The Reborn Swordmaster
Chapter 39
"Move."
Riyan gave the order in a low voice.
The special detachment, which had been lying flat, rose silently.
Their first target had already been chosen.
The closest of the five remaining ships.
It belonged to one of the groups that had been thrown into the match merely to fill the numbers.
They seemed to be watching the situation for now, perhaps trying to understand what was happening.
They weren't showing any particular aggression.
"Uraaaaa!"
Then Yarik's roar erupted as the fighters invaded their ship.
The first thing to land on the enemy deck was the commander's flag.
Aries, carrying the Rodus alliance's flag in his left hand, kicked off the railing and landed dramatically.
The tense fighters on the enemy ship stared at him in confusion.
"Huh? Isn't that their commander's flag?"
"Why the hell is it here?!"
Every eye immediately turned toward him.
Naturally.
If they broke that one flag, every enemy fighter who had invaded their ship would be eliminated.
An irresistible target had practically walked into their arms.
"Get him! Break the flag!"
Everyone rushed toward Aries at once.
And that was their mistake.
Aries didn't retreat.
Keeping the flagpole in his left hand, he thrust his sword at the first fighter charging toward him with his right.
Slash.
Then move.
Never allow himself to be surrounded.
Blood sprayed along the path Aries traced as he moved with the smoothness of flowing water.
"Ghhk..."
The moment Aries struck, the battle began.
Swords.
Spears.
Axes.
Nets.
And facing all those weapons was a single wall.
The shields raised by the fighters who weren't part of the special detachment.
"What the hell?"
Clang!
Weapons that had lost their path slammed helplessly into shields.
That changed the order of attack.
The shields opened.
Short swords shot out from behind them.
"Ghk..."
"Kgh! Aaaagh!"
Chest.
Flank.
Abdomen.
Thigh.
The short swords stabbed into anything they could reach.
Then the openings closed again as the shields returned to form a wall.
The enemy's turn once more.
But their attacks scraped uselessly against the shields again.
Then came Rodus's turn.
Another spray of blood erupted.
Only two exchanges.
That was enough to put half the enemy fighters out of action.
Most of the rest lost their will to fight.
Riyan didn't miss it.
"Yarik!"
At his shout, Yarik charged forward.
The mountain-like man ran with a massive battle axe in both hands.
Riyan crouched low and followed directly behind his broad back.
Hidden completely.
Like a shadow slipping into darkness.
Then Riyan spoke softly.
"Open the way."
Yarik's arm muscles swelled.
"Uryaaaaa!"
The massive battle axe swept sideways.
Several enemy fighters tried to block the broad arc.
They were blown away.
A hole appeared in their formation.
And a shadow shot through it.
Riyan.
He burst out from behind Yarik and raced across the deck in an instant.
No one could react.
Only a handful could even follow him with their eyes.
Shhk.
At the same time, Riyan's sword drew a clean half-circle.
At the end of that pale arc, the enemy commander's flag was sliced cleanly through.
The fluttering banner dropped helplessly onto the deck.
Both allies and enemies stared blankly at what had just happened.
"Anyone who doesn't want to die, get on your knees and put your head down!"
Yarik's thunderous shout shattered the silence at exactly the right moment.
It was a demand for surrender.
Naturally, there was no further resistance.
Their commander's flag had fallen.
They were already eliminated.
There was no reason to die pointlessly after that.
One by one, the fighters dropped to their knees and lowered their heads to the deck.
Riyan immediately issued his next order.
"Injuries?"
"Three with cuts! Nothing life-threatening!"
At the report, Riyan nodded.
"The injured stay here for now. Collect the weapons from those who surrendered and throw them overboard. Finish first aid, then catch up with us."
After giving the concise order, Riyan immediately surveyed the battlefield again without taking so much as a breath.
The next target...
He had already chosen it.
A Trident alliance galley positioned nearby.
Most of its fighters were probably already on the offensive.
