Chapter 48
Even if one combines innate talent with full support, actual combat is an entirely different realm.
The sensation of entrails spilling out and blood splattering is something money and status can never buy.
Warriors from the very bottom are the ones born to real combat. For some, it becomes a curse; for others, a blessing.
Nobles who do not understand this truth are no different from frogs in a well.
"Young Master Astin."
He was a noble, too. A noble who believed gold around his neck would make blades glance off.
Bagot drew his black-iron greatsword and swung it lightly through the air.
Whoosh―!
The sharp whistle of the blade tore through the air. And that was merely a light swing meant to loosen his muscles.
A display of power so great that even the wind from his sword could cut skin.
Bagot raised the blunt end of his greatsword and pointed it at Astin.
"I'll give you credit for forging Rings."
If there was one thing worthy of praise, it was his Sun Rings.
Choosing the path of hardship when an easier road lay before him. The meaning behind that choice was far from trivial.
But in the end, what mattered was skill and experience.
"The place we're going is the Ashen Forest. I don't think I'll be able to leave this world in peace if I stake my life on nothing but a newcomer’s potential."
He was not afraid of death. He was only afraid of dying for nothing.
At Bagot's words, the warriors surrounding the training grounds silently nodded.
Shing-
Astin raised the sword in his hand at an angle. Heat poured from his body.
Three red-gold Sun Rings burned fiercely, centered around his heart.
The air around them distorted like a heat haze in an instant.
Bagot's drooping eyes widened.
"Are you serious?"
He was devoting his full strength to the fight, not merely his swordsmanship.
Heating one's Rings to the limit in a duel meant exactly that.
"I've forged five Rings."
By contrast, Astin had only three Rings. The difference in their tiers was obvious.
Even so, Astin's face remained utterly calm.
"I know."
"You do?"
If it were only a matter of swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat, Astin might have had the slightest chance.
What on earth was he plotting? Bagot narrowed his eyes and tried to gauge his opponent's intentions.
"So what if you have five? Your Rings are effectively only half-finished."
"……What?"
"Most Ring Knights compromise. They make shoddy Rings and congratulate themselves for it."
By Astin's exacting standards, Bagot's Sun Rings were no more than three Rings' worth.
They were the result of compromising at the brink of death.
"Whether you have five or six, you can't beat me. The difference in quality is on an entirely different level."
A flawless Sun Ring formed by compressing Solar to extreme density.
As far as Astin knew, only two people had forged such Rings one after another.
One of them was Astin himself.
His gaze reached Lucia, who was watching him from a distance.
"Heh heh……"
Bagot's black-iron helmet trembled faintly.
His life's achievement—the Sun Rings he had forged—had been denied outright.
He should have found Astin arrogant and infuriating, but strangely, he did not hate him.
"We can find that out by crossing swords!"
Bagot readjusted his grip on the massive hilt.
Whoosh-!
As if a fuse had been lit, his five Sun Rings began to spin.
Seeing him burn with fighting spirit, Astin let out a faint sigh.
"Baguette. You dumb bastard."
"? It's Bagot."
"That's your biggest problem. You don't know your enemy or yourself."
The back of the man who had foolishly gone off to die alone flickered in his mind.
Courage taken too far became recklessness.
In this line of work, you had to size up your opponent before staking your life on a fight.
Astin decided to teach the Bagot of today his place.
So he would never again throw his life away for nothing.
Ting-!
A silver coin traced a parabola through the air and fell.
For a fleeting moment, a thousand people held their breath in deathly silence.
Clang-!
The instant the metallic sound rang out, Bagot kicked off the ground. In the blink of an eye, his figure appeared before Astin.
The black-iron greatsword plunged straight down toward the crown of Astin's head. It was so fast that the sound of it cleaving the air followed afterward.
Kwoooong―!
The entire training ground shook as though struck by an earthquake. The stone paving sank as if exploding, and dust billowed up like a curtain.
The mercenaries watching from a distance shook their heads.
"It's over."
"Tsk. Why would he challenge Sir Bagot?"
With such an obvious disparity in their tiers, a single exchange deciding the match would have been no surprise.
"……Huh?"
Someone's stunned gasp cut through the silence.
When the dust slowly cleared, the sight revealed exceeded the audience's common sense.
Astin had not been pushed back even a single step.
He had blocked Bagot's greatsword with ease, and there was not even the slightest tremor in his legs.
"Ghk……!"
The one who let out the suppressed groan was Bagot.
