Chapter 127: 127 Fast Sword (Bonus Chapter Requesting Subscription)

Chapter 127: The Swift Sword (Bonus Chapter for Subscribers)

Seeing Lesen's agreement, Ronin reached into his tunic and withdrew parchment and a quill, drafting two brief agreements upon his saddle and signing his name.

"Though I trust Your Excellency Lesen's integrity, the proper protocol must still be observed."

He tossed both sheets of parchment and the quill to Lesen, who scanned the contents with a rapid glance.

"Splendid. Just ensure you do not weep to me later, claiming I used my greater stature to bully the small."

Lesen signed his name without the slightest hesitation, then flung one of the parchments and the quill back in a single movement.

"Begin!"

He could no longer contain his urge to vent his fury.

Stowing the items away, Ronin wheeled his mount around and returned to his lines. "Rydal, if you cannot best him, surrender willingly. Even if we lose this contest today, it matters not."

Compared to a minor engagement, Ronin naturally cared far more for this subordinate he had summoned.

"To fight for my Lord is my utmost honor!"

Rydal tugged his reins, his warhorse taking two paces forward. To him, this battle against a superior rank had to be fought flawlessly.

"Come then, knight!"

From across the way, Lesen had already begun to bellow. "Attack me with every ounce of your strength, else you may never find the chance to swing a second time!"

Rydal drew his longsword.

Hum~

A flame-like battle aura washed over the blade like flowing water, enveloping his form before merging seamlessly with the stallion beneath him.

Sensing this sudden power from behind, Ronin could not help but admire it.

This was his first time witnessing Rydal exert his full might, his aura far grander than any displayed during their sparring matches.

The warhorse neighed, transforming into a spectral image of flame as it bolted through the open air.

"Haha, come!"

Lesen roared, his entire body erupting in the exact same crimson battle aura; it turned out both men were fire-attributed knights.

The distance between them was short to begin with, and the mounts of both lords were of excellent breed, bringing them together mid-way almost within a breath.

"Hah!"

Rydal swept his longsword horizontally, his surging battle aura transforming into a scorching wave of fire that slashed toward his opponent.

A cruel smile played at the corners of Baron Lesen's mouth; he could already envision the scene of his enemy's head severed from his shoulders beneath this very stroke.

Boom!

The two torrents of flame collided, bursting into a violent roar.

A fierce storm erupted from the epicenter of the duo, expanding outward with a violent rush. Buffeted by this blistering heatwave, everyone involuntarily narrowed their eyes, straining to discern who had triumphed in the heart of the battlefield.

The crimson battle aura permeating the air gradually dissipated, revealing the two figures at the center, their longswords locked together in a contest of pure strength.

The horses beneath them endured the impact of the clash, their hooves sinking deep into the earth.

"Impossible!"

Lesen's eyes widened, staring at the scene before him in sheer astonishment.

A high knight, actually matching him in a direct confrontation?

"Baron Lesen, the one you face is the commander of Mountainwood Town, Rydal Mayne!"

Rydal sank his weight, leaning his torso forward as immense strength traveled through his sturdy arms into the longsword, pressing down upon his foe.

"I shall remember your name, knight! This will be the proudest battle of your life!"

Lesen bellowed furiously, the hidden power within his body exploding completely, pouring forth like a breached flood to force back the blade pressing into his face.

In terms of raw strength, his full explosion was indeed a fraction greater than Rydal's.

Realizing this, Rydal immediately tugged his reins to guide his warhorse backward, preparing to disengage.

But how could Lesen let such an opportunity slip? He pursued instantly, scattering the crowd gathered in the middle of the road to both sides in panic.

"You cannot flee, knight!"

Lesen threw a punch, a crimson fist-glare flashing outward.

Rydal's combat instincts were exceptionally sharp; spinning around, he unleashed a fiery fist of his own.

The blows collided, unleashing yet another violent shockwave.

Rydal narrowed his eyes, now entirely certain that in terms of combat techniques, no gap existed between them.

No, it would be more accurate to say his own skill was slightly superior.

His disparity with Lesen lay solely in strength and defense.

"Come!"

Leaping violently from his saddle, he delivered a downward strike from the air. The flaming slash spat forth a fiery serpent meters long, carrying the momentum of his descent straight toward Lesen's head.

"Childish tricks!"

Neither dodging nor parrying, Lesen swept his sword across, sending a cloud of fire surging upward, only for it to be split in two by the descending strike.

With a resounding clang, their longswords clashed once more. This time, aided by the momentum of the fall, Rydal's strength proved no match for Lesen's.

Yet this was not Rydal's true objective. In the instant of their deadlock, he twisted his body, delivering a sweeping kick straight to his opponent's chest.

