บท 31: Chapter 31: The Thrill of Combat
The clash began with a fury that took even me by surprise. Fendrel charged, his eyes
blazing with desperation and fury, the sight of his bruised and battered family fueling
every step. He was weakened, his strength and skill visibly diminished, but his rage made him reckless, dangerous. In
his mind, this was his last chance—a desperate bid to rescue his loved ones from
the fate I had laid out before them.
I watched his approach, my stance unyielding, katana poised. The moment Fendrel stepped into my striking range, I moved. My blade flashed, cutting through the air with speed that stunned everyone watching—Mayer, the soldiers, even Fendrel himself. I could see the flicker of surprise in
his eyes as the tip of my blade nearly grazed him, his instincts barely saving him as
he ducked at the last second.His dodging was close, too close, and I found myself almost impressed.
Almost.
But I didn't give him a chance to regain his footing. I lashed out again with three more
rapid strikes, each one precise, each one delivered with cold, calculated intent. My movements were controlled, my breaths steady, the flow of the battle coursing
through me. Fendrel dodged two and managed to parry the third, the clang of steel
against steel ringing through the forest clearing. He was good—no, better than I had anticipated, even in his current state.
I kept pressing, maintaining a relentless assault, each strike flowing into the next with the kind of fluidity that only came
with experience. Yet, no matter how I attacked, Fendrel was always a step ahead,
dodging or blocking just in time. His fatigue was evident, but his instincts were sharp,
honed by countless battles fought not for glory but survival.
It didn't take long for me to realize his strategy. Fendrel was baiting me, waiting for the perfect moment to counter. He wanted me to keep swinging, to exhaust myself,
to expose a blind spot. And I could feel it—the growing strain in my muscles, the
gradual loss of precision with each strike. My current body lacked the raw strength and
stamina that I once had as Leon Winter, and Fendrel was patient enough to exploit that weakness.
I silently cursed my lack of foresight. Had I known this is the kind of fighter he is, I would've approached differently. But it was too late for regrets. Right now, I had no choice but to keep up this dance of blades, knowing that every slash drained my stamina while Fendrel conserved his.
I needed to change the flow of the battle, and I had only one option left: bait him into
attacking. I could see the opening he was waiting for, the blind spot I had been so
careful to protect. So, I did something that went against every instinct—l created the
opening myself, dropping my guard just enough to lure him in.
Fendrel's eyes widened, and he lunged, his sword swinging with all the strength he had
left. The impact was like being hit by a battering ram; his sword crashed against mine, the force of his strike sending
shockwaves through my arms. I managed to block, but it was sloppy, imperfect. The sheer
power behind his blow knocked me off my feet, and I was sent flying back several
meters, crashing into the ground with a heavy thud.
Pain shot through my body, my vision blurring for a moment. Blood trickled from my nose, and my muscles screamed in protest. Just one hit, and it felt like my whole body was begging to collapse. This was the stark difference between us—the raw, unbridled power of a grown man compared to
the fledgling strength of a boy.
I heard Mayer's frantic voice, saw him step forward, ready to order the soldiers to intervene. But I raised my hand, cutting him off without a word. My grin, twisted and wild, spread across my face, surprising everyone watching.
It didn't matter. My plan had worked. I had baited him into attacking, exposed his true
strength, and found the opening l needed. Despite the pain, the thrill coursed through
me—a rush I hadn't felt in what seemed like ages. For a moment, flashes of my past life surged forward, memories of battles fought as Leon Winter. I remembered the feel of a blade in my hand, the exhilaration of combat, the way every fight had been a
test of my will and skill.
I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself, the pain bearly registering now. For the first time since l'd returned, I allowed myself to feel it fully-the excitement, the sheer joy of being on the edge of life and death. This wasn't just a
battle. It was a return to who I truly was, a reminder of the power that still flowed within
me, even in this weaker body.
Normally, I would've kept my emotions locked down, cold and calculating. But just this once, I would decid to let go. To savor the fight, to feel alive.
This was the thrill of combat, the joy of the hunt, and no matter the body I inhabited,
that feeling was mine. I gripped my katana tighter, my grin widening as I pushed
myself up, ready to meet Fendrel's next move.
Ahh, how I've missed this!
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