Chapter 130 - A Single Blow and Scission

"What a load of bullshit."

The guy who taught me that skill and character aren't proportional—what was his name again?

He twisted the corners of his mouth. He showed a sneer.

"Should I drill another asshole for you? Enki?"

He said, taking a step forward.

Encrid decided to exchange words just once before killing him.

"What was your name again?"

The guy stopped in a stance with his right foot sticking out forward.

"... Anyway, you motherfucker, you've got a hell of a tongue."

The guy didn't say his name. It couldn't be helped.

It wasn't like he absolutely needed to know his name anyway.

"Kill him."

At the nameless son of a bitch's words, the nine people surrounding him moved.

How should I put it. It felt like that was what the Border Guards would look like if they became corrupted.

Seeing them running wild with their respective weapons, it seemed they all had some skill, but.

It felt like their weapons reeked of blood.

TWANG!

One of them held up a slingshot and fired. He aimed, pulled, and released in an instant, his movements fluid.

The slingshot shot out something like a small metal pellet.

Ragna dodged it just by tilting his head. It was a shot aimed at his eye.

"Slingshot."

Ragna muttered. Encrid saw a kind of heat in his eyes that he normally didn't show.

Then, there shouldn't be anything to worry about.

"Alone?"

Someone spoke from behind, and looking back, it was Vengeance.

Seeing him limping, Encrid's eyes went to Vengeance's thigh.

Before he could even ask how he got hurt.

"While trying to save me from that filthy bastard."

Behind Vengeance, a soldier displaying the feat of showing both worry and resentment in his eyes spoke up.

He felt like he knew without hearing the explanation. Would he give his old habits to a ghoul?

He must have done what he always did.

Purposely tormenting a soldier to make Vengeance step in, then aiming for the opening to drill a hole in his thigh.

It was exactly the kind of thing that bastard would do.

Conversely, Vengeance would have risked injury to save his own man.

What would have happened if Encrid hadn't come here?

He would have died. Vengeance would have prepared himself for death.

If it was this kind of person, yeah, maybe you could think about wanting to be friends.

If it was someone like Vengeance, it would be fine.

But not that bastard. Friends? That was ridiculous.

"It's sharp. That thing."

Vengeance spoke again, and Encrid struck his left palm with his right fist with a *SMACK* as if he had finally remembered the opponent's name.

"I remember your name."

The opponent chuckled.

"Is there any way you'd forget my name? Pointless provocation, you punk."

The guy spoke and drew his sword with a *SHING*. It was a type of sword that bent when force was applied. A flexible rapier made of soft iron.

The fluttering blade caught his eye.

Encrid looked at it and opened his mouth.

"It was Motherfucker, right?"

His nickname was Son of a Bitch, and his name was Motherfucker, right? That must be it. Probably.

"... You're going to beg me to kill you."

The guy's eyes gleamed fiercely. Was he mad by any chance? Ah, that wasn't the intention.

Encrid just shrugged.

The two riled each other up with trivial words.

Among the son of a bitch's nine underlings, the slingshot moved again.

THWIP, WHOOSH, CLANG!

This time he aimed at Encrid, but Ragna, who had approached at some point, drew his sword, scabbard and all, and deflected the projectile. The metal pellet, flying vertically into the air, twinkled and vanished through the fog.

"You've got fast hands. It'd be fun to put a hole in that hand."

The slingshot said. Next to him was a guy holding twin axes. One in each hand, an armament similar to Rem's.

"You're a funny guy. You're going to take us all on alone?"

The twin axes said, glaring at Ragna.

That's not good, Encrid thought.

Sure enough, Ragna reacted.

"One crazy barbarian knockoff."

"... What?"

The guy holding the axes couldn't understand what the blond, red-eyed punk was saying while staring blankly at him.

Those red eyes clearly held an incomprehensible hostility.

Two hand axes in both hands. He had chosen the wrong armament.

Besides him, there were three guys holding swords, strange swords with deeply carved blood grooves, and the three of them had similar faces.

They were triplets.

"After this battlefield, we'll become part of Aspen. If things go well, we might even receive a noble title."

The son of a bitch, the motherfucker, said. He seemed to want to brag. It was just like before.

The same expression he had when he spared him, the kind of face that satisfied itself by stating in advance that this fight was for such a reason.

I see.

Encrid didn't exchange any more words.

THUD.

He stepped forward and struck down with his sword. The opponent underestimated him. Still sneering, he deflected the sword.

SHIIIING.

The distinct, flexible blade aimed for Encrid's wrist. Striking the longsword, the tip of the blade bent downward and immediately came at him, aiming for his wrist.

