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Chapter 388 - The Sky is Not Fair
Chwarr-ruk!
The net falls over his head. Ragna lightly swung his sword vertically. It wasn't particularly fast or slow, but suddenly the blade narrowed and seemed to transform into a line, which swiftly cut through the net.
"What the!"
The comrade who threw the net shouts. Yon realized something was wrong, but there was no time to speak.
He stretched his left hand forward, gripping the glaive near its blade, and quickly thrust, swung, and slashed.
Thud, clang!
The sword that cut through the net had already dropped from above, so Yon had to block it.
Even though he laid the glaive blade flat to deflect, the sword relentlessly followed and tried to cut through the spear. Yon pulled the glaive back, blocked again, and pushed the blade upward with force. After three quick motions, his arms went numb.
'My hands are numb?'
Yon, too, was an exceptional warrior. He knew how to wield Will.
Will, meaning willpower, couldn't be instinctively used, but he could control it through technique.
What a squire could do, he could do as well. He could.
But after just one clash, he felt the difference in strength. He could never win. It felt hopeless. It was like being trapped in a coffin with his limbs bound and squeezed.
'That monster bastard?'
When they first fought, it was like playing around. But after putting the sword back into its scabbard and drawing it again, the man became someone else.
The man quickly jumped backward with the same speed he approached, swinging his sword horizontally. It was fast but heavy. It was too late to dodge. The mercenary who threw the spear raised a round shield.
That alone deserved praise, as he at least attempted to block.
Crack! Thud!
Ragna's sword struck both the shield and the man.
The man, having jumped backward to swing his sword, now curved his trajectory sideways. Yon's gaze belatedly followed him. He saw the comrade who had thrown the net have his neck severed, blood spurting out in a spray.
The opponent didn't stop. After dodging a spear aimed at his back, he casually swung his sword again, as if his muscles had no fatigue.
"Gurk!"
One of the spear users, who had been showing off, was struck in the throat by a long line. Blood erupted, and a gaping hole appeared in his throat.
Yon, at last, pushed his numb arms aside.
He saw a sword falling from above his head.
He also saw the opponent's face. It wasn't one of panic or exertion, just an indifferent, almost bored expression as if doing something routine.
"Ugh!"
Yon's Will activated. He transferred his willpower through the glaive's blade. The technique was called 'knock away.'
It was a technique that could make an opponent's weapon fly from their hands with a powerful deflection, infused with Will.
Against this, Ragna showed his Will of Cleaving.
The will of 'Venda,' meaning 'knock away,' passed through the will of 'cut' and carried it away.
Ragna's body brushed past Yon. Yon stopped dead in his tracks.
Soon, a diagonal line appeared on Yon's head, with blood slowly dripping from between the cuts.
Crack.
His skull was split along the line, from above his right eyebrow to below his left cheekbone. Fortunately, his mouth was untouched.
Yon, dying, opened his mouth.
"Uddd..."
It was just the sound of his teeth meeting, meaningless words. Even if it had some meaning, the man before him wouldn't have heard it.
Ragna, having swiftly killed six, turned around. His pace was quick, though he didn't seem rushed.
As he entered the gates of the city, he saw Andrew and five trainees finishing off enemies, panting.
One of the enemies wielding a mace was lying, two swords embedded in his belly, with his ankle twisted backward.
Beside him, another enemy had a sword stuck in his heart while still holding his own.
Ragna glanced at them and passed by.
Far away, Dunbakel was still fighting, but those opponents wouldn't die easily.
Taking care of oneself was the greatest skill, wasn't it?
Of course, Ragna wasn't moving out of any calculation or strategy.
He was simply looking for the drive.
He was heading toward where he should be.
Without hesitation, he walked straight into the gates and climbed the city walls.
Soon, the battlefield that began where Ragna had been was calming, as the enemy soldiers stopped moving after seeing the figures of their own men halt.
As the strange standoff took place, Ragna stood atop the city walls.
"Is there danger at the palace?"
Squire Ropord, trying to calm himself, had his mouth agape once again after watching Ragna's battle, as if he had just sealed it shut.
"Yes, well."
Ropord's thoughts had slightly changed during that time. Of course, it was natural. He had always been someone easily swayed by others' opinions. Despite his talents, it was a matter of his personality.
Therefore, his words came out like this.
