Chapter 5

Yord Decker was a talented individual who had graduated at the top of the Academy's Swordsmanship Department.

Though he came from a minor knight family without a proper title, he prided himself on his swordsmanship, confident that it rivaled even that of noble-born knights.

The fact that he had graduated at the top of a department full of outstanding individuals was proof enough.

For this reason, Yord was proud of his swordsmanship and believed he could become the best in the kingdom's most prestigious knight order, the White Lion Knights.

‘There are plenty of formidable seniors, but none I can't surpass. In five years, no—two years, I'll surpass them all.’

Yord, with his strong ambition for success, had set his goal on becoming the vice-captain of the Third Division of the White Lion Knights, one of three divisions.

Of course, considering that the current captain of the Third Division was one of the kingdom's only three Aura Users, surpassing him was still a distant dream.

For now, his immediate goal was to become the vice-captain, which meant he needed to seize an opportunity to catch the captain’s eye.

‘Senior Lihan…’

That was when Yord’s gaze landed on a senior knight, whose name he wasn't sure was Lihan or Ihan.

He had heard that this senior had been a soldier but had caught the eye of the captain and been made a knight, and that he was considered something of an outsider even within the knight order.

To be honest, Yord had been puzzled when he first heard about him.

Apparently, this senior hadn’t even mastered the basics of "Aura Techniques."

The gap between someone who had mastered Aura Techniques and someone who hadn’t was as vast as the difference between a cat and a lion.

‘Of course, there must be something special about him if he’s still in the order. I can’t let my guard down.’

Yord had no ill will toward him.

He himself was from a minor knight family, with no proper title or land, and had no right to look down on anyone. In fact, he even pitied Lihan.

But pity was just pity.

Yord intended to use him as a stepping stone for his own rise to success.

So…

‘Don't call me heartless, senior.’

Although Yord didn’t underestimate him, he was still confident that he wouldn’t lose.

──He realized it was arrogance in less than five minutes.

“Hah! Haaah…!”

“Hang in there a bit more. I haven’t even warmed up yet.”

“Haaah, cough!”

“…Your stamina’s way too weak.”

His opponent was playing with him.

Jake and the rest of the knights were all focused on the match between the new recruit and Ihan, and every one of them couldn't help but click their tongues.

‘What a relentless guy.’

‘He’s completely toying with him.’

‘…Still the same as always.’

Tap, tap-tap!

Just as when the match had started, Yord was the one charging in first.

His sword, based on swift swordsmanship, showed countless variations, creating a dazzling spectacle.

It was a technique impressive enough to confuse the eyes, and a few of the knights watching couldn't help but frown, unable to see how they would block such an attack.

His skills were undoubtedly worthy of someone who had graduated at the top of the Swordsmanship Department.

Had he not come from such a minor family, he would have easily fit into the First or Second Division, not just the Third.

But his opponent was too strong.

If Yord had fought someone else, he would have likely shown a better result or at least made a strong impression.

‘He’s blocking every single one of them.’

Ihan blocked or deflected all of Yord’s dazzling sword strikes.

He didn’t counterattack, only defended, which might give the impression that he was being overwhelmed.

But if someone could defend against relentless attacks for five minutes without a single hit, with the attacker drenched in sweat while the defender wasn’t even breaking a sweat or showing any signs of fatigue, it was no longer a defense but outright mockery.

“Hoo, that’s some impressive swordsmanship. What’s the name of that technique?”

“Hah! Haaah!”

“Hmm, well, don’t answer now. You’re about to pass out.”

“Grrr!”

To others, it might have sounded like mocking, but the knights knew.

That compliment was genuine.

Which made it even more humiliating.

‘That’s what makes me hate him so much.’

Those who had faced Ihan knew.

He wasn’t some genius who could break down an opponent’s swordsmanship just by observing it, nor was he a seasoned veteran who could overwhelm his opponent with experience.

He was…

‘He just observes everything closely and blocks it.’

Or he simply reacts and blocks.

As absurd as it might sound, Ihan simply watched his opponent's weapon until the very end and blocked it.

No matter where the attack came from or how unpredictable it was, he would watch it until the last second and ‘block it perfectly.’

It was something so absurd that any warrior who used a weapon would be dumbfounded.

Everyone knows that blocking or dodging swords, spears, and arrows is only possible if you can see and react to them in time.

If anyone claimed it was easy to block while watching, they’d either never held a sword before or were an idiot who only talked big.

What Ihan did was akin to a circus act, or perhaps a demonstration of sheer skill.

It seemed simple, but it was impossible.

To do such a thing, one’s body had to move precisely as they desired, without the slightest deviation.

And so…

“Honestly, why did he pick a fight with that guy only to suffer this humiliation?”

Jake shook his head, pitying the rookie.

Panting like he was about to collapse, Yord felt his mind growing foggy.

He didn’t care if it was dirt or anything else; he wanted to lie down immediately.

His anxiety was growing, and his mind was close to shutting down.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

‘What, what is this person?!’

Impressive? Skilled? Talented?

No, that wasn’t it.

He had never seen someone like this, not even in the Swordsmanship Department.

It was just…

‘He’s strong, just strong…!’

He was simply strong.

It wasn’t that his technique was amazing or that he had mastered some extraordinary swordsmanship.

