Rosclay the Absolute - 2

Four days were left. Gilnes the Ruined Castle was visiting a dwelling on the

outskirts of town.

He was there under the pretext of running an errand for the owner of the tavern he frequented following his release. Without many people in the region, the soldier observing Gilnes didn't take any special steps to hide his presence, leaning up against a tree behind him.

Gilnes rang the bell. If the information his men gathered was correct, the person he sought was here in this hideout.

With the ringing of the bell, there was a heavy sound of something toppling behind him.

When he turned around, the soldier who had just been standing there watching him was collapsed on the ground, and in their place, a gangly man, just past middle age, was absentmindedly lingering about.

"…Master Romzo."

"Oh, if it isn't General Gilnes. It's good to see you again. This one looked like he might be a bit of a nuisance, you see, yes. I had him take a bit of a nap."

He looked down over the fallen soldier with his scholarlike glasses, as if the whole affair was none of his concern.

The ferocity of his martial skill was completely unchanged from the days when King Aur was alive.

"I'll lean him up against this tree here. He won't notice that he was asleep, but with that, he won't be asleep long."

"I understand. Let us wrap up our conversation quickly."

Negotiating his release. A hundred of his men, gathered in Aureatia.

Charijisuya the Blasting Blade. This man was his final trump card.

Romzo the Star Map. A man known as one of the members of the First Party.

The legendary seven, the first in the world to confront True Demon King. All of them were champions, the absolute pinnacle of their age. Touted as unrivaled, they too were defeated and scattered before the True Demon King menace, and it was said only Romzo and one other member survived.

Two of them managed to survive.

Countless champions challenged the True Demon King, with close to none of them returning alive.

One of those very few who survived was Romzo the Star Map.

He was a compatriot who lamented the current state of Aureatia, and

someone with superlative fighting prowess, rivaling Gilnes himself.

"As you are aware, sir… In the middle of my bout four days from now, we plan to make our move. The location will be the castle garden theater. It's surrounded on all sides by audience seating, and well within range of the bird's bough. Here is where I'd like to ask you to defend the soldiers providing support."

"Hmm. That is easy. Very easy… But that's not all, is it?"

"Before the match, may I request your 'Dwelling Might' technique?" "Hmm."

Romzo casually looked out over the trees. It was the season when the leaves turned brown and began to fall.

Gilnes kept silent, watching Romzo as he looked. "That is easy. You understand, right?"

"Of course. If we can win this one battle, our ambitions will be realized."

The pressure points technique he utilized to incapacitate the soldier was not intended to simply be used as an attack.

Its real abilities rather lay in releasing the physical limits of the body when either the user or their allies engaged in combat.

Dwelling Might was the pinnacle. Romzo had named the technique, capable of shouldering the price of death itself.

"…Rosclay the Absolute is strong. He's absolute in anything and everything."

"My consent to this arrangement was very much made with that in mind." "Got it. Well then, I suppose that's fine."

The elderly master slowly walked over and put his hand on the door of the dwelling.

There, he turned around.

"All right, over there… The same position as you were at the start. Stand about three paces in front of where I am. When that man over there wakes up, he'll feel a bit unsteady on his feet."

"Understood. You have my thanks."

Gilnes gave a deep, respectful bow and departed. Now, all of the preparations were complete.

A hundred supporters springing out from the audience. The Blasting Blade. And now, his movements would go beyond the limits of his own body.

Preparations that had used up every iota of power at his disposal.

A true duel. How one would interpret such an arrangement would likely be different from person to person.

The honest and noble-minded knight Rosclay was certain to put forth all his effort into battling with the one skill he honed to perfection himself. Gilnes was not.

He wasn't an idol of the people like Rosclay; he was a military man who fought to accomplish a goal.

The day of the duel was coming.

"Rosclay!"

"Rosclay! Rosclay!" "Rosclay!!" "Rosclay!"

The cheers of the packed crowd were almost loud enough to shatter eardrums.

