Chapter 91

The grassland, dyed by the twilight.

A sword, intercepting a sudden sharp blow, rang out as it was deflected.

“Gah!”

The young man, now on the defensive, swung his sword in desperation, but the middle-aged man with his hair cut short coolly parried it.

Even as his stance was broken, the young man with black hair tried to strike from both sides with the flying swords he had summoned—

“Too slow!”

With a shout, the blow was struck down.

More than ten swords of various sizes floated around the middle-aged man.

In contrast, the young man had only four. It was clear that he was at a disadvantage in terms of numbers.

If only he could increase the number of swords like his opponent, but for the young man, four was his limit.

He had no choice but to win with the forces he had.

Aware of his disadvantage, the young man stepped forward with both swords in hand.

He swung the sword in his right hand horizontally to stop his opponent's feet and immediately thrust the sword in his left hand at his opponent's throat.

At the same time, he left one flying sword for defense and sent the other three to circle behind him.

The middle-aged man lightly stepped back to avoid the horizontal attack and used three flying swords to form an impromptu shield against the thrust.

The triangular formation of flying swords intercepted the young man's strike at its center and, in the next moment, rotated to entangle the blade.

He redirected five flying swords to intercept the attack from behind and then launched a counterattack.

The young man's defensive flying sword was easily knocked away, and he struggled to hold off the attack with his only remaining sword in both hands. The middle-aged man smiled.

While continuing his relentless attack with the sword in his hand, he thrust one of his flying swords at the young man's feet.

At the moment the young man's attention was drawn to his feet, the flying sword embedded in the ground leaped up, pelting his face with dirt and pebbles.

“Ugh!”

The young man, who had instinctively shielded his face, was not missed by the middle-aged man.

Struck by a powerful blow, the young man finally dropped the sword he was holding.

Thrown off balance by a swift leg sweep, he tried to regain his footing but stopped when he felt the cold edge of a blade at his throat.

In contrast to the young man's resentful glare, the middle-aged man shed his aggressive demeanor and began his evaluation in a relaxed tone.

“You're still too soft, Aldis.”

As he said this, the middle-aged man tapped Aldis's head with the flat of his sword.

“You rely too much on numbers. Holding a sword in each hand only weakens the power of your strikes.”

“What can I do? I'm at a disadvantage in numbers.”

Aldis pouted in response.

The middle-aged man sighed and sheathed his sword, then crouched in front of Aldis.

“Aldis, how many years have you been with us?”

“...Seven or eight years.”

“What have you seen in that time? You've only grown bigger, that's all.”

With a weary expression, the middle-aged man sat on the ground.

“A few more half-hearted attacks won't scare anyone. In fact, it just creates more openings and makes the fight easier.”

“But...”

“But what?”

“I can't use strong magic like everyone else, and I'm bad with a bow...”

“Listen, not everyone needs to be able to use strong magic. What do you think we fight in groups for? To cover each other's weaknesses. If you can't use magic at all, that's one thing, but you understand it, so that's enough.”

“But I can only control four flying swords, and it makes me feel so useless.”

“Four is enough. More flying swords aren't always better. The more you control, the more your attention is divided, and you might make a mistake. Focus on improving your sword skills. I've been telling you this all along. You're better suited to swordsmanship.”

Aldis, still unconvinced, was about to argue when a shout from a group around a campfire nearby interrupted them.

“Hey, Grace! Don't use other people's swords without permission!”

“Ah, damn it! I'm using mine too!”

“If the blade chips, you'll pay for the sharpening!”

The middle-aged man, without turning around, shouted back.

“Shut up! If you don't want your swords used, keep them close! If you get ambushed in your sleep, don't come crying to me!”

Aldis, watching the back of the middle-aged man with a mix of white and gray hair, felt overwhelmed by a sense of powerlessness.

The man who had easily defeated him and told him he was “ten years too early” was right in front of him.

He had sought his teachings, stolen his techniques, and imitated him, struggling to catch up. But how much had he closed the gap? Could he defeat this man in just two or three years? He couldn't help but wonder.

“Alright, then.”

Regaining his composure, Grace turned to Aldis and spoke.

“By the way, Aldis. Don't try to fight in a flashy way.”

“What's that supposed to mean? Are you telling me to use dirty tricks like you did?”

Aldis asked in a tone of accusation, referring to the earlier use of flying swords to throw dirt in his eyes.