That meant the defenders left aboard should be roughly equal to Riyan's group in number.
But Riyan's eyes remained cold.
If we get worn down here, it'll become difficult.
Four commander's flags remained.
If they suffered major losses at even one ship, the situation would turn bleak.
Even against the weaklings they'd just faced, three of their men had been injured.
But they couldn't stop either.
The moment the enemy realized what was happening and redirected its forces toward them, the overwhelming difference in numbers would become impossible to ignore.
There was only one answer.
A rapid assault as close to perfect as possible.
Our side...
Riyan briefly looked across the battlefield.
The two flanking ships of the Rodus alliance.
One had already been destroyed.
The deck had been taken over by the Trident alliance, and its flag was nowhere to be seen.
The remaining ship, however, was holding.
They appeared to have finally regained their senses.
A shield wall stood along the railing like a fortress wall.
The frustrated shouting of the enemies blocked by it could faintly be heard.
"Push through! What are you doing?!"
"I-It won't break!"
Even the Trident alliance appeared troubled.
Behind them, the Sea Serpent was raging.
In front of them stood an unfamiliar shield wall that refused to budge.
Their offensive had visibly slowed.
And on top of that, they still hadn't noticed.
One commander's flag had already fallen behind them.
Nor had they realized that Riyan's group was moving again.
Time is everything.
Riyan raised one hand and signaled.
"Advance."
The special detachment moved at once.
Between shattered ships.
Across fallen masts and floating debris.
Like shadows using wreckage as bridges, they began crossing over the water.
At the same time.
In the highest and most secretive seat in the Arena.
Marquis Fenric Novale, the Treasurer, sat comfortably on a sofa placed on a private terrace, leisurely swirling his wine.
BOOM!
Every time the Sea Serpent struck the surface, the audience erupted.
Screams mixed with excitement.
Marquis Fenric seemed to hear the roar as praise directed at himself.
"Magnificent, Treasurer."
The Arena Supervisor standing respectfully beside him couldn't hide his admiration.
"How did you ever think of releasing a Sea Serpent? I can't remember the Imperial Arena being this excited since its founding."
"It was nothing."
The Treasurer casually swirled his wineglass.
"If we're going to create a fighter worthy of representing the Imperial Arena, we need to give him a stage of this scale."
That was his true intention.
The White Wolf.
Riyan.
A fighter who had appeared like a comet and accumulated miraculous victories.
From a business perspective, he was the most valuable product to appear in a very long time.
He had already engraved his name across the Imperial Capital through his own ability.
That made what remained simple.
Give that name a suitable legend.
As always, every heroic tale required a villain to be punished.
And the villain to be executed before those hundred thousand spectators will be the Sea Serpent.
The corners of Marquis Fenric's mouth rose.
Of course, he hadn't been entirely without concern.
Even if the stage was prepared, it meant nothing if the performer lacked the ability to use it.
Still, there was no real downside.
The mock naval battle was an important event held only once each year anyway.
Even if Riyan ended up being chewed to pieces by the Sea Serpent, there would be little to lose.
But now, looking at the scene before him...
...My concern was unnecessary.
Fenric's half-lidded eyes followed the figures moving across the lake with a commander's flag.
Riyan and the fighters following him.
They were handling the match almost perfectly.
That spear throw alone had been extraordinary.
To strike the Sea Serpent accurately from such a distance.
And that wasn't all.
While everyone else tried to avoid the monster, Riyan had deliberately drawn it into the center of the melee.
He had overturned the entire unfavorable situation.
Then, using the resulting chaos, he had already broken one enemy commander's flag.
He understood the rules.
He read the flow of battle.
He even turned unpredictable variables into weapons.
What an unbelievable man.
Was it natural talent?
Had Riyan been born into a noble house, perhaps he might have become a great general who dominated an entire generation.
And yet such rare talent was wearing a slave collar and rolling around inside an arena.
Some might consider it a tragedy.
But Fenric thought differently.
