Chapter 26 - Confrontation

A crystal ball might seem an odd choice in an age when radios and telephones were already widespread, but magical tools like these still had their uses: they could not be traced.

The crystal ball the imperial prince and the minister of administration were peering into, called the Farseeing Eye, served precisely that purpose.

“What will you do, Your Highness?”

Rad spoke around a mouthful of nuts he had fetched from somewhere. The very fact that he could snack while watching several knights beat Deathwish said a great deal about his character.

Inside the crystal ball, Aiden was stepping forward with Katya behind him.

“I didn't expect the Lionhearted's husband to get involved. This complicates matters.”

For someone claiming matters had become complicated, he sounded remarkably relaxed. The prince, who had been watching beside him with his chin propped on his hand, gave him a sidelong look.

“You sound as though you expected this.”

“No. The situation itself was entirely unexpected.”

Rad leaned his chair back at his leisure before continuing.

“I thought Deathwish would kill at least half the men we sent. Her resistance has been much milder than expected.”

“...”

“We need a pretext for a political attack, and at this rate we'll have nothing. I didn't see this coming either.”

The prince's eyes narrowed. The people Rad had expected to die were the knights currently ganging up on Katya.

He had sent them himself, yet he sounded deeply disappointed that there were no casualties. As though he had dispatched them with that outcome in mind from the start.

“You're less a strategist than a viper, Rad.”

“Thank you for the compliment, but even the finest strategist doesn't have the final say.”

Rad smiled as he continued.

“The decisions are yours, Your Highness. I merely provide the means.”

“...”

“So tell me. What will you do about the Lionhearted's husband?”

“Let's hear your recommendation first.”

“Attack him.”

The prince stared at him in disbelief.

“... If we attack the Lionhearted's husband himself, we really won't be able to contain the fallout if anything goes wrong.”

“Won't we?”

“You assessed him yourself. His command of supernatural powers is extraordinarily good, but his combat skills aren't even at a beginner's level. They're atrocious.”

Pitting several knights against such a man was excessive, especially when the slightest harm to him was no laughing matter.

“Surely it'll be fine as long as he isn't hurt too badly. I don't think he'll go down that easily, either.”

“On what grounds?”

“We went so far as to acquire something as rare as Suppression Pillars for this plan, and that man has derailed it completely.”

He could not be certain, but judging by the atmosphere, that man was also the reason Deathwish had become so mild. They had even deliberately used a rare supernatural power like shamanic magic to ensure no one could pursue them, yet he had tracked them down all by himself.

Both reasons Rad's plan had gone wrong at its very foundations stemmed from that man. He was definitely hiding more than he let on.

“... Are you saying we should be wary of him as a potential obstacle? That he could interfere with our grand undertaking?”

“We're not at that stage yet.”

His verdict was categorical.

“In my personal opinion, he's a con man.”

That was the sum of Rad's assessment of Aiden Kellermain. An ordinary man. One who strove to remain ordinary. Who had never done anything rough in his life and rarely even found himself in a fight. A lucky nobody who had stumbled into his current position.

“Then you're contradicting yourself. Why pay so much attention to a mere con man?”

“Because there's a good chance we'll have to pay attention to him in the future.”

As Rad spoke, his blue, gleaming gaze remained fixed on Aiden inside the crystal ball.

“... For someone who's lived an ordinary life, the power he wields seems a little beyond what he deserves.”

An uncanny blue light shone in his irises as his gaze swept over every inch of Aiden's face.

“Against several knights... he has no chance of winning. But surely he can show us something interesting?”

▣

'Fight him?'

Sir Levant checked the order that had come over the communicator in bewilderment. Attacking the Lionhearted's associates was one thing; directly attacking her or her husband carried enormous risks, and he knew it.

He had already received the intelligence. He knew how strong his opponent was.

'He certainly—'

A wielder of multiple supernatural powers. A dangerous, powerful distinction. Indeed, the powers flowing around his body right now were tremendously strong.

But.

'His combat experience is negligible.'

Levant had already heard leaked accounts of the man's fight at the exchange ceremony with the Tribal Alliance. He wielded inexplicable powers, but his skill in applying them was appallingly crude. Anyone who had ever honed their combat skills would agree.

With that in mind...

“We don't intend to kill you. Don't put up a pointless struggle.”

As he spoke, Sir Levant took an orb-shaped ritual implement from inside his clothing and crushed it.

A translucent wave spread in every direction. Every supernatural power within its range visibly weakened. The knights' energy, the divinity dwelling within Katya, every kind of supernatural power Aiden was emitting—all of it.

“—”

Aiden's eyes narrowed.

His fighting style fundamentally relied on high-powered supernatural abilities. They had not disappeared entirely, but having their strength reduced was a serious handicap in itself.

By contrast, even with their energy diminished a little, the knights still possessed the combat skills they had spent their lives honing.

They had presumably brought the item specifically to counter Katya, but its effect applied to Aiden all the same.

“Neither side will come out of a fight looking good. Stay put.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. As I said, we don't intend to kill you.”

They only needed to injure him a little, beat him soundly, and send him packing. If he had any brains, he would not charge this many knights after losing his greatest advantage.

