Chapter 161: Chapter 315 - Turning Points in Battle
"Ah, this is entertaining."
Having wandered countless battlefields, Ayah had heard insults of every kind—from curses aimed at her parents to words too vile to repeat—but this one was different. Never in her life had anyone dared to compare her heritage to something so degrading.
For Ayah, her brown skin was a source of pride. She carried her Eastern lineage with honor, and as a knight, her appearance was something she cherished.
"...What?" Ayah tilted her head slightly, disbelief etched into her expression.
"It stinks. You should wash yourself more often."
Ragna was simply doing what he had learned. Enkrid was a master at exploiting his opponent's weaknesses, and if the weakness was mental, Enkrid was undoubtedly among the best on the continent. Though Ragna wasn't his direct disciple, he had spent years observing and picking up tricks here and there.
"...Did that brat just say I stink?"
Ayah was a knight, but she was also a woman. Being called "brown excrement" and being accused of "stinking" struck deeply, each insult hitting a different nerve.
Moreover, it was the way Ragna delivered those words—with such a neutral, matter-of-fact expression—that made it worse. It was as if he truly believed his accusations.
"No! You smell lovely, like flowers!" the squire interjected hastily, but the damage was already done.
Ayah's face hardened. Her jaw clenched, and the muscles along her cheek tensed visibly.
"You little bastard..."
Despite her anger, Ayah didn't lose all composure. She funneled her fury into power, as she'd learned from years of experience.
That brat was going to die—she would make sure of it.
"I'll start by cutting out that tongue of yours," Ayah said, drawing her blades.
Ting.
She dual-wielded a pair of swords: a longer, standard longsword in her left hand, and a slightly shorter blade in her right.
"You'll die... though maybe not so cleanly," she muttered, her tone sharp and venomous.
The squire, too, unsheathed his weapon from behind with a metallic scrape.
Sching!
Even without looking, Ragna could tell the squire held a longsword. Meanwhile, his eyes quickly analyzed the weapons Ayah wielded.
The squire moved into position, carefully closing the distance from behind, his weapon pointed at Ragna.
"Did you think this would be a fair duel? Watch your back, idiot."
Ayah's words dripped with mockery, a combination of her anger and amusement.
Ragna accepted the advice, staying alert to his rear.
The squire began to circle, shifting positions with soft, deliberate steps. Ragna moved as well, matching their pace. Now he was caught between Ayah in front and the squire behind.
What to do?
Ayah initiated the attack. She darted forward, closing the distance in an instant, her thrust aiming with uncanny precision.
Ragna raised his sword to block.
Clang!
But her attack was just a feint. The real danger came from behind. The squire's sword swung down toward Ragna's exposed back.
Instinct honed by years of survival kicked in. Ragna dropped into a crouch while thrusting his sword upward.
A heavy attack like his required strength, and Ragna knew how to apply force even in such confined movements. The squire hesitated, halting his attack just before impact and pulling back to reassess.
The moment his upward thrust cleared, Ragna rolled to the side.
Whoosh!
The spot he had just vacated was cut cleanly by Ayah's rising slash, the speed and force of her blade slicing through the air with an audible hum.
"Call me Ayah, the fragrant knight of the Grand Royal Order."
As Ayah stepped forward to attack again, Ragna felt another strike coming from behind. He couldn't see it, but he could sense it—a ripple in the air, a wave of killing intent.
Surrounded and with no clear way to block both attackers, Ragna made his choice.
Whoosh.
He swung his sword in a wide arc. If he couldn't block them, he would force them back.
The large blade traced a spiral trajectory, faster than his usual speed, aimed to disrupt both Ayah and the squire.
Clang!
His blade met Ayah's, and the force of the impact was enough to halt her momentum.
Ragna's mind raced. The squire wasn't an ordinary combatant—his attacks carried the finesse of an illusion sword technique, enhanced with hints of "Will." That made him much stronger than the average squire.
Illusion swordsmanship was a deceptive style. Though the blade itself was an illusion, the intent behind it was real, and with enough focus, it could still harm.
Ayah's style, meanwhile, was balanced between speed and power, a fusion of heavy and fast strikes. She had clearly undergone formal training and belonged to an established school of swordsmanship.
Their coordination was seamless, and it was overwhelming.
Ragna was in danger. A single misstep would mean death.
And yet, he was exhilarated.
This was the moment he had been waiting for—the catalyst he needed to push forward.
"Are you... smiling?" Ayah's voice was incredulous as she saw the faint grin on Ragna's face.
Ragna wasn't mocking her. He was truly enjoying this moment, his satisfaction unmistakable.
"Does getting stabbed make you this happy?" Ayah's disbelief turned to irritation.
Ragna remained silent, savoring the intensity of the battle. This was his chance to break through his limits, to leap forward.
He had waited for this moment.
"Close your mouth," Ragna said at last, his voice calm but sharp. "It stinks."
His taunt struck again, this time not just a provocation but a tactic to destabilize Ayah.
