258th Chapter
The students carried the wounded toward the outskirts of the encampment.
Moments ago, where the students had been standing, a massive flash and storm raged.
Even among the Empire’s elite warriors, excluding those at Master level, their power far exceeded the students’ imagination.
As the battlefield’s oppressive resonance enveloped them, the students stiffened their expressions. Then, nearby, they sensed human movement.
It was the Imperial Army.
More than ten soldiers of the Imperial Army who had already suffered defeat once now revealed themselves.
The knight leading them asked with a face still smeared with fresh blood,
“Has reinforcements arrived?”
“…Yes.”
“I see.”
After this brief exchange, the knight headed towards the battlefield.
Watching the group of Imperial soldiers follow the knight, the students remained rooted to the spot.
“Uh…”
When one of the students spoke up, the knight turned his head and scanned the student who had spoken.
This student, aside from carrying a sword, lacked proper armor and stood bare-bodied. His exposed expression bore traces of conflict, confusion, and fear.
In a calm voice, the knight addressed the students.
“You are not prepared.”
“…”
“Wait in a safe place.”
With that, the knight left.
Watching the backs of the Imperial soldiers marching forward with the resolve to face death, the students felt shame. On the other hand, they tried hard to ignore these emotions.
We don’t even have an artifact, let alone proper armor…
If we step onto the battlefield unprepared and end up being expended like meat shields, it would cause great losses for the Empire…
While mulling over such excuses, they attempted to avert their eyes.
However, Berden felt humiliation more strongly than fear compared to the other students.
Thinking he was being looked down upon as a coward, Berden moved his body to follow the distant silhouette of the Imperial Army.
Once one person moved, it became easier for others.
A few second-tier students followed Berden’s footsteps.
When third-tier students also tried to join, the second-tier students irritably waved their hands.
“You stay back and guard the wounded. That’s an order.”
“Just stay put. You’re not ready to earn glory yet.”
With dry laughter, the second-tier students approached the battlefield illuminated by flashes while regulating their breathing.
“Hmm… but, who’s going to do it?”
“Why are you looking at me? The guy who stepped up first should do it.”
Hearing this, Berden smirked, drew his sword from his waist, and awkwardly muttered,
“…Eliminate the enemies of the Empire.”
“Shit, when you say it, it doesn’t sound right.”
Grumbling, the second-tier students also drew their swords.
*
Preches swung his sword downward.
The motion was so simple that there was no way to describe it other than “he swung downward.”
Ray neither attempted to block nor deflect Preches’ sword.
He instinctively understood that doing so would crush him.
To counteract Preches’ sword strike, Ray crossed his two swords and slashed through it.
Amidst silence, their swords collided.
Ray clearly saw with his own eyes how the blade of light he had created split apart under Preches’ sword strike.
Clang! The metallic sound reverberated in his ears.
The recoil traveling through the sword shook Ray’s head and distorted his senses.
Unable to withstand the impact, Ray planted one knee on the ground.
“…”
Crash!
Only after Ray knelt did the ground tremble and the wind pick up.
Ray failed to properly withstand Preches’ frontal attack.
This outcome wasn’t due to a gap in physical strength or bodily performance.
It was a gap in skill.
The concept of cutting something, pushed to its limits, was encapsulated in Preches’ sword strike.
Just as there was a vast gap between the time periods they existed in, so too was there an immense gap between the sword strikes produced by Ray and Preches.
Caught in this insurmountable irrationality, Ray felt his breath getting choked off.
Preches thrust his sword.
Ray tried to deflect the approaching sword with his shoulder and succeeded in doing so.
However, the straight-moving force of Preches’ sword suddenly transmitted sideways, collapsing Ray’s posture once again.
Struggling to restore his balance, Ray swung Moros diagonally upward.
Preches effortlessly blocked the attack, and as Ray attempted to launch a series of Omega-series thrusts, Preches slightly twisted his wrist to transmit force, distorting Moros’ trajectory and halting the progress of the Omega Series.
As Ray retreated hastily after the flow was disrupted, Preches swung his sword horizontally.
Despite hearing no sound of wind, the cuirass and flesh below Ray’s collarbone were cut.
It was only after increasing the distance from Preches that Ray realized this fact.
Each motion performed by Preches achieved a different level of perfection.
Considering only the mastery of swordsmanship, Preches rivaled Ernst, known as the Swordmaster of the Empire.
No, rather… in terms of the essential meaning inherent in the word “swordsmanship,” Preches was a step ahead of Ernst.
Centuries, perhaps millennia, of unimaginable history were contained within her single strike.
Up close, engaging in swordplay, Preches dominated Ray.
Abandoning direct confrontation, Ray immediately used an artefact.
Ssshh!!
A lance-shaped artefact shot towards Preches.
A strong gust erupted from the artefact, forcibly disrupting Preches’ stance.
Attempting to pierce Preches with the disoriented balance, the artefact was met with a nonchalant swing of her sword.
Crack!
The sword strike, emerging from a twisted angle, cut through the artefact’s gauntlet and penetrated inside.
As the core shattered and the artefact exploded helplessly, a leaping sword aura launched by Ray split the air and descended.
Kwaaang!!!
Continuously bombarding Preches with leaping sword auras, Ray simultaneously deployed five artefacts all at once, intending to crush her outright.
As attacks poured down from all directions, Preches’ pupils stretched vertically.
Her gaze, which read the flow of all things, opened, causing the artefact closest to her to split in half.
Kaakkaakk!!
In an instant, all the artefacts Ray had deployed shattered.
By the time Ray realized this, Preches was already standing before him.
“Raise your sword.”
Chheng!!
Blocking Preches’ fatal strike, Ray clenched his teeth.