“You'd best abandon the notion that being the Lionhearted's husband guarantees your safety. Officially, we don't exist. Nothing that happens here ever happened.”

“You lot talk an awful lot for people who gang up on someone who isn't even fighting back.”

“... It is necessary.”

“Of course it is.”

At that, Aiden drew his sword and replied calmly.

“Then surely it's necessary for you to do the same to me?”

Katya, who had been sitting quietly behind him until now, went wide-eyed at those words.

“Wait, if you do that—!”

“It's all right.”

Beneath those words lay a firmness utterly devoid of his usual easygoing warmth. It would be more accurate to call it fury. Fury filled with the determination to crush these bastards' skulls, here and now, if nothing else.

“Why do you think I train, push myself, and go through hell to get stronger?”

When he thought about it, the answer was obvious. Gathering strength, growing, copying skills for the Main Quest—all well and good. But fundamentally, why was he accumulating power?

“I train so I can beat the shit out of bastards like these.”

Whoever his enemies were, whoever stood behind them, whatever they wanted. Family, friends, loved ones... It was to protect the people inside his own circle.

“What else are friends for?”

“What...?”

“Let someone else handle things sometimes.”

As Katya's eyes widened once more, Sir Levant snorted in disbelief. He was certain Aiden could not possibly stand against them. He jerked his chin toward the nearest knight.

“You know the drill. Don't kill him.”

Without his supernatural powers, the man was nothing. There was no reason to be nervous. They just had to subdue him and be done with it.

“Yes, sir.”

The others nearby raised their swords with equally indifferent expressions. Clearly, they all considered deploying this much strength against a man like him overkill.

Then the knights sprang forward as one. Their coordinated assault surged in from every direction with the fury of a thunderbolt.

And...

“...?”

That was when they sensed something was wrong. Anyone would have. Aiden's complete stillness made no sense at all.

He stood rooted to the spot. As though there were nothing wrong with doing so.

Even with their supernatural powers suppressed, knights who had dedicated their lives to honing their combat skills could easily move beyond human limits. Attacks too fast for an ordinary person's eyes to follow were hurtling in from every direction.

And yet, Aiden's gaze—the eyes of a man supposedly devoid of combat experience—was following every sword trajectory in that tangled skein.

“...!”

Goose bumps swept over Sir Levant's body.

Then...

“You said nothing that happens here ever happened. Which also means—”

With those words...

“It doesn't matter what happens to you, either, right?”

In an instant, the knights charging him were hurled outward in every direction. They scattered like scraps of cardboard and crumpled to the ground.

“...”

“...”

Amid the silence, Sir Levant lay sprawled on the ground, blinking blankly. The physical blow was one thing, but the mental shock was far greater.

'... What just happened?'

This many knights had been subdued by a single man in a single instant. Nothing short of an unfathomable gulf in ability could explain it.

'You've got to be fucking kidding...!'

He ground his teeth and got up. He had never suffered such humiliation even as a trainee knight.

It had to be because they had let their guard down. If they coordinated properly and attacked again, their opponent could not possibly counter them. That had to be true.

And yet, strangely...

“You said you wouldn't kill me, didn't you?”

Looking at the man standing there with those quiet eyes, Levant felt that certainty drain away.

“I'll return the consideration. I won't kill you.”

“... There's a limit to your insolence—”

“But there's something I know from experience.”

Aiden murmured with unfocused eyes. The expression came naturally as those horrific memories wore away at his reason without his noticing.

“There are a hell of a lot more ways to hurt someone until they'd rather be dead than you bastards can imagine.”

Mostly at Meyer's hands. Mostly in his dreams. When someone beat you to death often enough, you inevitably experienced injuries that made you beg them to put you out of your misery.

In that field, at least, Aiden could qualify as a top instructor...

“So I'll teach each of you one. Otherwise, it just wouldn't be fair to me.”

At those words, the knights flinched and backed away. The very air seemed to change in an instant.

Seeing that, Sir Levant understood instinctively. Everything he had heard, everything he had seen, every assessment everyone here had made of that man had to be discarded on the spot.

What was that about negligible combat experience? Crude technique?

'What a load of fucking bullshit...!'

The viciousness before them could only come from a veteran who had crossed the line between life and death countless times. The pressure was so terrible that Levant could have believed the man had personally experienced death over and over...!

“Ghk...!”

Unable to bear the pressure any longer, someone sprang forward, and the battle resumed.

In group combat, the Empire's knights prioritized seamless coordination, moving as a single body. Rather than simply attacking together, they surrounded their target from every angle, leaving no openings and ensuring the kill.

But once again...

—!

—!!

A sword swept through the air once, and the knights forming the encirclement all collapsed.

“Wh-what?”

“How the hell did he do that?!”

The technique was so uncanny that they forgot they were in combat and blurted out those questions. Yet the man responsible was already moving into his next action as though it were nothing.

“Seriously, if I can't shine here, it just isn't fair...”

Grinding his teeth, he swung his sword and muttered with vacant eyes. In a situation that demanded combat skill, the feeling he clung to was all too clear.