Even though he was bringing his full weight down from above, he was gradually being forced backward.
'This is three Rings?'
Bagot's arms trembled as if in spasms. From the blades locked together, he could feel an unbelievable density of Solar.
A boulder-like concentration of Solar, impossible to believe it came from only three Rings.
"I told you."
At close quarters, with their swords touching, Astin's toneless voice struck Bagot's ears.
"Your Rings are only half-finished."
Kaaang-!
Astin lightly twisted his wrist and knocked the greatsword aside. With a single simple parry, Bagot's massive body was sent flying backward.
"Hup!"
Bagot steadied his breathing and charged.
Clang! Clang! Kraag―!
Merciless slashes flew at Astin without pause. Sparks scattered in every direction, illuminating the field as brightly as day.
Sweat poured down like a waterfall in the heat generated by the Rings. The ground beneath their feet slowly melted.
Clang!
Astin stood rooted in place, parrying and redirecting Bagot's slashes.
His defense was leisurely and one-sided, as though indulging a child's tantrum.
Bagot's fierce assault could not break through his solid defense.
"What's wrong? You said you'd forged five Rings."
"Shut up!"
Bagot's face gradually filled with dismay.
He had thought Astin was a greenhorn who had never even smelled blood, an arrogant noble who knew nothing of the world's vastness.
Clang!
Amid the resounding clash of steel, his breath grew ragged.
The Sun Rings that had blazed so fiercely were gradually dying out. Flying embers were whittling them away.
"Huff……"
Bagot withdrew his sword and stepped back. His grip throbbed as though his hands had been torn apart.
What Astin's sword contained was not merely talent.
There had not been a single cumbersome movement. Nor was there any of the ostentatious flair peculiar to nobles.
Flawless, impeccable swordsmanship.
Some might say it contained not a single technique, but technique was a byproduct of imperfection.
True perfection had no need for technique.
Whoosh!
Astin redirected a slash diagonally and thrust his sword toward the exposed cuirass. Bagot barely twisted his body aside in time.
A precise sense of distance from the blade. Reaction speed that never missed a blind spot.
Bagot could not deny the thought that had taken root in his mind.
Astin's life had been steeped in blood and sweat.
A Sword Master's blade tempered through countless brushes with death would be just like this.
"Bagot. Don't wager your life so carelessly."
An ominous red light flashed in Astin's eyes.
"A death is honorable only when you die after accomplishing your purpose on the battlefield. Dying for nothing is no different from a dog's death."
Bagot's mind went blank.
He knew I was willing to stake my life on this duel.
Swordsmanship and psychological warfare.
This young duke had shown an overwhelming gap in every respect.
Bagot himself had been the frog in the well.
He felt utterly wretched for having boasted of forging five Rings.
"……Fine."
Bagot heated his Rings to the limit and readjusted his grip on the hilt.
There was not the slightest trace of fear or humiliation.
One of the rare joys of his life—the instinct to shatter his limits—heated his entire body.
Gooooo―!
As if answering him, Astin's Sun Rings began to condense.
The heat scattering in every direction gathered into a single point. A searingly brilliant red-gold flash swallowed the blade completely.
It was radiant sunlight on an entirely different level from Bagot's rough, murky flames.
"……!"
Bagot's instincts screamed warnings like mad. Even before their swords touched, the radiant heat alone made it hard to breathe.
Crack!
Bagot gritted his teeth and raised his sword. He would pour all the remaining Solar in his Rings into this single strike.
Red-gold Solar coated the massive black-iron greatsword.
Whoosh!
Bagot abandoned defense completely. He leaped forward in a single bound and struck toward Astin's throat.
Kwoooo―!!
An explosive flash swallowed the training grounds in an instant. The spectators screamed and reflexively covered their eyes.
Amid the boom, a massive lump of metal flew through the air.
Thunk!
Bagot's black-iron greatsword was embedded in the stone paving, vibrating with a low hum.
……
……
At the center of the field, where the dust had settled,
Bagot knelt on the ground, panting heavily.
His black armor had melted and warped from the heat, and his helmet had split in half and rolled across the ground.
An unwavering sword tip touched Bagot's nape. A red-gold heat haze rose from the blade.
Bagot stared blankly up at the sword pointed at his throat.
"……Bagot lost?"
The instant Bagot lowered his head, those who had been holding their breath began to stir.
"See! Look! I told you there was a chance!"
"Didn't he say he had three Rings? How did he beat five?"
