Chapter 103
Chapter 103
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: Similar Fighters
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"Similar. We are."
Crunch. Their strengths clashed head-on.
The ground cratered deeply, but neither yielded an inch.
"Ooh, even without mana, this is a sight to behold."
"No explosions, but there's a certain savoring pleasure to it."
"Shame the black-haired guy's no knight or warrior."
"Rumor has it he hasn't a shred of talent for auras. What a waste of that body and skill."
The onlookers were mostly the uncultured sort. Any proper noble or palace servant would have been appalled.
But Dallerus offered no rebuke. These were his kind, and that's precisely why he'd taken them as retainers.
"Still, I don't get it. What's the point of training like that?"
"Right? Once you grow your aura, your body and skills follow naturally."
"Not like you lot got your asses handed to you by Shakiya?"
"You son of a bitch!"
Dallerus's retainers had all suffered under Shakiya within the Anti-Magic Barrier.
Most couldn't last more than a few exchanges.
Who fights without using aura in the first place? Mana was the fundamental measure of human strength.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Dust billowed into the clear sky.
The screech of metal on metal and the heated cheers pushed back the encroaching winter chill.
'Is he really old man Derek's disciple? No, something's off.'
The sword style Shakiya wielded was undoubtedly derived from Derek. But upon closer scrutiny, there were inconsistencies.
First, the timing.
He looked older due to his balding head, but up close, he didn't seem much older than Damian—maybe five or six years at most.
By then, Derek was already working at the palace. No time to take on a northern minority as a disciple.
Next, the swordsmanship itself.
At first glance, it seemed from the same lineage, but careful observation revealed subtle differences.
To be precise, the level of refinement differed.
Purely comparing destructive power, Shakiya's held the edge.
Damian was a black magician, after all; some disparity was inevitable.
But in terms of refinement, it was the opposite. Damian's technique was more polished, while Shakiya's was rougher.
That said, it wasn't baseless like Ramsey's style. Otherwise, Damian wouldn't have spotted the similarities.
Only one conclusion fit.
'A disciple's disciple.'
That explained both similarities and differences.
The timeline worked: one of Derek's retired disciples must have taught it to Shakiya.
But what was the motive? Just to leave a legacy? Or something more sinister?
"Don't. Get. Distracted. Shakiya. Fights."
Shakiya murmured lowly as he swung his curved blade wide. This time, Damian was pushed back half a step.
"What's your goal? You here for me?"
Clang! Damian counterattacked, demanding answers. Shakiya just grinned, saying nothing.
Impossible to read. That scar-riddled face hid emotions too well.
Damian glanced at Paruzan.
If Shakiya had ulterior motives beyond the duel, she'd react.
"Ooh! Ooh!"
But Paruzan was sparkling-eyed, glued to the fight.
She just waved when Damian looked her way.
At least for now, Shakiya was focused solely on the duel.
'If he's after old man Derek...'
Handle it preemptively.
This wasn't just about protecting Derek.
Provoking Damian until Derek's whereabouts were uncovered could derail future plans.
Nor was it wise for the world to learn Damian was tied to Derek, the Iron Wolf.
During his mercenary days, Derek had racked up plenty of grudges.
He'd hidden in the palace to escape them, now whiling away time in the southern resort city of Dahappi.
Vengeful foes might turn their blades on Damian instead.
Individuals weren't much threat—mostly losers.
But accumulated? A problem. No need to court unnecessary danger.
'Plenty of time for now.'
He could deal with it while investigating Dallerus anyway.
Freshly minted retainer, yet already standing right behind Dallerus.
A sign of considerable trust.
"Hahaha! Both exceeding expectations. Watch and learn, lads. Ah, not saying train without auras, mind you. It's about mindset. The mindset."
Dallerus praised from his high seat.
He'd dismissed mana-less fights as brute stupidity, but these two elevated it to something else.
'Time to wrap this up...'
Unity of man and sword would end it easily. No matter Shakiya's physical prowess, no unenhanced body could withstand that strike.
But no point revealing such a technique before future enemies.
Damian's sword skills were known, but now prefixed with "even without aura."
Implying he'd lose to any aura user in a sword fight.
A natural assumption. Unity of man and sword simply defied common sense.
No need to expose that trump card here. He wasn't killing Shakiya on the spot.
It'd prove useful against Michael and Rubia later.
