"I won't let you fall to something like poison. Got it? And if you have something to say, say it clearly."
Just before Ragna stepped forward, Anne handed him several bottles of medicine from behind.
Ragna was about to tell Anne that he too had contracted the disease, then decided against it.
Now wasn't the time to say that.
Ragna knew what he needed right now. As always, when he gripped his sword, the path became visible.
'Poison.'
Rynox had said Heskal coated his Inscribed Weapon with poison. But Will wasn't reacting. All that remained on his shoulder was the trace of an unexpected attack.
The blood flowing from the pierced hole was quickly washed away by the rainwater. Not even a trace of blood remained.
It was partly because the rain was heavy, but also because he had immediately tensed his muscles to block the wound area as soon as the sword pierced him.
'Physical training techniques, not bad. Fanatic.'
The training methods he had learned over Enkrid's shoulder while watching him practice had paid off.
There were also several techniques he had learned directly from the fanatic.
"Hehe, brother, that's right. That's how you do it. Shall we add more weight? More, more, more, more."
Hmm, he almost had a nightmare while standing for a moment.
He wasn't called a madman for nothing. Instead of asking to fight, he just repeated good things and chased after him with lumps of metal.
When he tried to drive him away by swinging his sword, it became sparring. Actually, that could be considered half a fight.
Both of them had mixed in about half a spoonful of seriousness when they fought.
'A monster-like fanatic difficult to subdue in one go.'
That was how Ragna evaluated Audin that day. And he swung his sword.
He had learned fierceness through Enkrid, but it didn't always come out.
Still, sparring with those parasites around the Captain, risking about half their lives, was enough to heat up body and mind.
When he took risks, motivation would raise its head.
Like when that wildcat bastard would suddenly silence his footsteps and approach.
Or when the barbarian would suddenly pick a fight and attack.
All the same cases.
If not that, Ragna himself would sometimes deliberately pick fights. When he needed stimulation, he did that too.
Especially when there was a fight while the Captain was away, he could cross swords against a slightly more murderous atmosphere.
One wrong move and death would approach to lick his cheek. Get distracted by that and this time his throat would really get bitten.
He had to face countless moments where he needed to take one more step at the edge of a cliff. He had to enter flames and dance. He had to walk barefoot on blade edges.
If he didn't.
'I'd be the youngest.'
That was absolutely unacceptable.
Ragna lowered his sword and looked ahead.
'I will never be the youngest.'
His resolve became will and shone.
Just as Enkrid had made such will shine during battle that day, such light surged within Ragna's heart.
Rather than become the youngest, he would take any risk, and if fierceness was needed, he would draw that out too as a weapon. That was why motivation was welling up like never before. Ragna was serious.
Heskal returned to his original posture, shrinking his sword named Camouflage—in other words, 'Disguise'—back to its original size.
Facing Ragna but with his body half-turned laterally, hiding his left hand behind him.
Then he stood casually and looked on indifferently.
Showing such composure would make the opponent feel intimidated, and they would also be busy putting the extending length—the transformation form of the sword Disguise—into their head.
Complicate their thoughts, aim for stamina loss from the wound, and gain psychological advantage.
All of it was calculated.
Of course, if he had seen a chance to kill his opponent with that strike, ending it there would have been easiest, but he couldn't.
Heskal had landed one cut and retreated following instinct.
Press forward with straight sword techniques and pierce with phantom sword techniques. There was no change in tactics and he had dealt effective damage.
'Those eyes.'
There was no need to show tension outwardly by swallowing or such. Outwardly, Heskal appeared calm.
Despite the hole in his shoulder, Ragna's posture was the same as before. He hadn't moved at all from where he had dodged sideways.
Except for flinching when pierced by the sword, it could be said he hadn't moved at all.
Swoooosh.
The pouring rainwater struck his eyelids. Medusa's curse didn't affect him.
So while he held his head high, Ragna did not. He lowered his head diagonally and also cast his gaze downward.
His eyes couldn't be seen. When one with limited vision faced one without such limits, naturally the one who could see had the advantage.
Yet why was it so chilling?
Heskal felt his body's muscles tighten and tense up like an agitated viper.
'Why?'
Instinct recognized the situation before reason. Though Ragna had done nothing, Heskal's countless real combat experiences gifted him with the emotion called eeriness. Dangerous and threatening. His spine felt cold.
In other words, it was because he sensed danger.
'When did I feel something like this before?'
He couldn't even remember.
Heskal pursed his lips in a circle and breathed out a long breath. Starting from his organs, his abdominal muscles relaxed appropriately, and the muscles tensing his whole body also feigned calm. The long, slow breathing kneaded away his body's tension.
While doing so, his eyes swept over Ragna's entire body once more.
Because he gripped the handle with both hands and lowered his arms, his left arm crossed his abdomen.
He had swung his great sword once, but now he understood. Ragna hadn't moved properly yet. That great sword was the real threat.
'What he's holding is a two-handed sword.'
He had no other weapons, and his attack technique was presumed to be the type that bet everything on one strike.
It felt similar to what he had taught Riley.
'What I taught Riley was copied from the family head's.'
Since Ragna had also learned things as a child, it would naturally be similar to Tempest Zaun's sword.
'Should I be grateful that I felt a sense of crisis even now?'
What was the point of asking? Of course.
As his thoughts flowed, he became able to predict the techniques or methods Ragna would show.
This would increase his chances of victory.
He also understood why he felt eeriness.
'You've trained quite a bit, Ragna.'
The strike Ragna would show wouldn't be easy to handle.
'But Ragna.'
Because of the driving rain, Heskal narrowed his eyes. Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes. Heskal had survived as a swordsman for long years and reached this point by overcoming countless near-death crises.
The instinct that made him feel eeriness had activated thanks to the time he had passed through.
