YEAR 1549 OF THE THIRD CALENDAR
MORNING
8:43
Within the royal palace of Beelmart, a detonation went off. The servants jumped in fright, and the guards imdiately tensed up.
“What the hell was that?!”
Barely a few monts passed until it beca abundantly clear what the situation was. People bearing armour and uniforms foreign to Beelmart flooded the hallways, the castle guards found themselves unexpectedly locked into battle without any prior warning.
Blood quickly flowed en masse as the invading force spread out across the palace–Humans, beastfolks, and demons working together in unison, slaying any guard they encountered without rcy.
A single one of the invaders broke off from the group, rushing faster than the eye could see, directly to the throne room. With a single kick, he forced the great doors wide open–Only to find an empty throne. Barely a minute had passed since the detonation, and yet, it seed like Beliol Azt Mastras had already left the premises. It was an impressive reaction speed, that was for certain.
Nonetheless, while the throne was without its owner, the throne room was not empty.
The invader smiled, the wrinkles on his face moving all at once from this simple action.
“Denaiel. It’s been a while!”
“Salael Vomhargon… I see that your soft-faced king figured out our involvent”
“Heh, let’s not pretend like it’s so sort of big discovery, nine tis out of ten, if so shit like this is happening, it is going to be you guys. No one is more likely to do sothing like this on this entire damned continent”
“I suppose you are correct–Regardless, I must end you for daring to intrude upon our land”
“Ohoh… The last ti we went at it, you didn’t do so well, rember?”
“Then and now are two completely different things, but I wouldn’t bla an old man like you for struggling to tell the difference. It must be getting hard to even rember the nas of your children at this point”
“I see that your provocations have not changed… Let see if the sa is true of your sword skills, Denaiel!”
The enforcer of Beelmart did not respond and rely lifted his sword in the air, pointing it upward as infernal flas ford from the blade, the heat alone enough to cause the air to shift, making the crimson cloak flutter chaotically while the old noble rely walked forward calmly, unafraid of the flas.
Salael Vomhargon’s own sword pulsed with blue glow–Not the usual mana blue, sothing a bit lighter in shade, more solid-looking… Sharper.
The two n kicked off the ground, hard enough to send blasts of debris behind their backs. The scalding mass and the sharpness t in a flurry of blows–For a regular person, only a handful of strikes had been sent by both parties, but to those of sharper senses, they would have been able to glean the truth and understand that many more than this had rang out in an instant.
Neither the fire nor the blue glow ca out on top. In fact, they cancelled one another out as the inner energies of the n clashed violently enough to dispel the spells they had been ford from… For a few monts, it was as though the exchange of strikes sent their inner energies into paralysis, as they both broke out into a non-augnted sword duel.
Despite the lack of energy enhancent, Denaiel and Salael both moved with inhuman swiftness and precision. It was thought they could bend the laws of physics with the sorts of motions they could perform, all the while striking with their full might.
Sparks danced throughout the throne room. This duel was far removed from the usual confrontation between two knights, or any lee fighters, for that matter. They zood across the room like they had no stains to conserve. Performing motions that a regular knight instructor would tell their trainee were rookie mistakes… But here, all the seemingly useless spins and flips that would instantly land lesser warriors in a grave sohow worked out perfectly.
Denaiel, in particular, moved more like a dancer than a swordsman. His every motions were stylish and a feast for the eyes. His crimson was flung around every ti he moved, making him appear as though he were a boneless being simply floating above the ground.
Salael remained more grounded, but he was not immune to the seemingly impractical movents either. If anything, the fact that he used them less commonly made them more surprising when coming from him. This really was the main goal here. Take advantage of their ludicrous advantages in terms of pure physical greatness to do things so alien and backwards that they beca nearly completely unpredictable.
After all, you could turn your back to the enemy all you wanted if you didn’t even need to look at them to parry or dodge their every move. Such was the case here. Neither of the two combatants concealed their presence nor was attempting to disappear from the senses of their opponent. Both always knew exactly where the other was, and as such, they didn’t even need to use most of their senses.
This was exactly why they fought like it was an elaborate dance, because… What was the point in fighting like regular warriors? They were anything but regular–Nonetheless, Salael quickly picked up on sothing.
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“You’ve changed your swordstyle, haven’t you? I didn’t think you would be able to pick up and reach such a level of mastery in battle arts at your age!”
“And you haven’t changed one bit, still stuck in your old ways”
“Heheh… What is the point of changing? I won without a scratch last ti…”
“I wouldn’t say it’s a victory when you failed to stop from retreating. I would say it is quite embarrassing. In fact, did you at least work on running faster since then? Otherwise, I’ll just run laps around the castle until you drop dead”
“You have a good sense of humour, Denaiel. Who said I didn’t allow you to leave? I haven’t had such good fights in decades, boy!”