It was the unorthodox sword among unorthodox swords.

Didn't he say it was a sword technique he learned in the East?

He was pretty sure he had said something like that.

Encrid watched the sword aiming for his wrist until the very end, then shook his sword up and down.

The flexible blade that was flowing along his edge bounced upward.

CLANG.

'Look at this punk?'

Questions and surprise appeared on the opponent's face, but Encrid had no interest in it.

He just stepped forward and swung his sword as he had learned, practiced, and trained.

Hadn't he also learned how to deal with the unorthodox sword?

'Start with a steadfast single blow.'

He did just that. Just as Ragna had taught him.

SWISH.

The blade cleaved the air. Through Concentrate on a Single Point, everything slowed down as if he could grasp it in his hand.

Connecting point to point and layering strength over it, the Diagonal Slash fell towards the opponent.

The son of a bitch hastily pulled his foot back and swung his sword upward.

SHINGGG!

The flexible blade cut through the wind and aimed for Encrid's neck.

It only aimed.

Before that could happen, Encrid's Diagonal Slash had already reached his body.

Because it was faster, stronger, and more delicate.

A single blow was enough.

CRUNCH.

He felt resistance in his hand. This strike was also so clean that no sensation remained in his hand, but.

Cutting through armor and other supplementary things meant he couldn't feel absolutely nothing.

Encrid's longsword split through half of the guy's armor and ribs, and severed the wrist holding the sword.

The blade that had bent toward Encrid's neck dropped to the ground with a *THUD*.

CLATTER.

Encrid stopped in his sword-swinging posture, then swung his sword to the side.

SPLATTER.

Blood scattered across the ground.

In front of him, he saw the remnant of the past, dead with its eyes wide open in shock.

Encrid spoke inwardly to his past comrades.

'I got revenge.'

They had no answer. The dead inherently have no answers.

The opponent whose lifeline was cut in a single blow was the same.

He died without even leaving a final scream.

It was a natural result.

The mercenary who used the Eastern flexible sword technique, that son of a bitch had outstanding skill, but.

'Compared to the Frog and Mitch Hurrier.'

He fell short. Compared to his own platoon members? How could they compare? It was laughable to even try.

However, if it hadn't been for Encrid, this side of the battlefield would have been a mess too. It would have been as much of a shitshow as where the giant appeared.

It was all relative.

These guys were users of the muderous blade, people who made killing their profession and used it as a tool to build their skills.

Against an opponent stronger than themselves, they might die peacefully like this, but.

If the opposite were true, they'd be efficient killers. They were bound to run completely wild.

"... What the fuck."

One of the three brothers holding swords said.

"What do you think."

Hearing that, Ragna replied and strode toward the slingshot.

That stride was a marvel just to watch. How did he take his steps? In just a few paces, he had caught the flank of the guy holding the slingshot.

"Tch!"

The guy twisted his body to the side. And that was his end. Leaving the word 'Tch', his head flew into the sky with his surprised expression intact.

When? Just when did he draw his sword, and when did he swing it?

It was a terrifyingly fast and clean display of skill.

To the point where even in Encrid's eyes, the bending blade only remained as an afterimage.

"Slingshot."

Ragna muttered toward the opponent he killed and moved.

"Three swords."

It was aimed at the three brothers. The three guys drew their swords. They didn't look like they planned to just take it.

Ragna saw the red bloodlust young in the eyes of the three.

Murder, the masters of the muderous blade who used killing and killing again as their means.

There were sometimes guys like this.

They were retards who didn't even properly know how to build their own skills.

A sword that started out by killing the powerless, and thus a sword that only learned to kill the weak.

Regardless of who the opponent was, regardless of the situation.

Ragna felt pretty good.

In his life, how many moments had there been where motivation overflowed like this?

Three times? Five times? It didn't seem like five times.

He had been building up irritation too. That irritation, that frustration had been transformed by his spar with Encrid.

Something that started as a small spark flared up in his eyes.

Light flowed in his originally red eyes. An eye-glow.

Leaving a trail of light from his eyes, Ragna swung his sword.

SWISH, CLANG, THUK, THWACK, SLICE!

The three masters of the muderous blade holding swords collapsed, their necks pierced and cut, split from their jaws all the way to their crowns.

Ragna's sword cut through everything that blocked it. Whether it was a sword, armor, flesh, or bone.

It was impressive.

"Pitchfork."

Ragna found his next opponent.

It was the guy using a pitchfork as his weapon.

It looked exactly like a weapon chosen to inflict pain.

The opponent gulped.

It seemed he had definitely met his match.

