objections from the little white one over there, I trust?
"…No… objections."
She was fine with being called "little white one"?
Good. Begin when you are ready. This lady will simply choose the victor.
"Right."
Baekseol and I took our stances again.
Bare-handed… Eastern martial arts, then.
Martial arts I had only learned over someone's shoulder. They called it "martial arts," or "inner force techniques," didn't they?
I lacked the energy they called "internal power," but mana could roughly substitute for it. Efficiency would come out about the same.
Humm—!
The name of the art was… Nine-Splitting Divine Fist. A secret technique of a family that had made quite a name for itself in the East.