Enoch Razvolnic 2

“…Just like a century ago?”

As Doyun taunted him bitingly, Lancelot’s voice momentarily rasped with visible discomfort.

Yet the quintessential Buske Style spirit prioritized Clarity of Still Water at all times. He soon regained composure pondering Doyun’s words more analytically instead:

‘Put me down again just like a century ago?’

Furthermore, that unfathomable wrath directed towards him eclipsing even Vuyskr’s own consecrated successor Brudhild herself – as if…

‘He responds exactly like Razvolnic himself.’

Well, perhaps that youth had also assimilated Razvolnic’s soul essences somehow like himself in the process?

‘An utter impossibility. Yet still…’

Subduing him first before hauling him back towards the Demon Citadel for interrogations seemed prudent enough overall.

“…Please, handle this Patriarch.”

“Very well.”

Despite harboring visceral dismay inwardly, Brudhild understood her own limitations against direct engagement – even with equivalent technical mastery, her inherent human frailties proved no match against Vanguard Commander adversaries wielding identical armed proficiencies altogether.

Doyun gripped his sword tightly with one hand while cracking his other tensed neck audibly – fuming with barely restrained fury overwhelming his entire existence in that singular instant.

Lancelot attempted initiating conversation towards this outrageous upstart directly:

“That technique just now seemed Razvolnic’s signature moves. Yet how could you possibly…”

Chahng-

Lancelot halted mid-speech raising his sword defensively instead without any other options remaining available.

For Doyun had exhaled ignition jets propelling himself forwards at blinding velocities without any preambles whatsoever – instantly swinging his blade forth in utterly unprovoked ferocity altogether.

Deflecting that initial strike preemptively, Lancelot tilted his helmeted visage perplexedly:

‘…Barracuda?’

That propulsive footwork technique reminiscent of certain Buske Style maneuvers themselves – leaving Lancelot feeling momentarily disconcerted overall.

‘Mere coincidence surely.’

He reinforced both blades interlocked amidst their weapon-binding stalemate steadily.

Kagakahk…

“Discourteous indeed.”

“Never forget death stalks every swordsman’s path.”

“Pardon me?”

Doyun sneered sardonically at Lancelot’s visible bewilderment.

Those words espoused Vuyskr’s quintessential philosophies always maintaining steadfast martial focus alongside death’s inevitability stalking every decisive confrontation forthwith.

“So you truly are that rude brat afterall.”

When informed about assimilating Vuyskr’s soul fragments, Lancelot had wondered if the sword sage’s very consciousness had united with his own spiritual essences altogether by some bizarre coincidence.

Fortunately no such grotesque amalgamations seemed underway based on this overt rudeness manifesting instead as expected.

Lancelot recoiled instinctively reinforcing their clashing sword bind further with greater intensity:

Kagagagahk…!

“Did you just address me…?!”

Only one individual had ever dared addressing him with such blatantly disrespectful vulgarities referring to pejoratives concerning physical stature alone – that exact same individual who had taunted him endlessly about cranial dimensions before ultimately relieving him of that very same skull altogether.

Doyun forced his blade against Lancelot’s unyieldingly in kind unleashing showering sparks across their intersecting sword edges altogether.

“That remained your perpetual failing throughout. The 15th regression if I recall correctly? Taunting and jeering like that before surprising me with a decapitation strike totally unawares.”

Sneering maliciously with demonic mirth utterly inconsistent with his typical stoic demeanor, Doyun continued further maligning taunts altogether.

At those utterly incomprehensible yet clearly offensive insults, Lancelot growled lowly in hushed menacing undertones:

“You dare court death itself, mortal.”

“Try it then. Score stands 1:0. Best of three.”

Kkigigigigihk-

“I shall ensure finishing things decisively today, you rude brat.”

“Unforgivable…!”

Lancelot unleashed a ferocious overhead downwards strike signaling their climactic duel’s opening eruption altogether.

Chahng-

Doyun snickered derisively – so easily could he disrupt that steadfast clarity through mere provocations after all.

“Unlike your vulgar tantrums, Vuyskr always embodied such solemn stillness resembling a very skeleton’s own solemnity itself.”

Mana coalesced around his arms as Yupiteur the ninth celestial sword manifested within Doyun’s grasp directly.

Doyun’s blade swept horizontally inwards lacerating Lancelot’s defenses – despite deflecting that preliminary feint effortlessly, the true technique manifested instantaneously through localized velocity control camouflaging vertical decapitation strikes from directly overhead descending downwards with utter lethality altogether.