The small fruits gained by taking countless risks and overcoming them would save him this time too.
'Not everyone always fights honestly.'
If you don't know that, you'll have to die here.
Kraaaaaaaack!
Lightning stretched in a long line above the spell snakes. The lightning substituted for the light blocked by the dark storm clouds. White light briefly expanded everyone's vision.
Heskal waited until the afterimage left by the lightning's light disappeared before speaking.
Even then, Ragna just stood in the same posture without opening his mouth.
"It must hurt."
The words he spat were still intended to shake his opponent's psychology.
To win when fighting, you must do anything. Children trapped in the well called Zaun don't know that. Geniuses are the same.
They think they must face each other head-on with skill, and that winning that way makes them the best.
Fair and proper means? There's no such thing in fighting.
Ragna Zaun, do you know such principles?
You wouldn't.
To obtain such things, you need experience desperately fighting against those better than yourself. Then you must overcome the wall blocking your path. Sometimes such experience was more important than talent.
Experience of breaking limits.
That would become the strength to move forward when your feet sink into swamps of despair, and become the foundation of will that won't shake under any circumstances.
'It would be hard to expect such things from you.'
The impressive things would be the crude but improved eloquence and that concentration he was showing now.
He showed no signs of being shaken by his words. Ragna just stood calmly.
Enkrid of the Border Guard came to mind.
Even in Heskal's view, that man was extraordinary. Regardless of his current skill, traces of how arduous the path he had walked clearly remained on his body.
He wasn't talking about scars. From habits ingrained in his body to the choices he made when sparring, everything testified to that.
'If it were that man, it might have been a bit different.'
Heskal spoke along with his thoughts.
"Be careful."
He thrust his sword in the same posture. Ragna reacted faster than before.
Moving at the same speed would get him stabbed by the morphing sword, so getting faster was natural. Heskal twisted his wrist while thrusting his sword.
It was natural for the blade to extend silently from the advancing sword. The blade changed direction in mid-air and thrust the blade forward at length.
Even with the same slash, when the blade lengthened, the range doubled.
What Heskal aimed for was the upward striking motion of that great sword hanging low.
'Use what you've prepared!'
The moment he gave impact to the sword 'Disguise', hidden blades would spring out horizontally from the sword to cut his neck.
Calculate the angle and grasp the force Ragna's sword would give. Open a path with the sword and press the opponent.
Having calculated everything and swung his sword, Ragna's cheek was cut with a swish.
Instead of swinging his great sword, Ragna had momentarily retreated backward, escaping the attack range.
Then Ragna's foot struck the ground. Faster feet than his retreat. The ground he kicked cracked with a bang sound.
The approaching Ragna lifted his foot to try to break Heskal's knee.
If nothing else, Heskal's defensive techniques were second to none within Zaun. He bent his knee to lower his center of gravity while bringing his left hand down to protect his abdomen.
With a clatter, the gauntlet covering his left hand became a small shield blocking the kick.
Thud!
The moment he was hit, Heskal leaped back slightly, scattering most of the impact.
Not only did he share the impact between ankle, knee, and waist, but he also let the impact flow away while jumping.
Having kicked Heskal's shield, Ragna pulled back his extended left foot and added the force from kicking the shield to strike the ground.
Bang!
His foot went in up to the ankle.
Anyone could see it was an attacking posture, but his great sword remained as it was. It was deception. Heskal was seasoned in tactics of deceiving opponents, so he wasn't fooled.
Muscle movements, changes in momentum, even the strength in fingers gripping the handle.
Moreover, if he swung now, it would be easy for him to dodge. No matter how much of a fool Ragna was, he wouldn't bring out a strike he had been saving in such a manner.
Heskal didn't underestimate Ragna.
"Clumsy."
That's what came out. Ragna didn't answer.
Heskal continued his successive attacks. Sometimes Ragna dodged, and sometimes scratches appeared on his forearms or near his neck.
If Alexandra's fight was a single decisive battle, this place seemed to be testing endurance.
Heskal constantly calculated several moves ahead in his mind, pressing Ragna forward. Ragna seemed to dodge precariously.
How much time had passed like that? Time that was short if short, long if long.
It was long for a knight's battle, short from an ordinary person's perspective.
Originally, time was relative.
That was the same for these two.
For one, the current time was short, for the other it was long.
Heskal stopped while trying to swing his sword.
'It's a dead end.'
The straight sword technique forged from experience, intuition, and talent was like a guide leading him. The path ahead that should be opened by his sword was blocked.
It was regrettable—he could have cornered Ragna with just three more sword swings.
But if he continued fighting like this, he would also allow Ragna one strike.
Knights showed movements beyond human limits, but that didn't make them omnipotent.
Limits existed.
'If you want the fight to drag on, I'll accommodate that.'
When Heskal was swinging his sword while seeing through Ragna's clumsy deceptions that occasionally appeared.
'Blocked again?'
Even precise swordsmanship had errors. If there were errors, he just had to correct them.
Heskal was fighting while looking several moves ahead, not just one step. Looking at straight sword techniques alone, he thought Ragna couldn't have the advantage over him.
But truly strange things kept happening in succession.
Dead ends kept blocking the path ahead.
'It won't connect?'
Create a path with the sword and press the opponent. The simple tactic was blocked from the start. He needed to swing his sword, but the path kept breaking off. If he struck down here, he could see what would happen next—either his sword would break or he'd have to make evasive maneuvers in a posture where he couldn't put his full strength.
What if he moved far away? Would Ragna's feet be that fast?
They were fast. Hadn't he seen it when he kicked earlier?
The physical abilities and movements Ragna had shown so far naturally drew the next picture in his head.
Only then did Ragna's mouth open.
"You're clumsy, Heskal."