30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!-Chapter 225: The Knight Reflects on Defeat (4)

...Come to think of it, Ihan had never truly faced an Aura User before.

He knew they possessed strength worthy of being called superhuman.

He knew they could achieve the impossible, that no matter how much he struggled, they were opponents he could never defeat.

But he never really understood why they were called Aura Users.

And now—

Uuuuuuuung!

He thought he was beginning to understand.

"Once you become an Aura User, using lifeforce (Aura) is no longer difficult. Other knights have to exert extreme concentration to manipulate their lifeforce manually, but for us, it’s simply natural. Just like how those mage bastards use mana."

"......."

"In other words, there's no point in showing off that trick in front of us. Not that it isn't impressive. For someone who hasn’t even crossed the ‘Boundary’ to be able to use Aura—that’s certainly remarkable. Consider this a compliment. Among the younger generation, you’re definitely in the top ranks, haha."

"...I wouldn’t say that."

"Hm?"

"There’s that annoying spearman from Galahad... and that hulking bastard from Lionel who gives me a damn headache."

Two knights—both bursting with talent. Two opponents Ihan had never managed to definitively defeat.

When he mentioned them, Baltar fell into brief contemplation before speaking.

"...Ah, those ones. Yes, I suppose they exist. Talent-wise, they might even surpass my younger self, haha. Have you met them already?"

Ihan nodded slightly, recalling their faces.

"Not just met. We fought, too."

"And who won?"

"......."

"Tsk, tsk. Useless brat. How could you not even win against them?"

"I didn’t lose, I just didn’t—"

"Excuses. That’s your problem. With that body of yours, and you still couldn’t end the match properly? That just means you haven’t put in enough effort. You lack discipline."

"Son of a—!"

Ihan gritted his teeth, but he couldn’t bring himself to charge forward.

Normally, he thought Baltar’s sword aura was overwhelmingly grand. But today, for some reason...

‘It’s weak. Way too weak.’

It looked no more threatening than a toothpick.

Because right now, thirty beautifully crafted sword phantoms were dancing in the air around Baltar, poised to strike him at any moment.

Each of them carried a weight and destructive force that far surpassed mere sword aura—and there were thirty of them.

Drip...

Cold sweat poured down Ihan’s face like rain.

The sheer pressure radiating from the sword phantoms weighed heavily on his body, draining his stamina by the second.

For a brief moment, he entertained a reckless thought—what if he struck those phantoms head-on with sword aura?

‘No. That won’t work. If sword aura collides with a sword phantom, the sword aura will shatter every time.’

He was certain just from the energy radiating off them.

If he clashed head-on, he wouldn’t just lose his sword—his entire arm would be gone along with it.

In that case...!

Click!

"Hm? Still refusing to surrender?"

"Why the hell would I surrender?"

"Hah... Is this just reckless bravado? Or do you actually think I wouldn’t send these phantoms flying at you? Either way, that’s arrogance."

"It’s neither. And don’t call them chunks!"

They were sword phantoms, or blade apparitions, damn it—

Fwoosh!

Ihan planted his foot firmly and thrust his sword forward.

It was nothing more than a simple stab.

A movement as straightforward as could be. Yet, it carried the weight of all the training Ihan had endured until now. Even if it was just a raw thrust, its sheer force and precision made it as menacing as any advanced sword art.

"Oh?"

Baltar looked more impressed by the thrust than he had been when he saw Ihan’s sword aura.

‘This brat...! He’s embedded conviction into his blade!’

He had assumed Ihan had improved, but to think he had reached the point of embedding his will into his sword!

Well, considering how much concentration and willpower was required to condense lifeforce to such a degree, it wasn’t entirely absurd.

Clang!

"Heavy."

It was still at the level of a sapling, but if he continued to refine his conviction like this, one day, he might just reach Baltar’s level.

"Hah! What the hell are you talking about?!"

"...Tch. So you’re not even aware of what you’re doing yet?"

Baltar shook his head.

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It seemed Ihan was using the technique instinctively rather than through deliberate realization.

