Chapter 48 : Opportunity for Victory

Chapter 48: Opportunity for Victory

The hands of the soldiers, who had been fighting fiercely, began to slow down little by little.

Their gazes kept flickering sideways.

In the middle of the chaotic battlefield, a gaping open space had formed.

At the very center, two men were locked in combat.

“Though the Count’s younger brothers are all monsters one after another....”

“To think he’s standing against Lord Zahir of a Hundred Victories....”

The bloody duel had already gone on for more than fifteen minutes.

In that time, they must have exchanged over two hundred blows.

Varen Rodona’s whole body was drenched in blood.

Compared to him, Zahir’s condition was far better, though it didn’t seem entirely easy for him either.

His armor was torn in places and smeared with dirt.

“Oh, you’ve improved a lot, haven’t you?”

At Zahir’s words, Varen only glared in silence.

“That last move was quite good too. But if it were me, I probably would’ve done it like this.”

Zahir spun his long two-meter sword with a twirl as he spoke.

Varen muttered inwardly.

‘If it were me, if it were me—so damn full of himself.’

What was truly infuriating was that the experienced old man actually reproduced his techniques in his own way, making them look even more refined.

“You split off a strand of aura and accelerated it in advance, didn’t you? Then you detonated it suddenly for an abrupt burst of speed with no warning.... But how about this?”

Kaaang!

Zahir’s greatsword shot straight toward Varen’s temple.

Varen caught it and pushed forward.

With his relatively shorter sword, Varen tried to close the distance, but each time, Zahir skillfully pushed him back.

Then, in a sudden moment—

Kang!

Their swords clashed once again, and—

Taaang!

With an explosive burst, Zahir’s blade accelerated a second time, knocking away Varen’s tightly-pressed sword.

Zahir grinned.

“Like this. Rather than bothering to stab in another direction, just accelerate once more along the same line. Overwhelm him with sheer force.”

Kwaak!

Zahir released one hand from his sword and seized Varen’s collar as he was driven back.

“And then his posture collapses like this.”

Pwak!

Zahir yanked Varen forward while kicking at his shin.

Ppaak!

Varen’s feet lifted into the air.

All that remained was his fall to the ground.

‘Khuek!’

Cold sweat broke out down his back.

If he fell like this, he would die. No doubt about it.

Even as he thought it, his body moved.

While airborne, he drew a 30 cm shortsword and swung it toward Zahir.

He couldn’t just flail it randomly.

Such reckless strikes would only be blocked by an aura shield.

He concentrated all the aura he could, aiming precisely at Zahir’s carotid artery.

A wound there, even a slight one, could prove fatal.

Pwak!

Thud!

It all happened in an instant.

Varen swung his blade,

while Zahir, instead of pulling, shoved the collar he had been gripping and pulled his body back.

Taking advantage of the opening, the fallen Varen quickly sprang to his feet.

‘Haa.... If it weren’t for noona and hyung, I’d have been dead several times already.’

The reaction speed trained into him by Katrina. And the precision and freedom of the ancient swordsmanship taught by Ransen.

If even one of those had been missing, he would have surely died.

Zahir’s thoughts were similar.

“Nggh.... Your reaction speed is one thing, but your sword is really sharp, isn’t it? To target the carotid artery so precisely in that situation? I was almost going to just take the hit and brush it off.”

Zahir clicked his tongue in regret.

Even as sweat and blood dripped down, Varen exuded fierce determination.

“Old man. Don’t act so full of yourself. You might just get taken down in a single strike.”

It wasn’t an empty boast.

‘I’m almost there....’

The strategy he had learned from Kalserik was just one.

The timing to deceive the enemy.

Even if you’re pushed back again and again, if you deceive your opponent just once, you can win—this was Kalserik’s principle, and Varen had learned that timing.

‘If I just endure a little longer... a chance to deceive will surely come.’

And when it came to trickery, Varen was truly confident.

The Marquis House of Rodona’s sword art, Deceptive-Slaying Sword, was a skill-sword built on unpredictability.

In three hundred exchanges, even if you were pushed back the whole time, you could seize that single opportunity and cut down your foe.

Therefore,

just once.

If he were given just one chance!

Whoosh—!

It was because he had been waiting for it all along.

Suddenly, an arrow flew in without a sound,

and when Zahir hurriedly twisted his body to deflect it,

As if he had planned it all, Varen moved at once.

Kaaang!

Varen’s sword and Zahir’s greatsword clashed.

In an instant, sparks scattered wildly from their exchanged strikes.

Because Zahir’s stance had collapsed while dodging the arrow, he was quickly driven into a defensive position.

‘Now!’

The flow of battle.

The placement of his gaze.

The opponent’s perception of ‘me as a fighter.’

