Sasuke glanced at the white-haired old man lying lifeless on the surface of the ice sword.
His gaze lingered for only a moment.
No emotion.
Then his eyes shifted briefly toward Elisvaria.
"I'll handle the rest."
Elisvaria looked at him. There was no hesitation in her voice when she answered.
"But let him live."
She needed information.
Attempts on her life had occurred repeatedly over the past several years, yet there had never been any clear clue about who the true mastermind was.
The assassins who were captured always chose to remain silent.
Some even killed themselves before they could be interrogated.
Names of other parties had indeed surfaced from their mouths, but after deeper investigation, those parties turned out to be nothing more than bait. Disposable tails deliberately used to cover the real perpetrator.
Someone had been planning all of this systematically.
Organized.
Extremely cautious.
What a nuisance.
Sasuke did not wait long. He agreed immediately.
"Yes."
Fssshhh!
Elisvaria's eyelids trembled faintly.
As usual… he's that fast.
Sasuke's body had already vanished from where he stood. Only a tiny black dot remained in the distance, moving farther away before finally disappearing from sight.
Elisvaria kept looking in that direction for a few seconds.
His speed…
I've seen it several times already in the snow forest until now… but every time it still feels unreasonable.
The way he moves almost looks like he's distorting space.
What kind of technique is that?
Would he tell me if I asked?
…What if I asked him to teach me?
The thought appeared spontaneously in her mind.
But then she shook her head slightly.
Family.
Maybe it's a unique technique passed down in his family.
Even though Elisvaria was highly confident in her own speed, the velocity Sasuke displayed felt closer to teleportation.
With her current strength, matching that would be difficult.
"Mmm…"
She then looked toward the west.
Her hearing caught the vibration of powerful energy collisions coming from that direction.
"Sir Roderic isn't finished yet. It seems he's fighting an evenly matched opponent."
Her gaze dropped afterward, landing on dozens of men lying weakly across the snow-covered ground.
Treat their injuries first.
Without delaying any longer, Elisvaria moved quickly toward Nyra and the knights' position. Beside her, a fairly large ice sword floated along, following like a loyal guard.
At another location.
Gunnar stood still, staring forward.
Pain continued throbbing in his chest. The previous impact had been strong enough to injure his internal organs, though not fatally.
A few moments earlier, he had ordered his companions to remain on standby and wait for a signal before attempting a surprise attack on Elisvaria.
But that plan had failed completely.
Gunnar drew a slow breath.
"That man's strength… is powerful. Maybe comparable to mine."
"His magic is even more troublesome. A mage and an aura practitioner at the same time… a rare talent on this continent."
He had caught a glimpse earlier.
The man in the black robe with gold patterns was not just a mage.
He was also a swordsman.
But the magic he used felt strange.
There was no trace of mana.
The energy was different.
Not a system he recognized.
But that was not the most important thing.
His instincts kept issuing warnings.
That man is extremely dangerous.
Swordsmen could recognize one another.
That was why his instincts had become so sensitive.
I need to get serious…
And be very careful.
Gunnar sensed someone approaching rapidly.
Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on the two swords in his hands.
As a dual swordsman, his talent surpassed many aura practitioners on the sword path. His caution and rational thinking had earned him numerous achievements, allowing him to defeat opponents even at the same level as himself.
Footsteps stopped.
Someone had arrived.
Sasuke paused briefly, looking at the dual-sword wielder in front of him.
"Are you a Velmora?"
Hearing that question, Sasuke recalled the earlier incident in the snow forest. Another man had also judged his origin with the same conclusion.
I see.
Once again, this Sharingan is being associated with the red eyes of the Velmora family.
That judgment was reasonable from any perspective. In the northern territory, only the Velmora family possessed the distinctive blood-red eyes. Meanwhile, the Sharingan in his right eye did indeed look similar, except for the circular pattern and the three tomoe that made the difference obvious.
Sasuke answered briefly, not giving a direct response to the question.
"A repeated question. I've heard it more than once."
The man snorted softly, as if understanding the implication behind that answer.
"So, a bastard child."
Sasuke did not respond to the absurd conclusion.
Maybe he misunderstood. I don't care.
His hand moved.
The Kusanagi sword with its round guard slowly slid out of its sheath. That weapon was his primary blade in the Boruto era. Unlike the straight sword given by Orochimaru, this one had a natural curve like a traditional katana. The handle was wrapped in cloth with neat bindings, showing a balance between function and aesthetics.
Gunnar was slightly surprised when he saw the shape of the sword in that man's hand.
For him, it was the first time he had ever seen a weapon like that.
This continent really is vast.
I've never seen a shape like this before. I don't even know which region it comes from.
Interesting.
A weapon's form always reflected its user's fighting style. With a curved blade like that, his techniques must be different from the swordsmen I usually encounter.
No.