"Didn't you hear the young master? Not all Rings are the same, you idiot!"
A roar mingling astonishment and jubilation swept across the training grounds.
Meanwhile, Julian wore a bitter smile, struck by a sense of déjà vu.
'I've been there, too.'
A single Ring could overcome three mental pathways.
Once the shock had subsided, the gamblers who had been hovering around the betting table experienced both joy and sorrow.
Those who had bet their stakes on Bagot stood dazed, as though they had lost their souls.
The hastily arranged betting table had offered staggering odds of three to one.
"Big brother! Big brotherrr―!"
Celine raised the hand clutching three banknotes and waved it wildly. Her face was alight with a radiant smile.
Lucia, watching from beside her, also smiled gently, while Hendrickson and Julian applauded with pleased expressions.
They alone had predicted Astin's victory.
The remaining several thousand people were too stunned to recover from the shock.
Amid the cheers of joy and disappointment, Astin sheathed his sword.
"I was going to interview you."
His palm came to rest on Bagot's shoulder.
"But you won't need an interview. You're assigned directly to my unit."
He extended a hand toward Bagot, who was sitting on the ground. A spark entered Bagot's blank eyes as he stared at it.
Soon, Bagot clasped his hand and rose. A smile spread across his bloodstained lips.
"If you're at my side, you won't die. And if you do, I won't let it be a pointless death."
"Gladly. I'll follow right behind you, Young Master."
Astin looked around at the crowd.
The lingering impact of the two men's duel was intense.
The crowd exhaled excitedly, all eyes fixed on Astin alone.
As if they were waiting for him to say something.
'This is a good atmosphere.'
He had defeated a five-Ring knight, not some small fry.
The eyes of those who had said they could not trust him because he was just a greenhorn had changed by 180 degrees.
From here on, everything would proceed smoothly.
"If anyone wants to challenge me, come up here. I'll gladly face you as an equal warrior, not as the Young Master."
He would extinguish even the last lingering embers of distrust.
Every one of them had clearly witnessed Bagot being overwhelmed.
Anyone who still challenged him after that was simply a madman who enjoyed fighting.
At some point, a commotion erupted in the crowd.
Bellutak and Bural-tak snorted impatiently as they drew their weapons.
Just as Astin raised the corners of his lips and readjusted his grip on the sword,
Clatter-
A silhouette approached, cutting through the crowd.
The training grounds, which had been buzzing with voices, fell into a suffocating silence.
The crowd split apart to either side, clearing a path for a single person.
Without even realizing it, they had been crushed beneath her presence.
Astin's narrowed eyes slowly widened as he looked in that direction.
Red-gold armor glowing with golden light.
Red-gold hair cascading softly over her shoulders.
Red-gold eyes as though fragments of the sun had been embedded within them.
A face that seemed the very embodiment of Solari, the Sun God.
And a red-gold sword strapped across her back.
"Keeper of the Holy Sword?"
Astin muttered without realizing it, unmistakable shock written across his face.
Though the warriors filling the training grounds did not know her identity, none could ignore her presence.
'Why is she here?'
His thoughts froze, leaving him unable even to form a guess.
The Keeper of the Holy Sword was approaching him. Astin instinctively took a step back.
The Keeper of the Holy Sword was stronger than a Sword Master who had forged seven Rings.
Among all living Ring Knights, she was the strongest.
'She's really coming for me?'
Astin's Adam's apple bobbed with tension.
Her every step and her gaze remained fixed on Astin.
He had told anyone to come challenge him, but he had never imagined the Keeper of the Holy Sword would actually take him up on it.
If Astin as he was now fought the Keeper of the Holy Sword a hundred times, it was obvious he would lose all one hundred.
Grind-
Astin clenched his molars.
Now that the words had left his mouth, he could not take them back.
He could not win, but he could probably exchange a few blows with her. For now, that would be enough.
Step-
The Keeper of the Holy Sword stood facing Astin, who was heating his Rings.
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Swish―
The Keeper of the Holy Sword drew the Holy Sword from behind her first.
Whoosh!
With a measured extension of her arm, the Holy Sword stopped right before Astin's eyes.
"……?"
Astin's wide golden eyes trembled.
It was the hilt, not the blade's tip, that was before his eyes.
"Take it."
Her solemn voice came low. Her red-gold eyes shimmered like a heat haze.
"If it's you, who knows."
Only after hearing those words did Astin understand what was happening.
But the shock was doubled.
'……Please, not that.'