Ch.17758. We Are Here, That’s All. (2)

“Let’s set that aside for now.”

Separate from the commotion happening elsewhere.

A boy walked toward me with plodding sandaled feet and showed me both his palms.

His snow-white clothes and white hair fluttered wildly in the wind like a beast’s rough mane.

On my side too, my vision was dizzied by hair whipping in the wind.

“Are you able to move properly?”

“……”

I exhaled deeply and gripped the sword I had planted upside down in the ground.

Instead of answering verbally, I responded by shifting my grip from the pommel pressed against my palm to the handle.

“Then let’s see you prove your words now.”

He approaches.

I immediately lower my stance in response.

Though his hands held nothing, there was neither hesitation nor doubt in his gait.

He approaches me directly.

I hold my sword in a Portes position with my right hand, raising it to the middle right as if to thrust.

Each breath is laborious.

The pain that had been crushing my body disappeared as if washed away, but in its place came a renewed burden of lethargy and exhaustion that crushed not just my body but my mind as well.

Even keeping my eyes open is difficult.

If breathing feels this uncomfortable and awkward, how terrible must my physical condition be?

“This is serious.”

Though my body reacted reflexively.

He struck the flat of my blade with the back of his hand, causing the sword to deflect sideways.

It was a miracle I didn’t lose my grip.

Was I careless? No.

This was the best I could manage in my current state.

Yet I still missed his movement.

Whether he was grumbling briefly or unconsciously voicing a complaint, I couldn’t tell.

Before his words could reach my ears, his kick struck my body faster.

“!!!”

If I had been dazed when hit, it would have been a fatal wound.

This wasn’t just a simple strike or attack.

This, if not defended against, was lethal in itself.

“On the battlefield, changing or dropping weapons happens frequently, but that’s no excuse.”

His words are exactly right.

“So, should I surrender now? Should I kneel?”

I had managed to bear it by twisting my pelvis to divert some of the impact to the ground when I was hit.

Otherwise, regardless of endurance or willpower, I would have instinctively clutched my abdomen and dry-heaved, or simply collapsed.

The reason my body flew backward was because I used his force against him.

His kick was a single-point strike.

Not the kind of technique used by those ignorant of striking or combat that simply pushes or shoves an opponent.

“Being unarmed is a matter of mindset.”

After all, swords, knives, spears, and axes are all extensions of one’s hands and feet.

Unless they’re severed or removed.

The weapons one can wield until death were determined at birth.

“That’s why morale is discussed in war.”

Even in one-on-one combat, the one whose spirit breaks loses.

In war, in that sense, breaking spirits is even easier.

It’s like a fight between those who cannot properly control their limbs.

Therefore.

The one who has even slightly better control sometimes overcomes differences in troop numbers and equipment levels to achieve dramatic victories.

“No matter how angry you are, this approach is problematic.”

Even his approaching footsteps disturb my composure.

Having already shown what he’s capable of once, my body instinctively responds to counter it.

But my current physical state is far from normal.

And the person before me clearly recognizes this and intends to exploit it.

Perhaps my physical condition would normally be overwhelmingly superior.

But relatively speaking, at least right now, it wasn’t.

“The more your body struggles, the heavier your head becomes.”

Lower body.

More precisely, he targets my feet and ankles.

And as if he knew I was wary of kicks.

Instead, he lowered his body and slid like a lizard crawling on the ground, covering four steps’ distance in an instant, aiming a punch at my ankle.

Half a step.

As his fist barely grazed my ankle, I lowered my stance further and counterattacked with just one hand, connecting Portes and Vetita.

Right now, extending my arm carelessly could risk having my sword seized due to a clumsy reaction.

If that’s the case, I had no choice but to curl up defensively like a hedgehog.

“Oh my.”

Indeed.

If I had extended my sword carelessly, I would have been in trouble.

He rolled his body from his punching position and positioned himself exactly at the distance where I would have swung my sword.

“Even in this state, you still won’t properly swing once.”

His white clothes were getting dirty with sand, but he paid no mind.

Judging by his hands spread above and below, I suspect he’s planning to catch my sword if I swing it sideways.

Common sense would question whether this is possible barehanded, but considering his boldness in striking the flat of my blade and the extraordinary movements he’s shown…

…he must have reason for his confidence.