I absolutely have to acquire him. He's the kind of fighter who can carry this Arena for the next ten years or more.
Marquis Fenric nodded to himself, then turned his gaze.
"Supervisor."
"Yes, Treasurer."
"What do you think? That Sea Serpent. How should it meet its end for the most satisfying picture?"
The Supervisor answered without hesitation.
"Wouldn't it be most useful if it died at the hands of the man who is to become today's hero?"
"Exactly. That's what I'd like as well."
The Treasurer emptied his wineglass and gave a faint laugh.
"But it's not as though the Sea Serpent understands human speech. And the Trident fighters are performing better than expected too. There are quite a few things to worry about."
It sounded almost like idle muttering.
But the Supervisor understood the intention behind those words perfectly.
"..."
Without making a sound that might disturb Fenric's viewing, the Supervisor stepped backward.
Then he opened the door to the quiet interior and left.
His destination wasn't far.
The control room.
To the Supervisor, it was the heart of the Imperial Arena.
A place where the match was observed at every moment, every flow and variable checked, and appropriate responses prepared.
"Ah, Supervisor."
An official noticed his unexpected arrival and came to greet him.
The Supervisor narrowed his eyes.
"How is the match progressing?"
"Smoothly."
"The magicians?"
"They've just finished changing shifts."
"Where is the magician responsible for communication with them?"
"Over there."
The official pointed.
A figure was leaning against the terrace railing and looking down at the Arena.
The first thing visible was a robe covered in mysterious patterns.
Then came braided brown hair, scattered freckles, and calm brown eyes.
A young female magician.
The Supervisor approached her.
"You there."
"What is it?"
Her expression.
Her voice.
Her posture.
Everything about her was stiff and perfectly controlled.
The Supervisor's face twisted.
Magicians.
Still, he glanced around before lowering his voice.
"I believe the Sea Serpent needs to be protected."
"...What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. The place where that Sea Serpent is supposed to die has already been decided."
Then the Supervisor pointed toward a white-haired fighter battling in the distance.
"If possible, arrange things so it dies to that fighter. You can manage that, can't you?"
The young magician's eyes narrowed slightly.
"That may be difficult."
"What? Difficult? What's difficult about protecting it until the right moment and then leaving it alone?"
"Because it's magic."
The young magician looked down at him as though he were an idiot.
"Magic isn't something you can alter whenever you wish, like moving a finger, breathing, or rolling your eyes. Magic is the imposition of the caster's will. Once cast, it possesses no consciousness of its own. It simply carries out the intention given to it by the magician."
"What are you...?"
The Supervisor's expression became sour.
The magician continued quietly.
"In other words, it's irreversible."
"Now listen here!"
The Supervisor suddenly raised his voice.
Whether it was because of the contempt in the magician's eyes or because his own ignorance had been exposed was unclear.
"Do you have any idea where this order came from? Have you forgotten that we're the ones who hired the magicians from your Magic Tower for today's match?"
"..."
"Would you like me to start talking about how much of the Imperial citizens' hard-earned money you magicians waste in the name of research? Or perhaps I should contact the Imperial Capital Treasury Office and have them investigate not only your family, but every relative you have? I'm actually rather curious what they'll find. Of course, it doesn't matter even if they find nothing. That place can create something from nothing. Would you care to experience that personally? Or..."
The Supervisor poured out his threats without pause.
Then he finished by pressing his index finger repeatedly against the young magician's chest.
"...Wouldn't everyone be happier if you simply fulfilled one small request from your employer?"
The young magician stared at him for a moment.
Then she lowered her head.
"Understood. In accordance with my employer's request, I will protect the Sea Serpent from everything except the fighter you just designated. Until further instructions are given."
"The work must be done discreetly."
"Of course. Discreetly."
Finally satisfied, the Supervisor turned and left the terrace.
The young magician watched his retreating back.
Her brown eyes were utterly calm.
Cold enough to seem as though she were measuring something.
