Chapter 63 - < Impressive >

Xenafelt rose, biting her lip.

"It is the Sword Cult’s leader who decides who is worthy of becoming Fenris’s master."

Her voice was low. The look in her eyes hovered on the boundary between hostility and murderous intent. A boy of barely fifteen had arrogantly declared that he was better than the Sword Demon of five hundred years ago. She could not possibly let that pass.

"In this age, no one has a deeper connection to Fenris than our leader. She has endured five hundred years of hardship to become its master."

"Why has she only endured? If she wants it that badly, she should come and snatch it up."

"That is...! Because our leader herself judged that she was not yet worthy of becoming Fenris’s master."

Xenafelt clenched her fists and glared at Kyle.

"Even if Fenris is in your hands at present, Young Master, you cannot become its true master."

"Because your leader hasn’t acknowledged me?"

"Yes, precisely. Fenris has merely come into your hands for a time. If it had a will of its own, it would lament being held by you."

"Pfft!"

Kyle could not help bursting into laughter. Fenris’s master five hundred years ago had been the Sword Demon, and Kyle was his reincarnation. Reincarnation had even given him a strange ability to commune with the goblins inhabiting swords, and over those five hundred years, a goblin had come to inhabit Fenris too.

'Hey. Did you hear that? Apparently you’d lament being in my hands. Is that how you feel?'

[GRRR...]

Black mist visible only to Kyle shimmered, then gathered into a gigantic wolf. Fenris bared its razor-sharp teeth and growled at Xenafelt.

'Be honest. Who do you like better, me or Helenas?'

[WOOF!]

Fenris shot Kyle an incredulous look and barked loudly at him.

"Why... are you laughing? Are you mocking what I said?"

Kyle had every reason to laugh, but Xenafelt knew nothing of that. She glared at him, looking deeply insulted.

"Well, no, I wasn’t mocking you... Or was I? Maybe I was."

He did not bother explaining why he had laughed. As the atmosphere grew increasingly vicious, everyone in the dining hall watched them, scarcely daring to breathe.

Xenafelt’s hostility was steadily tipping toward murderous intent. Bruno grimaced and strode forward. He wanted nothing to do with the Sword Cult, much less its leader. Even so, he could not overlook a woman insane enough to show murderous intent toward a pureblood here in Gladiheim.

"Hey. Do you realize who you’re glaring at, and who you’re threatening to kill?"

"This may be Gladiheim, and the person before me may be a favored pureblood...! But does that mean I must endure every insult?"

"Ah, an insult."

Before Bruno could say anything more, Kyle nodded.

"If you took it as an insult, I apologize. That wasn’t why I laughed."

Bruno could not fathom what Kyle was doing. First he had spouted some insanity about sending greetings to the Sword Cult’s leader and gone out of his way to find her followers. Now he was openly needling and provoking them.

"As an apology for the insult... and to soothe your anger, Xenafelt, how about this? Let’s duel."

CLAP.

Kyle clapped as though he had found the perfect solution, but Bruno’s jaw dropped.

"A d-duel? Just like that?"

Stammering, Bruno tried to grab his shoulder. Kyle casually evaded his hand and continued.

"If you win, Xenafelt, I’ll kneel and apologize for everything you found insulting. Oh, simply kneeling might not show enough sincerity, so I’ll strip naked, get on my knees, and bow my head to the ground."

At this continued insanity, Bruno reeled, dizzy, while Jade, who had been quietly watching, clapped a hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter.

"And what else... If I lose to you, I would consider myself unworthy of wielding Fenris. So I’ll gladly hand it over to you."

The madness only escalated. Bruno went beyond staggering; his legs gave out completely, and he sank to the floor. Everyone who had been watching in breathless silence began murmuring, their mouths agape.

"Are... you serious?"

Xenafelt stammered. She too could scarcely believe what she had heard. Fenris, the blade her leader so desperately desired, the sword that had not emerged from the depths of the Sword Tower for five hundred years—could she win it with her own hands?

"I’m not finished yet."

Kyle was still smiling. He patted the shoulder of Bruno, who sat beside him opening and closing his mouth, and continued.

"An ordinary duel would be boring, and far too easy for me. Besides, after that fanatical display of sticking your neck out earlier, I doubt you could swing freely if I wielded Fenris. Am I wrong?"

"Well..."

"So I’ll fight barehanded, without drawing my sword."

Xenafelt’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open. Bruno’s legs were too weak for him to stand, but he shrieked and grabbed Kyle’s leg.

"Y-you crazy bastard! Shut up! Shut up! Don’t say another word!"

"Has this pig gone mad?"

"Gone... gone mad? You’re the mad one! Do you actually understand where you are, who you are, and what you’ve been given?!"

Bruno’s voice rose into a screech.

