XElenea
patreon
MT - 71 Shadows
🕑 Added 2024-12-21 03:14:00 +0000 UTCBattles often erupt in an instant.
The leading man sneered, his figure accelerating in a flash. The gap between him and his prey was already dangerously small—a distance that spelled doom for most magicians.
His speed was impressive. Though his strength paled compared to someone like Ghislaine or even Ruijerd, his combat experience far surpassed that of his opponent. The difference was a gulf as vast as heaven and earth.
Yet experience alone isn't everything. Combat prowess isn't merely about skill; it's honed in life-or-death struggles. These men, seasoned warriors accustomed to living on the edge, could hardly be contained by the capabilities of an intermediate swordsman.
A chilling sense of danger enveloped Rudeus. Thinking quickly, he turned the ground beneath the bandit into a quagmire, hoping to stall his advance. At the same time, he gathered flames in his palm, launching a fireball skyward to call for help.
The burly man scowled as he felt his movements slow. A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.
With no warning, he flung his iron sword forward. The weapon became a streak of cold light, hurtling straight toward Rudeus. The decision was made in an instant—before he fully realized he was trapped, he had already committed to the attack.
The exchange happened faster than a blink.
North God Style.
By the time Rudeus realized what was happening, the sword was already upon him.
Moonlight reflected off the blade, turning it into a gleaming streak that cut through the air with a piercing whistle. Rudeus's heart pounded as the weapon closed in, faster than he could react. There wasn't enough time to cast another spell.
In that instant, a thought crossed his mind: If my brother were here, he would have caught this blade without breaking a sweat. He'd probably snap his fingers right after and obliterate every last one of these bandits.
But it wasn't his brother standing here—it was Rudeus.
He lacked the courage, the strength, and the confidence to face the attack head-on.
The shadow of death loomed closer. The blade was nearly upon him; he could almost feel the sharp edge tearing into his flesh.
Instinctively, he shut his eyes, retreating into the safety of denial.
Just as he had in his past life—as long as he avoided reality, he wouldn't have to confront its harshness.
"I'm sorry, Nii-san. I failed to complete your task."
That was his final thought.
But the pain never came.
Rudeus felt nothing. The icy blade that had been poised to strike him was now entangled in a dark, slender thread.
Roy stood beside Rudeus, his face impassive as he looked down at him.
Rudeus's terrified, almost pathetic expression nearly made Roy chuckle. Still, there was a faint glimmer of courage in the boy—not much, but enough to be worth noting.
The bandits, however, stared at Roy in a mix of shock and unease.
The leader's face darkened, his voice strained but steady. "Who are you? This job—"
Roy cut him off, his tone dripping with derision. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."
The bandit leader snarled, baring his teeth. "And who the hell are you to interfere? If you're here to save him, you'd better think about your own strength first!"
Roy's black coat shifted gently in the breeze. The moonlight bathed the street in a pale glow, though his face remained shrouded in shadow. His elegant black robe radiated an air of both antiquity and quiet power.
He stood silently, his sharp gaze pinning the bandit leader in place.
A shiver ran down the man's spine, and his bravado crumbled. He found himself unable to utter another insult, feeling as though every hidden fear and vulnerability had been laid bare under Roy's piercing stare.
The magical thread binding the sword unraveled, sending the weapon clattering to the bandit leader's feet. It sank into the dirt with a dull thud.
With a flick of his wrist, Roy restored the quagmire to solid ground, the earth becoming firm once more.
"I'll give you a fair fight." Roy said coldly. "I'll use only my swordsmanship."
The bandit leader faltered, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Deep down, he cursed the incompetence of his accomplices. Even a simple kidnapping had been bungled.
Rudeus sat slumped on the ground, trembling from the relief of having narrowly escaped death. He stared blankly at Roy's back, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Eris, standing nearby, watched the man before her with a pensive expression.
"Let's begin." Roy's cold, detached voice cut through the tension.
The burly man clenched his jaw, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. With a grunt, he yanked the blade from the soil and fixed his sharp, vengeful gaze on Roy. His voice was low as he barked over his shoulder, "What are you all standing around for? Attack together!"
The bandits exchanged uncertain glances before one of them muttered a hesitant reply.
"Oh? All together, is it? Fine by me. After all, none of you qualify as proper swordsmen." Roy said, his calm, magnetic voice laced with disdain.
Eris, however, had her eyes locked on Roy's waist, frowning. He doesn't seem to be carrying a weapon at all.
Roy stepped forward slightly, extending his right hand. It was still shrouded in the same dark, thread-like aura. What happened next left Eris speechless.
The threads began to flow like water, swirling and coalescing until they formed a slender, three-foot-long sword.
The blade was pitch black, with intricate, gleaming patterns etched along its surface. The moment the weapon materialized, Roy's presence shifted. His air of composed elegance intensified, radiating a quiet confidence.
Taking a single step forward, he allowed a faint smile to curve his lips. "Shall we start with you?" He said, addressing the burly man.
Roy began walking toward his opponent, his movements calm and deliberate. His unhurried pace only served to fuel the man's anger. With a roar, the bandit launched himself at Roy.
The North God Style had always favored underhanded tactics, and this man was no exception. His skill level was at the peak of intermediate mastery, but to Roy, it was laughably inadequate.
As the bandit closed the distance, his muscles bulged, and he gathered every ounce of his strength into a decisive thrust aimed directly at Roy's chest.
The strike was cunning. Despite his size, the man's true specialty was in thrusting attacks. His earlier feint—a wide swing—was designed to mislead, tricking Roy into expecting a heavy slash.
But Roy barely moved. He stepped lightly to his right, and the supposedly lightning-fast thrust pierced nothing but air.
Before the man could recover, a sharp pain erupted in his chest. His vision darkened, and he collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
The three remaining bandits, who had been charging forward, froze mid-step. They stared in disbelief at their leader's fallen form, his eyes wide with frustration and confusion.
"One strike… He took him down in a single strike?"
They exchanged panicked glances, fear taking hold.
No one knew who shouted first, but the next moment, the three scattered, sprinting toward the streets in different directions.
"Heh."
Roy raised a finger and made a small motion. Instantly, the fleeing bandits stopped dead in their tracks. Their bodies fell to the ground, lifeless. In the moonlight, three thin black threads gleamed faintly as they retracted, dripping with blood onto the cobblestone.
"Dull." Roy muttered, curling his lip in boredom. He turned his gaze toward Rudeus.
Before Rudeus could say a word, Eris stepped forward. She bowed deeply to Roy, her voice sincere. "Thank you… for saving us."
