Chapter 236

  Weltraum Style Swordsmanship

  The Grey Ghosts, elite Knights of the Steelheart Duchy, were a ragtag bunch. Despite their title, one could see their rough, ignoble exterior. Knowing only the minimum amount of etiquette as needed, beaten down into their skull through weeklong course by the enigmatic Madame Sui. Just enough so that they did not make too much of a fool of themselves.

  They were all of them, men of the North. Hardy from years of using their own body to survive the harsh environment; neglected by the Kingdom.

  They were now sprawled all over, moaning in pain.

  “Come on! You can do better than that!” Connie waved her hand vaguely. “Come, who else wants a turn?”

  “Does that offer for a spar extends to Unrestrained Candidates?”

  Millicent suddenly made her presence known. “Pardon my rudeness. But I saw you sparring –”

  “Let’s not use lame excuses, Lieutenant. You just want to pit your sword against mine,” Connie answered. “It’s the disease plaguing all who seek mastery of their path. Whether it is the art or combat,” Connie let out a chuckle. “And I am no different.”

  Millicent scratched her head. Slightly embarrassed. “Then, let me formally ask you for a spar.”

  “Indeed. Let us have a conversation. One punctuated by the ringing of steel.”

  With her acknowledgement, the Lieutenant unsheathed her sword.

  “I am Lieutenant Millicent Weltraum. Of the Weltraum Style School of Swordsmanship,” she formally introduced herself.

  “I am Cornelia Asterium Steelheart. My Style have no name.”

  "Hm? Are you not using your Family's Style?"

  "That one has been handed over to a more fitting person."

  Millicent’s sword was slender, with a length of about one meter. Near the guard, the flat part of the blade had engravings of Junnaveil’s figure depicted on it. When she swung the sword, one could hear it cutting air. Clearly a masterwork.

  “Shall we allow the use of Skills?”

  “No objections from me.”

  “Where is your sword?” she asked, eyeing the sword in the Duchess’s hand. It was decently made, but far from being fit for an Unrestrained Candidate.

  Connie saw where her eyes were looking and answered. “I don’t have one.”

  “How can you be a swordsman without a sword?” she asked again.

  Connie smirked. “In a dialogue about the sword, the senior usually gives the junior a handicap.”

  “What a joke,” Jan, who had come after hearing all the commotion spat. “She’ll use that as an excuse when she lost, I bet.”

  “...” Hastings, who had found rock to sit on, spun the gold ring on his finger with a serious look.

  “Very well. Don’t come crying to me when you lose, Duchess. My sword does not differentiate between Nobles and Commoners.”

  “As it should. Illumca, if you please.”

  The Dark Elf came to the middle and produced a Calendian Gold Coin from his pocket. “When the coin touches the ground, the spar begins. Take your places, please.”

  Millicent took a few steps back, then took a low stance, her legs apart; her left feet pointing forward while her right perpendicular from her body. She held her sword with her right hand at shoulder length, its tip pointing at Connie. Her other hand was placed slightly under her sword, as if cradling it. Her stance looked exhausting, yet the sword did not even budge, proof of its stability.

  On the other hand, Connie’s stance was relaxed, the sword pointing at the ground at an oblique angle. Millicent was slightly annoyed by this. She felt as if the blonde did not regard her highly.

  Illumca flipped the coin. It spun a few times in the air. Many eyes watched as it reached its peak and quickly descent.

  The moment the coin hit the ground, Millicent shot forward like an arrow, her sword singing as it pierced through the air.

  With a smile, Connie took a step to the side, lightly brushing the sword away with her own; causing her to overshot.

  But with her sword being so light, Millicent easily drew back and thrust the sword once more, now aiming at her stomach. Connie flicked the sword with Energy infused finger, redirecting the attack to the side.

  Surprised, Millicent drew back, one hand behind her back.

  “You…flicked a Lutainian steel with your finger?” she said, expecting her opponent’s finger to be hurt or dislocated.

  That worry was waved off as Connie raised the finger she used to deflect the weapon with a playful wiggle. “Don’t worry about my fingers. You’d be surprised of what they could do.”

  Connie was very amused. This style of swordsmanship was very novel to her. Clearly the female Lieutenant favored quick attacks that rely on thrusts. After a few exchanges, she began to understand it. Millicent’s style was an aggressive one aiming to strike at the weak points of her enemies.

  Using a Lightness Technique, Connie disappeared from her sight, appearing behind Millicent and tapped her shoulder from behind.

  The wheat-haired Lieutenant reacted by swing her sword around to her right. Connie caught her arm mid swing and hit her side lightly with the pommel of her sword. This caused her to reel from the sudden pain and she leapt back. The spectators gasped upon seeing this.

  “Million Thrust!” A barrage of thrust faster and denser than the Thousand Thrust Skill Akira once used were unleashed at her direction.