All overturned by a single deception.

This was the very moment Kalserik had spoken of.

Varen prepared his decisive strike.

Wooooong—!

His sword trembled fiercely.

Aura Threads streamed down its length.

Zahir tensed immediately.

At a glance, it was clear this was a full-power blow.

Burdensome though it was—

‘A rookie is still a rookie.’

He was a seasoned warrior who had won a hundred battles.

He had already survived crises worse than this at least five times.

‘I’ll let it pass by.’

Then the opportunity would come back to him.

‘This will be your last chance, boy!’

Thinking this,

Zahir twisted his greatsword.

And then—

Pakang!

Varen’s sword, struck by Zahir’s greatsword, was flung aside without strength.

“What…?!”

Even though his sword had trembled with focused aura? Even though Aura Threads had streamed out in torrents?

That sword, saturated with aura,

as if it had held no strength at all,

was knocked away?

Zahir’s gaze locked onto Varen’s eyes.

Varen’s eyes flickered blue.

“Deceptive-Slaying Sword, [Grandiose]!”

Grandiose. Empty display of power.

A technique that swells a handful of aura to make it seem like a full-force strike.

When all of Zahir’s strength was drawn into blocking that false attack, Varen’s true aura exploded instead from his left leg.

Jjjeooook!

A devastating calf kick.

Zahir’s shin crumbled with a crunch.

“Ghk…!”

The fact that he didn’t scream from the hideous pain spoke volumes of his mental fortitude, but—

“Farewell.”

Having lost his leg and collapsing helplessly, there was no way for Zahir to block the thirty-centimeter shortsword plunging down like a bolt of light.

“Ha? This is the end…?”

At the final moment, a hollow laugh slipped from Zahir’s lips.

Puuuk!

Varen drove the blade through Zahir’s heart and pinned him to the ground.

“Haaa… it’s done.”

Though he had received Rivera’s help, Varen felt no shame.

He was the type who believed that winning was all that mattered.

And true to that thought—

“Great Warrior Varen has killed Zahir!”

“The enemy commander has fallen!”

The soldiers roared thunderously.

Someone hung Zahir’s corpse on a pole and raised it high.

How Varen had won—none of that mattered.

“L-Lord Zahir…!”

“This can’t be…!”

The morale of Ransen’s army soared sky-high, while Haarun’s army’s spirit crashed into the ground.

Only the outcome mattered.

And for Varen—

“…Now I can finally boast to hyung a little.”

That was what mattered most.

*         *         *

The most important thing.

Brida, Haarun’s guardian knight, never forgot it.

‘To protect Lord Haarun.’

She recalled the moment she first met Haarun.

Back then, she had been nothing more than a sixteen-year-old pickpocket living in the back alleys.

The instant she saw Haarun, she made a decision.

To steal.

Not his coin purse, but the radiance he carried—she wanted it desperately.

‘I have nothing….’

No family, no dreams, nothing—just a life barely lived.

But Haarun seemed to have everything.

Especially those eyes.

Eyes that sought joy, that believed they could seize that joy,

eyes she envied too much.

Even a single scrap of cloth—if it belonged to Haarun, she wanted it, no matter what.

Of course, she failed.

She was the best pickpocket in the back alleys, but Haarun was already a renowned warrior at that time.

And then the miracle began.

‘You’ve got quick hands. Want to come with me?’

The hand Haarun extended toward her.

Brida had seized that hand without hesitation.

From that moment on, her life was directed solely toward Haarun—that man alone.

“Huu…. Damn, you’re a real troublesome one.”

Kalserik, holding up his greatsword, limped.

He had already lost his horse and now stood barely upright on the ground, facing Brida.

With a deep scowl, he let out his complaint.

“Even in this state, you’re still so defensive?”

Brida, still mounted, gave no reply and only gripped her shield tighter.

Her true talent lay in lightning-fast flurries of strikes, but the art she had mastered was a shield-based defensive martial style.

Because she wanted to become the shield that protected Haarun.

“I can’t afford to get injured in a place like this.”

If she were injured, she wouldn’t be able to protect Lord Haarun.

Brida’s eyes shone.

But now, it was time to bring things to an end.

By defending thoroughly and driving in counterattacks as swift as lightning, she had left Kalserik speechless, and now he was even limping on one leg.

“Let’s finish this.”

She spurred her horse.

Hiiiieeeeng—!

Her beloved steed cried out and thundered forward, pounding the ground.

Brida lowered her shield and leveled her spear.

Now was the moment to abandon defense and focus solely on offense.

Slicing through the instant, she thrust her spear at that dazzling opening.

But then—

“Yes. This is what I was waiting for!”

Kalserik bared a huge grin and lunged forward.

