Yorde Decker was a talent who had graduated at the top of the Academy's Swordsmanship Department.
As the eldest son of a humble knightly house, he lacked a rightful title, but he prided himself that his swordsmanship was second to none among the nobility.
As proof of this, how else could he have taken first place in a Swordsmanship Department teeming with renowned talents?
Because of this, he held a profound pride in his swordsmanship and harbored the conviction that he could undoubtedly become the very best even within the White Silver Lion Knight Order, the kingdom's finest.
'There are plenty of formidable seniors, but none are at an insurmountable level. Give me five years—no, two, and I will surpass them all.'
Highly ambitious and driven by success, Yorde's immediate goal was to become the Vice Commander of the 3rd Knight Division, one of the three battalions that made up the White Silver Lion Knight Order.
Of course, considering that the current Commander of the 3rd Division was one of only three Aura Users in the kingdom, surpassing him was still a distant prospect.
Thus, his immediate goal was the Vice Commander position, and to achieve that, he had to seize an opportunity to catch the Commander's eye.
'Senior Rihan...'
It was then that a senior knight—named Rihan or Ihan—caught Yorde's eye.
He had heard the man was a former soldier who became a knight by catching the Commander's eye, and was considered an outlier within the Knight Order.
Indeed, when Yorde first heard about him, he was rather perplexed.
He had heard that the man hadn't even mastered the basic 'Aura Technique'.
The wall between one who had mastered an Aura Technique and one who hadn't was as vast as the difference between a cat and a lion.
'Of course, he must have some edge to still be in the Knight Order. I won't let my guard down.'
He held no personal grudge against the man.
Yorde himself was from a humble background—born to a knightly house, yet lacking any proper title or land.
He was in no position to look down on anyone; if anything, Yorde sympathized with Rihan.
But sympathy was just sympathy.
Yorde intended to use him as a stepping stone—a signal flare for his own advancement.
Therefore.
'Do not call me heartless, Senior.'
Yorde didn't consider him an easy opponent, but he was still confident he would not lose.
──Though it took less than five minutes for him to realize that was sheer arrogance.
"Haaagh! Haaaagh...!"
"Come on, put a little more effort into it. I haven't even warmed up yet."
"Haaagh, keuh-ghak!"
"...Your stamina is seriously lacking."
His opponent was toying with him.
* * *
The knights, including Jake, were all focused on watching the sparring match between the rookie and Ihan, and every single spectator was clicking their tongue.
'What a vicious bastard.'
'He's completely toying with the kid.'
'...Same as ever.'
Tap, tap-tap!
Just like at the start, it was Yorde who charged in first.
Employing Phantom Sword techniques built upon a Swift Sword foundation, his blade was not only fast but exhibited myriad changes.
It was a stunning technique dazzling enough to captivate the eyes, and several knights merely frowned, finding it daunting to imagine a way to block such a strike.
Truly a skill befitting the top graduate of the Swordsmanship Department.
Had it not been for his humble background, it was a level of skill that would have easily secured him a place in the 1st or 2nd Knight Division, let alone the 3rd.
However, he drew the short end of the stick with his opponent.
Had he fought anyone else, he would have likely produced a good result or at least put on an impressive display.
'He's deflecting every single one of those.'
Ihan only displayed a defensive posture, completely blocking or parrying Yorde's dazzlingly brilliant sword strikes.
Without counterattacking and merely defending, his stance invited suspicion that he was being overwhelmed, but if he had blocked for five minutes without allowing a single effective hit—
Especially when the attacker was drenched in sweat while the defender hadn't broken a sweat, showing no signs of fatigue and not yielding a single step despite the relentless offensive.
This was no different from toying with his opponent.
"Oho, that's some impressive swordsmanship. What do you call that style?"
"Hah! Haaah!"
"Hmm, right, don't answer right now. You'll lose your breath."
"Keugh...!"
To an outsider, it might sound like mockery, but the knights knew better.
They knew that praise was entirely genuine.
