novelraw Chapter 92 : Chapter 92
Chapter 92 : Chapter 92
Chapter 92: The Secret Manual of a Famed Swordsmanship Family (2)
Dusk, in the capital, Naflansee.
Abel and Demian arrived in the slums.
It was a familiar area for Abel, but a strange place for Demian. In the first place, there were few reasons for a noble to enter the slums. It was either based on goodwill or malice. They would either visit to help the poor or to realize their morbid curiosity.
“Why are you so stiff?”
Suddenly, Abel opened his mouth.
“Is this your first time in the slums?”
“……Yes.”
Demian looked around.
The illegally extended buildings were like entangled caterpillars. And what about the complexions of the passersby? In every shady alley, vagrants suffering from illness were coughing. The emaciated appearance of the children was so distressing, but for some reason, the children were just running around with cheerful expressions.
“I heard from my father. That the situation in the slums is very precarious.”
“It’s like pouring water into a teacup with a broken bottom. This place cannot get better with a bit of charity.”
“Then what should we do? Do you mean we should just leave it like this?”
“I don't know either.”
Abel's expression clouded.
It was common in any world. The hungry always existed, and it was impossible to achieve complete relief. The slums of the capital were no different. Iris was running a relief organization, and Abel had repeatedly donated through Iris, but even so, nothing fundamentally changed.
“Demian, you said you wanted to become a good holy knight.”
“That's right. I want to become a holy knight and protect the subjects.”
“Can you protect the people who live here as a holy knight?”
“I think I can try. At least I can wipe out the criminal organizations that are parasitic here.”
“You're right. A few months ago, I wiped out a criminal organization here. It was a half-orc group that liked to bite off tongues.”
Thump.
Abel stopped.
“I'm sure that's what happened.”
Abel tilted his head to the side.
He looked at the place where Two-Tongued Tarkan's base had been. Monika's Aura Blade had cut through the building, and Abel's Aura must have turned even the debris to dust. A new building had been built in that place. Judging by the heavy security, it seemed another criminal organization had been formed.
“It hasn't even been half a year, but it seems a new force has come to rule this place.”
It was impossible to eliminate them at the source.
It was because the capital was too large. Too many people were gathered, and too many interests were formed. Status, property, or rights. While the countless elements that made up the city formed a safe net, those who were too small to be caught and were kicked out of the net formed the slums.
“Anyway, Demian, draw your sword.”
“……Yes?”
“We will duel here.”
Demian tilted his head.
In the first place, he hadn't thought that Abel would duel in a normal way. He didn't want to make an issue of the location being the slums either.
“Professor Argento, this is a street.”
“So what?”
“Passersby could get swept up in it.”
“That's right.”
Abel nodded his head.
“If we handle our swords incorrectly, someone will get hurt. It's a sad thing. Therefore, we must be careful.”
“Professor, you really……”
Shing.
Demian drew his Walloon Sword.
“……you really are mischievous.”
But it's reasonable.
Demian thought, gripping the hilt.
It was a virtue he should be aware of. As one who holds a sword, he must not allow even a slight mistake in handling it. He had to be well aware of the fact that the sword was dangerous.
‘But…….’
Demian's eyes tilted to the side.
Why? The people loitering here seemed to think little of swords. Even though Demian was standing with a real sword drawn, no one was on guard. If he had stood with a real sword in the bustling streets of the capital or in the training ground of CIAR, a crowd would have gathered.
The fact that they were optimistic about the danger of the sword was the same,
but the desire for spectacle and the desire for resignation were different. The passersby in the slums were resigned. They were walking as if it didn't matter what happened, even if they themselves were caught up in a sword fight.
‘Why is it so different?’
It's the same capital.
A short walk would lead to the bustling streets.
“Demian, I don't think your chivalry is bad.”
Thud.
Abel drew his beloved sword.
“But you know too much. As if you've never had the luxury of not knowing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just as you don't know what the slums are like, I think there should have been a time when you didn't know chivalry.”
Abel could easily guess.
The fact that Demian had grown up in a very good environment.
It was not a judgment based on status or honor. It was a judgment based on uprightness. Demian was a very upright student, and it was clear that he had grown up with just as much upright love.
Chivalry was the same.
The Farenheit family must be made up of upright knights.
That was why he must not have had the luxury. The time when he didn't know upright chivalry. Before he could ponder what upright chivalry was and solidify it for himself, he had learned upright chivalry too easily, as if blindly believing in the words written in a book.
“Look around you, Demian. This is a slum that a mere knight can't do anything about. Can you still recite chivalry here?”
“I……”
And so, Demian finally knew.
“I, Demian Fernando von Farenheit, will fight with my bare hands!”
After shouting so, Demian ran.
Not towards Abel, but towards the opposite side of Abel.