Lesen had clearly not anticipated such a maneuver from his adversary. Unable to evade in time, he was kicked clean off his horse.

However, clad in heavy armor and protected by his battle aura shroud, the blow merely made him appear at a disadvantage; he suffered no actual injury.

"Damn it!"

To Lesen, being unhorsed was a matter of profound humiliation.

The moment he touched the ground, his feet thrust violently against the earth, shattering the soil as he charged forward like a wild beast.

This time Rydal did not evade; he chose a head-on engagement.

Though weaker in raw power, he displayed far more exquisite swordsmanship.

His eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, clearly capturing the trajectory of his opponent's blade;

His longsword was as fluid as a serpent, utilizing clever deflections to neutralize the enemy's assaults while launching rapid counterattacks.

Ronin had experienced Rydal's swift sword before.

It was a speed so blinding that it left him helpless to defend; even when his subordinate restrained his speed during practice, Ronin could last two or three moves at most.

And now, Rydal had forced Lesen off his horse precisely to gain the upper hand by combining his footwork with his swift blade.

Swords clashed and sparks flew, the surrounding air seemingly on the verge of being ignited by their dual battle auras.

In close-quarters combat, every move was merciless; a single misstep meant instant defeat, or even the loss of life.

At the outset, Lesen still believed he held the upper hand, but as the duel progressed, he gradually felt the tide of battle shifting. His breathing grew labored, and his mind began to fray.

Fast, and faster still.

Rydal’s longsword grew faster and faster, synchronized with his footwork, making Raisen’s attacks miss with increasing clarity.

What good was his strength if he could not even touch his opponent in close combat? It was like punching cotton.

But Rydal was different—his grappling had succeeded. His longsword had sliced through Raisen’s aura armor multiple times, striking directly against his armor plating.

“Get off me!”

At last, Raisen could no longer endure this torment. He roared low and fierce, unleashing his aura as if it were limitless, summoning a vortex of flame around himself. The violent shockwave slammed into Rydal, hurling him backward through the air.

Roning narrowed his eyes. That was surely a Level Four aura technique—the Flame Vortex.

“Elron, if things turn dire, strike immediately. I won’t let Rydal’s life be endangered.”

“I understand, my lord!”

Elron was tense, too. Maintaining the arcane runes of Light Bind was draining both magic and mental energy.

But only by holding them ready could he complete the runes the moment danger arose, binding Raisen’s form—even for an instant—to grant Rydal the space he needed.

Rydal twisted midair, landing firmly on his feet.

“Combat is honor!”

“Blood forges medals!”

He wiped the blood from his lips and, without pause, charged forward again, launching a new barrage of ferocious strikes.

Raisen grew furious under the relentless pressure, but every time he tried to retreat and create distance, Rydal clung to him like a shadow.

With no other choice, he repeated his tactic—once more summoning the Flame Vortex to hurl Rydal away. But this time, the opponent returned faster.

This battle had awakened something dormant within Rydal—the warrior’s fury.

His movements grew smoother, his will fiercer, until, at last, even in raw power, he matched his opponent stride for stride.

Meanwhile, Raisen’s condition worsened.

“My lord… he’s going to lose.”

Watching from afar, Joffrey frowned. He had not anticipated this turn of events. Raisen was not supposed to be this weak.

“No! Impossible!”

Phirion immediately objected. He refused to believe such an outcome.

*Clang!*

Rydal’s blade flicked Raisen’s sword aside and drove straight into his forehead. Had it not been for the helmet, that strike would have ended him.

“You’re losing.”

The words struck like a dagger. Raisen’s composure shattered.

To be precise, the moment the blade pierced his brow, his mind had already unraveled—the impact sent stars exploding behind his eyes.

Rydal blurred behind him, his aura-wreathed sword thrusting into the gap near Raisen’s shoulder armor.

A razor-edged flash pierced through the aura armor, then sank deep into the seam.

“Ahh!”

Raisen cried out in agony.

But it was not over. Rydal wrenched his blade free and delivered a straight punch to Raisen’s chest, sending him flying over ten meters, crashing hard into a tree at the forest’s edge.

Blood soaked Raisen’s shoulder. His right arm had gone numb; he could no longer hold his sword.

He tried to rise—but found himself in the same predicament as Fenris had been:

A cold blade rested against his throat.

“You’ve lost.”

Rydal’s voice, icy and final, declared the duel over.

“No! This can’t be!”

Baron Raisen roared in fury, but the growing pain from his wounds seeped into his nerves, whispering the truth.

Phirion charged forward with his knightly squad and cavalry.

“Release the baron!”

Rydal narrowed his eyes at the approaching foes. He did not flinch—instead, he pressed the blade tighter against Raisen’s neck.

(End of Chapter)