The leg that had seemed injured slammed into the earth perfectly sound, and his body surged far past the point Brida had targeted.

“What…!”

That an opponent who had been limping the whole time would suddenly be perfectly fine and charge straight at her—Brida had never imagined it.

She had fallen for Kalserik’s trickery.

In truth, Kalserik had only drawn wounds that caused heavy bleeding without damaging the muscle, and had merely acted as though he were far more injured than he was.

As a result, he had gained—

a single opportunity.

“This is how mercenaries fight, rookie!”

Kwaaa-duk!

Kalserik’s greatsword slashed across Brida’s chest.

Kwaaang!

She was thrown from her horse and slammed into the ground.

‘Ah….’

The battlefield swam in her wavering vision.

“Kill!!”

“Drag her down! Khahat!”

“Grrr! Bite! Tear! Tear her apart!”

The battlefield where Kushan Cavalry and Storm Cavalry clashed.

And into their midst, the berserkers had plunged with a horrific charge.

The cavalry’s skill was overwhelmingly in their favor, but in the chaotic melee, the match-up against the frenzied berserkers was far from good.

The tide of battle worsened.

‘This can’t….’

She tried to rise but couldn’t move.

Was her neck broken? She had no sensation below her head.

Her wavering vision halted on the blue sky above.

She wanted to reach out her hand, but it wouldn’t move.

‘This can’t….’

Kalserik’s bearded face loomed into view, blotting out the sky. His greatsword was raised high toward the heavens.

‘I must… protect Lord Haarun….’

Kwaa-duk!

The greatsword pierced straight through Brida’s neck.

“Haa…. That was rough.”

Kalserik hunched his shoulders, panting heavily, then lifted his sword high and shouted.

His voice thundered across the entire hillside.

“I, Kalserik! Have slain the enemy commander, Brida!!”

Then, exhausted once more, he gasped for breath.

‘Well… at least I’ve saved face.’

Still panting, he turned his gaze.

He watched the battlefield where Ransen and Haarun, along with Haarun’s retainers, clashed in chaos.

‘Now it’s about time the generals themselves settled things.’

Nngh.

Forcing his weary body awake, Kalserik hefted his greatsword once more.

*         *         *

A thunderous cry shook the battlefield.

— Brida has been slain!!!

It was Kalserik’s voice.

Without realizing it, a sigh slipped from my lips.

“Huu….”

Now I felt a bit more at ease.

This was already the third such cry.

After killing Jedark the Gambler, and then Lord Zahir of a Hundred Victories, now even Brida the Guardian.

Katrina seemed to be holding out somehow as well.

While my younger brother and vassals endured like that, I kept on running.

Blocking and dodging the relentless charges of Haarun and his guards,

entangling the enemy horse-archers to keep them occupied.

In the midst of that, I managed to cut down the guards one by one, until now only two remained.

As a result,

I was in a pitiful state.

The horse carrying me as I fled was panting raggedly, and so was I.

Each time I blocked Haarun’s assault, my aura shattered and stabbed back into me, leaving my whole body drenched in blood.

I was starting to feel it.

That I was at my very limit…

That this fight needed to end now.

‘And a provocation would be the right way to begin, wouldn’t it?’

It would narrow his focus.

“Haarun. Are you doing alright?”

At my question, Haarun grinned widely and answered.

“Mm? Are you asking me? You’re the one who’s not alright right now.”

“Wasn’t Brida, the one who just died, your lover?”

I thought it was quite the heavy provocation, but Haarun’s response was unexpected.

“If she fell here, that just means that was as far as she could go. No, more importantly, you. Are you just going to keep running around like this? It’s boring.”

“….”

The provocation had backfired on me instead.

Something hot welled up in my chest.

What on earth did he think of his retainers—no, his comrades?

“You really… are unforgivable.”

I reined in my galloping horse to a stop.

And faced Haarun.

“Hey.”

I hurled the battered, bent cavalry spear I’d been carrying onto the ground.

“As I thought, you have no right to speak of being king.”

Instead, I drew Banroa from my waist.

A silver blade gleamed beneath the sunlight.

Before this sword, even ancient armaments lost their brilliance.

Forged entirely from Starsilver, it was a peerless treasure blade.

“Now that I’ve seen all I needed to see,”

The Banroa Royal Swordsmanship, Iron Heart Sword, was not some crude style of simply crashing head-on.

Its essence lay in analyzing the opponent and tailoring a counter for them—an all-purpose sword art.

Which meant I hadn’t just been running in circles and doing nothing all this time.

“Die here.”

A Swordmaster who had ‘transcended.’

He was a being stronger than I had imagined.

But I had already discovered the formula for victory,

And now, I had drawn the greatest weapon in my possession.

Tip: Tap/click the left or right side of the screen to go to previous/next chapter.