Ch.83Chapter 83: Second Day at the Fortress (5)

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If they’re ready over there, it’s only polite that I finish my preparations as well.

“Haaah…”

With a light sigh.

I began accumulating fighting spirit using Precasa, which I could only use at a basic level to elevate my body’s state of arousal.

The fighting spirit that had been gradually building up was now visibly converting faster as it absorbed the surrounding mana and accumulated in my heart.

[Not bad results.]

Even Fafnir, who had been silently observing, offered words of praise—what more could I ask for?

“Huup…!!”

After taking a deep breath, I carefully observed the fighting spirit circulating through my body.

Since I had only mastered Precasa at a basic level.

This brief breathing exercise wouldn’t gather the kind of physical strength that could be called divine power.

But it should be enough to match Shizu, who was showing her true self for our sparring match.

“I’m ready.”

I calmly informed Shizu that my preparations were complete.

Hearing my words, she nodded with sparkling eyes.

“…Here I come.”

She said this, and simultaneously, her body vanished from my sight.

BOOM-!!

Just as I was about to register the thought that the thunderous sound from a single footstep was unbelievably massive and majestic—

“…!!”

All my senses, including my five physical senses and my energy perception, sent danger signals toward the top of my head.

I reflexively raised my practice sword toward where the danger signals were pointing.

CLANG-!!

As steel met steel with a melodious ring, I could see Shizu’s previously blurred form now right in front of me.

At the same time, I could tell she had executed a vertical downward strike with the sword gripped straight in her right hand.

“…!!”

It was a moment close to instantaneous.

But I could easily see Shizu’s expression fill with admiration as she saw me block her sword.

She seemed surprised that I had managed to parry her sword strike, which, despite being a sparring match, was delivered with genuine intent rather than held back.

But her admiration was brief.

“Haa… Here I come again.”

With these words, Shizu began a series of sword strikes, swinging her right arm so dazzlingly fast it was difficult to follow with the naked eye.

A brilliant sword technique unfolded before my eyes—three slashes executed almost simultaneously: from left to right, top to bottom, and from the lower left diagonal to the upper right diagonal.

It was a perfect movement that the word “clean” seemed insufficient to describe.

Though momentarily startled by the dazzling display that made me catch my breath, I was able to block it by extending my practice sword toward the final destination of her sword’s path.

CLANG-!!

Once again, that clear metallic sound rang out.

I could see a hint of joy appearing on Shizu’s face as her sword was blocked again.

It seemed to be happiness at realizing I could match her level.

Of course, being happy was one thing.

But her determination to win our sparring match remained unchanged.

“Here I come again!”

With these words, Shizu rushed toward me, continuing her sword strikes.

This time she approached using her footwork pushed to the extreme, moving at such high speed that afterimages formed, trying to deceive my eyes and find an opening.

CLANG-!!

I barely managed to thrust my sword forward to block her approach, having noticed that the afterimage had a less defined face than the original.

[Wow, would you look at that. Creatively blocking the sword illusion.]

Fafnir’s exasperated voice echoed in my head, seemingly dumbfounded by my method.

But I was too busy preparing for the next wave of attacks after barely blocking her sword to respond.

‘I can’t even approach her.’

Her movements were so aggressive it was breathtaking.

The synergy created when her talent, descended from the orthodox Proxian lineage with its sword doctrine that “offense is the best defense,” combined with the ancestral brilliance she had mastered through special training, was tremendous.

I was struggling just to enter the space that Shizu naturally created simply by wielding her sword.

I was able to block the consecutive sword strikes coming at me only because of the experience I had built up crossing swords with her in the previous timeline, allowing me to react instinctively.

But I wondered how many knights in this training ground could block even the first sword strike that Shizu had just executed with a normal response—it was a sword technique that sent chills down my spine.

After returning to the past, I had crossed swords with Shizu many times for my own training.

Each time, she had shown results beyond my own improvements, overwhelming me.

This time seemed no exception.

Then as now… or more precisely, now that I’ve traversed back through time, I feel it more keenly than ever.

