Chapter 41

Chapter : 41

Before the audience, Katarina and I faced each other.

It was the very same sparring ground we had used during the entrance examination. Standing here again felt strangely different.

Each of us drew our sword and leveled it at the other.

I really have improved, haven’t I?

Back then, my legs would tremble if Katarina merely pointed her sword in my direction, but now I could endure it.

Then again, perhaps I had simply grown used to it.

How was I supposed to fight?

Could this even be called a fight?

Katarina called it a spar, but at best this was a performance. A show meant to make it more dramatic that I could use Sword Aura.

A stage with neither winner nor loser.

I should just match her rhythm.

With that in mind, I wrapped my blade in mana.

Before Katarina and I even crossed swords, I gave the audience time to admire the Sword Aura.

“So the article was true. He really did become an Expert at that age.”

“It’s my first time seeing Sword Aura. It sparkles.”

Katarina let out a faint laugh when she heard the crowd murmuring. She swung her sword lazily from side to side, then infused it with Sword Aura. The tip of her blade shone blue.

On the surface, there was hardly any difference between her Sword Aura and mine.

Then what would happen if they clashed?

We tested it.

CLAAAAANG!

My grip went numb.

The sword held.

I could feel myself being pushed back, but it wasn’t so great a shock that I couldn’t withstand it.

It was manageable.

I could at least pretend to fight.

Sword fighting had its own rules. The orthodox responses to each form. If both sides followed them, then no matter how fiercely they swung their blades, they could still cross swords safely. It was much like actors performing from a prepared script.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

After crossing blades several times like that, I stepped backward.

Katarina wanted a well-constructed spectacle.

I had agreed to cooperate with that, so I did my best. The minimum condition for a good-looking sword fight was a great many exchanges. We needed to keep crossing blades for a long time and share enough measure between us.

To adjust the tempo, I retreated.

“Hey. You’re dead.”

What was her complaint this time?

Katarina’s eyes blazed as she glared at me with both brows raised high. Fierce light burned in them. There had been times when Katarina spoke roughly, but never before had she looked truly angry like this.

“Do it properly.”

Up until then, apparently, had only been the preview.

What came next was an entirely different class of strike.

Katarina swung her sword down vertically. An invisible pressure closed in from all around, freezing my legs and making my body shrink in on itself.

I forced my sword up and blocked.

CLAAAAANG!

It was heavy.

The impact nearly tore the sword from my hands.

And even after the clash, Katarina didn’t stop. She scraped the blade up and down as though sawing through wood. My sword was on the verge of breaking, so I kicked at Katarina with my left foot.

It was like kicking a building. Instead, I was the one driven backward.

Katarina twisted the corner of her mouth into a forced smile. Then she planted the tip of her sword into the ground and said in a domineering voice,

“Get serious.”

“Everything I can do?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will.”

BAANG!

I kicked off the ground and rushed forward, thrusting my sword with all my strength. Katarina grinned at the fully committed strike.

At that smiling face, I fired a Fireball.

Katarina twisted aside and dodged.

I stepped on her foot.

Just as Katarina herself had done before, I crossed blades with her and shoved forward. My Sword Aura was weaker, and it was the one being shaved away little by little.

I endured it.

Then I fired a Fireball again.

BAANG!

The Fireball struck Katarina in the abdomen and exploded.

Judging by the fact that she even raised an Aura Shield, I suppose it really did catch her off guard.

As I swung my sword again, I thought,

She’s letting this happen.

Katarina had allowed me to step on her foot without resistance. Considering her superhuman physical abilities, that should have been impossible.

That meant she wasn’t merely controlling her strength for the sake of the spar. She was imposing restrictions on herself.

If I used that properly, I could land a real hit.

My swordsmanship.

The swordsmanship Katarina had taught me. Swordsmanship Katarina would be thoroughly familiar with. Whether I thrust or slashed with the sword, it would all be obvious to her.

So I restricted that to a minimum.

Instead, I relied on magic.

I used a large sword strike to widen the distance, then loaded Mana Bullets and Fireballs.

Red spheres flickered around me.

Blue bullets trembled.

Magic floated up into the air.

I first fired the more difficult Fireballs in straight paths, assigning their trajectories in advance. At the same time, I drew separate paths for the Mana Bullets and charged in to bind Katarina’s feet.

I completed the spell as I approached her.

The Mana Bullets followed behind me.

Katarina released the Aura Shield. As though she meant to fight in a body of performance similar to mine, she sliced through the Fireballs with her sword and closed in.

SHWIK! SHWIK! SHWIIIIIIIICK!

In an instant, Katarina cut down seven Fireballs, knocked away my sword strike, slipped out of position, dodged the Mana Bullets, and stripped away the pursuing bullets with her blade.

“Ah!”

So a sword can be used like that too.

She wasn’t drawing on the strength of her entire body for each strike. She had separated her body completely. Katarina used only her forearm, taking the recoil from one impact and turning it directly into the next strike, faster and faster.

When I stared in admiration, Katarina shrugged.

Since she didn’t come at me again, it seemed the spar could end here. Somehow, it felt as though I had shown off magic more than my swordsmanship, and I scratched my head awkwardly.

As the atmosphere shifted toward ending the match, Katarina’s swordsmanship replayed itself in my mind over and over. Her movements, the path of her sword that followed them, that strange technique of stripping away Mana Bullets. Each thought bit into the tail of the next in a tangled chain.

“Ah.”

I felt as though I understood it.

At least a little.

---

Watching the duel between the two of them, Leo clenched his teeth.

His fist tightened.

His chest swelled.

Was this really the sort of skill a fellow student from his own department could display?