Daytime in the castle garden theater. The excited citizenry of Aureatia clamored in the spectator seats surrounding the large grass plaza. The thought that the owner of the fruit stand was somewhere among them suddenly flickered in Gilnes's mind.

The knight walking out to face Gilnes was still young.

His features, blond hair and red eyes, were plainly beautiful to anyone who saw them.

However, this beauty was also unlike that of a vampire, cloaked in an air of dread. His pleasant features were the kind that brought a sense of security to those who laid eyes on him.

On top of this, the way he had toned his muscles, it was likely the two men's physiques had been different from birth. Compared to Gilnes's imposing appearance, covered in big, thick muscles, his thin and sinewy body made him look not unlike a sculpted statue.

His was a face known to everyone. He was Rosclay the Absolute.

…I get it. No wonder they're setting him up to be a symbol to the people.

Pitting them against each other, it was obvious at first glance which of them was on the side of justice.

Even someone who protected the people as the general of a ten-thousand- strong army like Gilnes the Ruined Castle, compared to the man before him, ended up looking like a crude mountain bandit.

"General Gilnes. Your heroics remain still fresh in the memories of the people. I consider our duel on this day a great honor. Let us show to these fine people what a battle free of spite can look like."

"I consider it an honor, too. I didn't expect such an opportunity for vindication… I thought the council, too, recognized my own righteousness as something to ignore entirely. Now, as a warrior equal, allow me to challenge you to combat."

Gilnes took notice of his arm's movements, beginning to sag under the weight of his sword. When a single strand of hair on his arm lowered, then he would stop. He moved it again. He stopped at the drop of a strand of hair.

His center didn't waver an inch during the series of motions.

To anyone else, he assumed it looked like he was gently lowering his sword.

In just a few moments, Gilnes finished checking the capabilities of his physical body.

He could instantly tell his body to "stop" with the speed and positioning he wanted.

This was Romzo's Dwelling Might. With the full strength of Gilnes's sword skills on top of it, he had become a powerful threat.

"Rosclay!" "Rosclay!" "Rosclay!"

Mixed in with the cheers, the signal announcing the start of the match rang. Both combatants, in that moment, began to close the distance between each other.

He saw Rosclay hold his sword above his head. It was an exceedingly fast downward swing, exactly as taught to military swordsmen.

However.

That won't hit me. Not with how I am now.

Gilnes stopped his advance.

Even in the midst of a full-speed charge, with all his body weight behind him, in his current condition, it was possible.

Consequently, Rosclay misjudged the range for his opening attack. The worst possible blunder to make.

"Over in an instant. Sorry, but—"

—There wouldn't be any need to make use of his hundred-strong-soldier force.

Holding his sword low to meet incoming slash, he grazed Rosclay's sword with the tip. It took on heat and exploded. Rosclay's sword shattered.

Charijisuya the Blasting Blade.

From the eyes of the spectators, he assumed it looked as if the sword was unable to defend against the overwhelming strength behind the blow.

Continuing the attack, Gilnes slashed straight down at his chest.

"Iokouto. Namfatqumziz. Ninhortas. Wizioguraeua. Pastigeste." (To the wind of Kouto. Fireflies on the lake's surface. Source of soil. Release from one eye. Flash.)

It was that moment when Gilnes realized his opponent had been incanting Word Arts during their battle.

The electrical charge of the Thermal Arts, suddenly appearing before Gilnes's sword's path, flowed back down through the blade, and for an instant, induced an unavoidable biological reaction, stiffening up his muscles.

The average person would have likely been knocked unconscious by the attack. He endured and held his ground.

…What was that?

He shook his head. Gilnes certainly wasn't one to overlook indications that an opponent before him was using Word Arts.

Even with his own weapon lost, there wasn't a single crack in Rosclay's calm demeanor.

He was perplexed by the Word Arts that seemed to have no visible forewarning, but at the very least, Rosclay's display meant that he could utilize electric Thermal Arts with the speed and power necessary in battle.