"Alright, alright," Ayah hissed, her voice tight with anger. "I'll carve you into pieces. Slowly."
Her blades moved again, carving streaks of light into the air, faster and sharper than before.
Ragna quickly realized his earlier assessment was wrong. Ayah's style wasn't just a blend of heavy and fast strikes—it included illusion sword techniques as well.
It was a complete and well-rounded form of swordsmanship, refined and deadly.
And that only made Ragna smile wider.
Seizing the gap, he struck.
Clang!
Bang!
Zing!
Occasionally, metal met metal, sparking.
Swish!
He pushed against the floor with his soles, moving his body without rest.
No, he had to move.
If he took a breath, he'd get hit by a sword.
So, he minimized the moments of respite.
And he endured.
"Hah!"
A battle cry rang out from behind.
The moment he sensed the attack coming with unstoppable momentum, Ragna reacted.
He raised his sword vertically and spun his body to block.
Bang!
The loudest sound erupted since the fight began.
It was the blow from the Squire's strike he had blocked.
Not only did the squire have a sweeping sword technique, but he was also skilled in heavy sword strikes.
Ragna had to lift his body while blocking, but the shock wasn't fully absorbed.
His knee ached.
Then, once again, Aya's sword descended from above.
It was a blow to the crown of his head, as quick as a bird snatching a fish.
There was no time to raise his sword, so he twisted his body instead.
Swish, thud!
Aya's blade skimmed Ragna's shoulder.
Blood sprayed into the air.
Clumsy, but despite wearing armor, he was still cut through.
Aya's sword was no ordinary blade.
Its cutting power was exceptional.
In that moment, Ragna also swung his sword.
His sword, about half again as long as usual, whipped through the air like a whip, cutting the front with light-like speed.
Crash!
The thunderous sound of his sword echoed.
Aya didn't block but dodged.
She knew.
This wasn't the kind of attack one could block.
Her eyes were a little special, so she could see it all.
"Huh."
Ragna took a brief moment to catch his breath.
Having employed all the sword techniques he knew, a stab landed behind his thigh, and the flesh on his left shoulder was also torn.
It was opening, weakness.
Still, Ragna didn't retreat.
In his mind, defeat was not an option.
All that filled his mind was the thought that he was getting closer to something elusive, something just out of reach.
And it wasn't an illusion.
Ragna was standing before a wall he alone could perceive, having found his moment.
"Ah, this is fun."
In the midst of their battle, Ragna muttered.
"You crazy bastard!"
Aya became angrier.
She was winning, yet it was her side that was anxious.
It was obvious.
Aya had 'the Will to See.'
From her perspective, Ragna was catching up to both of them in real time.
"You monster!"
Aya could feel her opponent's sword changing.
She saw it.
Naturally, her heart started to race.
"Shit."
Squire Bill cursed.
He was usually calm, but when pressed, he became savage.
The fact that Bill was speaking harshly meant something was off with the atmosphere.
The man who should have already died was still holding on.
He held on, and his superior, the Knight, gestured with her eyes.
It felt like the situation was turning into something worse than a mess.
Bill was burning up inside.
Aya felt the same way.
"Who the hell is this guy?"
Aya's swords in both hands moved faster.
In an instant, it felt as if her arms had turned into four, fooling the opponent's eyes.
A speed-induced illusion.
Ragna's eyes followed.
Thunk!
He couldn't block them all and allowed a strike to land on his abdomen.
But he didn't just take it.
The thrust only partially hit.
The squire withdrew, twisting his waist to avoid a fatal wound.
'Atacking back while being hit?'
Ragna extended his sword long as he twisted his body.
Aya couldn't continue with a follow-up attack.
She could clearly see his intentions—why would she charge forward to be caught in his fangs?
She, too, pulled back.
The thrust, aimed at exploiting a gap, only grazed her skin.
Squire Bill moved to regain his footing.
During the brief moment Aya pulled back, Ragna staggered a few times.
It wasn't an attempt to deceive anyone.
He had pushed himself too far, trying to absorb this hit.
Aya's body instinctively reacted.
The opponent's opening was clear.
Her eyes saw it.
In response, Squire Bill adjusted his grip on his sword.
'This time, we end it.'
It had to happen.
It was the only way.
An ominous feeling ran through Aya's entire body.
She felt that if she didn't kill him now, it would be too late.
What kind of person was this?
'Getting stronger while fighting?'
It didn't make sense.
What kind of talent could do this?
Just before Aya and Bill rushed in, Ragna realized.
'This is it.'
It had been a long, yet short battle.
Ragna reflected on his previous fights.
He remembered the sword he had wielded.
Since he was a child, once Ragna held a sword, he could see the path it should take.
He knew where to swing the sword.
It wasn't a skill he could explain.
All he had to do was swing as he saw, and the opponent would either be killed or injured.
That's what made Ragna a genius, possessing that innate sense.
But now, between the knight and the squire before him, that path was cut off.
It no longer continued.
He was forcing himself to continue down a broken path.
And then he understood.
He had only walked the paths that were given to him until now.