“Even without being careless, one must not overlook situations where one will suffer as if they were careless.”

His lengthy speech isn’t mere boasting.

It’s a display of composure and a tactic to shake the opponent’s morale and will.

If the opponent becomes agitated or emotionally unstable? All the better.

“If you can’t handle even someone like me, what do you plan to do next?”

Behind us, the warrior with the golden sword was struggling against the earth dragon.

He looked precarious.

But wasn’t that the same for their side too?

“One of the best strategies in war is retreat. I excel in that area as well.”

In other words, if the warrior falls, he can withdraw himself at any time.

Or even if he can’t withdraw, he can evade.

…Is that possible?

With something like that bearing down deliberately, can a human body really manage it?

Time is Ahgriman’s greatest poison.

He must know this well, which is why he’s saying such things.

“Though it’s not for you to worry about.”

As he rushed in pretending to reach out with his hand, then kicked again.

I brought my sword to the point of impact and the trajectory he would follow.

But again, he deliberately struck it while watching.

In an instant, he bent his knee and struck the flat of my blade with his sandaled foot.

The impact was greater than when he struck with the back of his hand, and this time I truly almost lost my grip on the sword.

But that wasn’t the end.

Both he and I knew it.

So instead, I let my body fly with the struck sword as if taking flight.

The strike wasn’t meant to break or bend the sword.

It was clearly meant to deflect it.

Perhaps because of this, when I detached from my center and instead put weight into the impact as if giving it wings, my body rose as if flying.

I barely managed to take a stance after landing on the ground, but the boy was already right in front of me.

“Unfortunately.”

As he tried to grab my throat and left shoulder.

I rotated my body as if being thrown backward and thrust the sword I held in my right hand through my back and armpit as I turned.

At the same time, as I rotated my entire body as if throwing it…

“Ho ho.”

He let go willingly.

Perhaps he judged that holding on would risk being stretched or pushed back.

A small miracle made possible by reacting without hesitation.

“Flexible indeed.”

“……”

Somehow I ended up with my sword raised behind my back.

Is this still considered Portes?

In fact, my stance connected similarly to it.

With my left arm wrapping across my chest, my left foot stepping forward to position itself, and so on.

In reality, I was barely supporting my collapsing upper body with both arms.

“When one focuses solely on weapon techniques, one tends to be blindsided by approaches like this. But you’ve prepared for that as well, impressive.”

That praise that wasn’t quite praise fills me with frustration.

…Knights armor themselves.

But with a sword, if you infuse it with mana, you can cut through even armor.

Unless the opponent is a fool, when they’ve lost their sword or only have armor, they sometimes respond by infusing mana into their armor and plate.

However, the condition of not having an effective weapon remains unchanged.

Unless you’ve dropped it or procured another, when facing an opponent directly, what is the most effective countermeasure?

“……”

The conclusion.

Make it so the opponent cannot use their weapon.

The theory sounds plausible, but would it work?

However, making it work is also a matter of skill.

While not quite hand-to-hand combat, grappling to slam an opponent down, breaking joints, and neutralizing them by entangling… we who were trained and raised in the land of knights are probably more proficient at this than the ancients.

It might not be at the level of wrestling (wǽstlian) that we use as our main technique, but this is clearly included in the combat curriculum.

…Come to think of it, that’s even more irritating.

“But never forget for a moment that your situation is precarious!”

As he approached, I momentarily dropped my sword slightly to grip it in reverse, then rotated my body while stepping back, naturally letting the reversed sword wrap around my body, changing the sword’s placement.

I also lowered my stance further.

Reducing the exposed area so that even if he approached me head-on, it would be burdensome.

Change the approach position? That would take time.

Even constructing an approach trajectory is all about time.

But this is the realm of instantaneous judgment and instinct, sense and wildness.

In such urgent moments, there’s rarely enough leisure to ponder and deliberate in close combat and melee fighting.

Even with a cool mind, that’s true.

Even with a cool mind, if you become agitated and waste strength or stiffen up, or make mistakes by using messy techniques in an attempt to respond, it’s already remarkable.

When a sword is rushing toward your eyes, can you remain calm? Even the strongest hearts would find it impossible.

