Chapter 68: Request for Support

Just by watching Arandel fight Blackthorn, Isaac was able to learn and observe countless things.

Not just swordsmanship, but also how to deal with multiple opponents, how to handle a greatsword, breathing techniques, and the art of deliberately prolonging one’s footwork.

Like a massive tree that scatters fruit whenever it’s shaken, each swing of Arandel’s sword gave Isaac a new spark of inspiration and realization.

But now…

That towering trunk was trembling violently.

He had run into a storm so fierce that the knowledge pouring into Isaac’s mind started to twist and tangle in an instant.

He continued stacking that knowledge, piece by piece, but even so, he knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

ClAANG!

When the great saber came crashing down from above, Arandel did not dodge; he countered head-on.

There was no way Arandel would ever lose in a contest of raw power.

Even though the Grandmaster knew that perfectly well, she insisted on fighting in the manner her opponent wanted for one reason only:

‘Because victory isn’t the goal.’

What the Grandmaster wanted was Isaac—specifically, the Isaac who might know something about her old friends. The unfortunate truth was that this was all just a misunderstanding.

The great saber and the greatsword clashed like raging storms.

No matter how elite the knight or noble the royalty, none could approach them. Onlookers backed away from the two locked in that fierce struggle. 

If you stood too close, you’d be carved to pieces before you even had a chance to react. Where the pinnacle of aura and the height of swordsmanship collided, the wind itself howled with razor-like edges.

“Isaac, we have to get out of here!”

Sharen urgently tugged on Isaac’s arm. He had been so captivated by the duel that he forgot to blink.

“If we stay here, we’ll die!”

And in that moment, as Isaac was pulled back by sheer force—

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

The Grandmaster’s eyes gleamed. Lightly stepping off the swinging greatsword, she vaulted past Arandel and lunged straight toward Isaac.

“Re-Red wave!”

A crimson wave shot forth. It was weaker because Sharen had launched it from her palm, but realistically, even if she had fired it from a greatsword, the result would’ve been the same.

“How adorable—!”

As expected, Sharen’s Red wave was sliced cleanly in half. Startled, Sharen trembled, but her grip on Isaac only tightened.

At that moment, Isaac pushed Sharen aside and drew his sword. If he wasn’t careful, the Grandmaster might kill Sharen. He had to prevent such a tragedy at all costs.

It was a quick-draw strike.

‘She’s swinging with the intent to kill!’

She already knew she couldn’t actually kill him, so if he could just make her hesitate for a split second, it might be enough. Or so he thought—

“Impressive.”

His blade cut only empty air. The Grandmaster had already used the momentum to circle over Isaac’s head and seize his back.

CLAANG!

Grabbing him by the nape, she slammed him to the ground.

She twisted her body in midair by swinging her sword downward, using the gust to leap again—an acrobatic maneuver that could only be called a stunt.

“Guhh!”

“I apologize for treating a disciple of my own order so harshly, but understand that I’m just that desperate.”

“Isaac!”

Sharen tried to rush over, but Isaac held out a hand to stop her.

“Don’t come any closer!”

He was fine. He knew he wouldn’t die.

But it was different for Sharen. If anyone else approached now, they could really be killed in an instant.

“Let me expl—!”

Suddenly, the ground flushed crimson. The earth trembled as though an earthquake had struck, and the Grandmaster’s ears perked up.

Like lava bursting skyward, scarlet energy erupted from the ground, flinging soil in all directions and momentarily obscuring their view.

Even so, the Grandmaster did not let go of Isaac. But—

“Sharen! Catch!”

From the distance came Silverna’s voice, followed by a spear that flew straight between Isaac and the Grandmaster. The white aura imbued in it briefly flared even without its owner, forcibly opening the distance between them.

“I got him—I’ve got him!”

Sharen caught Isaac as he was flung into the air, breathing a sigh of relief to see him safe. But Isaac’s gaze was fixed on the Grandmaster.

“So it’s magic, not swordsmanship.”

From within the scarlet upheaval of the earth, the Grandmaster emerged unscathed. She calmly brushed off the dirt and met the gaze of Arandel, who now stood in front of her again.