Their inner energies seed to kick back in, but the elder was quicker in weaving a spell. Within monts, his sword was enveloped in a gigantic blade of blue. Red Snow frowned. One reason he didn’t believe he could best the old man in a match of pure swordsmanship was exactly this–Salael Vomhargon was from a noble family from which countless heroes had co, and the old man himself was considered one.
They called him the sword saint, and as much as Denaiel disliked the man, he would have to agree. When they faced one another with nothing but swordsmanship, he had to focus more on the defensive to avoid being wounded, while Salael? He was so overly aggressive that he looped back around to having an incredible defence.
…What was a better way to avoid being hit than to attack so much that your opponent couldn’t take even a single swing at you?
However, the worst part was his elental affinity. He was using basic mana. It might look similar, but this was the sword elent. Basically, anything could be a magical elent, after all… And with such an affinity, it was only natural that not only would his natural talent with a sword be much higher than the norm, but when he used it to reinforce his body, his swordsmanship was elevated by several levels.
As for when it was applied directly to his sword as well… It was even worse.
Denaiel leapt into the air, kicked off a pillar as the old man swung the enormous blade of energy like it weighed nothing. The throne room was ravaged in an instant, a deep gash was left across its walls, and every single pillar was slashed in half.
The enforcer could already tell that the room was at risk of collapsing–Especially since Salael wasn’t ssing around in the least. He didn’t just slash. The blade of mana sent bits of energy into everything it touched. The result of being charged with sword mana was obvious. It further damaged the structure of the room.
Cracks ran throughout the ceiling, but neither of the combatants cared.
Denaiel kicked off a crumbling pillar, directly swinging at the elder while coming from above. Their blades crashed against one another into the loud grinding of steel against steel. Red Snow erupted with incinerating flas, trying to engulf Salael whole, but the foreign noble manifested a sword of pure mana in his left hand, parting the flas in half and taking a direct swing for Denaiel’s neck.
The flas joined together once again as the strike finished its course–When the fire faded, the two swordsn were now a distance apart. Salael’s right arm now bore a serious burn, and Denaiel’s neck was bleeding… He hadn’t been cut directly by his opponent’s blade.
In a bid to try and ensure his flas would reach his target, he pulled a dagger at his waist to stop the mana sword, but the angle of defence was awkward, and he failed to completely stop the strike, resulting in his own dagger being pressed up against his neck.
He had only avoided having his jugular sliced open by cancelling his fire spell to focus completely on raising the defences on this particular portion of his body–He would have probably burnt the elder’s arm off completely, but he would have had to pay with his life to do so, and it definitely wasn’t cost-effective in the least.
“...Good! Very good! Ah… I haven’t been hit in… In nearly half a damned century! Ahahah! Oh… It hurts so freaking much, but it makes feel so alive! I was right not to end you back then. You are a talented youth–You should consider saying goodbye to your slaver king and swearing an oath to Rootriska instead”
“My loyalty isn’t so thin, Salael. I won’t be bought by sweet promises”
“That’s what they all say. By the way, you wouldn’t mind telling who or what you are cooperating with to spread those nightmares, would you? Surely, your oath doesn’t include covering their ass”
“I am afraid that I signed a contract preventing from revealing such things. I can only tell you one thing. We made our deals with a rather refined lady”
“...Is that so? That is a sha. I don’t really like taking swings at won… Otherwise, I would have stopped before coming here to deal with that girl with the burnt face”
Denaiel ford a small smile.
“You have my thanks for this”
“Mmh? Oh, is she your girlfriend or sothing?”
“I would rather you don’t imply such a thing, Salael. She is my younger sister. We were both raised from infancy alongside many others to beco enforcers of Beelmart”
“Really, now? Now I see why you always look so annoyingly lancholic. I doubt you hold much actual respect for this kingdom, so why be so loyal?”
“My loyalty lies with the king, not this kingdom. As long as he lives, I shall be his spear and shield, and if he dies… Then I shall be his avenger. It is as simple as that”
The old noble grinned.
“Simple, indeed… Just how I like it. However… Defending an empty throne just seems disgraceful to . Isn’t your king supposed to be a warrior, too?”
“You aren’t deserving of his attention”
“You make it sound like he is stronger than , you do realise that this only makes want to fight him more, right?”
“You are a crazy geezer”
“I am a Vomhargon”
He dispelled the sword of mana, and stomped the ground–Hard enough to make the entire room shake for a mont and create a web of cracks with him in the center of it, under Denaiel’s confused gaze, the elder reached into the very ground, and against all expectations, pulled out a swordstaff… An actual one, it wasn’t made of energy. This weapon was clearly a physical object anyone could see and touch.
“Well, shit…”
Red Snow grimaced. He had known very well that his chances of winning a fight against a man titled sword saint were low, but seeing what had just happened only cented the idea further…
“I believe in you, Denaiel. I am sure you can land more hits on ”
“Absolute lunatic”
The cracks across the throne room continued to spread as their confrontation resud.
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