Lightning Through the Blizzard

Standing at the center of the arena, Luden took one look at his opponent and let out a long sigh.

"So it really did come to this."

His opponent looked equally troubled, as though he hadn't anticipated this matchup either.

"Reus."

His semifinal opponent was none other than Reus. He had known the boy was no ordinary talent, but he'd never imagined they would actually climb their way to the semifinals and cross swords. It seemed the quest that had popped up back in the dining hall hadn't been mere coincidence after all.

"Haah. Nothing for it, then."

The two took their stances, and the match began.

Reus was the first to charge.

"Haaah!"

With a ringing battle cry, his sword flashed out like a bolt of lightning. Luden twisted sideways, intending to evade and counter in one motion. But at that very moment—

"Huh?"

—the arc of the unleashed blade bent sharply and came hunting after him. Startled though he was, Luden activated a skill.

He slid across the ground and slipped free of the sword strike. Immediately after, he bored in from the left with his blade raised, and Reus fell back without a hint of panic. At the sight, Luden couldn't help but admire him.

Not the slightest bit rattled. And his reactions are fast, too.

Everyone who had ever seen Shadow Step for the first time had been caught off guard by its unpredictability, yet Reus had dodged the attack as if he'd known it was coming.

"I can't let my guard down."

A single exchange was all it took for Luden to acknowledge him. And yet, contrary to that sober assessment, excitement tugged the corners of his mouth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠upward.

Chaaang!

The next instant, the two swords collided in a spray of sparks. Their light warm-up apparently over, Luden and Reus threw themselves into a ferocious battle. Their feet never stayed planted for even a moment as they darted back and forth, and the ring of clashing steel swelled louder and louder.

As each man hunted relentlessly for an opening in the other's guard, it was Reus who found himself surprised by Luden again and again.

He's strong.

His peers were one thing—even trainees three or four years his senior had been no match for him. Born with the talent of a sword prodigy, he had never once slacked in his training since childhood. Whenever he hit a wall, a master who could offer guidance stood right at his side. His household procured whatever he needed to grow stronger.

Talent, effort, environment. Armed with all three, Reus had risen to 4-Star at the tender age of fifteen.

In truth, he had wondered whether Casner was right—whether entering the jousting tournament might have been the better choice.

At least, that was what he'd thought until the semifinal began.

"Hah!"

Reus expelled a short breath. He, too, could not deny ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that Luden was a formidable opponent—and that was precisely why he resolved to fight with everything he had.

I never thought I'd use this here.

Reus's movements changed. The boy who had answered only with textbook-perfect parries abruptly shifted his momentum and came pressing Luden with savage force.

What is this?

Something felt wrong—it was too strange to be a simple turn toward aggression. Every time their blades met, Luden's sword path grew a little more tangled. When he tried to attack in immediate succession, his movements snagged, and the interference piled up until he was being driven back.

Focusing for a moment on Reus's movements, Luden soon uncovered the reason.

He's redirecting me?

It looked as though their swords were colliding with violent force, but on closer inspection, Reus was receiving and deflecting every one of Luden's strikes. In the instant of impact, he spilled the force off elsewhere while simultaneously shackling Luden's follow-up movements. It was so cunning that even while being worked over, Luden had struggled to notice.

There really is such a thing as a bullshit sword style.

From the receiving end, the curse slipped out all on its own. The pressure coiling in from every direction left him unable even to counterattack, while his stamina drained away fast. Under the relentless chain of blows that granted him no room even to breathe, his breathing grew ragged.

Luden had no way of knowing it, but the sword art Reus wielded was modeled on the blizzards that howled across the northern lands where the boy had trained. Before a snowstorm raging with murderous cold, every living thing could only burn through its strength and die.

"Kgh."

Gritting his teeth, Luden searched for a way out. Trading blows like this would only worsen his position.

The moment he stomped the ground, Reus's body faltered. It was nothing more than a split-second flinch, but Luden seized the opening to tear free, putting distance between them with Leap.

"Haah... haah."

Perhaps he had spent more stamina than he'd realized—his breathing was rough now. Reus did not pursue, only watched him warily. Unlike his ferocious assault, he was deliberate. The mere fact that he didn't lose his head after riding a wave of momentum was proof enough that he was no pushover.

His swordsmanship is the superior.

Reus's blade was so strong it was hard to believe they were the same age. Luden had honed his sword diligently since his regression, but in pure technique he couldn't hope to compete. So this was what a true genius looked like.

A complaint suddenly pushed its way past his lips.

"Why are there so many damn geniuses in this world?"

His younger brother Kevin was one thing, and Count Kaisar had been an outstanding martial talent as well—remembering them both, Luden felt a fresh pang of bitterness. Not that he had any intention of envying them now. He had something they didn't.

He closed the distance slowly. Reus stood motionless, but his eyes calmly tracked Luden's every movement.

Boring in at speed, Luden unleashed the third form of the Storm Sword—Squall.

Reus tried to slide his blade along Luden's and deflect it, just as he had before—

"What the—?!"

—but he couldn't. The force packed into that single strike was far too great.

Kraaang!

"Ugh!"

Reus blocked it head-on in the end, but the hand gripping his sword trembled violently. Luden was not the sort to let that slip by. Having seized his chance, he would pay back everything he had suffered. That was Luden's way.

Countless blades of wind drove Reus back. It lacked the refined artistry of some other styles, but its raging momentum conjured the image of a merciless tempest.