“...”

Arandel silently raised his greatsword. He no longer meant to drag this out. Crimson aura surged around his blade.

It was an absolute strike—one that shatters, tears, burns, and reduces everything to rubble. Arandel unleashed it with both hands.

Red Death Strike.

A sword art worthy of being called the pinnacle of Helmut erupted again from Arandel’s hands. In response, the Grandmaster gripped her massive saber with both hands, her eyes flashing.

A slash that painted the world in red—within it, a sharply curving crescent moon emerged.

Moonlight.

A devouring force and a blade meant to cut it collided, whipping up a massive cloud of dust that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

In that brief clash, the winner and loser were decided.

“Hehe, this is…absurd.”

On one side, the Grandmaster was down on one knee, catching her breath with her great saber driven into the ground. Parts of her clothing were torn, and her once-pale skin was smeared with blood.

On the other side, Arandel stood upright on both legs. Though he bore visible wounds, the outcome was clear.

The Grandmaster’s Moonlight had failed to pierce Arandel’s Red Death Strike.

But considering that no one in the earlier battle against Blackthorn had even managed to draw blood from Arandel—

The fact that the Grandmaster alone had wounded him and made him bleed spoke volumes about her skill.

“As expected of you, Father!”

“We just witnessed something incredible.”

On either side of Isaac, both Sharen and Silverna expressed awe. Others chimed in with cheers for Arandel’s victory.

“Guhk—!”

Suddenly, dark red blood spilled from Arandel’s lips, which had been firmly closed until then. The blood dripped off his chin, pooling on the ground.

His massive form wavered. He slammed his greatsword into the ground to keep himself upright.

“Father?!”

“Wait, did Arandel…lose?”

As countless onlookers murmured in confusion, believing the tide had turned, only Isaac and the Grandmaster grasped what was really going on.

“So that’s why you wanted to settle this so quickly.”

Arandel’s poor condition did not escape the Grandmaster’s notice.

His chronic illness, unexpectedly, seemed to reset the outcome of the battle to square one.

When everyone’s eyes were drawn to Arandel, Isaac alone kept his gaze fixed on the Grandmaster.

In that crowd of people, their eyes met squarely.

They were a bit too far apart to speak, yet the moment the Grandmaster saw Isaac’s expression, her own eyes slowly widened.

‘You’ve always had a good intuition.’

Whether it was because she was half Transcendent or simply because she was born with the instincts of the Grandmaster, no one could say for sure. Slowly rising to her feet, the Grandmaster sheathed her great saber and steadied her breathing.

Then, without a sound, she withdrew.

“After her!”

At Lohengrin’s shout, the knights of Helmut rushed to pursue the Grandmaster. But no matter how wounded a wolf might be, humans can’t hope to outrun it on foot. With Arandel unable to move, the Grandmaster was sure to escape safely.

‘The problem is…’

It was Arandel Helmut, whose face had turned visibly pale as dirt.

.

.

.

“...A chronic illness.”

Having heard Arandel’s situation, Princess Clarice let out a weary sigh.

The atmosphere in the command tent was grim. Both the revelation that Arandel had hidden a chronic illness and the fact that the kingdom’s sword was now jeopardized were extremely important issues, but—

“We’re about to subdue Blackthorn...”

They only had Blackthorn’s massive estate left to seize. Presumably, it would be swarming with Transcendents, and even just the absence of Arandel filled the air with uneasy tension.

They would resist with everything they had, and it would undoubtedly be the fiercest battle of all.

‘Which is why an hour…’

Folding her arms, Princess Clarice tapped her fingers and nodded. Arandel had only been active for an hour at a time, all to conceal his illness. It was a puzzle piece that fit neatly into place, but it brought her no satisfaction.

Of course, he also wanted Isaac to gain more real combat experience, but naturally, Princess Clarice hadn’t even considered that possibility.

In any case—

“Tomorrow, we should begin our offensive on Blackthorn’s estate immediately.”