Ragna followed the path shown by his talent.
It was a passive and defensive stance.
So, what is the opposite of that?
'With the sword I swing.'
He creates the path.
He carves his own way.
The two swords in the knight's hands traced two separate paths.
From behind, the thunderous force of an attack came charging forward.
Between the two experts, Ragna did not try to bridge the gaps of the broken paths.
Instead, he walked a new one.
The muscles in his arms responded, and his entire body moved, his heart pounding.
Thump!
To create a new path, one must first take the first step.
And Ragna did just that.
He blocked Aya's first sword with his right forearm.
Thud!
The sword struck, but he forced his muscles to tense.
Then, a short blade came from below and pierced his abdomen.
He lifted his knee and swung at his opponent's hand, knocking the strike off course.
Flick!
The blade grazed his side, and the cut flowed along his back.
At the same time, he used his knees.
Ragna grabbed the sword in his left hand and spun his body.
Ragna too was a human with superhuman strength.
The middle sword stance required strength training, after all.
Aya's sword lodged into his forearm.
Ragna used his right foot as a pivot and swung his left hand backward.
It was a reverse cut.
"Venga."
He infused his cut with the 'Will of Severance.'
Whoosh.
The blade sliced through the air, making a sound like a sharp gust.
Before the sword of Squire Bill could descend, the sound-devouring strike struck Bill's torso first.
Ragna blocked the sword with his right arm, drove his knee into Bill's sword hand, then spun around to split the enemy's torso, all while the remaining sword grazed his shoulder.
Ragna then rammed his forehead into Aya's helmet.
Thanks to the face guard of Aya's helmet, Ragna's forehead was torn, and blood began to spill.
But it didn't matter.
Thud!
Aya forced the sword stuck in Bill's right arm out.
Ragna released his strength, allowing his opponent to do as they wished.
Instead, he drew his left hand up, raising his sword.
The sword that had split Squire Bill's body now came down to strike Aya.
Aya's eyes grew dim.
'Mad.'
For just a moment, the opponent before her displayed a power similar to her own.
Like the 'Will' in her eyes.
In every battle, she found and executed the best move.
Aya crossed her swords, but Ragna's fallen sword was heavy.
Bam!
At the point where their swords met, a loud explosion rang out.
Crack!
"Ugh!"
Aya's arms were broken.
Thus, the tide of the battle shifted.
"A."
Blood poured from Ragna's right arm, shoulder, and thigh, and he let out a short groan.
He staggered as though he might fall any moment.
Slowly shaking his head from side to side, Ragna tried to stand straight while catching his breath.
His body still swayed slightly.
It was a sign of how exhausted he was.
Even in that state, Ragna spoke.
"Thank you."
He was sincere.
Aya understood that the opponent was truly insane.
"You, you're…"
This wouldn't end like this.
Do you think I'm alone here?
I didn't come here alone.
Those words did not continue.
Instead, Ragna's sword struck Aya's helmet directly.
Thud!
The helmet caved in, and Aya's skull was shattered.
And so, one of the knights of the Kongwang Order, and her squire, was killed.
****
Enkrid thought this wasn't the end.
As he continued down the path, he remained prepared for any situation.
Not long ago, ropes had flown toward him, almost trapping him.
Of course, they had been ineffective.
Isolation technique, making oneself appear larger.
He crouched his muscles and then expanded them rapidly, wrapping his immense strength around his heart and extending his arms.
Thud.
The moment he was grabbed, the ropes scraped his skin before breaking.
Afterward, the frequency of arrows coming at him decreased, but vigilance was still necessary.
Just because he could repeat today's events didn't mean he should slack off now.
If he didn't give his all, he wouldn't be Enkrid anymore.
So, he gave it everything.
The sound of the pursuing soldiers' footsteps grew distant.
But Enkrid did not relax.
'Until the end.'
He kept moving.
Whether to find his comrades, or to notice a signal, he was hunting for change.
He had six bolts stuck in his back.
There was also a knife wound on his thigh.
That wasn't all.
His right boot was torn, and he had even taken a stone to the forehead.
He had bled quite a bit.
The dried blood on his forehead cracked open again with his intense movements.
Every muscle fiber trembled.
He had long passed his limit.
So, was that a problem?
No, it wasn't.
Therefore, Enkrid kept running.
He thought this wasn't the end.
He couldn't afford to relax.
He kept running, and running.
Suddenly, a four-legged beast jumped out in front of him.
Enkrid took a defensive stance.
He dropped his sword in his right hand and thrust the one in his left.
The quick reaction was almost instinctive.
Along with the beast, there was also someone wielding a long sword.
Enkrid instinctively reached for his sword, then stopped.
The opponent spoke.
"We'll duel later. My arm's dislocated."
It was Ragna.
Clang.
Standing beside him was Lake Panther, Esther.
They had broken free from the encirclement.
Enkrid couldn't tell when it had happened.
In truth, it didn't matter.
He had no intention of stopping, whether he was running to the death or until he escaped.
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