Chapter 63

Silver powder from the knife scattered and danced in the night's darkness.

The white blade aimed to sink into my right shoulder, and the silver of the knife sliced through the air as if to knock it down.

For me, it was a full-bodied strike. The knife's blade made a sound as it was pressed by the air. From Helt Stanley's perspective, it was probably just a preliminary test.

However, if I wanted to knock down his strike, I had to forcefully drive the knife and merge it with the white blade. The difference in weapons and the significant gap in power between us were undeniably present.

The handle of the knife shook as if groaning.

——Creak

The sound of iron meeting iron echoed quietly. There were no other sounds around. Or perhaps, I just couldn't perceive them. At least, I couldn't focus on anything other than this duel.

I exhaled softly and narrowed my eyes.

I couldn't repeat the same mistake as before. My agile swordsmanship, which relied on quick movements, was completely countered by Helt. In other words, tactics that leveraged the knife's advantages were meaningless.

Normally, one would look for an opening in the moment when the opponent handled the knife and strike. However, my consecutive attacks lacked the precision and sharpness to weave through the gaps in Helt's swordsmanship.

Even if I used Karia's intricate thrusting technique, it would be difficult to make the blade shine in Helt's embrace.

There was one more thing I had been forced to understand in the previous confrontation. A silver line ran through the dimming night. No matter what, I had to cut down the opponent's time.

——Clang

Swinging my arm horizontally, I aimed a slash at Helt's side. I stepped forward. At that moment, as if in perfect sync, the sound of the air being cut rang out. I realized that Helt's white blade was roaring, trying to cut through my guard.

It was a reaction speed beyond comprehension. He had gauged my initial movement and, the moment my hand and knee showed any sign of action, Helt's white blade was already shining, aiming to sever my arm.

A sensation like ice touching my mind. Despite the brief moment, my vision was unusually clear. Twist. Even if it strained some part of my body, it didn't matter. All of that was for later. Now, everything was for this duel.

The guard of the knife suddenly slowed and twisted. My arm protested with a scream, and my wrist felt like it was being pierced by needles.

Still, it was impossible to completely avoid Helt's white blade. The flesh at the base of my thumb was torn, and blood spurted out, mixing with the sand and being carried away by the wind. After my side, my hand was now injured. The situation was only getting worse.

But strangely, the pain was faint. My mind didn't have the capacity to process it.

"Mr. Ruis, can you lower your sword—"

"—Are you going to say that this has no meaning, Helt Stanley?"

I overlapped my voice with Helt's, a slight smile on my face. From the way Helt's words stopped, it seemed I had hit a nerve.

Ah, what a man. He always makes people feel like they're being toyed with. My insides were burning, my skin tingling, and my senses were unusually sharp.

Usually, the emotions that would rage and scorch my brain were intense. But today, despite their clear presence, I was somehow accepting them calmly.

"That's out of the question. I said it before, you're on that side, and I'm on this side. Besides, I can't get along with you. It's not that you're bad or anything."

With that, he sent two silver flashes into the night again.

What a pitiful thing. This hatred that claws at my chest, this envy that drives me mad, isn't because Helt did anything wrong. The problem is my own inadequacy. No matter how much I stretch my hand, I can't reach what I want, and yet I keep trying. How selfish. How ridiculous a person I am.

But still. Ah, yes. Even so.

If I were to bow to your talent, to you, I would be no different from who I was in the past.

My teeth clenched tightly. I felt the breath escaping my throat was hot.

My hand extended toward the enemy's temple. I imagined the scene of his skull splitting in my eyes. The silver blade drew a half-circle, whistling as it cut through Helt's reach. That strike, even if it didn't reach, would be enough to cloud the enemy's eyes. Then, I hid the trajectory and aimed another knife at his neck—

—Suddenly, I heard the sound of Death's white fingers touching my skull.

I would die. Helt's white blade would shatter my skull and scoop out my brain. Clear death lay ahead. This choice would undoubtedly lead to death.

The knife that should have reached his reach, the legs that should have closed the distance, had chosen to retreat. I kicked up sand and repositioned myself, taking the distance again. Helt did not try to close the distance in that instant.

Instinct overpowered will, and the primal fear of death shattered my bravery.

My lungs became active as if in panic, and my breath was short. Sweat ran down my back and forehead.

Helt's golden eyes, shining fiercely in the darkness, were completely different from the gentle expression I had seen before. They peered at me through his eyes with a brutal intensity.

"I'm disappointed, Mr. Ruis. Honestly, you are completely beyond my understanding, yet you pique my interest more than you repel me. If we had met under different circumstances, we might have become good friends, I truly believe that."

Helt no longer tried to suppress the fierce light in his eyes and held his double-edged sword at his waist. My brain told me that if I stepped into his reach, no matter what strategy I used, I would be cut in two. My lips trembled.

But, friends? Of all things, you say that, Helt Stanley. If we had met differently, we could have been friends. His expression was sincere, and I understood that he was not the type to joke. That's why, that's why his words were hollow.

The smile that escaped my cheek mocked either Helt or myself, I couldn't tell.

"No, that's impossible. Helt Stanley, I realize that now."

In the trembling air, I spoke lightly, both to buy time and to express my true feelings.

"If I wanted to stand on equal footing with you, this is the only way. We can only be enemies. Otherwise, I would just look up to you, crawl, and walk a miserable path."

The journey of the past was vividly painted in my eyes.

The me who could only look up at Helt. Overwhelmed by his swordsmanship, I didn't even try to reach out, feeling a ridiculous sense of resignation at my own inadequacy. I told myself that he was a genius, and it was inevitable that women were drawn to him.

Ah, only now do I finally understand. How foolish I have been.

Despite the boiling hatred in my gut and the envy that could shatter my clenched teeth, I still wanted to stand on equal footing with you, Helt Stanley. With your vast talent, the potential to become a hero or a champion.

Helt's expression softened slightly, but he didn't lower his piercing gaze.

"You speak as if we are old acquaintances—so you won't stop?"

"Yes. I've already let go of the reins. The path only continues after you are defeated."

Our smiles overlapped, both defiant.

I understood. It was impossible for us not to clash here. Whether this encounter was by the will of God, the devil, or something else, I didn't care.

I just wanted to stand here by my own will.

"Understood. Then, there is only one thing to do. I will cut you down here, following my own sense of justice and truth—"

"—Absolutely splendid. To assert one's will on the battlefield is just that. Ah, Helt Stanley. For my great ambition and the dignity of my soul, I will kill you here."

It was as if that was the signal.

In the dimming night, silver light and white blades shone as if to burn each other's lives.