"This is Gladiheim, not some cheap tavern on the street! You—you’re an Alastor pureblood, not some deranged drunk! What you’re holding! What you’re wagering on this insane gamble! Is Fenris, the sword the founder kept beside him until his ascension, the sword every head of our house has revered!"

"I know."

Kyle placed a hand on Bruno’s shoulder. His answer was brief. His face was still smiling, and so was his voice. Yet Bruno could not hear any flippancy in it.

"I know all of that. I understand perfectly, pig. When have I ever said anything lightly, without thinking?"

"..."

"I always think things through, and I mean what I say. So trust me."

"You... you..."

Bruno worked his mouth, trying to say more, then covered his face with both hands and hung his head.

"Crazy bastard..."

As that despairing mutter hung in the air, Xenafelt stared fiercely at Kyle. She was not alone. Kroll and the other three followers, whose names Kyle had heard but could no longer remember, were glaring at him too.

"Young Master Kyle. Are you truly serious? You intend to face me... barehanded, without drawing your sword?"

"You heard what I just said. I’m serious."

At his reply, Xenafelt pressed her lips tightly together. She wondered whether to regard his terms as an insult and mockery, or as an enormous opportunity and stroke of luck.

She did not deliberate long. This was an enormous opportunity and stroke of luck. Refusing out of pride would be foolish. Victory would earn her Fenris. If she personally presented it to her leader... Her shoulders trembled faintly.

"If... you win, Young Master Kyle, what would you want from me in return for such extraordinary terms?"

Kyle burst out laughing at her question.

"What could you give me?"

"..."

"Your life? Xenafelt, that isn’t yours to offer me. Winning a fight means the loser’s life rests in the victor’s hands."

Smiling broadly, he reached for Fenris, which stood embedded in the floor.

"Your loyalty, then? Unfortunately, I’m not particularly interested in that. Making you abandon your leader and your cult might be rather amusing, but I’m not a pervert who takes pleasure in that sort of thing."

CRACK!

He pulled Fenris free.

"Money? I don’t need that either. As I said yesterday, my family has plenty. The same goes for elixirs and swordsmanship manuals. Xenafelt, you possess nothing I want."

"..."

"But you’d feel bad if I asked for nothing..."

Kyle lightly waved Fenris toward her.

"So promise to report, personally and honestly, exactly what you thought of the fellow who has become Fenris’s master in this age. Everything, without a single lie."

"That’s... all?"

"Yes. If you don’t think you can manage it, you’re welcome to refuse."

Personally and honestly.

Xenafelt noticed his emphasis.

"..."

Even the Apostles, second only to the leader within the Sword Cult, could not meet her whenever they wished. But a matter concerning Fenris was different. Certain she could fulfill his emphasized condition, Xenafelt nodded firmly.

"I accept your terms. I will... most certainly fight you."

"Then let’s go now."

Kyle grinned and tucked Fenris at his waist.

"Come along, everyone. You all heard what I just said, didn’t you? You’ll be witnesses to this duel."

After calling out to everyone in the dining hall, Kyle hauled Bruno, who was still sitting dazed on the floor, to his feet.

"Pig, how long are you going to stay like that? Come on. You’re a witness too."

"You... you lunatic..."

Bruno forced the words out.

"Shouldn’t you at least... ask the h-head of the house for permission?"

"What for? He isn’t Fenris’s master."

"..."

"Besides, I bet he’s already heard about this conversation. He and our relatives might already be at the training ground to watch my valiant duel."

Kyle chuckled and slapped Bruno’s back. Bruno had somehow managed to stand, but his body still felt limp. Each slap made him stagger.

"Hahaha..."

Beside Kyle as he led everyone out of the dining hall, Jade clutched his stomach with laughter.

"Our young master—no, no. Our commander is a complete lunatic. Are you really going to face that woman’s sword barehanded?"

"Not exactly barehanded. I’ll use aura."

"Same difference! Commander, do you know who she is?"

"Xenafelt."

"I mean her epithet, not her name. She’s pretty famous among the younger crowd too. Xenafelt of the Ten Swords. They call her that because she puts ten blades of sword aura into a single swing."

"Does every nobody get an epithet these days?"

"These days... what?"

Jade blinked at Kyle’s mutter and asked again. Oops. His true feelings had slipped out a little too honestly.

"So if she puts ten blades of sword aura into a swing, does that mean she kills ten people at once?"

"Well... if ten people stood still in a row, she might be able to."

"Oh, please. What an exaggeration. Then my epithet is Hundred Swords. No, make it Thousand Swords."

Kyle snorted.

"I just have to kill a thousand people with a sword, right? Who couldn’t cut down a thousand people standing still?"

"I don’t think that’s what the epithet means..."

Jade smacked his lips at the unexpected scolding.