If his Words Arts were fast enough to keep up with their battle, he must have devoted a considerable amount of effort to honing his skills.

I assumed he was a knight, but he's an arts knight, huh. No matter.

If he had mastered combat Word Arts at such a young age, if anything, it

made him easier to deal with.

All that time he spent honing those skills was time he wasn't spending training with his sword.

It was far from his first time fighting against an arts knight. In fact, with both his purer experience and longer years of training, Gilnes was capable of surpassing Rosclay. The blade he brandished was one that caused explosive death with its touch, Charijisuya the Blasting Blade.

He wouldn't give him the time to draw his next sword. The instant his muscles were free of their paralysis, he rushed forward with a slash of his blade.

"…Your sword—"

Rosclay muttered offhandedly.

"Thinking of pleading for a halt to the fight? It's too late. My sword stroke will reach you faster than the words can leave your mouth."

"No. I simply thought that I needed a new sword of my own, as well."

Gilnes pressed in closer to Rosclay, paying no heed to his reply. The dirt in the garden theater whirled in the air.

"Vapmarsia wanwao. Sarpmorebonda. Ozno." (Jeweled crevice. Still stream. Strike.)

A sword blocked the sideways sweeping flash of Gilnes's sword.

Rosclay's sword—but not exactly.

The sword that had been blown apart by the enchanted sword sprouted up from the ground and defended against Gilnes's high-speed strike.

Flanking Rosclay, four whole swords were being constructed out of the ferrous materials in the soil.

"This, can't be possible…!"

Gilnes pulled back his sword—he could manage Craft Arts with such speed in combat, too?

It may have been correct to say the man in front of him wasn't a knight, but a true arts caster. It couldn't be.

"Hah…yah!"

Without letting the momentary confusion pass, Rosclay stamped on the earth with a rending shout.

Rosclay's new sword arced in an almost too-perfect path, picture perfect compared to how it was taught to new swordsmen.

It followed the reverse course of Gilnes's blade, tearing into and breaking

his gauntlet. The only reason his arm wasn't then cut clean off was because he was able to pull his arm back at the last second with the added effects of Dwelling Might.

"...!"

Had Gilnes been his normal self, this single exchange would have spelled defeat.

The blood soaking the inner cloth of his gauntlet gave him this terrifying premonition.

"Impossible."

"—Iokouto. Yurowastera. Vapmarsia wanwao. Sarpmorebonda—" (—to the soil of Kouto. Reflect in replica. Jeweled crevice. Standstill stream—)

"—Namfatqumziz. Ninhortas. Wizioguraeua—" (Fireflies on the lake's surface. Source of soil. Release from one eye—)

"—Tortewbijand. Ringmoruseipar. Wrbandeaziograf—" (—Warping disc. Rainbow corridor. Turn the hidden heaven and soil—)

"—Iojadwedo. Laeus4motbode. Teomayamvista—" (—to the steel of Jawedo. The axis is the fourth left finger. Pierce sound and—)

Yet another new sword was created. Lightning flashed. The swords floated in the air.

He could use so many Word Arts, and all simultaneously. Not only that, but when adding in Rosclay's sword skills, he had over five different categories of advanced and well-honed techniques at his disposal.

Impossible. Gilnes couldn't believe it.

For starters, simultaneously invoking different Word Arts should have been impossible.

What's going on here? A feat like that… Rosclay the Absolute—

"…This should put us back at square one, wouldn't you say, General Gilnes? Now, let us continue…"

It was possible that Gilnes the Ruined Castle also held the same feelings of admiration as the citizens of Aureatia somewhere within his heart.

He felt that he was a knight on the path of true righteousness, vanquishing his enemies with his just swordsmanship.

"…battling fairly and with honest skill."

Everything about him is wrong.

"Rosclay!"

"You can win, Rosclay!" "Rosclaaaay!" "Rosclay!"

The strength of the man in front of him…was something else entirely. He was enigmatic and mysterious.