Chapter 42

Hector stood with his sword pointed at Lambert, leaping around to the right and left with a lightness that defied gravity, swaying his body as he did so.

This was a technique known as "Swaying Shadow," designed to create openings in the enemy's guard.

While it was a basic skill, Hector's "Swaying Shadow," honed through his continuous pursuit of the sword, was not so easily broken.

His movements, from one edge of the field of vision to the other, were so swift that a normal person would lose sight of him, exploiting the slightest lapse in human awareness.

Of course, Hector did not expect such an effect against Lambert.

Even for a moment, if he could create a less than perfect state for Lambert, that would be enough.

He did not intend to defeat Lambert with a single strike.

If he could just land one hit, forcing Lambert to block with his greatsword, Hector could unleash the "True Forty-Nine Sword Rain."

Once he unleashed the "True Forty-Nine Sword Rain," the meticulously calculated sword techniques would ensure that the optimal movements from the first strike to the forty-ninth, the final move, were etched into Hector's mind.

In the world of swordsmanship, where the truth is that the one who uses the least flawed techniques in a duel between masters wins, this was a technique that promised victory.

"Here I come, Lambert!"

Hector kicked off the ground.

Simultaneously, he gathered mana at the tip of his sword and drew a circle in the air.

A magic circle appeared, outlined by the circle.

"Wind, carry me!"

A gust of wind blew, sweeping Hector away.

Lambert, however, did not panic even as Hector disappeared from his field of vision, calmly raising his sword.

The raised sword easily deflected Hector's strike, which came from behind and to the side.

"Do you have eyes in your back? Even when I attacked from mid-air without making a sound, that's just ridiculous!"

Lambert did not respond to Hector's words, quickly shifting his stance and swinging his greatsword to strike Hector, who was still in mid-air.

"But I win! Lambert D'Arc! Sure, in terms of rank and skill, you're far superior! But I will win!"

Before Lambert could build momentum with his greatsword, Hector's sword deflected it.

Hector's sword then struck the greatsword again, which had been quickly readjusted.

Lambert was put on the defensive for two consecutive strikes.

A thrust aimed at the neck joint was also deflected by Lambert, who had to go on the defensive to avoid Hector's sword.

Hector's "True Forty-Nine Sword Rain," which maximized the advantage of dual swords, was effective even against Lambert.

"Hmm..."

"How's that! You've never been pressured like this before, right? Try to block the next forty-six strikes if you can!"

Hector lunged forward, barking as he did so.

Even for a swordsman of Lambert's caliber, it was too close a distance to read and counter the sword in time.

However, before even seeing the initial movement of Hector's technique, Lambert had already brought his raised greatsword down to the floor.

The floor around Lambert collapsed, creating a shockwave.

"Ugh!"

The shockwave canceled out Hector's leap, forcing him to land on the ground.

At the same time, Hector's instincts warned him of death. A vivid image of his body being cut flashed through his mind.

To escape the impending death, he kicked off the ground and let the shockwave's aftermath carry him backward.

But he had committed too much to the offensive stance.

By the time he realized it, Lambert's greatsword was thrusting toward him, and Hector instinctively pulled back, shielding his body.

Hector landed and readied his sword.

Lambert stood at a distance.

Whether he had blocked all the strikes or not, the answer became clear when he saw the fresh blood at the edge of his vision.

The delayed sensation of pain in his abdomen, which would have been a fatal injury in normal circumstances, was numbed by the storm of excitement.

Hector's endorphins had suppressed even the pain of a life-threatening wound.

At this moment, Hector thought that as long as he could wield his sword, it didn't matter where he was injured.

After a brief glance, he turned back to Lambert with disinterest, never again paying attention to the blood flowing from his abdomen.

"Never been pressured like this before, huh? Not really. There have been countless battles where a single difference would have led to my defeat. Besides, it's well known that I lost to Glyph."

"Ha! I can't believe it! If there were more like you, I wouldn't have been bored all this time!"

Hector laughed.

Despite receiving a deep stab to the abdomen, a wound that could be fatal, he did not seem particularly shocked.

Perhaps he had been prepared for this from the start.

Hector found it hard to believe, but Lambert's words were true.

Lambert was one of the Four Demon Generals of the Regius Kingdom, but before he joined, there was a swordsman even stronger than him among the Four Demon Generals.

However, he had died in battle.

"Never thought the 'True Forty-Nine Sword Rain' would be broken by sheer force. Haha, it seems I misjudged you."

"...It was a good movement, but a boring sword."

Lambert muttered, repositioning his greatsword.

Hector's eyes widened at these words, and then he laughed.

"Ah! I was thinking the same thing!"

From the beginning, Hector had considered the "Forty-Nine Sword Rain" to be a boring, childlike practice when he first learned and used it in combat.

Even though he had used it against Lambert, feeling the gap in their skills, it was not a style he particularly enjoyed.

Hector readied his sword and charged at Lambert, barking.

The wound in his abdomen was deep.

Hector knew he didn't have much time left.

But because of this, he could focus solely on unleashing the supreme sword technique without any unnecessary burdens or thoughts.

Without a doubt, this was Hector's fastest sword strike of the day—no, of his life.

Their bodies crossed.

They stood with their backs to each other.

Hector's right arm fell to the ground.

Even as it fell, it was still tightly gripping the sword.

"Can you still stand with such a wound?"

"...I know. You lost to this technique, didn't you?"

Hector turned around, kicked off the ground, and leaped high.

He swung his sword, putting his full weight behind it, aiming at Lambert.

—"Moon Feather," the signature technique of the hero Glyph.

A technique where one jumps high, using the momentum of the sword and gravity to crush the opponent's guard and counterattack.

It was not an easy technique to replicate, but with Hector's swordsmanship, it was not impossible.

Lambert had not been defeated by this technique, but he had been injured on the shoulder, which could have led to his defeat.

In historical records, it likely did.

Lambert had no intention of commenting on this.

But there was one thing he had to say.

"My friend Glyph, clad in mithril armor, jumped higher than you."

Lambert's greatsword, swung vertically, deeply slashed Hector's body.

Hector's body, splattered with blood, flew and hit the wall of the corridor.

Hector, still smiling, tried to rise, grabbing his sword with his left hand, but his legs buckled, and he hit the wall again.

His fingers weakly opened, and the sword rolled away.

Hector stared at it in disbelief.

But to the spectators, Ouboc the Earl and Almer, it was more surprising that Hector was still alive.

With a deep stab in his abdomen, his right shoulder missing, and a deep slash from his right temple to his left thigh, Hector looked like a corpse on the battlefield.

It was hard to believe he had been able to fight just moments ago.

"—Ah, it's over, then."

Hector muttered, his body swaying, and he fell forward.