"Anyway... Xenafelt’s a fairly renowned fighter. You saw her pauldrons, right?"

"Yellow? Where does that rank in the Sword Cult?"

"You really don’t know much about the Sword Cult, Commander. They rank themselves by pauldron color. Blue, green, yellow, red, then purple."

"What about silver?"

"Silver is for the cult’s seven Apostles. And apparently the Leader wears black pauldrons. Like the color of your sword."

Was that deliberate? It must have been. She had wanted Fenris for five hundred years, after all. Kyle nodded and grumbled.

"Yellow is third from the bottom, then. Not particularly high."

"Commander... you’re being far too negative. Turn it around, and she’s third from the top."

"Third, my ass. Count the Leader and the Apostles, and she’s fifth."

"You have to make exceptions for them. The leader’s a genuine five-hundred-year-old monster, and the Apostles are masters just shy of the Ten Greats."

"So you think I’ll lose?"

"Hmm..."

Jade recalled Kyle’s sword from yesterday. He still did not understand why or how his own blade had been reduced to dust.

"With a sword, you’d definitely win. But you said you’d face her barehanded, right? Can you handle Xenafelt’s Ten Swords... barehanded? Honestly, I don’t know."

"Ten Swords, Hundred Swords, Thousand Swords—it doesn’t matter. Xenafelt only holds one sword."

Kyle patted Jade’s shoulder twice.

"Watch that sword closely, and there’s no need to reach for any other blade. That isn’t always the right answer, but it absolutely is against Xenafelt. She can’t divide time."

"What...?"

"Nor can she overlap her movements, making them simultaneously. In the end, her Ten Swords are an illusion. I’m facing one sword, not ten, and that sword can’t kill me."

Jade could not understand what Kyle meant. Neither could Bruno or Lucia, listening beside them. Kyle chuckled at their expressions.

"Even if Xenafelt adds ten blades of sword aura to a single swing, they aren’t real swords. They’re just sword aura imitating real swords."

"Well... I suppose so."

"Don’t strain yourself trying to understand. Once you see it, you’ll get the general idea."

During that conversation, they reached the Third Training Ground, where Kyle had dropped down yesterday. Word must have spread already, for the surrounding spectator stands were far more crowded than the day before. Gladiheim’s knight cadets and apprentice knights were there. Even branch-family members and full knights staying in the upper district had come in droves. Most had to stand for lack of seats.

And in the seat of honor sat Julius, just as Kyle had expected. His expression was calm—but the relatives seated around him, even Cartan, were staring wide-eyed.

"C-can you handle the consequences?"

Bruno stammered.

"I’ve never seen Uncle Cartan look so angry..."

"Why would I have to?"

Kyle leisurely drew Fenris.

"If I win, there’s no problem. In fact, never mind problems—they’ll all applaud and tell me how impressive I am."

He handed Fenris to Lucia.

"Hold on to this."

"Yes, Lord Kyle."

Lucia bowed respectfully.

Loosely shaking his empty hands, Kyle stepped onto the platform. Xenafelt drew a deep breath and followed.

"Young Master."

They faced each other at the center of the platform. Xenafelt glared at Kyle, who truly stood barehanded and entirely unarmed.

"How shall we decide the winner?"

"Whoever says they’ve lost loses."

"..."

"Let me say this in advance: you needn’t worry about hurting me. Even if, by some chance, your sword wounds me fatally, that will simply be the price of my own idiotic boasting. Nothing more."

"I will take that to mean I should not hold back."

"Yes, that’s exactly what I meant."

CRACK. CRACK.

Kyle smiled as he loosened his wrists and finger joints.

"I heard on the way here that your epithet is Ten Swords, Xenafelt."

"That is what people call me."

"Do you consider yourself Ten Swords as well?"

"I pride myself on being more than ten."

"Wow."

Kyle burst out laughing.

"How impressive."

He had not meant to mock her... Or had he? Either way, since he said it while laughing, a chilling light flashed in Xenafelt’s eyes.

The impressive Ten Swords drew her weapon.

The blade that emerged from her scabbard was an ordinary straight sword.

As she held it to one side, teal aura rose like a heat haze and formed sword aura.

"..."

Xenafelt bit her lip and glared at Kyle. Unlike her, sword aura formed and ready for battle, he stood at ease with his arms hanging loosely. There was not the slightest hint of nervousness about facing her barehanded, without so much as a sword.

'How can he be so arrogant?'

She thought him foolish as well. Xenafelt had watched his spar with Jade yesterday. That strike which had pulverized Jade’s swordbreaker in a single blow—honestly, she could not understand it either.

But Kyle had held a sword then. And not just any sword. Fenris, the Sword Demon’s beloved blade, the sword her leader had desperately desired for five hundred years.