How much shit had he gone through just to shine at a time like this? How many horrors had Meyer inflicted on him?

Helplessness, pain, despair, resignation that nothing he did would let him escape the suffering...!

So...!

“You bastards can try it too...!”

“...”

“It's not fair if I'm the only one who suffers...!”

“...”

His resentment was rather misdirected.

▣

As the knights screamed and were smashed to pieces by that aimless fury, the prince and Rad stared speechlessly into the crystal ball.

“... Shall I be honest?”

For once, Rad's smile was gone. He spoke in a subdued voice and tapped the crystal ball. It showed Aiden swinging his sword with unfocused eyes.

But despite that oddly unimpressive appearance, the results were enough to leave them stunned.

“This is something only a veteran with at least ten years on the battlefield could do, isn't it? Overwhelming several knights single-handedly?”

“... A veteran with very, very, very abundant talent and experience.”

The prince pressed a hand to his forehead as he added that qualification.

In truth, he doubted even a veteran as gifted and experienced as he described could accomplish this. He himself was a swordsman whose talent had earned him the name of genius in the capital, and that allowed him to analyze what he was seeing.

More precisely, to understand how absurd it was.

“... He's taking them wholesale.”

“What does that mean?”

“Mr. Aiden is taking the movements of everyone there wholesale.”

Rad fell silent for a moment. He could not fully understand what the prince had just said.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“The techniques he's using keep changing, so I can't give a definitive answer, but...”

The prince continued, sounding dazed. The knights had tried another coordinated attack on Aiden, only to fall away like leaves in an autumn wind.

“His footwork is Wind Talker, the sword form created by the Knight of Storms...”

Steps as light as a spring breeze. His body twisted freely from one direction to another, disrupting the course of every attack coming at him.

“In his lower body, he's using Floating Grass, a favorite of the Wanderer of Spring...”

His center of gravity shifted as softly as swaying grass, combining with that spring breeze to produce utterly dazzling movement.

“His sword strikes follow the paths of Crescent Moon, created by the Assassin of Dusk...”

Simple, straightforward sword strikes along straight lines, heavy yet all the quicker to recover.

“... He's using all of them at once.”

“I understand those techniques exist, but what do you mean he's taking—”

“They're the techniques those knights are using.”

“... Pardon?”

“It's hardly surprising for imperial knights to have learned different systems of swordsmanship. A School takes shape as people establish their own theories, hone them in battle, and incorporate their individual experience.”

Ultimately, even the same technique could be used in vastly different ways. That was why people who learned the same swordsmanship still left traces as distinct as fingerprints.

Their lives as swordsmen, their combat experience, their theories and expertise were all distilled into movements worthy of being called secret techniques.

“All of it is being stolen. In an instant.”

And yet every technique Aiden was using now was a movement used by the knights attacking him. As though it were nothing, he was analyzing and copying the achievements they had spent their entire lives building.

... There was no explaining it. What technique could possibly make such a thing possible?

And that was not even the most absurd part.

Even those uncanny combat skills could not fully explain the miracle he was performing against the knights.

Was Aiden physically far stronger than them? Faster? More capable? No. His supernatural powers were supporting his physical abilities, but even accounting for that, he could be called weak.

In terms of physique alone, any one of those knights could take on a whole truckload of men like Aiden.

Then why were they being crushed so one-sidedly, unable to so much as graze a hair on his head?

'... How?'

The prince followed Aiden's movements with a look of utter stupefaction.

'How is every answer right?'

At those crossroads in battle where decisions made in fractions of a second determined life or death, every judgment that man made was correct.

He anticipated the path of a sword and moved out of its way. He deflected coordinated attacks. He twisted them aside, moved, countered, subdued—

Every time, at every instant, he chose the most efficient movement without hesitation. At every moment, he seized the shortest route to victory.

'No.'

Studying Aiden's movements closely, the prince immediately revised that impression.

There was no forward drive toward victory. It was something far more desperate.

'Not victory. Survival.'

Aiden Kellermain was not fighting his way toward victory. He was fighting by avoiding every choice that led to death.

As though he had experienced it already. As though his entire body had already learned that failing to do this would kill him.

A fear of pain, remembered by his nerves, carved into his muscles, branded upon his soul, was making him choose those movements instinctively.

“—”

What on earth had that man experienced in his past to approach combat in such a way?

At a loss for words, the prince closed his eyes for a moment.

“...”

Then, with his eyes closed, he pressed hard against his temple.

“... Rad.”

“Yes.”

“You found nothing when you investigated that man, correct?”

“... Correct.”

“Investigate him again.”

“...”

“There's no way he's an ordinary con man. None. He was most likely subjected to training brutal enough to grind his bones and tear his flesh from childhood.”

“... My intelligence gathering has never been wrong.”

“Then this is the first time. That's an order. Dig through everything again, from beginning to end.”

This time, it was Rad's turn to fall silent.

As he tapped his chin in thought, wearing a rare look of gravity, the prince gazed into the crystal ball with somber eyes.

'... Where the hell did this man come from?'

The emotions in his gaze were too complicated even for him to explain.