…The only way is to get used to it.

But how does one get used to this?

This is where aptitude, talent, and luck come into play.

You need aptitude and talent for this to be absorbed into your body quickly through training or actual combat.

And you need luck to not die in the meantime.

And.

Unfortunately, I had none of the three.

“Hut!”

I don’t swing the sword all the way through.

This sword, well-sharpened, cuts through skin and flesh just by touching.

While that doesn’t inflict a fatal wound, with just a bit more force or guaranteed distance, it immediately leads to a fatal wound.

Grate with a lowered stance.

The blade that would normally rest on the shoulder now hangs down in a diagonal line with the edge extended.

To widen the trajectory of my right hand and arm, I deliberately keep my left arm close to my lower back as if holding it behind me.

“This is more arduous than I expected.”

The god-king, the boy, smiles as if enjoying himself.

Boom!

The ground shakes.

The earth dragon rampages violently as if to devastate the area.

Yet somehow, the warrior with the golden greatsword manages to hold out even in that state.

…That side is writing a different kind of myth.

“But this situation won’t last forever. When do you plan to pull out your trump card?”

He spoke as if he could end the situation at any time.

“This space isn’t maintained permanently. In other words, if not now, you know well that it would be impossible to deal with me. Isn’t that right?”

“……”

“I see. You have your peculiarities too.”

I don’t know what he saw to make that judgment.

But he’s right.

I acted rashly out of heated impulse.

But… this is more awkward than I expected?

I understood that his swordsmanship in a boy’s body was extraordinary, but it wasn’t limited to just weapon techniques? Nor was it some divine ability or power?

I try to respond by retreating and maintaining distance as much as possible as he approaches nimbly… but it’s not easy.

I grip the sword properly again and try to use the distance to my advantage, but wary of being grabbed if he finds an opening, I pull back my body excessively.

…And end up exposing my chest.

His kick strikes through muscle to hit bone, momentarily cutting off my breath.

“……!!”

Struggling to suppress the cough and nausea trying to burst out, I forcibly grip my disrupted breathing.

Though my mind grows hazy… my body, though staggering, still endures.

“Is it fighting spirit? Tenacity? Or… I see. Is it already such an instinct?”

I vaguely heard his voice.

“But the fact that you lack the strength to swing your sword is pitiful. If not for that, my competitive spirit would have been much more stimulated.”

In other words, he just declared that I don’t even have the chance to show that.

“Earlier, you agreed to listen to the victor’s words, didn’t you? Then from now on, I’ll take it that you belong under my command.”

“……”

Who decided that?

It was absurd, but… that last hit must have been critical.

My body’s condition was at its worst, and there wasn’t a part of me that wasn’t creaking, so I was slow to notice.

…Indeed, it felt like my ribs were cracked.

Having had my bones broken hundreds of times and having moved slowly yet intensely in that state many times.

…It’s very familiar.

Whether intact or broken.

At least checking and assessing my body’s condition.

“Will you accept it willingly?”

“……”

“That look in your eyes! You’re persistent too! But everything will go according to our will. As it always has!”

He walks toward me.

Now without even showing caution toward the sword I had deliberately aimed earlier.

That made me irritated.

‘Like this…’

I can’t lose.

He knows that well too.

Then there’s only one thing he’s aiming for.

He’s trying to kill me.

After killing me, does he intend to collect me?

What a serious tyrant.

Yet he shows not a shred of doubt in his conviction.

That’s the kind of being he is.

In that moment, just a brief moment when my consciousness grew hazy.

When I noticed, a black curtain had fallen before my eyes.

After the sound of someone striking the ground echoed faintly a few times.

A voice both familiar and unfamiliar came from above my head.

“You. Your condition is terrible.”

“……”

I don’t even have the energy to respond.

However.

“How dare a mere woman interfere in this sacred battlefield! That act is blasphemy against the gods and an insult and distortion of the sacred! For that sin! You deserve to die a hundred deaths!”

“Hey. Speak properly, will you? Weren’t we eternal sinners to you anyway?”

The woman wrapped in black cloth.

Heba, leaning on a wooden staff about the length of her leg, glared at the god-king with fierce intent in her faded sand-colored eyes.

And she did so in front of me.

Positioning herself as if to protect me.