Episode 12. 3. Trial by Duel (2)
Delphiad swordsmanship.
One of the legendary sword arts passed down through generations of the Strauss family, a martial house renowned across the continent.
It was said that Gallard Strauss, the head of the family in the current era, had mastered Delphiad swordsmanship to its ultimate extreme and ascended to the rank of Martial King.
"The sword art of a Martial King…."
Randolf was thrown into confusion. The other knights watching the duel were no different.
It wasn't simply because his opponent had brought out the sword art of a legendary Martial King.
Who doesn't know about that?
Delphiad swordsmanship itself was widely spread across the continent.
That is—at least its basic form.
Because it was so famous, many people tried to imitate it. And everyone reached the same conclusion.
—There's no point in us learning this.
Delphiad swordsmanship only became powerful after one mastered battle aura.
Its fame came from the profound and formidable way it wielded aura; before that stage, it was actually worse than even third-rate sword arts.
On the other hand, it was excellent for building fundamentals, so among knights it was sometimes taught to squires as an introductory discipline.
But to bring that out now?
What is this? Does he have some hidden scheme?
Could it be that he had obtained the true, unknown Delphiad swordsmanship—some secret of secrets involving aura manipulation? Was that why he had stepped into this duel with such confidence?
After only three months of practice?
Three months wasn't even enough to properly learn the basics, let alone aura.
None of this adds up.
As Randolf frowned, unable to make sense of it, murmurs spread among the spectators.
"What is that?"
"They say it's the Martial King's swordsmanship."
"That legendary Martial King?"
"Good heavens, then Sir Randolf's in trouble, ain't he?"
That was how it went.
Just as laymen cannot understand experts, experts also cannot understand laymen.
Any knight knew this:
Even mastering a third-rate sword art properly took years, and a supreme art like Delphiad swordsmanship would require a lifetime—and still not be enough.
But a layman thought differently.
Wouldn't the sword art of a Martial King, learned for just a few months, be enough to easily defeat someone who had trained in a third-rate art for years?
It wasn't entirely unheard of.
Occasionally, young direct descendants of the Strauss family—still children—would mow down veteran ordinary knights with ease.
But that was only because they were geniuses among geniuses, not because Delphiad swordsmanship could turn a commoner into a top-class swordsman in a few months.
So that means…
Having grasped the situation, Randolf let out a hollow chuckle.
A sheltered bookworm somehow got his hands on the Martial King's sword manual, thought he'd stumbled upon an incredible opportunity, practiced it sloppily for three months, and then stood before me.
Now everything made sense.
"Heh… hehehe."
Snickering, Randolf straightened his posture.
This isn't a bad story at all.
With the banner of the Martial King's sword art hanging overhead, he could end the trial by duel in a much more convincing fashion.
Pointing his sword forward, Randolf shouted confidently,
"New lord of Zestrad! In the name of Allium, I shall enact justice!"
Seeing the reactions around him, Karnak let out a sigh of relief.
Phew. That should roughly gloss over what I've been doing these past three months.
Of course, he didn't know Delphiad swordsmanship at all. The only thing he could do was the stance—nothing more.
Even so, there was a reason he had chosen this.
It was to clean up the mess caused by the actions of the Karnak from this point in time.
He had left home for months, claiming he would gain power. Then there had to be a convincing reason for all that confidence.
Normally, he would have posed as a mage, and that would have been no issue—but now that he had stepped forward as a knight, he needed an excuse befitting that role.
So he had asked his loyal attendant.
"Baros."
"What is it, young master?"
"Isn't there something like this? A sword art so incredible that just obtaining it would shock everyone, something people could easily recognize—and something I could at least imitate?"
Even as he asked, he found it absurd himself.
If merely obtaining it shocked everyone, that meant it was an extremely rare sword art.
And even knights in this backwater countryside had to recognize it? On top of that, it had to be so powerful, yet skinny old Karnak had to be able to imitate it?
"If there isn't, then never mind. I wasn't expecting much anyway—"
"There is."
"Huh?"
"There is. A sword art exactly like that."
Baros had walked the path of martial arts for over a hundred years. Over that immense span of time, he had collected countless sword techniques from all across the continent.
"Sir Reven's Delphiad swordsmanship fits those conditions perfectly. At this point in time, Sir Gallard should be the Martial King."
"You can use it?"
"Roughly."
Three of the Four Great Martial Kings, whose fame had once shaken the world, had fallen by Baros's hand. And their martial arts had been passed on to him intact.
It wasn't that Baros was some heaven-sent once-in-a-century genius who stole techniques by crossing blades.
"I just asked them to teach me, and learned. That's all."
After their defeat, they were resurrected as Death Knights and became loyal servants of the Necromancer King.
As subordinates of Baros, a Death Knight Lord, all it took was an order for them to obey without question.
"Thanks to that, I learned everything except Raphiell's among the Four Martial Kings."
There was a reason he hadn't learned Raphiell's techniques.
She hadn't been turned into a Death Knight by Karnak.
Raphiell Croteum—the only woman among the Four Martial Kings.