Separate from my profound realization that Shizu is precious to me.

The greater the total of her talent appeared, the more it felt like an insurmountable mountain, and in the past, I had struggled to suppress the feelings of inferiority that rose from a corner of my heart.

But now, rather than inferiority, I feel a spirit of challenge toward that unclimbable mountain—a spirit that might even be called reckless.

The outcome doesn’t matter. No matter how unsightly I might appear as I falter before her sword.

Because after repeatedly taking those rough tumbles, I’m confident that tomorrow will be better than today.

“This time, I’ll come at you.”

I simply challenge her with composure.

Well then, how well can I match her this time?

I don’t even think about winning against her from the start.

But at least hoping to be a worthy warm-up partner for her, I blocked her three initial attacks and then created distance to begin probing for counter-attack opportunities.

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CLANG-!!

A pleasantly clear metallic sound filled the training ground as the blunted practice weapons clashed—a sound too melodious to be from ordinary training weapons.

This distinctive metallic sound didn’t occur when practicing alone with one’s weapon.

It only emerged during continued sword exchanges when weapons clashed against each other.

But how should I put it?

CLANG-!!

This remarkably clear metallic sound seemed to possess enough magical power to make the knights in the training ground, who held self-training as sacred, pause their practice and turn their heads.

Most of the knights in the training ground had fixed their gazes toward the source of the continuing sword clash sounds, standing rigidly, having paused their training.

Most of them had initially started watching casually, wanting to assess the skills of the visiting students from the Cradle who had come to the fortress for the Subjugation Festival.

“Hmm…”

“Th-they’re good.”

“Sir, did you see how that Proxian girl wielded her sword just now? I couldn’t even follow it with my eyes.”

“Indeed… I couldn’t follow it either, it was simply too fast.”

“That red-haired man is doing well too, but he’s just barely blocking. He can’t counterattack.”

“In my opinion, just being able to withstand that much is impressive.”

Soon, admiration flowed from the spectators’ mouths for the high-level sparring match displayed by the two people whose achievements seemed unbelievable for their age.

Of course, the admiration was mostly focused on the girl with golden hair fluttering in the air.

This was because her swordsmanship was so extraordinary that the red-haired man, who was desperately trying to block it, naturally received less attention.

And among these spectators, someone who possessed experience and years that could not be matched even if all the others were combined was also watching with sparkling eyes.

“Hmm…”

Nighthart, who was sitting on a bench and stroking his chin with his right hand while letting out a light hum, was that person.

At first, his golden eyes had been narrowed, but now they had returned to their original size, shining with determination not to miss a single moment of the sparring match between the two.

His eyes gained an increasingly interested hue as the sword exchanges in the training ground continued.

Initially, Nighthart had planned to just watch briefly, warm up his body, and then head home.

But as the sword exchange continued, his gaze couldn’t leave the training ground where the sparring was taking place.

Like the impressions felt by the junior knights murmuring around him, he was newly struck by how extraordinary the achievements of these two young people were for their age.

Of course, there was one difference in his observation point compared to the other spectators.

Unlike the junior knights who focused only on the girl with golden hair, Nighthart, as the sparring continued, began to focus on the red-haired man who was somehow managing to receive the girl’s formidable sword techniques in some form or another, though with difficulty.

He too had initially focused only on the golden-haired girl, whose swift sword techniques were too fast to follow with the eyes, just as the junior knights had evaluated.

“They’re good, especially the blonde lady. Her skills are remarkable. If we brought her into our unit, she could wear the badge of a mid-rank knight without any problem, not just an ordinary knight.”

He had muttered such words to himself.

His praise for the golden-haired girl wasn’t empty talk—the sparring was proceeding with the red-haired man being overwhelmed by the woman.

This was a natural result since the woman overwhelmed the man in every visible aspect.

The quantity and quality of fighting spirit surrounding the body.

The completeness of the swift sword techniques being used.

And what he considered the most important element for a swordsman:

The sincerity with which she approached the sparring match, her blue eyes sparkling so intensely they seemed cold, despite it being just practice.