Though her body resembled patched-up rags stitched together by force, her killing blow was straightforward and beautiful.
Ray openly admitted that he was frightened by it.
In the pure concept of wielding a sword, Ray could never reach her level.
Having long decided to avoid direct confrontation, Ray sought victory through other means.
Cchhak!
Among the artefacts damaged during the process of passing through the barrier, those still operational responded to Ray’s call.
Ray desperately hurled all the moving artefacts at Preches, attempting to overpower her with firepower.
In a completely reversed battle situation,
Preches destroyed and sliced through every artefact while steadily advancing towards Ray.
Seeing this, Ray felt fear, and Preches sneered.
“Pitiful, human. Your swordsmanship, your spirit.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint.”
Ray was fully aware of how shallow his swordsmanship was.
His swordsmanship was not something he had developed himself but something granted to him. In less than twenty years, he barely managed to internalize it enough to use it convincingly.
Thus, without insisting stubbornly, he attempted to overpower her with firepower, but even that proved difficult.
Ggrrrr!!
To slow down Preches’ approach, Ray rotated his core and circle to their limit.
A cold bluish chill settled into the space, mangling both their bodies.
The undead form of Preches, pieced together from dissected corpses, continued to creak and crack, but the dragon’s power, manifesting will into reality, maintained its form.
Ray bit and pressed his lips hard.
‘At this rate, I’m losing.’
He needed to devise another method.
Call for support? Impossible.
Micheal and Anthonyus were representatives of the Empire’s strength, but even they were struggling to hold out against the enemy’s offensive.
Somehow, Ray had to defeat Preches alone.
“…”
Ray still had a few powerful methods left.
Using them, regardless of his inferior swordsmanship skills, he could decisively overwhelm Preches.
However, the cost would be most of his remaining life.
“…”
Not yet.
There were still too many things he wanted to see; he couldn’t recklessly give up the rest of his life.
Forcing himself, Ray tried to create distance again to face Preches.
Seeing Ray move as if to flee, Preches curled her lips.
“You remain clumsy till the end.”
Crash! An indescribable force pinned Ray to the ground.
While Ray’s feet were bound, Preches approached closely and raised her sword.
“This child… broke the ground and cleaved the sky with just one sword.”
Chheeeek! With such a thunderous sound, blood spurted from Ray’s shoulder where he had blocked the attack.
Preches pressured Ray, showing no intention of letting him escape, revealing her disappointment.
“Is the value of the swordsmanship you possess truly limited to severing the existence of others?”
“…”
Ray frowned.
Breaking the ground and cleaving the sky with just one sword… Harshia had done the same.
It was merely because Ray was too clumsy and inexperienced that he couldn’t replicate the past myth.
While Ray acknowledged his clumsiness, he couldn’t accept the insult to Harshia.
He clearly understood that this path wouldn’t work.
Preches’ sword was perfect.
The original owner of the body Preches currently inhabited would have been even more perfect.
And…
Harshia would have been far more perfect than that.
The trajectory of the sword drawn by Harshia, briefly shown to him by Resina in a vision, was undoubtedly like that.
Ray still couldn’t comprehend the trajectory of Harshia he had seen in that vision.
Trying to replicate Harshia’s movements, there were gaps here and there, and he couldn’t find a way to connect them.
Had Harshia been present, she would surely have shattered and pierced through Preches’ sword strike, crossing the two swords…
“…”
Replicate it.
Even for just a moment.
Replicate the trajectory he had drawn.
But how?
What is needed to replicate those disconnected movements?
“…”
“…I knew.”
He had pretended not to know out of fear.
Knowing the limits of his talent, Ray had turned away and pretended not to know, fearing to challenge what Harshia had accomplished.
That was certainly a wise judgment.
Ray could never become Harshia.
He didn’t possess a body as solid as Harshia’s, nor the unparalleled talent for swords.
But… if he could replicate the trajectory Harshia had drawn, even for just a moment.
If he had to replicate it, he must.
Tsuk!
The chilling winds swirling around dissipated, leaving behind faint echoes.
The mana currents emanating from the core and circle concentrated entirely on Ray’s body.
Since a human body couldn’t withstand the spatial blade’s mana generated from the core, his skin tore apart, and blood flowed.
Still, Ray confined and amplified the mana flow within his body.
Without giving any thought to Ray’s transformation, Preches swung her sword diagonally downward.
In his current stance, Ray couldn’t defend against Preches’ attack.
He should have rolled his body to the ground immediately, but instead,
Ray took a step towards Preches.
In his current position, he couldn’t defend against Preches’ attack.
But it was fine.
This wasn’t… happening in four-dimensional spacetime.
It was a pose exchange occurring in a higher dimension.
Like switching images, Ray’s body instantly changed poses without any process.
Kaak!!
The attack was blocked.
Preches looked at Ray again.
Ray’s movements began to break apart.
His appearance was not at all beautiful. It was simply grotesque.
Movements conducted in a higher dimension were projected into the four-dimensional spacetime without warning.
Thrusting, slashing, blocking—only the results of these actions remained in the four-dimensional spacetime, while the processes were torn apart.
Could this even be defined as swordsmanship?
It was unclear. It was just grotesque.
However, Preches, to shatter Ray’s movements, assumed a stance most similar to the one she loved and admired.
From above to below, she swung her sword.
Ray’s movement broke once more.
Two swords crossed, tearing the point of contact.
No resounding noise occurred.
Only then did Preches’ sword split in half and fall to the ground.
Then, a long gash appeared across Preches’ chest.
Even Ray, who had entered the higher dimension with a fragile human body, bled profusely from all over his body.
Yet, Ray smiled.
“Pitiful… swordsmanship.”
“…”
Preches released the sword that had been cut in half.
Standoff (4)
