Chapter 186

Chapter 186:  All Set

After every knight of Daphne completed Hardin’s “special training,”

they didn’t stop there—they kept on training.

That training was…

“Hyaah! Hyaaah!”

Clang! Claaang!

Clashing swords with one another—

In other words, sparring.

Since both sides were using Wave Swordsmanship, it made it easier to identify each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and offered plenty of opportunities for improvement.

However, if there was a downside…

“Alright, who’s up next?”

“……”

As Hardin bared his teeth and spoke, the knights nearby desperately avoided eye contact.

‘I’m not doing it with that guy.’

‘Don’t look at him, don’t look at him…’

It was obvious what kind of state they’d end up in if they accepted that match.

“No one? Hey, sparring with me helps you improve the fastest!”

Even as Hardin urged them, everyone just doubled down on focusing on their current opponents, not sparing him even a glance.

‘Fast improvement, my ass. You’ll be dead before you get better.’

‘Why’s he even more fired up than the last time I saw him?’

Well, up until just a few days ago, there had been knights bold enough to challenge him.

Fueled by confidence from having fully mastered Wave Swordsmanship—

and the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could land a hit on Hardin now.

But the result…

‘That man’s a monster.’

‘There’s no way he’s human.’

All over the sparring grounds were knights with glaring blue bruises and lumps on their heads.

Their reckless “challenges” had proven just how stupid that hopeful thinking really was.

Just as Hardin was struggling to find a decent opponent—

“Hup! Hrrgh!”

“Yaaah!”

Clang! Claaaang!

Hardin’s gaze shifted to Beryl, who was fiercely exchanging blows with Mikkelsen.

“Hey, Beryl.”

Flinch!

Beryl’s shoulder twitched the moment he heard that voice mid-swing—

but he absolutely did not turn his head in Hardin’s direction.

Instead…

“Uwaah! I’m going harder now!”

“B-Bring it on, brother!”

He pretended to focus even more on his sparring with Mikkelsen… amping up the intensity.

Hardin rubbed his chin and spoke again.

“Stop that and come over here, I said.”

Clang! Claaaang!

“F-Focus! I’m focusing reaaaal hard!”

“Ooooh!”

I didn’t hear anything.

I’m too focused on this sparring match to hear anything at all.

And so Beryl kept yelling louder, pushing Mikkelsen harder, as if nothing else existed.

“Hraaaah!”

But the moment Beryl thrust his sword forward—

Thwack!

“Huh?”

The sword stopped mid-air.

A cold sweat broke out on Beryl’s back as he slowly turned his head—

“I told you to stop. You didn’t hear me?”

“S-Sorry, sir. I was just… too focused on the sparring…”

Hardin stood there with his brows deeply furrowed, and Beryl had no choice but to answer with a tearful face.

“Come here. Now.”

“…Yessir.”

Why is it always me…

“All right, focus.”

Swwiiish!

Hardin thrust his sword forward.

Clang! Claaang!

Beryl, who had just been making a pitiful face, quickly pulled himself together and countered.

“Still, Beryl’s holding on pretty well.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Even though Hardin’s strikes came in relentlessly sharp, Beryl was managing to block them decently.

On top of that—

Sea Ray!

Claaang!

He was even managing to find and exploit openings from time to time.

Though Hardin was catching them by a hair’s breadth,

He’s definitely gotten stronger.

A faint smile appeared on Hardin’s face, as if he found it entertaining.

Clang! Claaang!

How many times had they exchanged blows by now?

Then let’s see if he can take this.

Hardin sent a strike from outside Beryl’s field of vision.

A fierce thrust imbued with the Gyre.

It was a strike that most knights wouldn’t even be able to react to, let alone block.

At that moment—

Beryl’s eyes snapped toward the sword.

Claaaang!

He swiftly twisted his body, shifted into the Wolf Turtle stance, and blocked the blow.

He blocked that?

Hardin’s eyes widened in surprise.

It had been a strike he’d thrown out just in case, and yet Beryl had deflected it so casually—he couldn’t help but be impressed.

But that was as far as it went.

Claaaang!

Beryl’s sword couldn’t withstand the force and shattered.

“Gaaah!”

Unable to endure the impact, Beryl was flung backward.

“Damn it… Seriously, why do these swords keep breaking?”

Beryl muttered as he got back up, brushing himself off with a face full of regret and frustration.

To others, it might’ve sounded like an excuse—but it actually wasn’t.

Since the start of the sparring, he had already broken five or six swords.

And then—

“Um, Young Master…”

“Yeah? What is it?”

Manton had approached at some point and cautiously addressed Hardin.

“We’ve noticed swords repeatedly breaking during sparring. I’m sorry, but could the cause perhaps be…”

“Oh yeah, it’s because of Wave Swordsmanship.”

Hardin shrugged as he answered, and Manton’s eyes widened.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, of course. Using Wave Swordsmanship with a regular sword… puts a ridiculous amount of strain on the blade.”

Using Weapon Enchant inevitably placed a burden on the sword.

And especially with Wave Swordsmanship—where you constantly and finely adjust your mana flow—it bordered on outright abuse of the weapon.

So, swords breaking like this wasn’t all that strange.

However—

If this happens in real combat, it’s a straight path to defeat.

Even if these guys had improved their swordsmanship considerably, if they went into Veritarun’s Canyon like this… they’d be lucky to come back in one piece.

Had Manton picked up on it?

With a worried look, he asked,

“Forgive my boldness, but… are we really heading to Veritarun’s Canyon like this? Wave Swordsmanship is certainly powerful, but if the swords can’t endure it, the risk of serious injury will only grow…”

“Exactly. It’s a damn death wish at this point.”