This can't be.

Before a storm fierce enough to blow away even a blizzard, Reus thought of the word defeat for the first time in his life. Never had he imagined someone would shatter his swordsmanship like this.

No. Not yet.

A bluish Aura gathered along Reus's blade. And in that instant—

Krrzzt-CRACK!

A thunderbolt split the storm wide open. Reus raised his sword on reflex against the blade closing in like a flash of light, but he could not withstand the impact, and his weapon was torn from his grasp.

To Reus, who stood frozen in a daze, Luden said:

"Shall we continue?"

"...No. I have lost."

As he acknowledged his defeat with a hollow look, the spectators who had been watching with bated breath let out a roar like thunder.

"Waaah! Luden won! I knew he was the stronger one!"

Sara, who had been watching the match alongside Casner, greeted Luden in a flurry of excitement as he came over. She was as giddy as if she'd won the bout herself—she must have been over the moon.

Casner, by contrast, put on a slightly bitter expression before turning to console the returning Reus.

"A shame, how it turned out."

"Yeah. But I have no regrets."

He too found Reus's defeat hard to believe, but more than that, he worried the boy might take this loss hard. The more brilliant the genius, the harder it is to climb out of despair. Reus in particular had lived up to everyone's expectations from such a young age that he had never once tasted failure. And now, of all things, his first defeat had come at the hands of a boy his own age. The shock was bound to be enormous.

And yet—

"You don't need to look at me like that. I'm quite all right. If anything, I think coming here was the best decision I could have made."

Unlike Casner, Reus's expression was bright. It was a smile that welled up from genuine feeling, not something conjured for show.

His duel with Luden had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠made Reus realize just how long he had been living at the bottom of a well. There were people in this world stronger than he was. Experiencing that self-evident truth firsthand struck him with the force of a hammer to the skull.

But it was nothing like despair or disappointment. If anything, his drive burned hotter than ever.

I refuse to lose.

Reus's eyes blazed. The arrival of Luden—the first true rival of his life—set fire to a competitive spirit that had long lain dormant within him.

"Luden."

"Hm?"

Luden tilted his head at the fervent gaze fixed on him.

Did the kid eat something bad?

He had seemed fine, but the loss must have shaken him after all—

"I want to thank you. Thanks to you, I've realized how much I still have to learn."

"Huh?"

"And next time, I won't lose. I'll push myself further and become stronger than you."

"Hey. Didn't something about your personality change?"

The well-mannered model student was gone, replaced by someone far more relaxed. The stark difference left Luden bewildered, but Reus simply flashed a smile handsome enough to impress even another man and held out his hand.

"There's no need for pretense between friends."

"Friends?"

"Yep. Where I come from, there's a custom: fight each other at full strength, shake hands afterward, and you're friends."

Just where on earth was that custom from?

"Or—don't tell me you're planning to take your win and run?"

Seriously, anything and everything turns into a quest with this thing.

His exasperation lasted only a moment. Luden clasped Reus's outstretched hand. Quest or no quest, he had taken a liking to the boy all the same.

"Run? Please. You'd better not be the one sneaking off later, claiming you couldn't win."

After a short rest, the final began.

Just as expected, Luden's opponent was the swordsman from a distant land.

"He'll be strong, won't he?"

In his past life, this was the man who had defeated Reus and taken the championship. His skill went without saying.

Luden steeled himself and stepped into the arena. But—

—his opponent never showed. Not even after the appointed hour of the match had long passed. In the end, the most anticipated final of the tournament ended in a forfeit victory for Luden.

The onlookers were left deflated, but they quickly worked themselves into a fervor over the jousting event that followed.

"What's going on?"

The quest had been completed, but Luden's expression didn't brighten. The uneasy feeling refused to lift—and it wasn't simply because his opponent had failed to appear for the final.

"Why has it changed?"

As far as Luden knew, the foreign swordsman had won the tournament in his past life. His own existence had certainly produced a different outcome than before, but he couldn't begin to fathom why the man had suddenly vanished. In the end, Luden never did uncover the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠source of that dissonance before the jousting tournament came to a close.

Once the jousting ended, the awards ceremony was held. The lord of Talon appeared before the assembled crowd in person to honor the tournament's champions. As winner of the standard bracket, Luden received a knighthood from the man's own hands, along with the tournament's grand prize—a mithril sword.

"Oh ho. This is one fine blade."

As he drew the sword, Luden's eyes sparkled like a child's. He had never once held a sword this fine in his past life either, so it was little wonder his heart soared. It wasn't a blade forged from a single piece of mithril, but even so, it was a splendid weapon.

"And I was just in need of a decent sword, too."

"Luden, there you are."

He had been admiring the blade for only a moment when Reus came over.

"What have you been up to?"

"Nothing much. Letting my food settle, getting a bit of air."

After the tournament concluded, Reus treated Luden and Sara to a meal, just as he had promised. Even now, in the back of the restaurant, Sara was laying waste to the establishment's entire menu, while beside her Casner hung his head with a look of utter desolation.

"You holding up all right? If it looks like too much, I'll chip in too."

"Fufu. What do you take me for? Don't you worry. I packed plenty of travel money when I left home."

That travel money wouldn't happen to be his family's fortune, would it? The stray thought made Luden seriously weigh whether he should rein in Sara's rampage on the spot.