Gaze, gauntleted hands, the muscles settling back into the armor, subtle movements, raindrops, wind, and even the killing intent drifting between the damp air.
Alexandra absorbed every bit of necessary information into her mind.
This was a tactic of calculating the surrounding circumstances and utilizing them in battle — a specialty that her comrade Encrid often displayed.
‘You’re not the only one good at it, you know.’
Even amid the driving storm, Alexandra focused solely on the enemy before her. She shut out all other stimuli, narrowing her perception until only she and the enemy remained. That way, even Medusa’s petrification curse could be ignored.
Of course, Medusa’s curse would still exert some influence from outside her awareness.
But since she couldn’t exactly cut off Medusa’s head and return immediately, there was no choice but to ignore it.
And so she did. She ignored it and focused all her concentration. She forgot about the rain. She forgot about the howling storm.
She stepped into a world where only she and her opponent existed.
She could see traces of the living in the friend who had returned from death. Behind the helmet that exhaled black smoke, a braid of hair dangled.
Andante had once had long, flowing hair.
It was Alexandra who’d told her it was too beautiful to cut when Andante considered chopping it off.
After Alexandra taught her how to braid it, Andante wore her hair that way for life.
‘She really did grow it out for a long time after that.’
Later, Andante had even shown a technique of hiding blades within the braided strands, though that had just been a passing prank.
Hsssss...
Steam gathered and thickened before seeping into the helmet.
It looked just like the moment before a fight, a preparatory stance. Alexandra responded by putting a little more strength into her big toe.
Alexandra and Andante never engaged in long sparring sessions. Their duels were always decided in a single exchange.
Since they fought with their lives half on the line, Andante had always greatly enjoyed their bouts.
“When I feel like I’m brushing against death, the world stops looking so damned red.”
She had said this with a smile, even as her thigh bled from a deep wound.
A red world, Andante often said that was how the world looked to her.
To someone else, it might have been unsettling. For her, it was the result of tragic times that led to an unbearable desire.
A desire that could only be quenched by killing people.
That killing intent had now formed into a singular blade and thrust toward Alexandra. A jagged, crimson edge of pressure had pierced right up to her nose.
And yet Alexandra didn’t move a single step.
Two clowns walking a tightrope on a high wire.
‘Let’s end it with one strike, Andante.’
What happens when death is added to a Knight, a walking catastrophe?
The answer stood before her now. Andante would be faster, more dynamic than when she was alive.
Alexandra didn’t need to clash blades to know that. Andante also had several other advantages.
For one, her breathing couldn’t be read, because the dead don’t breathe.
She could also unleash full strength instantly, without warming up her muscles or taking a preparatory stance.
A mind left with only the instinct to fight, that was one of the strengths of a Death Knight.
The one consolation was that the absolute value of her Will likely hadn’t changed.
A Knight’s Will didn’t grow easily while alive, and it certainly wouldn’t grow after death. She could only use what she had retained in life.
Moreover, if her limbs were severed, they’d regenerate quickly. Which meant only specific parts were viable targets.
Her head, it had to be her head. And Andante would know that as well.
‘She’ll instinctively use her sword to win.’
From the outside, it merely looked like the two of them were standing there peacefully. Neither had drawn a weapon, both just standing there with their arms hanging awkwardly.
To someone unaware, it might have looked like they were about to shake hands. But a Death Knight was hardly one for friendly gestures.
Crash!
A white bolt of lightning split the sky between them. Yet neither of them moved.
After a long, or perhaps short, standoff, it was Alexandra who moved first.
She bent her knees, pushed off the ground, and in the moment her body launched forward, her hand had already gripped her sword.
Blitzklinge, Lightning Blade. That was the nickname. Her blade earned it for moving as fast as lightning.
She’d never once shown this speed in her spars with Encrid.
Even with Lynox present, did they think she had no trump cards of her own? Of course she did.
She condensed the Will coursing through her body, then burst it out in an explosion. That force allowed her to exceed her normal limits in a short burst.
BOOM!
With a deafening blast, the blade tore through the air and reached her enemy, surpassing the very limits of time.
CLANG!
Andante, now a Death Knight, responded to Alexandra’s speed. But instead of blocking, she struck back, a direct stab.