"It might not be, or it might be wrong…"
To Ragna, those words sounded like 'It might be true,' or 'It might be.'
"I'm going ahead."
That was enough.
"Where are you going?"
For a brief moment, Ropord realized just how terrible Ragna was at finding his way.
He was so bad at it that if left alone in the city, no one could guess where he would go.
"To the palace."
"On your own...?"
"I know a shortcut."
Ragna understood Ropord's words. Could Enkrid be in danger? Maybe. Perhaps there's no danger at all. It could be the opposite.
So, he would just go and see for himself.
The threatening enemies outside the gates were now mere ghouls, missing limbs.
So, it was fine to leave. Dunbakel and Andrew would handle things well on their own.
That was why he was going alone. Even if some unexpected danger came, those two could block it.
"…What?"
Ropord didn't know what was right. But he understood that he couldn't stop the man in front of him from leaving.
It was a clear and definite expression of will.
"I'm leaving."
Ragna said, then turned away.
Had Andrew been here, he would have slapped his forehead and shook his head.
Wasn't this man absolutely the worst at finding his way?
But Andrew was below the gates, taking deep breaths, reflecting on Ragna's shocking fight.
It was a shocking battle.
So, there was no one to stop him.
Ragna turned around and focused his gaze on the palace.
The city was large, as it was home to many people, so the palace was only faintly visible.
Even on horseback, it would take a while to get there.
Of course, it wasn't a journey that would take half a day, but it wasn't exactly close either.
Moreover, the roads weren't smooth or easy to navigate.
The road leading to the palace was built along the outer walls of the city, so it wasn't a simple straight line.
If you didn't know the way, it would be hard to move forward.
To Ragna, it was almost like a maze.
Yet, he could still see the palace. So, he truly knew a shortcut.
No matter how you looked at it, Ragna was someone who wouldn't fail to run straight at something faintly visible.
He jumped onto a roof and ran across the city's top, keeping the palace in sight.
He saw Jaxen running in a similar direction.
He briefly spotted a barbarian, drenched in fatigue, returning from his mission.
Lastly, he saw a panther running across the rooftops far away.
It was just a glance. Ragna ignored everything and kept running.
He had a tendency to get lost easily, so he was used to walking and running.
And he used all his skills to run fast.
Bang! Thud! Crack!
The ceiling shattered beneath him as he crashed through it. He didn't care about the circumstances, running without a second thought.
"Ugh!"
"Was that a lightning strike?"
"Ah! What's going on?"
Ignoring whatever was in his way, whether it broke or not, Ragna kept running. Some citizens who were below were startled and shouted.
Part of the eaves and roof collapsed and fell below. Ragna kept running. The path he took was indeed the shortcut.
He passed through the city, ignoring a few soldiers who had fallen, possibly needing to protect the palace.
"Hey!"
Someone shouted at Ragna as he ran past, but he ignored it. He had no time for distractions, his goal was clear.
Ragna wasn't a hunter, nor did he possess the skill to track by scent or trace blood.
But the instinct of one wielding a sword was sharper than anyone else's, clearer than the sharpest blade.
The presence of a dangerous force, murderous intent, and overwhelming strength was felt in the air.
Ragna moved according to his instincts.
It was almost automatic to head straight for the source of the commotion. The place where the noise came from, where things were intense—the location was too obvious.
Ragna ran towards it, turning his back to the sinking sunlight. The glow of the setting sun bathed his back as he leaped upwards. Through a broken window and half-destroyed frame, Ragna saw Enkrid, and the figure blocking his way.
Ragna propelled himself over the roof and trees, leaping with precision.
The window had already been carefully shattered, the glass pieces cleared. Ragna threw himself through the broken window.
Thunk.
His sword caught on the frame. It was long and thick. Ignoring it, he yanked it free.
Bang!
The frame shattered as wooden pieces scattered around. Ragna drew his sword and moved forward.
He gathered his strength and drove his sword downwards in a vertical strike.
It was a tremendous blow, an unpredictable attack.
Despite that, his opponent forced a gap through the strike and thrust his own sword.
It was a blade that disrupted the flow.
Ragna pulled his sword back downward.
He adhered to the weight and speed of his sword.
He increased the speed.
If the man in front of him thrust, Ragna knew he would be impaled, but his opponent would be split in two vertically.
Whoosh.
Ragna's descending sword sliced through the air and halted.
His opponent had pulled back his thrust and retreated.
