Leon and Karen left Lugo behind and stepped into a tavern along the night streets.
This was Area 1, the heart of the Kingdom of Jugend, but better known as the Iron Heart. In the land of blacksmiths, an entertainnt district was inevitable. If dwarves, who loved swinging hamrs more than they loved their daily als, were told to give up liquor and at, their zeal would be cut in half.
Through long experience, the dwarves had learned the truth that when one rests, they must rest properly. They spared no expense to bring in skilled brewers and chefs, for tallurgy was their specialty, not cooking.
As a result, Jugend’s food and drink beca renowned, and the smiths who hamred away day and night began to leave behind flat beer in favor of the taverns in the streets. Karen decided for the both of them that they would get a little taste of that tonight.
“Welco! Just two of you tonight?” a tavern employee asked at the door.
Karen answered imdiately, “Yes, just the two of us.”
“Shall I take you to the third floor? Would you prefer sowhere quiet?”
“As long as it isn’t too noisy, that’s fine.”
“Understood. Please follow .”
Up on the third floor, the two were seated by a window overlooking the nightti streets of Area 1. Even in the heavy dark, the forges burned without pause.
The distant ringing of hamrs carried faintly through the air, and below them, half-drunk patrons shouted boastful tales to anyone who would listen. The restless night of Jugend buzzed beyond the glass.
Leon and Karen gazed at the sleepless city for a mont, then ordered a few dishes and began talking.
“Day or night, this place never quiets down,” Leon remarked.
“They say it’s even worse during the Jugend Steel trials. People can’t even sleep in their lodgings because of the hamring.”
“So it’s not exactly a city for sightseeing, huh.”
Their idle chatter carried on until Leon’s eyes shifted. He was staring toward the district where the branch of the Holy Church was located.
Seeing where his gaze fell, Karen asked, “Worried about Elahan?”
“Yeah. I feel like she’d be waiting for us.”
“Don’t worry about that. Even His Eminence said it—just repairing her arms will take at least a week. If you go back now, you’ll only see the two of them groaning over their work.”
“You’re probably right...”
What she said was true, but she had another reason for steering him away. They had been too busy through all of this. Whether in the desert or the plains, Leon and Karen had often been apart, and it had been a long ti since she found herself alone with him like this.
With rivals appearing one after another, she intended to use the chance to advance her own standing.
“Still, I didn’t think you’d catch up to so quickly in adventurer rank, Mr. Hero. At this rate, with how quick your promotion tiline has been, you could set the record as the youngest S-rank.”
“Co to think of it, you’re still A-rank, aren’t you? You’ve got both the strength and the record for S-rank. Are you just avoiding the challenge on purpose?”
Karen nodded at his question and answered, “Pretty much. There’s nothing to gain but prestige.”
Before being an adventurer, she had been an assassin, and she had mastered the Twilight Waltz of the Duskgloom while reshaping it into her own combat style.
Her martial art was built for first-strike kills. Its essence lay in speed, secrecy, and unpredictability.
The more famous an assassin beca, the weaker they grew. In fact, once an assassin’s primary weapons and tactics were revealed, their effectiveness was usually cut in half. That was why, even back in her days as the Keeper, Karen had hidden her true arts completely while taking out her targets.
“If your identity is going to co out, hiding mine won’t matter much. But, until then, I’d rather keep it under wraps. Soday it’ll all be revealed anyway... And honestly, I think hiding it makes it cooler.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course! Isn’t it way more stylish if people find out that it was my work all along later on? You don’t understand the vibe?”
“Not... really...”
Leon nearly quipped that it sounded more like sothing a phantom thief would do than a hero’s companion, but he stopped himself. Soone’s dream was sothing to respect.
And in that mont, El-Cid let out a curious sound.
—Hm...?
El-Cid? What is it? Leon asked.
—Oho. Now this is an interesting Aura. Been a long ti since I’ve felt soone this obsessed with the sword. He’s not fitting the sword to himself—he’s fitting himself to the sword.
What...? Don’t tell .
—Exactly. I was wondering if his ‘Sword Demon’ title was worth anything. Turns out it’s not an exaggeration.