She was, truly, a great hero of humanity.
Even when all the other Martial Kings had fallen and even three Archmages had become servants of the Necromancer King, she alone never gave up. She fought to the bitter end and inflicted tremendous damage on Karnak.
And befitting her heroic deeds, she met an especially cruel fate.
After her defeat, she was made into a gatekeeper of the Imperial Necropolis and stationed simultaneously at the eastern, western, and southern gates.
Guarding three places at once sounded like nonsense—but with necromancy involved, it became possible.
Her bones were stripped and raised as skeleton soldiers, stationed at the eastern gate.
Her flesh was separated and turned into a flesh golem, stationed at the western gate.
Her soul was torn out and bound to a living armor, stationed at the southern gate.
It was a punishment that condemned her to eternal suffering—neither alive nor truly dead.
Recalling those days, Karnak clicked his tongue.
"Wow. I was really a piece of trash back then. Why didn't I feel this way at the time?"
"Maybe because you've returned to a human body now?"
"Right? You really do have to live like a human. Absolutely."
Given how casually they were having that conversation, one might doubt whether living like a human was still within reach—but regrettably, both master and servant were still far from that point.
In any case, the Martial King's swordsmanship was the perfect banner for a hot-blooded youth to delude himself into thinking he'd gained great power.
Even after the duel ended, it wouldn't draw much suspicion.
Now the only problem left is…
Gripping his sword, Karnak swallowed hard.
As long as I survive.
After discarding his shield, Karnak was able to display a fairly convincing opening form of Delphiad swordsmanship.
And as the price for that, he began getting beaten into the dust.
"Kh—! Ugh! Ghk!"
When he had his shield, he could block attacks outright, which made things at least a little easier. But now he had to parry with his sword.
Sir Randolf suddenly closed the distance—and did something.
What did he do? From Karnak's perspective, he had no idea.
Something flashed; he knew a sword had been swung, and that was about it.
"Ghk!"
Sparks flew off his armor. Randolf's blow had struck him again.
At least it hit his armor, turning what would have been a slash into a blunt impact.
Karnak was sent flying by the shock and rolled across the ground once more.
"Hmph! That again—"
Randolf cut himself off mid-sentence.
This roll was different from before.
Huh?
Earlier, Karnak had simply rolled away.
But now—
"Not yet!"
The rolling Karnak naturally slid into a seated position and leveled his sword once more.
"Come! Knight of Deventor!"
He wasn't fully standing. With one knee on the ground, he held his sword straight out.
Yet somehow, the posture looked convincing.
Like a hawk lowering its body as it fixed its gaze on prey.
And on top of that, he was shouting boldly.
"Do you really think this is enough to bring down the bloodline of Zestrad?!"
He was so confident that even Randolf was momentarily thrown off.
What nonsense is he spouting? I already knocked him down!
Well, it didn't really matter. He could just chase him down and beat him some more.
The man was wearing top-tier armor, befitting the lord of a domain. Even if Randolf used a bit too much force, he wouldn't die in some unsightly way.
First, I'll drain his strength.
Fierce slashes lashed against Karnak's armor like a whip. Groaning, Karnak kept rolling across the ground.
"Kh! Ghk! Kh!"
Still, none of it was fatal. Each time he was hit, he threw himself away without hesitation and rolled, letting only the shock carry through without the blade piercing his armor.
And then, once again, he lifted only his upper body, striking a pose and shouting loudly.
"The sword of Zestrad does not break!"
A strange light flickered in Randolf's eyes.
"Unexpectedly solid defense. Is that Delphiad swordsmanship's deflecting flow?"
Karnak snorted inwardly.
What a joke. There's no way I could do something like that.
Just as Baros had said.
At best, he was only a country knight—his eye for detail was lacking.
Karnak's confidence grew.
Letting out a shout, he reignited his fighting spirit.
"Take this!"
Baros was watching with quiet satisfaction.
He's deflecting the blows pretty well. Guess I really did teach him properly.
Karnak didn't realize it himself, but he was genuinely using a technique that deflected slashing attacks by making use of his armor.
Otherwise, no matter how sturdy the armor was, there was no way he could endure this much.
Baros had deliberately trained him by beating him down in a way that induced those exact reactions.
At a beginner's level, once you become conscious of such things, you actually end up failing to do what you could do instinctively—so Baros had intentionally kept it hidden from him.
And his bluffing is way better than I expected.
He was still getting beaten up.
Still being sent flying and rolling across the ground.
Yet his expression was utterly resolute, and his eyes burned brightly, as if they could glare down the whole world!
"The sword of Zestrad does not break!"
At Karnak's shout, Baros let out a small, incredulous laugh.
Well, bluffing was always his specialty. No wonder he's good at it.
Necromancy was, by nature, a profession that relied heavily on bravado. The more one shrouded oneself in a gloomy, sinister atmosphere and drove fear into the opponent's heart, the more effective the art became.
Back in the day, Karnak had practically made a habit of pretending to be far more formidable than he really was.
That long experience was finally paying off now.
"Come at me.