Which only made it more humiliating.
'That's exactly why he makes my skin crawl.'
Anyone who had faced Ihan knew.
He was neither a genius who could simply analyze and dismantle an opponent's sword style on the spot, nor was he a grandmaster who overwhelmed his foes with experience and veteran prowess.
He was...
'He just watches closely and blocks.'
Or rather, he just reacts and blocks.
Outrageously, Ihan simply observed his opponent's weapon to the very end and blocked it.
No matter which direction it came from, no matter what kind of variation it underwent, he just watched it until the end and "blocked it well."
It was a statement that would leave anyone who wielded a sword—nay, any martial artist—utterly dumbfounded.
Everyone knew the obvious logic that whether it was a sword, spear, or arrow, it could be blocked if you just blocked it well. Yet, they also knew exactly how impossibly difficult it was to actually see the attack coming and evade or block it in real-time.
If anyone claimed that blocking was easy as long as you saw it, they were either a novice who had never held a sword or a moron who was all talk.
To that extent, what Ihan was doing was akin to acrobatics or a freak show of strength.
Because he was accomplishing something simple yet utterly absurd.
To pull off something like that, one had to move their body with absolute, free-flowing control, exactly as their mind intended.
Because of that, he was...
"Why did he have to pick a fight with that guy of all people and suffer such humiliation, really."
Jake shook his head, pitying the rookie.
-His breath came in ragged gasps, and his mind was growing increasingly hazy.
Yorde desperately wanted to throw himself onto the ground, be it dirt or anything else. A growing sense of anxiety was driving him to the brink of madness.
'W-What the hell is this guy?!'
Amazing? Veteran? Highly skilled?
He was none of those things.
He belonged to a category Yorde had never even witnessed during his time at the Swordsmanship Department.
He was just...
'Strong, he's just strong...!'
Just strong.
It wasn't that his techniques were extraordinary, nor did it feel like he had learned some special sword style.
Yet, he was strong.
"Eeek!"
Swish!
Yorde threw himself forward in a desperate frenzy and unleashed the Phantom Shadow Eight Sword Form.
One of the sword forms of the Phantom Sword Style, it was a technique where the myriad changes created by the movement of the wrists and feet made the sword appear as if there were multiple blades. If one watched to the very end of the form, the Phantom Sword Style even created an optical illusion where not just the sword, but the user's very body appeared to multiply.
But right now, such dazzling and subtle variations were completely ineffective.
Look at him even now.
Even as Yorde threw his body into a movement that anyone would struggle to react to, wasn't he observing it right down to the very end!
'His eyes... they're fixed on me the entire time.'
It would be natural to lose track at least once, yet his eyes continued to "hold" Yorde's image until the very end.
He wasn't just watching the sword; by observing his entire body to the end, he was predicting the next move and blocking the sword's trajectory.
Boom!
Not that Yorde's sword lacked destructive power.
Having mastered an Aura Technique, his physical capabilities were equivalent to ten soldiers combined.
Yet, Ihan was deflecting even that force head-on without showing an ounce of trembling or strain.
He just blocked silently, offering only a gaze of mild interest.
In that moment, Yorde felt his spirit on the verge of breaking.
A despair he had never even felt from his father was crashing over him.
A sense of helplessness, as if the swordsmanship he had trained in for twenty years—no, all the effort he had put in—was being entirely negated.
It crushed Yorde.
"-Aren't you fighting too half-heartedly?"
"......Pardon?"
"I'm asking if you're fighting half-heartedly. Didn't you challenge me to a spar because you wanted to win?"
"W-What...?!"
A thorn pierced fiercely through him in an instant.
Before Yorde could even gather his wits to control his expression, the thorn was twisted deeper.
"I'm right, aren't I? You probably heard the rumors. That there's a knight in the 3rd Division who used to be a common soldier and hasn't even mastered an Aura Technique. You figured if it was just him, you could take him on somehow."
"...T-That's..."