Well, that was fitting. He wasn’t the kind of martial artist who fought with polished techniques and enlightenment.

He was a beast who fought by instinct and raw sensation.

‘What an amusing brat.’

And that, honestly, made him all the more entertaining to watch.

CLANG!

Their swords clashed again and again.

Sparks burst into the air—!

The collision of sword aura and sword aura.

But neither of them cared about sword aura anymore. That was merely a supporting tool.

Instead, they engaged in a pure exchange of swordsmanship, repeatedly crossing blades as if dancing.

But then—

BOOOM!

A clash of power so intense that it resembled the collision of two lightning bolts.

A thunderous roar echoed, and in a bizarre, terrifying sight, bolts of lightning erupted not from the sky—but from the very ground beneath them.

They were merely fighting, and yet their battle looked like the prelude to the world's end.

A dragon and a tiger, locked in a deadly match.

The saying went that a dragon and a tiger could never determine a clear victor, but in this case, the devastation they caused felt like nothing less than divine destruction descending upon the land.

At this rate, the royal capital itself might collapse.

And just as that terrifying possibility crossed his mind—

Fwoooosh!

"We can’t have the capital falling apart, so let’s wrap this up."

The sword phantoms moved.

They surged toward Ihan.

Each was no bigger than a bowling ball, but if even one of them landed, it would pierce through his body cleanly.

Ihan—

FWOOSH!

Seized the moment.

His sword aura shifted.

Viiiiiiiing!

The condensed energy vibrated, undergoing a transformation.

It wasn’t simply compressed lifeforce anymore—this was Swordforce, an enlightenment attained in the depths of battle.

SWOOOSH!

The Sword of No Boundaries.

A blade strike that contained the vastness of the heavens—its brilliant blue arc cleaved through the sword phantom.

Like a high-pressure water jet slicing through steel—!

"Haa... Haa..."

Even after pulling off that incredible feat, there was no sense of achievement on Ihan’s face.

He looked pale as a corpse, drenched in cold sweat, his body trembling with lingering tension.

"...Damn it, I just shaved ten years off my lifespan."

"......."

"You bastard... You really were trying to kill me, weren’t you?!"

"...What was that just now?"

"You seriously just tried to kill me, and that’s what you’re curious about?!"

"Hahaha! This brat! Just how much fun do you plan on giving me? AHAHAHA!"

"???"

Ihan instinctively took a step back.

The man’s eyes were practically glowing with madness as he looked at him.

What was with that expression?

It was like—

"Yes... What else can you show me? Surely that’s not all you’ve got? Show me more! More!"

"......."

...The face of a professor who had just found his next favorite student.

Ihan suddenly recalled a certain academy professor watching a student’s presentation with the exact same expression.

‘That student ended up in grad school, didn’t he?’

A sense of deep unease crept over him.

...Perhaps surrendering would have been the better choice after all.

***

Goooo!

From the moment Ihan unleashed the Sword of No Boundaries, the sword phantoms became even more menacing.

They had already been terrifying, but now they moved with an almost organized intent—like they were explicitly trying to kill him.

It felt as though he were standing at the edge of a cliff, forcing him into a desperate acrobatic struggle just to survive.

Whoosh!

He barely managed to dodge, but even just a glancing touch against his shoulder armor was enough to make it disintegrate.

It had been a rather thick piece of armor, and yet—it vanished in an instant.

"!!?"

There wasn’t even time for Ihan to curse in his head. Every fraction of a second counted as he pushed himself to his limits.

Dodge, dodge again—and then, instinctively—

Swish!

He swung the Sword of No Boundaries.

At this moment, it was the only thing he could trust.

But then—

Twitch!

"...!"

"Feeling lightheaded? Of course you are. You're wielding a blade refined with conviction. Using something like that in real-time? Naturally, the exhaustion is hitting you hard. It's impressive that you're holding on at all. Any other bastard would’ve blacked out or outright died after one attempt, haha."

"Urgh!?"

Ihan barely even registered Baltar’s words.

Dodging and swinging his sword was all he could focus on.

His vision blurred, and he teetered on the edge of collapse.