“That's not considered dirty. Dirty means using more ruthless methods. It's something you should think about. If there's dirt or sand at your feet and it can be thrown in someone's face, that's something you should consider. Failing to be cautious is just being careless.”

Grace summoned his flying swords to his hand.

“Don't be a fool and charge in with flying swords. Hide their numbers. Conceal them in your opponent's blind spots. You could even paint them to look like wood chips. Using a needle instead of a sword, or hiding a small sword in your sleeve, are also good options.”

As he gestured and gave examples, Aldis remained unconvinced.

“Aldis.”

With a slightly displeased look in his eyes, Grace reprimanded him.

“If you want to die in a noble and clean fight, join a knight's order and die there. The battlefield of mercenaries isn't that kind. What I need in my subordinates are those who choose to survive, no matter how ugly or dirty it gets, who fight with all their might and live to tell the tale.”

Grace's expression softened as he asked.

“What will happen to Rui if you die? You know she needs you, right?”

“If I die, you’ll—”

“Of course, I'll take care of her. But to me, Rui is just one of my subordinates. To you, she's more than that, and to her, you are too.”

“...”

The black-haired young man remained silent, unable to find words.

“Aldis, fight dirtier. Don't limit yourself to only the means you consider honorable. Don't let your pride cut off your chances of survival. If you can't even protect your own life, how can you protect the woman you love?”

“...I don't agree, but... I'll remember it.”

Aldis answered with a bitter expression.

Satisfied, Grace nodded and stood up.

“Alright, lecture over! We're moving to the next battlefield tomorrow. Eat and get some sleep!”

As Grace declared and started to leave, he suddenly turned back and said something that made Aldis tilt his head.

“Oh, right, Aldis. You had something to do, didn't you? What are you talking about? Wake up and do what you need to. You don't have time to be drowsy—”

Grace raised his sheathed sword and swung it down at Aldis with force.

“—right!”

Aldis dodged Grace's strike, the killing intent passing by his side.

“Damn! You're awake!?”

A voice from the darkness cursed.

Aldis quickly assessed the situation.

The location was inside a tent used for camping.

Inside were Aldis and two other figures.

“It was just a fluke!”

The faces of the two men were not visible, but their voices were familiar.

They were the mercenaries who had accompanied them as Solute's guards for the past few days.

“Let's finish this quickly and catch up with the others! We can't be late for the fun!”

After completing the church's mission and visiting all the northern frontier villages of the capital, Aldis and the others had been on their way back since yesterday.

It was the second night after leaving the last village.

They had set up camp as usual.

In the darkness, Aldis probed for magic and immediately grasped the situation.

The magic reactions that should have been around the two tents and the campfire were not present.

The only ones around were Aldis and the two mercenaries in front of him.

The magic of the remaining three mercenaries and Solute was at a distance.

“So, you finally show your true colors.”

Aldis's provocative voice echoed in the silent and dark tent.

“You're attacking us in our sleep. You should be prepared for the consequences.”

“Ha! A mere baggage carrier trying to act tough!”

“Do you really think you can beat mercenaries?”

Aldis, with a voice that sounded genuinely exasperated, said:

“Don't call yourself a mercenary if you can't gauge your opponent's strength.”

“What!?”

Before the enraged mercenaries could attack, Aldis struck the ropes holding up the tent with a blade of wind.

The ropes snapped, and the tent, losing its support, collapsed, filled with air.

As the tent fell over the mercenaries, Aldis quickly moved outside.

“What the—!?”

“Damn! This tent!”

In front of Aldis, the outlines of the two men, enveloped by the collapsed tent, struggled comically.

With a cold gaze, he glanced at them and thrust ‘Koku Shun Ka’ and ‘Gekkai Fubuki’ through the tent without mercy.

“Gah...!”

“Aaaah!”

As blood pooled at the edges of the tent, Aldis once again probed the surrounding magic.

“Not good.”

He detected four human-sized magic signatures mixed with those of several animals.

About two hundred meters into the forest from the makeshift road that had been hastily prepared in the past few months, Solute and the three mercenaries were located.

It wasn't a great distance.

But the problem was another magic signature detected nearby.

A magic signature that had not been present in the first probe but had appeared in the second.

It was a single human-sized signature, but it was clearly on a different scale from Solute and the mercenaries.

Moreover, it felt as if this presence was stealthily approaching Solute and the others.

“A monster—?”

2019/08/11 Change 間髪入れず → 間髪容れず

2019/08/11 Typo correction して見れば → してみれば

*Thank you for reporting the typo.