"Ah, I'm not trying to lecture you. So don't make that face like you've been stabbed. What I'm trying to say is this. You probably realized it about a minute into our spar. 'Huh? This guy isn't an easy mark.' —Isn't that right?"
"......"
He was spot on.
Those who know, know.
Whether it's a minute into a spar or the very first exchange of fists or blades, you get a feel for it the moment you clash.
Whether this person is strong, or whether they're an easy target.
And the moment Yorde first crossed blades with him, he felt a profound heaviness akin to a colossal boulder. He realized his assumption had been terribly wrong.
That this man was far from an easy mark, and was in fact a formidable master.
"Good, it's a relief you know. But here's the thing. Is that how someone who knows acts?"
"...I don't understand what you mean."
"You punk, you don't get it. Once you realized I wasn't an easy opponent, you should have bet everything on a single strike. You should have come at me with your most confident sword form, armed with the 'resolve' to win no matter what."
"......"
"But instead, why are you just hopping around like a rabbit and moping to yourself?"
"!!!"
Yorde wore a dazed expression, as if he had just been struck hard in the back of the head.
That was how immense the psychological shock Yorde had just sustained was.
Those words were so painfully accurate that he couldn't offer a single word of rebuttal.
Yes, exactly as he said, Yorde had known his opponent was overwhelmingly strong, yet instead of giving it his all with a certain-kill resolve, he had just been prancing around.
Even though his opponent showed no signs of fatigue and clearly didn't view him as a threat.
Realizing this, a different kind of shame washed over him.
Knowing his opponent was strong, yet remaining arrogant—no, acting like a complete idiot out of sheer stupidity—his own behavior was too pathetic for words.
Before succumbing to despair, he should have just clashed with everything he had.
At least then, it would have been a clean defeat.
"...I showed you a foolish display."
"Well, at least there was some worth in explaining it. Thank goodness you're not a complete fool."
"Yes, sir."
Yorde replied, pointing the tip of his sword straight ahead.
He was grateful to him.
For granting a profound realization to an arrogant fool who had been drowning in his own despair.
Therefore!
Vwooooo!
"I will give it my all."
"Oho."
He let out a sound of admiration.
No, every knight who was watching let out a gasp of admiration, their eyes widening.
Both Yorde's body and his sword began to tremble, exhibiting a resonance phenomenon.
It was clearly an unsharpened training sword, yet at this moment, its blade seemed to take on a razor-sharp edge.
Sword Resonance.
A resonance phenomenon that occurred when the wavelengths of the swordsman and the sword aligned perfectly; it was a manifestation of Sword Qi that only an extreme minority of even the most talented swordsmen could exhibit.
A sword that manifested Sword Resonance reached the absolute pinnacle of its inherent destructive power, capable of sometimes even defeating an opponent who possessed greater skill.
For a swordsman, it was a strike no different from a certain-kill blow.
And now, with his senses pushed to their absolute limits, Yorde induced Sword Resonance and thrust his blade forward.
Discarding all concerns for his stamina, mental fortitude, or whatever consequences might follow, he was left with the sole 'conviction' that he would cut him down.
Swish!
Yorde's sword displayed the greatest speed it had shown all day, arriving right in front of Ihan's nose in the blink of an eye.
The ultimate Swift Sword technique.
It was a pitch-perfect changeup from Yorde—discarding the Phantom Sword and staking everything on sheer speed alone.
And
"Yeah, not bad."
Ihan, still watching Yorde's movements to the very end, held a smile.
*
Craaash!
*
...Thud, thud, roll.
"Brutal bastard."
The spectators watched.
The remarkable rookie, who had even manifested Sword Resonance, seemed to be attempting a splendid finish, but truly...
"...Cough."
They watched the sight of him being ruthlessly shattered.
Like a stone skipping across water, Yorde bounced off the ground three times before crashing into the wall, where he trembled briefly before fainting dead away.
And the man who had just performed a human stone skip...
"Phew, that was refreshing."
He flashed a bright smile with a refreshingly clear expression.