Hide it as long as possible.
'Even match in strength.'
They could exhaust each other to collapse, but no decisive damage.
That left technique.
Derek's style so far couldn't overwhelm Shakiya.
Thus.
"Ooh, the mood's shifted suddenly."
"Sudden style switch? Like a whole new person."
The crowd cheered again.
Damian's clean, linear strikes had transformed.
Still efficient and precise, but now fluid, with a distinctive rhythm.
Like watching a sword symphony.
'Agnes?'
Paruzan tilted her head at the change. Damian's sword carried Agnes's scent.
Time with Agnes had been short. Never seen her sword in action.
Yet Damian's current style was unmistakably hers. It overlapped with her image.
"Damian. Different. Sword. Not. Iron Wolf."
If bystanders reacted so, Shakiya—who faced it—was stunned.
Slash! Slash! Miss the flow once, and recovery was tough.
Wounds accumulated on Shakiya steadily.
'Fits my body better than expected.'
Damian read Paruzan's expression. Her surprise was spot-on.
His current sword was the Schubert style—Agnes's lifelong polish.
Nearly daily spars in the magic tower.
As Agnes grew through Damian, he grew too.
Felt her sword skin-deep, replicated it imperfectly but battle-ready.
Slash! Slash!
Mounting damage. Everyone saw the duel tipping.
"Heard rumors, but didn't know the little brother had this talent."
"Right? Though that's not why Mother wants us to secure him."
Dallerus chuckled wryly, stroking his chin.
Mother—Empress Abigail—wanted Damian recruited. Fail, and he'd die.
No allowing him to side with Michael.
That urge intensified with each magic tower report reaching the capital.
Even cursing him eternally, Damian was tantalizing talent.
But not for sword talent. Aura-less swordplay useless in real combat.
'Even so.'
As a knight, Dallerus was impressed.
Slight aura aptitude, and he'd eclipse his current fame.
'Pure sword against Michael?'
Decent win odds. Though no Anti-Magic Barrier could suppress Michael's aura.
"Continue?"
Damian asked Shakiya, half-kneeling.
"Still. Still. Good. Good."
Shakiya just steadied his breath and stance. Signaled Dallerus, who merely shrugged.
Seemed the duel ran till one conceded.
'Then, inflict a solid wound.'
Shakiya's movements slowed noticeably from lost flow. Even reverting to Iron Wolf style, he couldn't match earlier.
'There!'
A momentary gap. Damian unfolded Derek's style, flashing Unity of man and sword briefly.
"Gaaah!"
Too quick for Shakiya or onlookers to notice.
They'd chalk it to accumulated wounds yielding a fatal blow.
Thud. Shakiya collapsed, bleeding. Time to sheathe.
Dallerus gestured; men entered the barrier to check him.
No killing blow. No intent to escalate.
"Sorry, Brother Dallerus. Got carried away in the duel and injured your retainer."
"No harm, no harm. Duels are like that. Shakiya'd be thrilled—craved a serious bout like this. I got some real inspiration too."
Dallerus shrugged it off. Thanked Damian for the earnest effort.
"Puhahaha. Knew that bastard'd topple eventually."
"Heh heh. Tease him for weeks."
Some retainers laughed. Tied to Dallerus, but camaraderie thin.
"Ugh..."
Shakiya groaned, stirring.
Damian approached. Basic courtesy to a duel foe.
"U-Uwaaah!"
"What? What?"
His checkers recoiled in shock.
The man who should stay down bolted upright.
'What?'
Shakiya stood before Damian again. Backlit, face shadowed. Just a flash of white teeth grinning.
"Qualification. Confirmed. Sufficient."
Scaly flakes shed from his body. Like pottery shattering, contents revealed.
'Stronger!'
Shakiya's massive hand clamped Damian's shoulder.
Still grinning, he seemed wholly another person from their sword exchange.
Instinct screamed.
Couldn't match this Shakiya with raw physical might.
Even Unity would grievously wound Damian.
Create distance. Exit the barrier first, then counter.
"Urk!"
The grip tightened. Muscles and bones crushed fiercely.
No clear malice, but his next move unpredictable.
"Kyaaah!"
Whoosh. The dome barrier erupted in green flames.
Crack. A gap split; small stones pattered down.
"Kyaa!"
Bone fragments. A demon from this world sensed Damian's peril, blocking Shakiya.