Maybe I'm simply the one who hasn't seen enough.
The sensation of exchanging strikes with a new technique always made his blood stir.
"You're quite arrogant, aren't you!"
Fssshhh!
At the same time those words left his mouth, Gunnar moved.
His speed exploded within a fraction of a second. Both blades radiated sharp energy, ready to cut through anything in their path. In a single blink, the edge of his attack had already reached the vicinity of Sasuke's neck.
The strike was extremely fast.
The momentum was overwhelming.
The aura pressure accompanying it was strong enough to split the air even before the blades arrived.
However, the opponent he faced was not an ordinary swordsman.
A shinobi who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship in the ninja world.
A monster among humans.
An existence even acknowledged by Momoshiki Otsutsuki.
Clang!
The blades collided.
The metallic impact rang loudly through the freezing air.
The lethal attack stopped.
With one hand.
Sasuke blocked both of Gunnar's swords with a single, simple swing of the Kusanagi. His wrist remained steady, his body barely shifting from its original position.
His red eyes stared calmly.
No surprise.
No strain.
Only a quiet composure that made his opponent's spine prickle.
The shockwave from the collision swept the surrounding snow away, creating a circular empty zone across the ground.
Gunnar froze for a moment.
What?
But then.
Slash! Chaechaechaechaeng!
The dual-sword wielder was forced backward dozens of steps under pressure. His feet repeatedly struck the snowy ground to resist the momentum, yet the force of his opponent's attacks continued pushing him back.
Every trajectory of Sasuke's blade aimed at vital points.
Neck.
Heart.
Wrists.
A single lapse would be enough to end his life.
Clang!
Another heavy collision rang out before the assault finally stopped.
Sasuke halted his strikes abruptly. His body stood upright without the slightest sign of fatigue. His gaze locked onto the man calmly, observing every detail of his condition.
"I'm not even serious yet. With only this level of ability, you still dared to attack that woman from behind."
"You!"
Anger ignited instantly in the man's chest.
There was one thing swordsmen hated the most.
Being underestimated.
Gunnar was no exception.
He straightened his posture again. Both arms still trembled faintly from the repeated clashes earlier. His muscles were tight, and his wrist joints ached every time he tightened his grip on the swords.
Every trajectory from the black-robed man had been incredibly fast.
Precise.
Deadly.
Not a single wasted movement.
Precisely because of that, curiosity began to surface in his mind.
He stared sharply at Sasuke before asking.
"Who are you? It's impossible for someone with swordsmanship like that to be unknown in the north."
"The same question again. Is an opponent's identity really that important? Why do you swordsmen always ask something so trivial?"
"Trivial, you say?"
This arrogant bastard is truly insufferable.
Does he not realize that above the sky there is still another sky?
Just because his swordsmanship is strong, everything he says sounds absurd.
I feel like I'm speaking with a legendary Sword Master.
Gunnar had once heard an opinion.
The deeper someone pursued swordsmanship, the harder their thoughts became to understand. Their view of the world changed. The instinctive emotions they were born with gradually faded, as if sliced away by their own blade.
Ssurrk!
Sasuke's eyes caught a subtle change.
Gunnar's palm shifted slightly on the sword hilt.
His grip tightened.
Arm muscles tensed.
A signal for the next attack.
Sasuke's arm lifted slightly, ready to move first.
But he stopped the motion.
Without wasting even the smallest opening, Gunnar immediately channeled sharp energy into both blades. A thin aura vibrated along the cutting edges, creating pressure strong enough to split the air.
Slash! Wssshhh!
The attack trajectory targeted the brief opening that had appeared earlier.
But.
Clang!
Sasuke deflected it casually.
His movement was simple and efficient, without excess force. After blocking one blade, his body rotated lightly to avoid the second blade that thrust toward his chest.
The attack pierced empty space.
The air split without touching its target.
"Ah!"
Gunnar halted when the strike failed again.
His body froze for a moment.
The distance between them was only a few steps, yet the feeling was like facing an abyss that could never be crossed.
Why is a man like this not famous even while being in the north?
The north was known as one of the three greatest powers in the Empire, alongside the capital territory and the Duchy of Eldarion.
Eldarion.
A vast territory in the western Empire, ruled by a half-elf Duke. That western ruler was renowned not only for his swordsmanship, but also for the perfect fusion of magic and blade techniques that brought him to the peak of power.
For centuries, the Eldarion family had been at odds with Velmora due to political differences.
The Velmora family led the neutral faction.
Meanwhile, the Eldarion family stood as a primary pillar of the crown prince's faction.
The conflict of interest between the two was no secret. Nobles down to the middle class had long been aware of the tension between those two great houses.
But now.
He was wagering everything here.
A man like this should have been famous long ago.
The previous Duke Velmora must have been truly extraordinary if he managed to hide the existence of this mysterious illegitimate child for years without a single major rumor surfacing.