"Rush him all at once!"

The guy shouted. As soon as his words fell, everyone moved. And then, he promptly turned his back. He bolted.

Encrid's eyes widened in surprise at this point.

If it were the usual Ragna, he wouldn't even give a glance to some guy running away like that.

But that Ragna.

DASH.

Moved so fast he couldn't even be seen.

Kicking off the ground, he swung his sword left and right. He swung his sword so fast that it looked like wings were flapping with Ragna at the center.

Though those wings started from both his hands rather than his back.

The wings made from the afterimages of his blade split open the head of the guy holding a spear.

And severed both arms of the woman wielding daggers.

CLANG!

He even sliced the blade of the dagger caught in the middle in half.

It was a slash that showed terrifying power, difficult to put into words.

"KYAAAAAH!"

The scream of the dagger-wielding woman dashed fiercely through the air.

Afterward, Ragna continued his dash and chased the fleeing guy. The guy holding the pitchfork twisted his body and thrust the pitchfork up.

It was a weapon made entirely of solid iron.

Ragna swung his sword like before again. Looking at the posture, it was a back-edge strike. It was definitely a motion that knocked the opponent's weapon aside and inversely struck with the back edge, but.

It was different from the very first motion, when he cut halfway through the solid iron pitchfork. Immediately following, he came back inversely and cut the guy's neck with the back edge.

SLICE.

What the heck, if he had applied a little more force, the pitchfork would have been cut right off.

Moving so diligently like that, only one remained.

"Fuck."

The guy holding axes in both hands.

"You're the main dish."

How should I put it.

He was very, very different from the usual Ragna.

He walked right over and faced the enemy holding the axes. Even though his appearance didn't bring Rem to mind at all.

That wouldn't be what was important to Ragna.

"Starting with your legs."

He immediately turned his words into reality. Ragna's sword moved. You could say the guy holding the axes was a skilled fighter, but.

What should I call this.

Encrid's own figure came to mind. Specifically, his past self.

The moment of facing a wall that could not be overcome with effort and training.

"Uwaaaah!"

The guy holding the axes struggled desperately. That was all.

Ragna cut his thighs first and then severed the tendons in both his arms.

Placing his sword on top of the crown of the guy who dropped his axes with a *THUD*, Ragna realized anew that he was quite excited.

It certainly was a different feeling.

'Is this something to be excited about?'

In any case, it wasn't a bad feeling.

"If, if you spare me, the trea— hidden in that place..."

CRACK.

No matter what the opponent said. Ragna did not listen.

In the end, the last remaining member of the ten-man mercenary group that wielded the muderous blade died with his head split open.

Ragna checked that the edge of the sword he was using was completely chipped and the hilt was rattling, then tossed it away.

And then he gathered all the swords the three brothers had been using.

"Hmm, looks like I got three swords."

Then, like Encrid, he strapped a sword to each side of his waist and slung one diagonally across his back.

"Are you a three-sword style user?"

"No. I'll use them one by one."

Ragna shook his head at Encrid's question and spoke again.

"Do you know what technique I used just now?"

He spoke faster than usual. That was also a fascinating thing.

How would he know.

It just seemed like cutting and slicing, and that was all.

There was something impressive about it. Whatever they blocked with, Ragna's sword cut right through it. Whether it was a dagger, or anything else.

While Encrid was thinking, Ragna opened his mouth again.

Once again with a faster tone than usual.

"I named it Scission."

It was an unoriginal name.

But unlike its name, the power of that technique was undeniable.

Scission, to cut.

It referred to a certain art he achieved through his own knack for cutting with a sword.

"I will teach it to you."

Ragna declared. Encrid nodded his head.

Vengeance, who was watching the fight, couldn't even click his tongue.

'Monster bastards.'

Because those were the only words that came to mind.

Encrid picked up the two axes dropped on the ground.

Since Rem had broken his weapons while fighting the giant, he would be needing new axes.

Other than that, there were only a few throwing daggers from the guy who handled daggers to take.

It was a shame he had used up all his Whistle Daggers.

'It'd be nice if I could get new ones made.'

While they were resting and reorganizing after ending the battle like that.

From the front.

WAAAAAH!

"Audin! Audin!"

A cheer erupted.

It was the front line. Something seemed to have happened where Audin had headed.

Encrid's gaze turned forward.

Before long, the sun had risen, and the fog was clearing. It meant the surroundings were slowly starting to become visible.

It wasn't some kind of Spell, just a riverside fog that would clear as time passed.

Beyond the clearing fog.

Audin was there. Standing completely alone.

The place he stood was right in the middle of the enemy forces.