If Alexandra had continued on that path, she would’ve been impaled, leaving only a scratch on her enemy’s helmet.
So she accelerated again.
BOOM—
That sound rang in her ears, not a real one, but a hallucination. A result of detonating her remaining Will one more time.
Her body curved sideways mid-lunge. The blade drew a zigzagging path as it sliced across the Death Knight’s helmet.
CRACK!
The helmet shattered, and from within erupted a geyser of black smoke. Alexandra’s world turned crimson. Something hot gushed from her nose. Her legs trembled.
As her reddened vision turned behind her, she saw the rotting head within the broken helmet.
Whooooosh—
A whirlwind aligned with the ground formed in the wake of her movement. It looked like a tunnel carved by storm and wind.
Only after that single exchange did the evidence of her motion appear, she had torn the very air apart.
“Cut…”
With a Will-imbued blade, one that was engraved, she had split a head. Even a Death Knight wasn’t invincible. Sever the head, and it would die.
Andante’s final words were: Cut.
Her real last words, perhaps Hescal heard them.
Cough!
Alexandra shut her bleeding eyes and let the rain wash them clean. She knelt on one knee and stabbed the tip of her sword into the ground. Then she spoke.
“Andante, if you’re satisfied, then go.”
At some point, Andante had said she wanted to see a faster sword than her own. Alexandra had just shown it.
Two explosions— bursting Will twice was already a half-insane act.
She had done it twice. And the second time, even more recklessly than the first.
Her inner organs churned. Her lower abdomen throbbed. Her head pounded.
It felt like she might die, pain radiated through her entire body. Her guts twisted so badly she couldn’t even stand up, but it didn’t matter.
In her youth, she’d trained this very technique to the point she became unable to bear children, but she had no regrets, then or now.
Though she didn’t give birth from her womb, she raised a child with her heart, and with the technique she honed, she had helped protect her home.
‘Still… this is a bit much.’
Even within Zaun, Alexandra’s illness hadn’t been that serious, just a light cough. But now her body was failing, and the sickness reared its head. A sudden chill struck her.
It was just one slash, but that one slash had killed a Death Knight. So she had fulfilled her role. The problem was that the battle wasn’t over yet.
‘My body won’t move.’
Monsters flapped toward her. Medusa’s gaze remained unchanged.
The petrification curse, which she had ignored until now, became an undeniable pressure. Alexandra lowered her head to avoid the creature’s gaze.
Above her, the spell-serpent remained. Medusa hovered over the battlefield, and one flapping monster was targeting her.
‘Not good.’
Among the lizard-like beasts, one particularly small-brained one recklessly charged in.
Alexandra looked as if she were barely holding herself up using her sword.
The lizard beast, having lost its rider, lunged to bite her head.
Alexandra drew her sword, slashed, and re-embedded it in the ground. Her hands moved so fast that ordinary eyes couldn’t track them.
Splat!
A monster, jaw agape, with the top half of its head missing, collapsed to the ground before her, the only witness to what she’d done.
‘This is really bad.’
She didn’t even have the strength to speak, and yet more monsters and beasts gathered. The reason wasn’t hard to guess.
Tempe.
He had been caught. Even with Lynox nearby.
‘That bastard Hescal really is a fox.’
This was likely part of a plan from his head, turning Andante into a Death Knight, then sending her here.
He might not have cared who won their duel.
But if she were to die now, the scales would tilt ever so slightly in Zaun’s defeat.
Her senses dulled. She felt the weight of her wet clothes. All bad signs.
‘Someone please just take care of that damned snake head.’
The petrification curse and the spell-serpent made things all the more unbearable.
A Scalor wielding telekinesis grabbed her sword. An invisible hand gripped the blade.
And from behind, she sensed a presence. Her dulled senses and disoriented mind didn’t register it until someone was already behind her.
‘This is a mess.’
She shook off the telekinesis and swung her sword backward. She only had the strength for a single swing.
If this was the end, she might as well swing and shout her husband’s name.
If she was about to die, then surely he’d come to take care of things.
Or, if not… she’d die here and become a vengeful spirit, forever hindering her husband’s remarriage.
Absolutely.
‘So save me, Tempe.'