I won't hold back anymore. I'll release everything.
Gunnar drew a slow breath. The cold air filled his lungs before he exhaled it in a steady rhythm. He lowered his center of gravity, adjusted his footing, and regulated his breathing to stabilize the flow of aura throughout his body.
His muscles tightened.
Both swords in his hands vibrated faintly as the energy within them continued to rise.
Then.
Fssshhh!
A circle of pressure formed around him, scattering snow into the air. White particles spun into a small vortex before being swept away by the aura wave he released.
Slash! Chaechaechaechaeng!
Sword trajectories formed according to the will of the dual-blade wielder. His first movement was so fast it left an afterimage, as if it had already split his opponent's body before the real blade even arrived.
Chwaek!
Sasuke's katana moved lightly.
The sharp energy was deflected efficiently without a large collision.
But the trajectory shifted instantly.
The second technique arrived within a fraction of a second, thrusting straight toward Sasuke's face at a speed far higher than the first movement.
The black-robed man simply took a small step to the side.
Wiusshh!
The attack struck empty air again.
Gunnar was stunned.
How did he avoid that?
The strike had been formed from a transition between techniques in an extremely short time. Even high-level aura practitioners would struggle to read that change.
Yet this man avoided it.
Again.
And again.
So easily.
The dual-sword user did not give up. From his current position, he swung his blades once more with perfect coordination between his right and left hands. His attack angles shifted rapidly, attempting to force his opponent into his combat rhythm.
But something faster happened.
Sasuke's blade moved first.
The motion was almost invisible.
The target was clear.
Gunnar's wrist.
Gunnar's reflexes responded at their limit. One of his swords immediately crossed to block the counterattack.
But something strange occurred mid-trajectory.
Instead of the inevitable collision.
Sasuke's sword changed direction abruptly.
From a slash into a thrust.
Piercing straight toward his abdomen.
Crrk!
"Aargkhh!"
Sharp pain exploded through his body.
Impossible!
This sword technique…
The movement is similar to that woman's!
Gunnar stomped his foot hard against the ground and leapt backward. Aura erupted from his body for a moment, creating a pressure wave that scattered the surrounding snow.
Dozens of steps of distance instantly formed between them.
He clutched the wound in his abdomen.
Warm blood flowed out, falling onto the white snow and quickly forming a striking crimson contrast.
Deep enough.
His abdominal muscles burned with pain every time he breathed.
So it's true.
He's an illegitimate child.
That conclusion became absolute in Gunnar's mind after witnessing that sword technique. The new evidence before his eyes destroyed the remaining doubt he once had.
It was impossible for two people to possess such similar trajectory-shifting patterns without a blood connection.
In his eyes.
The truth was obvious.
And Gunnar's pride collapsed completely.
The feeling came so strongly that his chest felt tight. All this time, he had always been confident facing any opponent as long as a sword remained in his hand. Even when confronting aura practitioners more famous than himself, he could still maintain composure and read opportunities for victory.
But now it was different.
The reason he had dared to engage this man from the beginning was not because of some deep obsession with swordsmanship that made him willing to risk his life for the sake of exchanging techniques.
It was not that.
There was one clear reason.
One that deeply wounded his pride.
The man before him had lost one arm.
Only a single arm remained.
And even with that condition, Gunnar had been unable to exert any pressure on him at all.
That reality felt like a brutal slap to his pride as a dual-sword practitioner.
I thought I had a chance because he was disabled.
But that was exactly where my judgment failed.
He is not an opponent weakened by losing a limb.
He is a monster among the swordsmen I have ever faced.
Every clash earlier proved one thing.
The man's strength, speed, and precision showed not the slightest deficiency despite using only one arm. His coordination even felt far more efficient than many normal swordsmen Gunnar had encountered.
As if losing an arm had not affected his combat ability at all.
It made no sense.
Gunnar swallowed.
The pain in his abdomen still throbbed, yet the mental pressure he felt was far heavier than the physical wound.
Maybe he's comparable to the woman from the Eldarion family.
The thought appeared before he could stop it.
He had heard the reputation of that western Duke. A monster who combined magic and swordsmanship to reach a level difficult for ordinary humans to comprehend.
If this black-robed man truly stood at the same level…
Then the situation was truly bad.
Extremely bad.
This mission had already become impossible to complete.
That conclusion formed clearly in his mind.
Even if he sacrificed his life here, the final result would most likely remain unchanged. The gap in power between them was far too vast to be bridged by determination or courage alone.
However.
As a swordsman.
Running away was not an easy choice either.
The hand holding his sword trembled slightly, not because he feared death, but because of the conflict between his survival instinct and the pride he had built all his life.
The cold air felt heavier.
Snow fell slowly between them, creating a brief pause before the next exchange began.