He was just strong.

“Ugh!”

With a desperate move, Yord launched into his Eight Phantom Sword Technique.

It was one of the Phantom Sword techniques, where rapid movements of the wrist and footwork created numerous illusions, making it seem like there were multiple swords.

At its peak, even the wielder's body appeared to multiply, creating a disorienting effect.

But right now, none of those dazzling changes worked.

Even now, look at him.

Even as Yord's movements grew more unpredictable, Ihan continued to observe him until the very end!

‘His eyes… They’re still on me.’

Yord’s movements should have been hard to follow, but Ihan’s eyes never left him.

He wasn’t just watching the sword; he was observing Yord’s entire body, predicting his next move and blocking accordingly.

Boom!

It wasn’t that Yord’s sword lacked power, either.

Having mastered the Aura Techniques, his strength was equivalent to that of ten soldiers combined.

And yet Ihan blocked all that power without the slightest tremor or strain.

He simply blocked and, with a look of curiosity, watched on.

At that moment, Yord felt his resolve waver.

A sense of despair that he had never felt before, not even from his father, crept over him.

It felt like everything he had worked for over 20 years—his swordsmanship, his efforts—were being invalidated.

That was the weight that crushed Yord.

“Aren’t you being too half-hearted?”

“…What?”

“I said, aren’t you being too half-hearted? You asked me for this match because you wanted to win, didn’t you?”

“Wh-what…?!”

The words stabbed into him like thorns.

Before Yord could even recover his expression, he was pricked again.

“Isn’t that right? You probably heard the rumors. There’s a former soldier in the Third Division who can’t even use Aura Techniques. You thought, ‘I can beat him somehow,’ didn’t you?”

“…Th-that’s…”

“I’m not blaming you, so don’t make that face. What I’m saying is this: You probably realized about a minute into the match. ‘Huh? This guy isn’t as easy as I thought,’ didn’t you?”

“……”

He was right.

Those who knew, knew.

You could tell in the first minute of a match—whether it was with fists or swords—you could feel it when your weapons met for the first time.

Whether the other person was strong or weak.

The moment Yord crossed swords with Ihan, he felt it: the weight of a massive boulder. He realized then that he had been completely wrong.

This person wasn’t easy at all—he was incredibly skilled.

“Good, I’m glad you realized. But here’s the thing. Once you know, shouldn’t you give it your all?”

“…What do you mean?”

“You idiot, didn’t you get it? Once you realized I wasn’t easy, you should’ve gone all-in with your best swordsmanship, with the determination to win at any cost.”

“……”

“But instead, you kept bouncing around like a rabbit, feeling sorry for yourself, didn’t you?”

“!!!”

Yord’s face went blank, like someone who had been struck in the back of the head.

The mental blow was so great that he couldn’t even argue.

Yes, as Ihan had said, Yord had realized that his opponent was overwhelmingly strong, but he hadn’t fought with all his might, nor had he bet everything on a single decisive strike.

Even though his opponent hadn’t tired, hadn’t even found Yord’s attacks threatening.

Realizing this brought a new kind of shame.

Knowing his opponent was strong, he had still been arrogant—no, he had been stupid, acting like a fool.

Before despairing, he should have gone all out.

If he had done that, at least he wouldn’t feel so humiliated now.

“I… I acted like an idiot.”

“Well, at least you’re not a complete fool, since you understood what I was saying.”

“Yes.”

Yord replied, raising his sword upright.

He was grateful to Ihan.

He had given a lesson to an arrogant, foolish knight who had been wallowing in self-pity.

So now!

Wooooong!

“I’ll give it my all.”

“Oh?”

Ihan looked impressed.

The onlookers, too, widened their eyes in surprise.

Yord’s body and sword both seemed to resonate, vibrating as if they were in perfect harmony.

Though the sword wasn’t sharpened, in that moment, it seemed as if the blade was razor-sharp.

Sword Resonance

A phenomenon that occurs when the wave of a swordsman’s spirit perfectly aligns with the sword, only possible for a select few talented swordsmen.

When this resonance occurs, the destructive power of the sword reaches its limit, sometimes allowing the swordsman to defeat opponents far stronger than themselves.

For a swordsman, it was the equivalent of a sure-kill strike.

And now, with his senses pushed to their limit, Yord created that resonance, his sword extended before him.

Neither his stamina nor his mental strength mattered anymore. All that remained was the single-minded determination to cut down his opponent.

Whoosh!

Yord’s sword moved with greater speed than anything he had shown before, reaching Ihan’s face in the blink of an eye.

A strike so fast it abandoned the Phantom Sword technique and relied solely on speed.

And…

“Yeah, that’s not bad.”

Ihan continued to watch Yord’s movements until the end, a smile playing on his lips.

Boom!

Thud.

“What a brutal guy.”

Everyone saw it.

The impressive rookie who had summoned sword resonance and was on the verge of finishing the match in a spectacular fashion was…

“…Cough.”

…mercilessly shattered.

Yord had bounced off the ground three times, like a skipping stone, before crashing into a wall, trembling before passing out.

And the one responsible for turning a man into a skipping stone?

“Whew, that was refreshing.”

With a cheerful expression, Ihan beamed widely.