She gauged the distance between her and the one approaching from behind and then pulled free the sword held by the telekinesis and swung it.
Crack, swish, thud!
Her attack was blocked. The enemy had simply raised his sword vertically, effortlessly halting her motion. Then, he stepped in, fast enough that she didn’t even have time to call her husband’s name.
* * *
Encrid was counting the number of arrows floating around him when he realized, nearly all the monsters with supernatural abilities, especially those with exceptional powers, had gathered here.
There were probably still several monsters with telekinesis left, but they would be little more than rabble.
It didn’t take intuition to understand the reality before him.
Without even a gesture, five of them stood still with a dozen arrows floating in the air.
Fifty arrows hovered, all aimed at him. If those started flying, things would get seriously tricky. And their arrowheads were pitch black.
Encrid would bet Rem's left hand that those tips were poisoned.
“I am Panito, the right hand of Lord Hescal.”
Spoke the one who controlled the net. Encrid turned to look at him. His armor, made of iron plates that gave off a subtle glow, looked like a treasure in itself.
If Krais saw it, he'd probably covet it.
The enemy seemed confident he had backed Encrid into a corner— his posture said as much.
And as Encrid watched that confidence, a sudden thought occurred to him.
‘So I’m caught in a net… and that’s the end?’
No. It wasn’t.
A thought flashed across his mind. No, it was more like a revelation.
‘Mix the Sword of Chance with Tactical Swordsmanship.'
Base it on the Tactical Sword. Calculate using brilliance. Incorporate even coincidence and luck into the flow of intent.
All of it, to seize a favorable advantage.
That’s what tactics exist for.
His mind spun so fast it felt feverish, and it gave him an answer. The result: Encrid opened his mouth like a finely tuned instrument and spoke.
“Just as planned.”
No, he was, in fact, caught. But if he could claim even the coincidences were within his plan, then this situation too could be called part of the design.
“…You expected this?”
Panito asked, surprised.
“Of course.”
Encrid was confident. Compared to Ragna, who shamelessly called the west “north”, this was nothing, just a cute bluff.
“Impressive. Encrid of the Border Guard.”
Panito was someone Encrid had never even sparred with.
A few of Hescal’s followers were apparently too busy with outside affairs to meet easily, Panito must’ve been one of them.
He was genuinely surprised, while Encrid briefly drifted into another thought.
If he was going to claim coincidence as part of his plan, then making it look like it truly was, that fell into the domain of Tactical Swordsmanship.
Tactics were about deception. Luagarne-style Tactical Swordsmanship was, in essence, the Illusory Sword.
One small idea triggered a cascade of thoughts in his mind.
Valen-style Mercenary Swordsmanship never taught how to wield a sword to begin with. That was because it was an Illusory Sword. In other words, tactics are founded on deception. If he kept training Tactical Swordsmanship from this perspective, the next path forward might become clear.
Should he call it a method of training deceptive swordsmanship? Or just deceptive swordsmanship itself?
For now, it was too much to organize all at once, so he’d just commit the thought to memory.
Right now, he had more immediate matters to deal with.
“You gathered the superior monsters with supernatural abilities here to kill a single Knight-level combatant, then intended to push into Zaun, didn’t you?”
It was a statement made because he had already read the enemy’s intentions. If the enemy had already shown their hand, then at least the purpose of those cards could be understood.
“That’s right. You predicted that too, I see.”
Panito didn’t seem particularly cunning, he was visibly shocked the entire time. In one way, that meant he had been completely fooled. In another, it meant Encrid’s acting had reached its peak.
Encrid, walking as if following the path the Tactical Sword showed him, spoke once more.
“Yeah. All of it, according to plan.”
If Krais were watching, he’d probably call him the continent’s greatest liar.
If Luagarne were here, she’d be clapping with those slippery hands of her.
“None of you will get past me.”
And this was the truth. Whatever the plan, from the moment he faced them, Encrid knew what he had to do.
And by now, that Ragna brat would also know what he needed to do.
“Even if I do know, stopping you won’t be easy.”
Panito said, clenching his teeth. The thought that someone had seen through his master’s strategy filled him with envy.
That envy quickly transformed into fury, and ultimately, into a murderous intent that screamed he had to kill Encrid.
No comments yet. Be the first to leave a review!