[520] The Nameless Swordsman (4)
Rian stopped at the mouth of Archi Mountain and fell into thought.
'I can't save everyone in the world.'
And even if he wanted to, trying to save someone without the ability was little more than suicide.
"I know, Shirone."
This wasn't like him.
Charging into enemy lines knowing he would die—going out in a blaze of glory—wasn't Rian's way.
"No, that's not it."
He smiled.
"I just have to go where my heart points."
The landscape was beautiful; clear birdsong stitched coolly through the valley.
But the aura of death waiting for him halfway up the slope distorted that beauty until it made him dizzy.
The more it pressed on him, the faster his steps cut through the underbrush.
If he was going to settle this, he didn't want to drag it out. Five more minutes of life wouldn't change the history he'd lived so far.
As he neared the bandits' mountain stronghold, two patrolmen drew their swords and blocked his path.
"What—who are you? Do you know where you've come?"
Rian didn't slow. He kept moving.
When the bandits took in his trained build and the greatsword on his back, killing intent finally filled their eyes.
"Stop. If you don't want to die. Who are you?"
Rian didn't answer. He reached out and grasped the greatsword's hilt.
"You bastard—!"
Not to be outdone, the two bandits rushed down the slope, blades raised.
"I'm Rian."
His jaw clenched, his face contorted, hot breath hissing past his teeth.
"I'm Shirone's sword."
Shock flickered across the bandits' faces.
A tremendous flash swept through like a tidal wave rising beyond the horizon.
* * *
Silvia was seized by an uncanny terror and felt an urge to say anything—something.
"By the way, why are you looking for that man?"
Lamdas leaned back in his chair and twirled his mustache.
"Hmm. Rumor has it he's reached divine transcendence."
"Divine transcendence?"
"He moves his body by the force of will. Whether it's actually possible is unclear, but it's a fascinating subject for a swordsman. It's why I left for knightly training at my age—to verify the reality of divine transcendence. I want to meet him. I want to see if the Knight of Maha is someone I could cut to pieces myself."
Lize glared. "You mean you'd kill him?"
"Ha-ha-ha! Who can say, young miss. Whether he lives or dies—that's what we'll learn by meeting him. If he truly is the yaksha of the myths, even my black iron armor will be like paper."
Lamdas turned his gaze to Silvia.
"Now then, tell me. Where is the Knight of Maha?"
He didn't seem the sort to toy with a woman, but there was a darker streak that suggested silence would be met with death.
"That man's a benefactor to our family. He did kill Fox, but he didn't look that strong. It might have been someone else."
Silvia dodged because she honestly didn't know where Rian was.
"A convenient rationalization. You did your best. Where is he?"
Silvia began to sob. "I don't know. I asked him for help last night, but he refused and left in the morning."
"Oh ho—how pitiable. If true, that's tragic indeed—that the Knight of Maha was nothing but a coward." Lamdas' face went cold at the words, and Lize snapped back.
"It's true! My brother just abandoned us and left!"
"Ha! So was it also a lie that he cut down that Fox with one stroke?"
"Th-that's not—"
Lamdas, nodding his torso as he thought, pressed on. "Then tell me. You were at the scene, so you must know. When that swordsman cut Fox, didn't you notice anything strange?"
Lize's face hardened as if struck. She couldn't recall the scene—not out of fear or shock, but because in that moment the world had seemed to warp.
Lamdas took her expression as proof. "So you saw it—the Deny."
"I don't know. I saw nothing."
"You didn't see nothing—you were in shock. It's a kind of shockwave that shatters common sense."
Lamdas grew excited. "Among sword practitioners they call it Axing. The Axing the Knight of Maha uses is called Deny."
The menace in Lamdas' voice made Lize grab Silvia's sleeve. "I don't understand any of this! And it has nothing to do with us!"
"Perhaps. But it concerns me. So you should know what the Knight of Maha is." Lamdas rose slowly and leaned forward. "His sword denies the truths of the world."
* * *
"Block him! He's only one man! Archers, hold your positions!"
The 120 members of the Red Spear bandit group moved with military precision. Maybe because their leader was a former soldier, their organization differed from other gangs.
Arrows rained from sixteen watchtowers, and footmen armed with swords and spears churned around Rian like breakers, seeking his life.
Swords threatened up close, spears were at reach, arrows fell from blind spots.
"Yaaaaa!"
Rian swung his greatsword in an X and scattered the troops, then smashed into a log pillar of a watchtower.
Where the blade passed the timber split clean, the tower lurched and crashed down.
"Arrgh!"
Rian found an archer in the wreckage and drove his greatsword through the man's back.
Eight spears thrust at once from different directions.
"Damn it!"
