Chapter 71

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: The Dance of the Sword
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#71

Without a moment's hesitation, Walter pushed Lucy back and spoke firmly.

“Whees will be here with the soldiers. Hide somewhere you won't be seen. Your Majesty. Do not, under any circumstances, leave the soldiers' side.”

“Where are you going?”

“I sense hostility at the village entrance. It doesn't seem like there are many of them, so I'll deal with it quickly and return.”

He spoke casually as he hurried down the mountain.

The sight of him running toward the village, sword in hand, was anything but ordinary. An inexplicable sense of unease made Lucy reach out, but her palm grasped only the cold, early autumn air where Walter had been.

“Your Majesty. It would be best to wait in the forest for a moment.”

Zen took Lucy's arm and strode back the way they had come. His expression remained grim, but he didn't seem as anxious as Lucy.

“He said he'd be back soon, so he will be. Please don't worry.”

“But... still. Is it really all right to send the Grand General alone? What if someone is lying in ambush?”

“He said there wouldn't be many, so there won't be.”

You're just going to take his word for it?

There's no one in sight. It's completely empty.

Just as Lucy was about to scold him for talking nonsense, Whees, who had just arrived, stopped her.

“They say Dawn can sense killing intent. None of us here have wielded it besides the Grand General, so we wouldn't know, but he said he can get a rough idea of how many are coming and from which direction.”

“It has such an absurd ability?”

“I thought you already knew. That's why I assumed you sent the Grand General to Duke Kill's mansion alone.”

“No, I didn't actually intend to send him alone back then, either. Walter said it would be better to go by himself than to assemble a mediocre unit, so I just agreed.”

Whees found himself wondering whether to call Lucy bold for accepting such a proposal or to laugh at her thoughtlessness.

Ignoring Whees, Lucy grabbed Zen's fur, her face etched with worry.

“Zen. Send more soldiers. What if he's attacked after going in alone like that? If that's too much trouble, at least you should go with him.”

“He said he would handle it alone, so it's better for us to wait.”

“But... even so, you're telling me to just listen and do nothing?”

“It would be more dangerous if we went with him. When the Grand General draws his sword, it's best for everyone—friend or foe—to stay away. Here, see for yourself.”

Suppressing his own distress, Zen pointed toward the village.

Following the direction of his black claws, Lucy's gaze shifted, and her serious expression remained as her mouth slowly fell open.

Having reached the village entrance, Walter stood still, sword in hand, facing forward. Before long, figures in tattered clothes—whether they were nomads or refugees, it was impossible to tell—emerged one by one from between the collapsed houses and began to confront him.

Strange.

…Could you really call that a small number?

At a rough estimate, about thirty people, brandishing their weapons, had surrounded Walter.

No matter how great a warrior he was, it seemed impossible to handle thirty fully armed adults. The moment Lucy tugged on Zen's arm again, Walter lowered his stance and shot forward.

“Ah…!”

Her slightly parted lips opened wider.

A sound that was neither gasp nor groan escaped her, and Lucy slowly rubbed her arm, goosebumps rising as she watched him slaughter his enemies.

God of War, Master General, Sword Emperor.

Whenever people spoke of Walter, these words inevitably came up, and Lucy had always thought, 'What childish expressions.'

But now, watching him wield his sword, she thought she understood why everyone admired him so, why they praised him with phrases like 'the second coming of the God of War.'

He cut, and cut, and cut again. Following the rotation of his body, he unleashed a continuous series of slashes that bordered on a wild flurry.

He repeated the devastatingly simple movements at a speed the eye couldn't follow, his feet never ceasing to move. After a forward slash that seemed to freeze space, he spun around and cut down two men charging from behind in a single motion.

His movements were as fluid as a dance, without a single wasted motion. As the blue light vanished, soulless bodies and red blood rained down, and before one corpse could even hit the ground, his sword had pierced another.

He twisted the upraised sword, carving a half-moon arc as he brought it down. A blue sword aura, trailing the white blade like a shadow, drew an elegant trajectory as it tore through the enemy's flesh.