He approached a boy cowering in an alley. Bending down to the boy, who was skin and bones,
“Are you alright? Can you stand up?”
Demian asked in a gentle voice.
“Take this sword and sell it. It should be worth quite a bit.”
Abel let out a sigh.
He released the strength from the hand that was gripping the hilt.
He quietly watched Demian. He stared at the sight of him helping the boy up and giving him the Walloon Sword, scabbard and all. With a resigned smile.
“It's done now! Let's duel!”
And so, Demian stood with his fists clenched, and,
“No, that's enough.”
Abel shook his head.
“I will fight with my bare hands.”
“……Yes?”
“Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not doing this to go easy on you. Come here and take my sword.”
The hilt of the beloved sword was extended to Demian.
Demian hesitated for a moment, then took Abel's beloved sword and got into a stance.
‘This sword is…….’
Thanks to that, he wondered.
‘……not an artifact?’
He had thought that a powerful force must be contained within it.
Because it was withstanding Abel's Aura. Demian could recall it like it was yesterday. Abel's Aura, which cut through the air and even the sword itself. He had been convinced that a sword that could withstand such a self-destructive Aura had to be an artifact.
‘Strange.’
Why does he only use this sword?
Wondering so, Demian stomped his foot, and,
“──I'm coming.”
that was the signal.
“I'm coming──!”
Thud.
Demian leaped.
He made a sword path, measuring the gap between the passersby. He ran, digging up the dirt floor with his shoes, and the moment he extended Abel's beloved sword and drew a gleam with his sword strike,
──Thwack!
Abel's fist, which penetrated the lightning-fast first strike.
A shockwave shook Demian's body. The fist that had struck his abdomen shook his entire body.
“──Cough!”
At the same time as Demian vomited stomach acid,
“Keuk──!”
Abel vomited blood.
“No, why……”
Huff, huff……,
Demian asked, gasping for breath.
“Why are you vomiting blood after hitting me, Professor?”
“……You don't need to know.”
Abel wiped his mouth and moved again.
I can't see. Demian thought, with his eyes wide open.
Whitish lines flew at Demian. They were all Abel's attacks. Thud, thud, thud! He desperately twisted the hilt. It was all he could do to block the attacks. To think that he was just desperately scattering them while facing bare fists.
‘But why?’
A question brushed past Demian's mind.
He was not doubting his strength. He was not thinking that Abel's movements, accompanied by a gentle breeze, were strange either. Thud. After stomping his foot next to him,
──Clang!
the act of striking the blade with a single blow,
‘Why, why…….’
the act of continuing the attacks that showed no signs,
Kwoong. After shaking the ground with a stomp,
“I gave you a sword, but……”
with a taunt, he put his hand between Demian's arms, and,
“why can't you use it?”
──Swoosh!
the act of lightly lifting Demian and throwing him,
‘Why is Professor Argento getting hurt?’
was not strange at all.
What was strange was Abel's physical condition.
Wounds were spreading all over Abel's body, as if bitten by the wind. It was like looking at a glass covered in cracks before it shatters. Cracks like wounds were spreading on Abel's skin, and they were opening up as if cut by a sword, and blood began to pour out.
“Professor Argento!”
Demian opened his mouth.
While lying on the ground unsightly.
Forgetting the fact that he had fallen.
“Are you alright?”
The duel didn't matter anymore.
Demian was genuinely worried about Abel. It was probably because a strange premonition had taken root in his mind. Staring at Abel, who was approaching, drenched in blood, Demian recalled Abel's Aura. The Aura that had cut through the air and even the iron sword. Could it be that it was even cutting through himself?
Such a question welled up.
“……I'm fine.”
Abel said with an unconcerned expression.
It made sense. He had quickly healed himself by activating a recovery spell.
But it was different. Demian thought that was not the case. Abel Argento was not fine at all. That man's body was in a very unstable state.
“Are you going to fight more? Or are you going to wet your pants?”
“That's not what's important right now!”
Demian shot up.
He approached Abel, and,
“──This sword!”
he held out the hilt of the beloved sword to Abel.
“Is this sword controlling your Aura!”
“That's right. Other swords can't withstand it.”
Unlike the flustered Demian, who was shouting, Abel answered as if it were nothing. He just sheathed the beloved sword and was about to retreat. Demian stared at Abel's body up and down, dumbfounded.
Because he thought he understood.
The Aura, no, the conviction was hurting Abel.
He didn't know what Abel's sword was, and he didn't know why it had such an ability even though it wasn't an artifact, but the sword was just controlling the density and flow of the Aura, and the moment he used his power without holding the sword, the Aura would undoubtedly flow backwards.
It was as if it was tearing through Abel's body and flowing out.
‘Professor Argento.’
Demian wondered, filled with shock.
‘Professor, what on earth……, is your identity?’
An Aura that tries to kill its own user.
He had never heard of such a conviction.