But for Ihan—

‘I’m landing at least one hit on that bastard!’

That damn smug expression still hadn’t changed.

That alone pissed him off enough to push forward.

So—

‘I’m going all the way!’

Crack!

Fueled by sheer determination, Ihan forced himself to move.

Slash!

Cutting through.

Crack!

Breaking apart.

Swish!

Tearing through.

He obliterated everything in his path, steadily closing the distance between him and Baltar.

There were no more sword phantoms obstructing his way.

But Ihan knew.

Even if the sword phantoms were gone, it didn’t mean he could do anything to Baltar.

So—

‘I’m sorry, sword.’

He resolved to use something even crazier.

He silently apologized to his latest sword before activating Sword Resonance.

Wuuuuung!

The steel blade trembled violently, resonating as if to reassure him.

It was probably the first time anyone had ever attempted something like this.

He was already using the Sword of No Boundaries—but now, he was about to add another sword technique on top of it.

Perhaps it was only possible because he wasn’t thinking rationally.

Perhaps this was something only a reckless fool would even try.

But sometimes—

Fwaaah!

A new possibility could bloom from sheer insanity.

Paah! Paah!

From the soil of his swordsmanship, plum blossoms began to bloom.

Rustle... rustle... rustle...

One blossom.

Two blossoms.

Four blossoms.

Eight blossoms.

The plum blossoms multiplied exponentially, larger than any Ihan had ever conjured before.

And at the same time—

Shhhhhhh!

Their flow became unpredictable.

Even reading their trajectory was impossible, and yet they carried the same overwhelming force as the Sword of No Boundaries.

The sword technique that had once been deemed incomplete, whose final form had been uncertain, now—

By sheer coincidence, by a stroke of insanity—

Had evolved into a true and complete sword art.

And the unpredictability of the perfected Plum Blossom Sword Art—

Slice.

"......."

Even a superhuman couldn’t react in time.

Baltar’s sleeve was sliced off.

And in response, Baltar—

"Magnificent...! To think I’d witness such a beautiful blossom in this season—and even take a hit! Hah, I was the arrogant one, wasn’t I? Ahahaha!"

—lavished him with praise.

Never before had anyone managed to land a strike on him while he held a sword.

Yet, Ihan had cut even his sleeve.

"...As thanks, let me show you something spectacular in return."

Baltar assumed a middle stance.

A thrusting stance.

If Ihan’s previous thrust had carried the weight and might of a general, then Baltar’s form was—

That of a sage.

And fitting for the blade of a sage—

Whoosh!

His thrust was an act of sorcery.

Swooong!

In an instant—holes appeared in the plum blossoms.

It wasn’t anything strange.

A thrust would naturally create holes.

But—

"...What?"

How were there holes in every plum blossom, all around him, in a 360-degree radius?

Ihan doubted his own eyes.

He blinked, thinking it was an illusion.

But reality did not change.

Whoooosh—!

...Every single plum blossom had holes in it.

And Baltar, ever so helpful, explained:

"This technique is called—[Thirty-Six Swords]."

A technique that delivered thirty-six slashes in a single stroke.

"It was a specialty of Albert. Though, that man used an awl rather than a sword."

"......."

"Well, if I really wanted to, I could make it seventy-two. Maybe even a hundred forty-four, haha."

If dozens of blades came at him, he’d just have to swing even faster or pierce straight through them—

That was the nonsensical logic Baltar was throwing at him.

And upon hearing it, Ihan’s blood pressure skyrocketed.

"Y-you son of a...! Why the hell does it have to be Thirty-Six Swords?!"

It was a technique straight out of the martial arts novels he’d read—

A signature of the Zhongnan Sect, the eternal rivals of the Huashan Sect.

And in this moment, Ihan truly understood the pain of every Huashan swordsman who had ever lost to a Zhongnan swordsman.

"Ugh...!?"

He blacked out.

Not from exhaustion.

Not from injury.

But from sheer frustration-induced high blood pressure.

‘Damn it, I lost again...’

He bitterly counted yet another loss in his endless losing streak.