When he looked around, the others from the Swordsmanship Department were reacting much the same way.

Envy, awe, admiration.

“How can someone fight like that at his age?”

“He could join a knight order right now and be fine in real combat.”

Leo agreed with them.

Raphael had already passed beyond the level of a mere Academy student.

Since when had it been?

Raphael had been growing at a terrifying speed.

He didn’t used to be quite like this.

Leo thought back to the spar he had had with Raphael when they had first entered the Academy.

The difference in skill had been clear, but Raphael still felt reachable. It had felt as though if they fought hundreds of times, Leo might win once.

Not now.

Now it felt as though no matter how many times they fought, he would never win.

It was frustrating.

And it wasn’t only the Swordsmanship Department that felt that way.

Leo didn’t know just how extraordinary the fireballs and magical bullets Raphael was scattering around really were. But judging by the reactions of the mages around him, staff in hand, they were certainly no low-level trick.

“He’s chanting while moving around like that? How?”

“He’s mixing two kinds of magic. The individual spells are ordinary enough in difficulty, but the way he’s using them is fascinating. Who taught him?”

Leo kept his mouth shut.

A genius.

Raphael was a genius.

The others called him a genius too.

And not merely because of the swordsmanship that had made him a Sword Expert at such a young age. His inborn Mana Capacity, his use of magic, his combat instincts—none of it was ordinary.

“It’s nothing impressive. What a fuss.”

That was the judgment of one person alone, aside from the Crown Prince, Kartea.

The Dragon Blood that ran through the imperial family.

Dragon blood made a person strong. And from the perspective of Kartea, who was said to have inherited the thickest share of that blood since the First Emperor himself, Raphael was no more than one among countless knights.

Nothing remarkable.

No matter how much Raphael grew in the future, Kartea could still defeat him with a single finger.

And it was just as he was judging Raphael so coldly that Kartea pressed his index finger to his own forehead.

Why?

Kartea tilted his head.

Why Raphael?

By ordinary standards, Raphael was certainly a genius. He was the sort who would only grow greater with time, so there would have been no harm in building a connection with him early.

Then why?

Why had Kartea instinctively classified Raphael as a rival?

Why?

There was no reason for it.

Did Raphael possess the potential to become a threat to the Empire?

Did he covet the imperial throne?

Not at all.

There was no reason whatsoever for Kartea to feel uncomfortable around Raphael.

Then why?

Kartea’s gaze shifted toward Navier, who was watching in admiration.

Me?

Kartea shook his head and rose from his seat.

There was no way.

---

“You believe this?”

“No. Absolutely not. I know that bastard. Him, a Sword Expert? Don’t make me laugh. It’s all nonsense.”

“They say he even sparred with the Sword Saint in front of a crowd. Even then?”

“I’m telling you, I know for a fact. It’s all a lie. Think about what he used to be like back at home. When did he ever practice swordsmanship? He enters the Academy with skill not even worthy of a third-rate fighter, and then reaches Expert in just a few months?”

Jericho Isaac snatched the newspaper from Evelyn’s hands, tore it to shreds, and gave a derisive snort. Pieces of the paper piled up on the floor.

Evelyn frowned at him as though he were pathetic and said,

“And what if it’s true? Then both of us are finished.”

“I told you! This is impossible! Even if Raphael really did reform himself and start training twelve hours a day from the moment he entered the Academy, he still couldn’t have become an Expert. The only reason you think otherwise is because you’ve never learned swordsmanship.”

Evelyn Isaac shrugged.

“Well, I think differently. Whether it’s possible or impossible, the information has arrived, hasn’t it? Then naturally we prepare for it. And the Sword Saint herself guaranteed it. That means there’s every chance it’s true.”

“So? What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t fight him.”

Jericho’s face twisted as though something had cracked inside it. He pounded his fist on his knee several times, then rolled his neck heavily as though the muscles around his shoulders were stiff.

“You’re telling me to give up? To hand over the estate just like that? Does that make any sense?”

“I’m saying there’s no need to rush.”

“That means the same thing. You’re telling me to give up. When Raphael returns to the estate, you won’t even be here.”

Evelyn let out a sigh.

“Then think of it that way.”

Jericho ran a hand through his hair.

Now that Evelyn wasn’t trying to stop him, it felt unsettling instead. Anxiety began creeping up inside him.

What if the article saying Raphael had become a Sword Expert was true?

What if Raphael had in fact possessed an extraordinary talent for swordsmanship, and through the Sword Saint’s instruction had risen to the level of an Expert?

Then all of their plans would come to nothing.

The only reason such plans had been possible in the first place was the old law of House Isaac. The strongest person became lord.

In recent years, it had become little more than a dead letter, and the position of Head of the House had long passed to the eldest son by default, but it still gave them at least a pretext for seizing the territory.

On top of that, Raphael had already lost the trust of the vassals. If Jericho defeated Raphael in a duel and Evelyn added her own influence, they could seize the estate.

That had been the plan.

If Jericho could no longer defeat Raphael, then they would have no choice but to give up.

For quite some time now, Jericho had thought of the Isaac estate as his own. He had assumed that, with time, it would naturally fall into his hands.

“I won’t give up.”

“And if you won’t, then what? You’ll fight Raphael when he returns to the estate?”

“Yes.”

“Haa… Then do as you like. Just don’t die.”

After finishing his conversation with Evelyn, Jericho went down to the training room in the manor.

There, he looked at his palms.

He had swung the sword until his hands were like rags. He had trained and trained. All of it had been for the sake of taking the estate. He wanted to become Head of the House.

“I absolutely will not give up.”

Jericho gripped his sword.

And swung it.