Amid that gruesome spectacle of blood, flesh, and flashing steel, only Walter remained perfectly calm.

Watching him, mesmerized, Lucy realized for the first time that the word 'elegant' could be used to describe swordsmanship.

“He moves so fast that it's better to have no one around than for someone to get in the way trying to 'help.'”

Zen muttered as if to say, 'See?' while squatting down to watch Walter. Lucy, looking dazed, nodded without taking her eyes off him.

His black hair, swaying violently with his movements, and his perfectly still, unwavering eyes created a strange atmosphere, like two melodies on different scales that somehow harmonized and clashed at the same time.

Seeing him effortlessly twist his body to avoid a spray of blood right after a thrust, Lucy had no choice but to admit her worries had been entirely unfounded.

What was the reason he could wield a sword so fast?

Was it because he was born a god of war, as others claimed?

…Of course not.

Watching his fighting style closely, she saw the reason was simple. His kinetic vision was just insanely good.

Predicting which way an opponent would attack, which foot they would use to plant themselves and maintain balance, and even parrying another enemy's attack from a blind spot by following the first opponent's gaze—all of it was only possible by reading his enemies' movements.

Of course, whether a human who could grasp all that at a glance even existed was another question, but surprisingly, Walter seemed to be just such a human.

It was such a simple principle.

And its simplicity made it all the more staggering. She had wondered if he'd reached the rank of Grand General simply because of his famous sword, but seeing him in person, she realized the title 'God of War' was no exaggeration.

In the sight of him slaughtering his enemies with overwhelming swordsmanship, there was no life-or-death struggle. There was only the detachment of a human crushing an ant.

“Wow.”

A flat exclamation escaped her speechless lips. From behind her, Whees's voice rang out as he counted the remaining enemies like goods on a market stall, “Eight left.”

Eight became six, and in an instant, only two remained. Before she could even register her surprise, everyone had fallen, and Walter was the only one left standing.

Walter lightly shook the blood from his sword and returned to the group, his expression as composed as when he had left.

Seeing Lucy standing there dumbfounded, his eyes widened slightly before he looked down at his clothes and spoke in an awkward tone.

“Some blood splattered on me… I hope you won't find it too unpleasant.”

“Uh… no. It's fine. G-Good work.”

Finally regaining her composure, Lucy cleared her throat to change the subject.

“How did a group of only thirty people manage to attack a Lycan village? Are there any other enemies nearby?”

“It seems not. I don't sense any more hostility, but I'm worried because I don't sense any other presence, either. We should enter the village and see if there are any survivors…”

Walter trailed off, glancing at Zen. Then, with a small sigh, he turned and started walking toward the village again.

The entire group followed Walter into the village. Zen, who had been trudging behind Walter, dropped to all fours and began to run as they drew closer.

The sight of the Lycan rushing toward the blazing log cabins was like a scene from an art book on the theme of tragedy.

“This isn't even that close to the border, yet there are more enemies than I expected. And just as reported, they're dressed like refugees, but they're carrying long spears and longswords…”

Lucy's eyes were endlessly cold as she looked at the fallen 'refugees.'

To show up with proper weapons like these while dressed as if they should be carrying sickles and plows.

Furthermore, the sharply honed blades and new-looking guards made it clear they were no refugees.

“If it's like this in a village so far from the border, I can only imagine what it's like elsewhere. The war just ended not long ago, so why are they already causing trouble near the border?”

“Autumn is ending, Your Majesty.”

At Walter's reply, Lucy tilted her head. Then she let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“…Right. Winter will be here soon.”

Winter. The farmers' off-season.

And the time to prepare for the next planting.

They're planning to expand their border bit by bit, targeting only usable land.

This village, too, was on a plain and bordered a lake, making it a perfect place for farming. The fact that they'd gone to the trouble of attacking a place so far from the border seemed to confirm her prediction.

But would this kind of tactic even be effective?

It seems like nothing more than a provocation. Unless they're deliberately provoking Parnas, encroaching on our territory like this is…

“Khugh…!”

Her long train of thought was abruptly cut off by a cry that erupted in the distance.