â¦Come to think of it, Ihan had never truly faced an Aura User before.
He knew they possessed strength worthy of being called superhuman.
He knew they could achieve the impossible, that no matter how much he struggled, they were opponents he could never defeat.
But he never really understood why they were called Aura Users.
And nowâ
Uuuuuuuung!
He thought he was beginning to understand.
"Once you become an Aura User, using lifeforce (Aura) is no longer difficult. Other knights have to exert extreme concentration to manipulate their lifeforce manually, but for us, itâs simply natural. Just like how those mage bastards use mana."
"â¦â¦."
"In other words, there's no point in showing off that trick in front of us. Not that it isn't impressive. For someone who hasnât even crossed the âBoundaryâ to be able to use Auraâthatâs certainly remarkable. Consider this a compliment. Among the younger generation, youâre definitely in the top ranks, haha."
"â¦I wouldnât say that."
"Hm?"
"Thereâs that annoying spearman from Galahad⦠and that hulking bastard from Lionel who gives me a damn headache."
Two knightsâboth bursting with talent. Two opponents Ihan had never managed to definitively defeat.
When he mentioned them, Baltar fell into brief contemplation before speaking.
"â¦Ah, those ones. Yes, I suppose they exist. Talent-wise, they might even surpass my younger self, haha. Have you met them already?"
Ihan nodded slightly, recalling their faces.
"Not just met. We fought, too."
"And who won?"
"â¦â¦."
"Tsk, tsk. Useless brat. How could you not even win against them?"
"I didnât lose, I just didnâtâ"
"Excuses. Thatâs your problem. With that body of yours, and you still couldnât end the match properly? That just means you havenât put in enough effort. You lack discipline."
"Son of aâ!"
Ihan gritted his teeth, but he couldnât bring himself to charge forward.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
Normally, he thought Baltarâs sword aura was overwhelmingly grand. But today, for some reasonâ¦
âItâs weak. Way too weak.â
It looked no more threatening than a toothpick.
Because right now, thirty beautifully crafted sword phantoms were dancing in the air around Baltar, poised to strike him at any moment.