Of course, Xenafelt did not think his strike yesterday had been entirely Fenris’s doing. He might be only fifteen, but he was an Alastor pureblood favored by the Thunder Emperor himself.

'He must have exceptional talent for the sword. But... I can’t believe Fenris played no part in yesterday’s strike.'

However talented he was, could a boy of barely fifteen have unleashed a strike she could not comprehend even from the distant stands?

What she had seen yesterday had been exceedingly simple. He had merely swung forward. Because she had not been standing directly before him, crossing blades with him at that instant—because she had watched from the distant stands—she was trapped in that way of thinking instead.

It placed a ceiling of common sense over her understanding. She also harbored grand fantasies about Fenris. It was the Sword Demon’s sword, the blade her leader craved. How could such a weapon be ordinary?

Now Kyle held not even an ordinary sword, much less Fenris. Xenafelt steadied herself. This match... favored her overwhelmingly. She would win, receive Fenris, and present it to her leader.

"What are you doing?"

Kyle asked with a smile.

"Aren’t you a little too nervous, facing someone barehanded?"

The moment he said it, Xenafelt kicked off the ground. Charging soundlessly, she closed the distance in an instant. The teal sword aura enveloping her blade spread like a spiderweb, forming ten slashes.

Ten Swords. True to its name, ten streaks of light swept in like real blades. These were not illusions that merely looked the part. This was genuine sword aura, imbued with aura. Including the sword in Xenafelt’s hand, a single swing carried eleven slashes. It was like eleven swordsmen attacking at once.

Kyle’s smile never faded, even before those eleven onrushing blades of sword aura. He leaned back lightly and moved through the storm of slashes.

None of the eleven touched him. They sliced through empty air, missing his hair by a strand and his clothes by a thread.

Xenafelt was not flustered. Since he had declared he would fight without a sword, she had expected that sort of response.

'He’ll keep dodging my sword, trying to exhaust my mana.'

Certainly, a technique that demanded maintaining eleven blades of sword aura could hardly be mana-efficient.

'You don’t know me.'

Xenafelt had earned her yellow pauldrons and the epithet Ten Swords while using this appallingly inefficient technique. There was a reason she had not abandoned it despite the obvious, easy counter of dodging until her mana ran out.

Her lower energy center held more than enough mana to maintain Ten Swords. Nor was her swordsmanship so crude that it would allow an opponent to keep evading indefinitely.

On the contrary, concentrating on evasion only made one ideal prey for Ten Swords. Her technique was a swamp. Whether an opponent dodged or met it head-on, the more they struggled, the more it swallowed them.

'Kyle Alastor. You were too arrogant. You told me not to hold back, didn’t you? I’d like to cut off an arm... but I’ll show you mercy. Thanks to your arrogance, I can present Fenris to our leader.'

Instead of severing an arm, she would cover his body with shallow cuts. She would take care not to scar that handsome face. A baleful light filled Xenafelt’s eyes as she thought this.

'Hmm.'

Kyle’s gaze settled into calm focus. Even while weaving around the slashes, his eyes relentlessly tracked Xenafelt’s shoulders, elbows, wrists, and sword, along with the flow of the ten blades of sword aura branching from it.

It looked spectacular, like eleven swordsmen attacking with independent minds, but its underlying nature was crude. Naturally. Ultimately, Xenafelt alone was swinging all eleven swords.

She had not reached a level where she could wield eleven blades with separate wills, along entirely different trajectories. In the end, the ten blades of sword aura merely branched from the path of the real sword.

They depended on the force of the real sword’s swing and the course it traced. That was why their tips lacked sharpness and the power within them was light. Of course, even sword aura like that could easily split flesh and sever bone if it struck an unprotected body.

Still, it was all a distracting mess with little substance. An unwary opponent might be deceived by the dizzying sword aura, flee in every direction, and freeze under the psychological pressure. But Kyle felt no pressure whatsoever from such swordplay.

'Ten Swords, my ass.'

Five hundred years had passed, and swordsmanship had developed in unusual ways, so he had meant to keep an open mind. Yet watching Xenafelt’s sword, he felt the thoughts of a crotchety old man creeping in. From the Sword Demon’s perspective, her swordsmanship was a debased, appalling development.

'Everyone awakens these spiritual roots at ten, and this is the sort of swordplay we end up with. They should be concentrating proper sword aura into a single blade, but instead they make ten and swing them around as though they’ve accomplished something. Honestly...'

Even as he thought this, Xenafelt’s sword continued its onslaught. The illustrious Ten Swords had been certain of victory from the outset, and her sword, absurdly enough, carried little intent to deliver a killing blow.

'Good heavens, is she trying to show me mercy? Impressive, Ten Swords.'

Kyle was genuinely impressed.