Coming from El-Cid, who usually dismissed people with harsh words, that was high praise. The mont Leon grasped what he ant, his face stiffened. He had realized what it ant for Cedric, who was scheduled to arrive tomorrow, to already be this close.
Karen, catching his expression, asked in all seriousness, “What is it? Did you sense sothing?”
Leon answered plainly, “The Sword Demon is coming.”
“What? Right now?”
Karen froze at the unexpected words, then quickly turned her eyes toward the large clock on the wall. The hand had already passed twelve. Midnight had struck only minutes ago.
At the sa ti, both their senses warped. There was no malice or killing intent, but a presence that spread without restraint, making no effort to shorten its reach, was approaching fast.
It was the presence of an Aura Master.
“What, so because it’s past midnight, it counts as tomorrow? They weren’t wrong to call him crazy!”
Feeling the rapidly approaching Aura, Karen ground her teeth savagely. She hadn’t expected courtesy, but this went beyond rudeness. This was madness, approaching openly in the dead of night with intent to fight.
The words of the very man ca a heartbeat later.
“Sorry to confirm the rumours, but I really am crazy. I’m well aware of it, yet patience has never been my strong suit.”
As though answering Karen’s muttered curse, a man climbed the stairs and looked between them.
So, this is the Sword Demon, Cedric...
Leon t his gaze, sizing him up. Roughly about 185 centiters tall, build neither hulking nor thin, yet his upright posture was sharp and threatening, like a poised blade.
From beneath his dark blue-black hair, his eyes glead with a cold, steel-blue light. At his hip, the hilt of his sword clinked softly, his right hand resting on it as if it might leap free at any mont.
“Looks like you’re the one I’m supposed to evaluate,” Cedric said, scanning Leon up and down. “Sorry to interrupt your midnight tryst, but I couldn’t wait until sunrise. I’d like to start as soon as possible. How about now?”
To Cedric, a starved beast, this was no different than being thrown a slab of raw, bloody at.
He wanted to bite. He wanted to devour.
The explosive urge surged in him, the sword nearly tearing free of its scabbard, with only his right hand forcing it down. Had Leon declined his challenge, Cedric would have drawn instantly. Whether he fought them both, whether it killed him, it made no difference.
Of course, Leon didn’t refuse.
“That’s fine. But let’s pick a different location.”
At the positive reply, Cedric quieted for a mont. How long that calm would last was anyone’s guess, but he managed. Forced battles were one thing; what he preferred was a clash of full strength by mutual agreent. It was the Sword Demon’s twisted sense of taste, restraining his urge.
The three of them left the tavern, vanishing into the night streets. They moved together to find a quiet place, sowhere a battle between two Swordmasters could unfold.
***
The three of them finally arrived at the Holy Church branch near the heart of Area 1. Thanks to the pass Leon had received from Irexana, they could use the training grounds even in the dead of night. There, in the wide-open yard, Leon and Cedric stretched and loosened their bodies.
Cedric glanced around and muttered in a voice tinged with old mories, “Hmph. The Church. Been a while.”
It was the very place where, more than ten years ago, he had tasted bitter defeat. However, by chewing on that experience over and over, he had grown stronger. From beneath his untidy beard, a faint smile crept onto his face.
Karen, however, never lowered her guard.
Here, at least, if that bastard actually puts Mr. Hero in danger, Ella and His Eminence could intervene at once.
After facing him directly, she was certain that the Sword Demon, Cedric, was a lunatic. If it ca to it, he would cut Leon down without a second thought, evaluation or not.
That was why she had maneuvered things so that the fight would take place here, where support could arrive quickly. If things truly went wrong, she was prepared to ambush him herself to buy ti for Leon.
Whether Cedric knew her intent or simply didn’t care was unclear. He seed positively delighted at being able to feel the presence of four strong beings so close at hand.
Finally drawing his sword, Cedric let the tip droop toward the ground as he fixed Leon with his gaze and said, “It’s been years since I’ve felt this sharp. And you?”
“I’m in full form,” Leon answered briefly.
“Good. Then there’s no need for further words.”