  Connie deflected, dodged, and parried each moves deftly. She kicked the ground with her legs, creating distance from the attack. The instant she felt the ground at the tip of her toe; she withdrew one more step.

  Millicent kept up her Skill, chasing after her. Connie used the tent pole behind her as a platform to launch herself back into the fray, her sword clashing furiously against Millicent’s Skill.

  By now the Church Knights who had initially ignored the scene out of spite had gathered to watch, their gaze fixed at the two figures. One was like a fierce gale, while the other like a lone pine tree; swaying yet firm.

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  “No matter how many times I watch Connie do it, I am still amazed,” Illumca said.

  “She is also good. That Lieutenant is like an arrow that had been loosed. The quick movements of her feet that launched her ever forward are great,” Akula commented.

  Connie struck overhead, followed by a swing from beneath, borrowing the bounce after Millicent parried it. The Lieutenant sensed the attack and managed to avoid it by taking a step back, although only barely.

  “Wind Shear!!” As she stepped back, Millicet launched a ranged attack using the wind. The force cut through the air with a powerful vacuum. Connie made small turn with her toe as a pivot and swung her sword from below to the top, causing a wall of Energy dotted with the illusory image of flower petals to appear and guarded against the attack.

  An unfamiliar scent of flower suffused the surrounding.

  “W-what is this scent?” One of the Church Knights wrinkled his nose. “Are there flowers around here?”

  “No, that’s just the effect of our Duchess’s swordsmanship,” a Grey Ghost with a big bump on his forehead spoke with pride.

  “How can a sword emit a scent?” he asked again. The Grey Ghost did not answer. For it was a mystery he too could not understand.

  “Such a profound swordsmanship,” Millicent praised. After clashing a few times, she realized now that the Duchess’s mastery of swordsmanship is above and beyond her own. She had the right for her arrogance. “What is the name of that Style?”

  Connie laughed lightly. “It is a name better forgotten,” she then continued. “And yours is not bad. A truly lethal sword style. One aimed at swiftly piercing through the vital points of one’s enemy. Fast, and precise.”

  The moment the brief pleasantries were finished. The two clashed once more. This time, Connie met Millicent’s sword with her own, approximately halfway at the centerpoint of her blade. She commented as they locked sword, metal singing from their friction.

  “But being fast alone is not enough.”

  Millicent tried to free the sword, but found that every time she tried to do so, Connie’s sword followed her movement; stuck to it like glue. Back and forth they moved, yet the sword did not separate. Like lovers refusing to part.

  “Sometimes, one must use slowness to overcome speed.”

  Millicent tried yanking her sword back to gain control, but Connie redirected her force so that she unwittingly raised her sword. The moment she did so, Connie landed punch at her torso, and she flew a few meters before she regained her stance.

  The Church Knights’ faces were sour. Despite more than half of them did not like Millicent, seeing a Church Knight beaten still made them feel unpleasant.

  Ah, whoops. It was so fun I forgot to tone it down a bit.

  The Lieutenant gathered her breath, rubbing the dull soreness because of the direct hit. One could see the frustration in her defeat. Still, she asked. “You said before…slowness to overcome speed…what do you mean?”

  “It’s better for you to try and understand it slowly rather than me explaining it to you. You are already well on the path of your own sword,” she advised with a small nod. “It would ruin the fun of that struggle.”

  “…then, may I ask for another spar?” Millicent spoke. Now that she realized that her opponent was a true master of the sword above her, she was excited. It was rare for her to be able to spar with someone of her calibre.

  “That…should be…enough, don’t youuuu…think?”

  A voice cut through the chatter of the camp. “Tomorrow’s…raid…is going to be…important. Don’t…waste your strength…tonight.”

  The Lieutenant looked at the Maiden, standing there with arms folded, and then at Connie. She reluctantly sheathed her sword. “Thank you for the spar. Please let me have the honor of a spar once we have taken care of the Dungeon.”

  “Anytime,” Connie replied, tossing the sword to the nearest Grey Ghost.

  They set out early the next morning after breaking their fast, and finally arrived at a hill by Seasong Grotto.

  From atop the hill, they could see the Dungeon. All the land near the entrance had been taken over by the effect of the Dungeon Break, including what used to be the Church Knights’ encampment. Creating a contrast of bluish grey bleakness against the green and yellow of the plains.

  Monsters kept coming out of the Dungeon entrance, snarling and growling; their hunger evident from their aggression.

  There were more than three hundred monsters in all. Mixed among them were three monsters with octopus’ legs; having a rotund, flabby belly and a misshapen face. Their skins were leathery, with arms that reached the ground.

  “Oskugs!” Millicent was astonished. “It’s going to be troublesome.”

  “Oskugs?” Connie asked.

  “Do you see those monsters with flabby skin, Duchess? Those are called Oskugs. Those are troublesome monsters capable of casting Water-based Spells. Usually, they are only seen in deep waters.”