“Huh?”

Just then, another voice chimed in.

As Hardin looked around, the voice called again from below.

“Over here, over here.”

There stood Jerry, arms crossed and wearing a grumpy expression.

“What now?”

“I’ve already broken over twenty daggers, you know. At this rate… I have no idea how many I’ll need to bring. Honestly, wouldn’t it be better to just give up on that Veritarun place or whatever it’s called?”

As Jerry raised his voice,

“Huh? What did that bastard just say?”

“Something about the canyon, I think?”

The nearby knights tilted their heads and murmured amongst themselves.

“You little—”

Claaang!

“Aaaagh!”

Hardin smacked Jerry right on the crown of his head. Rubbing the spot, Jerry spoke with a face full of injustice.

“It’s not like I’m wrong, am I? If we go like this, it’s obvious how it’s going to end! What’s the point of Wave Swordsmanship or whatever if the swords break every time you use them?”

“Hold on. There’s a way around that.”

“What kind of way?”

“It’s about time that guy showed up.”

“That guy?”

If all went well, the final piece for this subjugation mission… was about to fall into place.

“Broooootheeeeer!”

Right on cue, a familiar voice rang out from the distance.

Hardin smirked and turned his head.

“There he is.”

Then, they saw Malion and Engelmann approaching the training grounds, each driving a separate wagon.

“Hey, isn’t that the Third Young Master?”

“What’s with the wagons?”

The knights looked on with puzzled expressions.

Neighhh!

The wagons came to a stop, and Malion walked straight over to Hardin.

Hardin gave him a look and asked,

“So? You got everything we agreed on?”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started. It was so damn hard to get my hands on these, I thought I was gonna die out there.”

“What, so you couldn’t get them?”

Malion shook his head firmly, adjusted his glasses, and said,

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m Malion. There’s no way I’d come back empty-handed. I brought exactly what you asked for, down to the last detail—see for yourself.”

“Nice.”

Hardin walked straight to the wagon.

He pulled down one of the crates and opened the lid…

“Hmmm, this is it.”

Inside were rows of identical swords.

What stood out was that the blades were entirely black… yet subtly gleaming in a strange way.

Hardin grabbed one and sent mana through it.

Woooooooong!

Waves of Gyre rippled across the blade.

Far more intense and powerful than what Hardin had produced before.

Perfect.

A crooked grin tugged at the corner of Hardin’s lips.

This was a type of sword known as “Blue Tide.”

It was a high-grade weapon forged from obsidian, quartz, iron ore, and tin—blended in an exact ratio—with an artificial mana circuit embedded inside to allow mana to flow seamlessly.

Given the materials, the cost was, of course, significant… and even if a common craftsman knew the method, they wouldn’t be capable of forging one.

With this, not only could it withstand the techniques of Wave Swordsmanship—

It could bring out one hundred… no, more than one hundred percent of the knights’ full potential.

Just as Hardin nodded in approval, Malion asked casually,

“So, what do you think, brother?”

“This is good stuff. Exceptionally well made.”

A satisfied smile crept up on Malion’s face.

Engelmann, who had been watching from the side, chimed in with a deliberately exaggerated tone.

“Ah, seriously, we went through hell just to get those made. We had to hunt down every craftsman in the city, convince them, and hound the merchant guilds like mad to ensure steady supplies of materials on time.”

“Engelmann, you don’t have to say all that.”

“But, Third Young Master…”

When Malion raised a hand to cut him off, Engelmann pouted in silence.

Hardin let out a quiet chuckle and replied,

“What? He’s not wrong, though.”

“Pardon?”

“If I had tried to gather all this myself… I wouldn’t have made it in time.”

Even if he had pulled it off, there definitely would’ve been some “minor physical conflict” involved.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced Hardin was that entrusting the final piece to Malion had been the right decision—and his grin only grew.

“Well done, Malion.”

Hardin gave Malion a pat on the shoulder.

Maybe that’s why—

“Ahem. Come on, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Malion looked away for no reason and scratched the bridge of his nose.

A rare sight between these two brothers.

What the heck is this?

Even Engelmann, watching from the side, widened his eyes in surprise.

A moment of awkward silence passed.

Then Malion cleared his throat and said,

“Ahem, anyway, that’s it for the swords. Check the other wagon for the armor. I handpicked the best sets I could get my hands on.”

“Alright.”

Hardin walked over to the second wagon and opened its crates.

Inside were sets of light armor made of steel, and on the chest of each was Daphne’s emblem—the wave pattern.

Tap tap tap!

Hardin tapped one with the back of his hand, and it responded with a crisp sound, the texture of the surface coming through clearly.

It was clear—the equipment was of excellent quality and craftsmanship.

He really delivers, even without being told.

Their upcoming enemies in this battle were, in all likelihood, fast-moving demonkind.

Naturally, wearing full plate armor would only be cumbersome and of no help at all.

The fact that Malion had brought this kind of gear meant he thoroughly understood the nature of this mission.

“So… what do you think of the equipment, Brother?”

Malion asked with eyes gleaming.

Hardin gave a thumbs-up and replied,

“It’s perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

So perfect, in fact, that it almost made me feel a little embarrassed.

Clap!

Hardin rose from his seat, turned his head to the side, and clapped his hands.

“Alright, everyone—come take a sword and a set of armor!”

The subjugation of Veritarun’s Canyon—an operation that would decide the fate of the Daphne Viscounty—

had just received its final, unshakable piece.