"Who...?"
The retreating man held his sword at an angle, gripping it with both hands.
Ragna said nothing in reply. There was no need for words.
The leader had nearly died. Killing or striking until just before death came first.
Everyone had their own hell, and Ragna's was a life wandering, lost.
A kind of boredom built up in his heart, one that no one could touch.
In that wandering, there was a person who had been a signpost for him.
And there was someone who tried to kill that person.
Words were unnecessary.
He stepped forward, raising his sword.
The greatsword's specialty was its heavy strikes, requiring precise preparation beforehand.
On the other hand, quick swords didn't rely on preparation, but rather on striking faster than the opponent could react.
That's why thrusting was a symbol of a swift sword.
But Ragna blended both features.
How was that possible?
He minimized his preliminary movements, and the rest came naturally.
"It's just a matter of doing it."
He had told Enkrid the same when teaching him.
There was nothing else to say. Once one sets their mind to it, it becomes possible. It was a talent. The words "Just do it" had come from that.
His sword skimmed the wall. Fshk!
Stones shattered, and fragments flew. Before the stone shards hit the ground, the blade that had skimmed the wall was already inches away from his opponent's face.
The opponent judged he couldn't block it.
Would he dare to interrupt the flow here?
Impossible.
Though he had remained a squire all his life, the man was a remarkable talent among the the order.
His skill was genuine, and that was why he had come this far.
He could do three moves by seeing one, and he had exceeded ten by seeing three.
Still, he had always been second among the squires.
The squire had struck multiple times with his sword. He increased the number of swings to disrupt the momentum of Ragna's powerful blow.
As the rhythm broke, his momentum faltered.
Eventually, the opponent parried Ragna's strike and pushed him back.
Thud!
A metallic clang rang between them.
Greatsword.
The heavy sword should be able to continue attacking by building momentum. He couldn't do that, so he was pushed back. It was a sign that he was in the weaker position.
Ragna was surprised by the sudden aggression, but the situation hadn't changed.
My talent is superior.
His thoughts shifted quickly.
Only after exchanging ten blows did he realize the truth.
"...What are you doing?"
The man spoke.
Ragna still didn't respond. Instead, he analyzed his opponent's sword.
It was quite a good technique.
With the eyes of a genius filled with new enthusiasm, his swordsmanship was being torn apart.
"Unbelievable."
The squire denied it. Surely, no knight would be able to do this.
"Just because you can't understand it doesn't mean you should dismiss it. Otherwise, there will be no next time."
Why had the words of the knight who had taught him come back to him at this moment?
He swung his sword through the sunset light, showcasing his ultimate technique.
He used Will. It was a mysterious power based on his will.
It was more than just interrupting the flow; it shattered the limits of his arms, legs, and reaction speed in an instant.
All his techniques became faster and stronger, accelerating as the power built up.
He stabbed, slashed, and twisted his sword, attacking from outside his opponent's line of sight.
Ragna parried the thrusting sword, deflected the slashing one, and with a rapid increase in speed, he countered the blow, breaking the flow entirely.
His sword didn't stop there. He wielded his large sword like a thin branch, striking and withdrawing with ease.
To increase his speed, Ragna had to extend his legs, but his sword passed through that position.
He was supposed to lift his sword from below to push his opponent back, but the opponent's sword thrust forward first.
The force wasn't great, but once again, the flow was disrupted.
Ragna pushed the opponent back after breaking the momentum.
"So this is how it's done."
Ragna spoke.
"You."
Why had the man, who had lived believing in his talent, come this far?
Was it just for power? No.
Blood vessels popped in his eyes.
There had been someone above him in the knight order.
He could accept that if it were a knight.
But they were both squires. He had always won when they fought at first.
A hundred fights, a hundred victories.
That should have been the case even after a thousand battles, but it wasn't.
The man had slowly, step by step, climbed up.
Eventually, after ten battles, he started losing once in a while, and it became harder to win even five times out of ten.
"Why!"
He shouted in frustration.
Why had this man been placed before him?
The heavens were unfair. The goddess of luck was biased.
He had reached the limits of his talent, but why did the other man...
Ragna's sword and the squire's sword clashed. One sword cleaved through the neck, while the other stabbed empty air.
That was all.
-------------------------
To get more chapters and support my work please head over to my ko-fi!
Ko-fi.com/samowek