Rian rolled to evade and scanned his surroundings. No matter where he looked, there were only enemies.
'Yes—this is a hundred men.'
Anyone who'd seen war long knew how different a hundred in your head was from a hundred in reality.
He'd taken three in ten minutes, but that meant he could never wipe them all out. One every three minutes would take three hundred minutes to finish—five hours of risking his life, not the sort of sprint he wanted.
"Encircle him! Don't give him a break!"
The bandits knew this too. Rather than charging blindly, they tried to force Rian into a trap and strike only when the chance presented itself.
'There's no winning like this.'
Finish it within an hour.
The bandits, having read his plan, widened the distance. But Rian lunged like a beast, faster than their maneuver.
'What…?'
The world around him seemed to warp; the bandits' eyes widened. A motion that broke the rules of inertia—how could landing be swifter than the leap?
"Yaaaaaah!"
He swung the greatsword wide and cleaved three torsos.
An attack that could not be blocked by shields. The bandits recoiled, but sheer numbers gave them courage to press on.
"Kill him! If our numbers fall, we'll be in worse danger!"
The captain's shout galvanized them; they steeled themselves as if facing a monster that had attacked their village.
"Damn! He's not just some kid!"
From the bandits' viewpoint, Rian's balance was exceptional. But two hundred watchful eyes found openings and cut him.
"Ugh!"
Two arrows slammed into his shoulder and back, a spear sliced his flank.
'It's endless.'
He'd cut down forty so far, yet he felt no closer to closing the gap from 120 to 80.
'This isn't it.'
Fatigue mounted, and an unquenchable thirst for that perfect cut gnawed at him. His mental axis had tilted; everything he did felt wrong.
'I'd die for it if I must. But—'
Born a swordsman, he wanted—just once—to feel a perfect slash.
"Yaaaaa!"
He screamed and charged. If he lacked insight, he could only accumulate failures through his body.
'…What is this?'
How long had passed? Rian realized the number of enemies had shrunk significantly and felt puzzled. 'How many times did I swing?'
He couldn't remember the battle. No—he hadn't been conscious.
At the instant the sensation of the blade slicing—a clean shearing—reached him, a sharp thrill ran down his spine.
'This is it!'
For the first time, he executed a perfect cut while fully aware. As that cut registered in every cell of his body, he reached a conclusion—
'It wasn't that things were tilted.'
Nothing had been wrong from the start. The sword simply moves where it moves.
So what had been tilted wasn't the sword—
'It was me.'
Swordsmanship doesn't save the world. A sword doesn't slay by itself. Saving the world and taking life are human acts. A sword only needs to be swung as a human wills.
'It advances only for me!'
Where the greatsword passed, five necks erupted in fountains of blood in quick succession.
"The taste of cutting has sharpened."
Peycon, watching the battle from the bandits' platform, commented. He was so large the stone chair felt small, and a spear stained with human blood rested against the armrest.
"Maybe it's just luck. Enlightenment doesn't come easily," Brize said. He was the deputy and their only mage, a sixty-something man with a roughly trimmed beard like a brushed stroke.
"There's no such thing as luck. Especially not with the sword." Peycon had clearly noticed the change in Rian. "If genius understands before swinging, then the fool who realizes after ten thousand swings still has an advantage. But that ten thousand is frightening. It's the difference between a skilled gambler with one gold and a stupid gambler with a hundred million—who walks away with the money? Being able to swing ten thousand times is an asset genius can't buy."
Brize smoothed his beard. "Then I suppose I'll have to step in."
A swordsman in full stride is hard to handle with only infantry. Peycon nodded as if ordering him forward.
"Land one blow and come back. With someone of that caliber, we'll accept some losses."
Brize moved to the edge of the platform, raised both hands, and red flames gathered and burned above his head.
If he blasted the radius, his own men might die too, but if they couldn't stop the beast Rian had become, things would grow worse.
"You're skilled for one so young, but—"
Brize made the customary magical gesture, thrust both hands forward, and cast a massive fireball.
"You picked the wrong pool to play in."
"Fireball!"
As the bandits shouted, Rian hunched and turned his head. The instant he saw the blazing sphere carve the air, his eyes widened.
Divine Transcendence—Yaksha.
When the afterimage of his manifested form spread like expanding air, Brize, watching Rian, felt his hair stand on end.
"Kuuuu—!"
Rian twisted his waist with everything he had and swung his greatsword at the incoming fireball.
Axing—Deny.
A roar rose and a gale ripped outward; the fireball split in two and lost its force.
Brize stared, stunned. "My—my magic…"
Peycon, who had been observing, pushed his face forward in disbelief. "…He cut through the spell?"
Even he, who had spent decades on battlefields, had neither seen nor heard of such a thing beyond rumor.