  “Rumors say that depending on the depth, they could grow to the size of a house. These are on the smaller side. But still posed a threat” Hastings added, left leg placed on a boulder, and his left elbow placed atop his knee. “There are a lot of them, but we have six Unrestrained Candidates here. Taking them out won’t be a problem.”

  “Respectfully. It’s not about taking them out, Commander,” Millicent said, pointing at the Dungeon entrance.

  A thread of Mana gathered at the entrance, bundling into itself, before it condensed and form a hump-backed bipedal monster with webbed feet. After it appeared, more monsters appeared the same way the first one did, stepping outside the gloom of the cave, snarling and growling menacingly.

  “As we speak, it keeps spawning new monsters. It’s best if we can take them out in one go and secure a path forward.”

  “…Tell…the Mages…to ready themselves…” Allenca said.

  “As you wish, Your Eminence,” Hastings saluted smartly.

  “Taking them out in one go, eh? I think I can help with that,” Connie spoke. “Martell!”

  The strawberry-haired Beastfolk quickly approached her. “Can you take care of them?”

  “Duchess. This isn’t a game. Is he not a bard? How is he supposed to fight against that many monsters?” Hastings complained.

  “I will have to exhaust most of my medium grade swords and lower,” Martell spoke. “But I can do this.”

  Connie patted his shoulder proudly. “I like your confidence. Now, show them what you can do.”

  With a nod, Martell brought out the swords from inside his Item Rings. Hundreds of them, falling onto each other, creating a cacophonous sound that grated the ear. Soo, there were two piles on either side of him. This action caused the Church Knights to snigger and whisper among themselves.

  “What a show off, how are you going to fight with those swords? He’s only got two hands.”

  “What’s he gonna with them? Throw them at the monsters?”

  With his Beastfolk hearing, Martell was able to hear all the jeers directed at him. He tuned them out and sat cross legged on the ground. He took out Wild geese and rested its body atop his lap. He then plucked one string, mentally preparing himself for a performance that would not shame his Mistress.

  Sword Formations, like all Formations, were created to fight against many enemies. Defensively and offensively. In battlefields, they were bringer of deaths.

  “Strengthen. Boost Stamina. Boost Concentration. Boost Mind,” Lights of different colors appeared on his body with each different melody that he played. At his current level, controlling so many swords without buffing himself would be hard.

  “Telekinesis. Control,” he spoke, and the swords rattled as they rose onto the sky.

  The Church Knights who saw this went slack-jawed.

  Martell took a deep breath and played a low note. The swords began to glow golden as they spun in the formation of a massive wheel. A faint image of Eight Petaled Lotus could be seen at the center.

  Then he spoke “Fire.”

  He played a fast, chaotic melody, and a handful of swords would shoot towards the monsters. Killing them in swathes. With every movement, the barrage of shining golden swords imbued by the Light of Buddha Shines Over All Men brought merciful deaths upon the monsters, nailing them to the earth.

  When the final note had ceased, most of the monsters had been reduced to splatters of meat and blood on the ground. Only a few lucky ones survived. The Oskugs were worse for wear as well.

  Martell’s breathing was heavy, his face was flushed red, and sweat trickled down his forehead. He did not take heed of the stunned silence of The Maiden of Water and the people of the Faith. All he desired - and cared for - was the response of the golden-haired girl, who was watching the massacre below with both hands clasped behind her back.

  “Impressive display. You did not shame your Masters.”

  Martell let go of his bated breath, and bowed.

  “Can your men take care of the rest?” Connie asked.

  “Y-yes. Of course,” Millicent spoke, rattled from the surreal scene. How is that a bard?

  After the Oskugs were taken care of, Connie descended from her horse and approached the land that had been corrupted by the Dungeon.

  “What an unnatural sight,” Illumca commented.

  The surrounding vegetation had been replaced with colourful corals, barnacles, and aquatic plants that normally would not have thrived outside of their normal habitat.

  The ground was damp, and its texture was like a wet sponge.

  “So, this is what a Dungeon in the process of a Dungeon Break looks like,” the girl in centipede robe said with amusement. “How curious.”

  “Unlike Untouchable Marshes that had stabilized, you can see it encroaching the normal land with naked eyes,” Martell prodded the land with his feet. Seawater seeped out from the ground where he stepped.

  “It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies. This place’s just ain’t right,” Nick said.

  “A land cursed by the Dungeon,” Millicent gritted her teeth. Her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. “If we do not stop it, it will become a nest of monsters. And the land would be irrecoverable.”

  Connie rubbed her chin, pondering.

  Just like Untouchable Marshes that had a temperate climate and flush with vegetation even in winter, once Seasong Grotto expanded, would these lush green plains turn into barren crags and stones where no plants could grow?

  As she was thinking, the Dungeon Entrance suddenly rumbled, shaking the land they were on.