With Princess Clarice unexpectedly taking command, the other nobles voiced their agreement. If they wasted time, who knew what bizarre tactics the Transcendents might attempt? And on top of that, word of Arandel’s injury could reach the enemy.

They didn’t want to give the cornered rats any chance to slip through a crack in the wall.

“It’ll all be over soon, anyway.”

“It won’t even take an hour.”

“We already have an overwhelming advantage. There’s no need to worry.”

Hearing such bold assurances from her advisors, Princess Clarice nodded. Indeed, they were in an overwhelmingly favorable position.

But.

‘Why do I feel so uneasy…?’

Princess Clarice prided herself on having decent intuition. The more she heard these nobles boast, the stronger her sense of foreboding grew.

“Then who will command on the front lines tomorrow—?”

“Your Highness.”

Filling in for Arandel, Lohengrin, who was seated at the table, placed his hand over his heart with a confident expression.

“Leave it to me.”

“...”

The princess thought to herself:

‘ I really need to devise a plan.’

.

.

.

“That’s why I came to see you, Isaac.”

“...”

Isaac, seated in his own tent, wore an awkward expression as he looked at Princess Clarice. He could understand why she was outright dismissing Lohengrin—it wasn’t exactly incomprehensible.

‘He really hasn’t earned her trust at all.’

It seemed Lohengrin stood somewhere on the edges of Helmut in Princess Clarice’s mind.

“Please. Lead the assault on the estate tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Now that Arandel was gone, there was no one left to order Isaac to stand by and watch from the sidelines. At last, the moment had come for him to draw his sword in real combat, and his heart pounded a little with excitement. Moreover, he wanted to personally fulfill the promise he had made to Pollu back in the North.

Upon hearing Isaac’s answer, Clarice’s expression brightened noticeably.

“Thank you! I feel a bit more at ease now. I’ll go tell Silverna, so please work well together tomorrow.”

With that, Clarice stepped outside. Since Silverna had also been kept from the front lines alongside Isaac, she would surely welcome the news.

“She left.”

After the princess left, Isaac discreetly took out a book. The pages were worn from constant use, and after skimming the margins, he clicked his tongue in mild frustration.

‘This won’t be enough.’

He pulled out another fresh book.

His bookcase was nearly empty now, and the Silent Sword pen in his hand moved quickly yet calmly across the blank pages.

He intended to write down everything he had witnessed today—both sides’ unbelievably grand and majestic swordsmanship. Once he laid it all out on paper, he planned to sift through it again for anything he could apply or adapt for himself.

It had lasted barely ten minutes, that exchange of blades. Even so, Isaac’s new book was already filling up fast.

“Hmm, how incredible.”

A woman’s voice came from behind him. Normally, Isaac became oblivious to his surroundings when concentrating, but this time, the intruder’s presence had been expertly concealed. She had slipped past even the knights stationed around the area and reached his tent.

“...!”

Startled, he whipped around—only to see the Grandmaster peering over his shoulder with her hand resting against her chin.

“How very detailed. I’m almost embarrassed.”

“If you could sneak in like this at night, why did you make such a show of it during the day?”

“Ah, but how could a lady enter a man’s quarters under cover of darkness?”

“...”

“Hm, Arandel would have noticed me instantly. But I hear he has left the front lines for treatment, yes?”

It was top-secret information, but somehow she had found out. Isaac chose not to ask how.

“Well then, the fact that you were watching me so intently must mean you have something to say. I, too, have questions I’d like answered.”

“How’s your injury?”

Confident she would come, Isaac had prepared bandages and antiseptic in advance.

“It’s not fine at all.”

The Grandmaster did not refuse. That alone showed how serious the injuries inflicted by Arandel were. In fact, the large leaf she had hastily slapped over the wound seemed more likely to make things worse.

While tending to the visible injuries, Isaac spoke up.

“Tomorrow, we’re planning to raid Blackthorn.”

“Mm? I’m aware. But don’t get the wrong idea—I truly have nothing to do with those—”

“Help us.”

“...Hm?”

“We need your help.”

At that, the Grandmaster’s ears twitched, as if to confirm she’d heard him correctly.

– – The End of The Chapter – –

 

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