It was an outstanding achievement that seemed unbelievable from someone who had just shed the appearance of youth.

It was enough to satisfy the gaze of Nighthart, who was known to be demanding when evaluating swordsmanship.

How excellent must it have been for Nighthart’s gaze to remain fixed on the girl’s swordsmanship without any sign of wavering?

Far from showing the common mistake of those who employ swift sword techniques—being controlled by speed—each sword technique she executed carried a weight of deadly intent, making even Nighthart himself feel a chill down his spine as he watched.

He thought that even he would have a hard time blocking those attacks.

“She’s really good.”

He couldn’t help but admire her.

He dared to assert that among the knights in this training ground, besides himself, there was no one who could match or defeat this young Proxian heir in swordsmanship.

He did additionally think that perhaps only Deputy Commander Iriana, who wasn’t present, could defeat her, but no one else.

Despite this fortress being guarded by renowned martial artists from the Empire willing to dedicate their lives here, the fact that only one person besides himself came to mind as a match for her showed just how impressive the girl’s swordsmanship was.

It was more than enough to color Nighthart’s lips with admiration—a man who had lived a long life as a warrior.

“Indeed… she is worthy of being a holy sword user.”

After making this brief comment to conclude his evaluation of the girl’s swordsmanship, Nighthart changed his observing posture.

From sitting on the bench with his chin resting on his hand, he straightened his back to watch.

This was partly because the sparring between the two was entertaining and had many aspects worth watching.

But as the sparring continued, Nighthart’s gaze, which had been fixed on the girl, gradually shifted.

As if his long years of experience as the guardian of the north hadn’t been accumulated in vain.

Unlike the junior knights who focused only on the Proxian heir, Nighthart gradually turned his attention to her opponent, the red-haired man.

As mentioned earlier, he began to sense something unusual about the man who was quite skillfully blocking the girl’s sword—a girl whom he believed only he or the deputy commander in this fortress could defeat.

At first, he had silently watched, thinking that perhaps the girl was going easy on him or that the man was simply good at improvising.

But as time passed, Nighthart felt that this man was extraordinary.

“He’s not getting tired.”

The main reason was that the man showed no signs of fatigue despite continuously receiving and struggling against the girl’s aggressive sword techniques.

At first glance, the sight of the man blocking the girl’s sword seemed like the epitome of clumsiness.

Unable to follow his opponent’s movements with his eyes, he barely perceived her movements using intuition and other senses that compensated for his lacking perception.

Just before being hit, he would barely swing his sword to cut off or block his opponent’s sword path.

It was a scene that could be dismissed as a beginner’s luck happening once or twice.

And even if luck continued multiple times, as time passed, he should have been at an absolute disadvantage due to the large amount of energy expended by blocking the opponent’s sword with big, unnecessary movements.

Yet, as one block became two, and two became a continuous defense against relentless attacks, the man received the girl’s sword strikes without the slightest falter.

“Hmm…”

Nighthart couldn’t help but focus his golden eyes, which had been wide open, on the man.

By concentrating solely on the man rather than the girl, he began to notice things he hadn’t observed at first.

The man receiving the girl’s sword, which came like a raging torrent, appeared sluggish in his sword-wielding movements.

But far from being pushed back or trembling from the effort, he was actually advancing slightly, entering the girl’s space—a space she wouldn’t normally yield due to her overwhelming offensive.

He was doing this so subtly that the girl hadn’t noticed.

“Oh ho…”

Nighthart’s habitual expression when discovering something interesting naturally escaped his lips as his gaze focused on the man’s expression.

Though the man showed signs of struggling, his dark eyes were increasingly bright.

It was evidence that the man was approaching the sparring with a serious attitude, no less than the girl who was engaging with infinite sincerity.

Watching him quietly perform what needed to be done to win, without revealing anything except through his eyes, despite facing an overwhelmingly disadvantageous situation while still aiming for a reversal—

“This… if he does well.”

Nighthart thought that this sparring match, which at first glance seemed one-sided, might end with an unexpected result.

And that prediction…