[Razvolnic’s Style Swordsmanship – Word Cutting]

Chayyng, Kaaaaahhng-

Following relatively muted metallic clangs, explosively thunderous impacts resounded deafeningly outwards next.

Doyun’s offensive unfolded with such blinding swiftness appearing as a singular horizontal slash alone visually.

Yet Lancelot still managed parrying both intersecting strikes without any major difficulties arising whatsoever.

“Hmm…!”

Grunting approvingly while recognizing those masterful flourishes alongside impeccable swordplay fundamentals intimately.

Although Doyun scowled slightly realizing his attacks had been seen through completely as expected:

‘He perceives both strikes more adeptly compared to our previous encounters a century ago.’

Clearly the Buske Style’s spiritual domains had enabled such heightened sensory awareness altogether.

Irritation welled within Doyun’s being towards that treacherous insult against Vuyskr’s consecrated legacies altogether.

Lancelot immediately counterattacked without any respites – sword blade radiating rearward shockwaves propelling himself forth like a living guided projectile itself at hypersonic velocities:

[Buske’s Style Swordsmanship – Barracuda]

That reversed recoil force accelerated his blade’s trajectory blurring forth like a lightning bolt narrowly grazing past Doyun’s neck altogether –

Yet Doyun’s bisected silhouette simply dissipated into ethereal vapors reforming unharmed shortly afterwards – the signature evasion techniques pioneered by Enoch himself on full display.

Visibly startled, Lancelot leapt backwards creating interim separation between them both – a brief lull following their initial skirmish’s exchange altogether.

He shuddered involuntarily with visceral realization settling in:

‘Indisputably the Razvolnic Style indeed!’

His blade clashes confirmed it beyond any lingering doubts whatsoever. Not just the physical movements, but those sword techniques utilized belonged unmistakably to Razvolnic himself.

‘Razvolnic’s successor has finally manifested himself at last!’

Yes, all those unprecedented achievements alongside meteoric growth over these past mere nine months alone – unquestionably representing the consecrated master’s true legatee without any ambiguities remaining!

‘A fortuitous opportunity beckons instead.’

Though that original intent challenging the Sword Sage’s successor to claim rightful sword sainthood himself had been derailed unexpectedly.

Perhaps an even greater decisive confrontation looming between both premier sword paths overall awaited him instead!

‘The Buske Style against the Razvolnic School – deciding which transcends the other as this era’s supreme sword doctrine!’

History’s ultimate warrior swordsman against the paramount grandmaster swordsman archetype embodied – their legacies passed onto these respective successors deciding their decisive victor once and for all!

And the losing inheritor gets hauled towards the Demon Citadel for interrogations regarding their enigmatic sword path’s origins altogether – a simple enough prospect under the circumstances.

Utterly disregarding any Clarity of Still Water teachings, Lancelot’s blood boiled with martial ardor overflowing in sheer anticipation alone!

Of course, remaining completely ignorant about the Razvolnic School’s historical roots alongside its correlations with the Buske Style enabled such unrealistic fantasies swirling through his mind altogether.

Lancelot called out towards his Vanguard Commander compatriots eagerly:

“From this moment forth, a hallowed isshi-soden (reciprocal exchange of techniques) shall commence! Under no circumstances interfere while bearing witness which sword transcends the other between the Razvolnic and Buske paths!”

Satan furrowed his eyebrows with apparent bewilderment muttering “Huh?” incredulously while Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose exasperatedly.

By contrast, the Alliance soldiers reacted with visible unease instead:

“…The Razvolnic Style?”

“Just what did he utter?”

Why mention those two sword arts so suddenly amidst combat without any contexts provided beforehand?

With palpable disquiet permeating throughout, the Lion King alongside warriors and soldiers atop those ramparts scrutinized the duel about to commence intently.

However, upon overhearing that proclamation, Doyun’s expression froze over into utterly unfeeling stoicism instead:

‘What unmitigated farces…’

After desecrating Vuyskr’s very soul itself, this delusional upstart dared proclaiming himself the representative embodiment of the Buske Style itself – absolutely intolerable beyond any words necessary.

‘Let me correct such infantile misconceptions firsthand.’

Doyun readopted formal Buske stances realigning his sword grips as originally taught from the beginning.

“Haaaah-!”

Lancelot bellowed another boisterous kiai utterly inconsistent with Buske solemnity while radiating rearward sword auras propelling himself forth identically – that Barracuda technique’s mechanics altogether.