Cedric raised his blade, signaling the start. Leon, too, lifted his Holy Sword to center guard and faced him.
“Ugh...!”
In that instant, Leon felt as though hundreds of blades were pressing in from all directions. The mont he mirrored Cedric’s stance, his instincts scread: “Danger”.
It wasn’t Aura, nor was it Psychokinesis. He was being crushed purely by Cedric’s skill as a swordsman. His gut told him, with almost prophetic certainty, that if they fought blade to blade for hundreds of exchanges, he would eventually be overwheld.
“Starting with raw strength would be boring. How about we try so swordplay first?”
Cedric’s innocent smile belonged to one who lived only to swing his blade. This was the very face of the Sword Demon.
Before the chill on Leon’s back even subsided, it began with a single step. Cedric slipped casually into Leon’s range.
When an opponent crosses the line, instinct compels a warrior to intercept. Leon was no exception.
With the quickest strike, a straight thrust, Leon aid right at Cedric’s throat. Faster than sound, the blade shot forward, but only to be parried by Cedric’s flat. In that instant, the gap shrank to two ters, and both swordsn cut through each other’s afterimages.
When weapon reach was equal, such duels resembled siege warfare. The defender usually held the advantage, expending less strength and winning the battle of attrition.
However, with a loud clang! Leon’s strike was brushed aside in a flash, forcing him a step back. Cedric’s sword chased without pause like a viper, like a swallow in flight.
Within a single second, his lines and angles reversed again and again to the point that Leon’s eyes stung just tracking them. The mont Leon parried a thrust to the brow, Cedric’s blade shifted into a slash at his throat; when that was evaded, it turned into a sweeping cut at his legs.
Even Leon’s Vision could barely keep up with the relentless flow.
Dammit, I can’t break free! His swordsmanship is on a completely different level!
Leon’s speed and strength were not inferior, yet in the clash of techniques, the difference was stark. His strikes, however forceful, were chopped short, while Cedric’s seemingly casual thrusts carried real, constant threat.
A blade skimd past his bangs, slicing off a few strands of hair. Leon had to retreat again, or else his neck would have gone in the next exchange.
“Haaaah!”
To reverse the flow, Leon surged forward just as Cedric advanced another step. If one was losing in the battle of skill, then they had to break out of their usual, standard patterns. For the first ti, Cedric’s blade faltered, knocked back as Leon pressed in.
If defense had efficiency as its advantage, offense had montum. Retreat was slower than advance; the attacker always carried the heavier force.
Cedric’s flat caught the Holy Sword, his body jolting back two steps. His hand tingled, but he grinned widely.
Good, Cedric thought to himself.
The mont Leon realized he was being crushed in technique, he sought an answer in tactics. His raw physical power was stronger than Cedric had expected. At last, a worthy opponent. His blood boiled, his body heating like iron in the forge.
In contrast, cold sweat rolled down Leon’s brow.
He’s strong. At least two steps above in swordsmanship. Even if I track him with my eyes, I’m losing in the bigger flow. Physically, I’m stronger, but still I’m being pushed back like this...!
It was no wonder they called him the Sword Demon. Only now did Leon understand El-Cid’s words.
If Leon moved his body to swing his sword, Cedric moved his sword to swing his body. It wasn’t quite the sa as true unity of sword and body, yet it was, in its own way, another ultimate form. This technique that was forged by inhuman will and endless struggle, treating the body as nothing more than a tool to wield the blade, was madness made manifest.
Cedric, wielding it as though it ca naturally to him, grinned and said, “That’s enough warm-up.”
A blue-grey Aura blood along his blade. With no wavering, no flaw, it hardened like steel itself, fixed to the edge in the realm of materialization.
An Aura Blade was the privilege of an Aura Master, and the surest ans of destruction. In answer, Leon raised his Holy Sword.
Though not as grand as when he had clashed with Nephren-Ka, the shining blade roared with light and heat, sweeping away the surrounding dark as the Stigma of the Guardian awakened.
Small and humble though it was, this radiance was no less than the sun itself.
“Leon Style Aura Blade, Sun Sword: Solaris.”
Gripping the blade of the sun, Leon charged Cedric.
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