This time transferring that accelerating momentum across his entire corporeal form rather than blade alone, Lancelot bore down upon Doyun in ferocious horizontal sweeping arcs.

Yet Doyun surveyed those overt movements through utterly impassive lenses without flinching away whatsoever – no longer entertaining any further evasions under any circumstances.

Doyun raised his sword overhead before chopping directly downwards in utter brutality – smashing that arcing horizontal strike down forcibly as if bludgeoning logs rather than refined swordplay altogether.

Ksheohhhhnnngggg-

Lancelot’s curved trajectory shattered violently plowing deep into those solidified lava planes altogether- the entire regional area collapsing inwards from that overwhelming impact’s sheer brute strengths alone.

“…!”

That sheer physical prowess manifested through singular force application utterly negating Lancelot’s blade’s accumulated momentum outright – even staggering his phantasmal essences concentrating through that sword grip altogether despite lacking any true bodily anchors whatsoever.

‘This technique…!’

The Buske Style’s quintessential Forging methods themselves!

Amidst the steadily collapsing terrain erupting with fresh magma spumes directly underfoot, Doyun stomped down reinforcing that embedded blade while raising his own overhead to prepare another Forging strike successively.

His overt motions conveyed explicit intentions shattering Lancelot’s sword apart altogether – prompting the death knight to hastily retreat backwards relinquishing that trapped blade in alarm.

As Doyun stomped down once more, those smoky remnants comprising Lancelot’s bisected sword remnants dissipated completely reforming back within his awaiting grasp unharmed once again.

Doyun noted those spontaneous phenomena intently with both eyes:

‘Even after death and resurrection, his prior martial abilities remain intact overall it seems.’

That skirmish represented preliminary confirmation procedures verifying some lingering uncertainties beforehand.

As that brief exchange concluded with time resuming its normal flow rate once more, hardened terrain collapsed inwards as magma geysers erupted outwards threatening submerging Doyun completely underneath.

Yet he stood completely unperturbed atop a floating debris island calmly – exhaling roughly while casually sweeping his blade horizontally outwards once.

Those simple motions generated immense gale force winds radiating from his vicinity forcibly repelling those encroaching lava flows altogether.

Lancelot grunted with evident dismay:

“Uncivilized barbarism…”

Audaciously attempting overt disarmament strikes during decisive combat phases – ill-mannered vulgarities from one perspective yet utterly fluid combat pragmatism from another perspective altogether.

Yet those details proved inconsequential at the end:

‘He unmistakably utilized Buske techniques directly against me just now.’

How could this be possible? Was he not Razvolnic’s consecrated inheritor after all?

Even if Brudhild had somehow taught him herself defied any remotely plausible explanations whatsoever. That brief skirmish alone showcased far greater technical mastery eclipsing even Brudhild’s own diligent successions beyond any conceivable measure – yet the Buske Path represented a uniquely singular unbroken lineage never disseminated whatsoever under any ordinary circumstances!

And… Unbelievably, Lancelot realized with sheer dismay overwhelming his very being –

That youth had already surpassed his mastery over the Buske mysteries itself altogether.

“…”

Were he still comprised of mortal flesh and blood, veins would have bulged prominently alongside utter disbelief across Lancelot’s incorporeal visage right then.

“…Utterly preposterous.”

He vehemently rejected those implications altogether internally:

‘I am the one who carries the Sword Sage’s consecrated legacy as this era’s transcendent Sword Emperor…!’

Just from that singular skirmish alone, Doyun had lacerated grievous wounds across Lancelot’s fundamental swordsmanship integrity alongside very sense of identity and self-worth whatsoever –

Surely some insidious underhanded trickery afoot beyond sheer martial training alone like soul assimilation methods or whatever – yes, exactly like his own methods altogether!

“Are you even remotely worthy of calling yourself a true sword personage?! Do you lack even the most basic bushido?!”

Doyun simply snorted derisively in turn:

“What bushido exactly…”

He harbored utterly visceral hatred towards Vanguard Commanders beyond any conceivable redemption whatsoever forevermore.

Especially loathsome individuals like Lancelot alongside Satan in particular – pompous frauds wearing hypocritical facades concealing sheer arrogance and petty selfishness rather than any genuine notions of martial honor whatsoever beneath those grandiose pretensions after all.

‘And today represents my chance.’

Today without fail, he would escort at minimum two Vanguard Commanders onto the next world altogether no matter what.

Doyun leapt skywards rebounding across randomly floating debris islands scattered amidst those lava fields below.