The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon-Chapter 301: Unearth (21)
He hardly seemed to need help.
Fwish. Fwish.
Two bandits shot arrows from behind the trees. The sound was faint, nearly swallowed by the breeze. They aimed low, at the legs, as if they meant to toy with their prey before killing him.
Thud.
The arrows struck the earth and bounced off with a dull sound.
The bandits behind the rocks muttered in surprise. "Huh?"
Fwish!
They tried again, but their hurried shots flew wide. Had they fled then, I'd have given them credit for judgment. Instead, they drew their blades and stepped out into the open. Thirteen of them in all, clad in hardened leather. They wielded broad blades, spears, and even shields rimmed in scavenged iron.
The lone traveler was completely surrounded. Yet, the man in the training robe didn't even draw his sword. He simply let his arms hang loosely at his sides.
To meet him here of all places...
I sat perched on a branch above, watching Chandler. It was no strange thing, really. His father had called him to Grassmere to hand down his title.
The bandits closed in, brandishing weapons to rattle their prey.
Chandler merely shrugged, raising his empty hands. "No demands for coin?"
Six steps away, the spearmen crouched behind their shields.
A limping, gaunt man, likely the leader, said, "We don't waste time on men. You die quick."
So the first arrows at his legs had been no more than poor aim?
"You're the Blood Troll Gang, aren't you?"
The bandits froze, exchanging uneasy glances. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞
"What? Is he a bounty hunter?"
But aside from me in the trees, there was no one nearby. They shifted their grips on weapons, trying to mask their nerves.
"Then, why are you alone?"
"..."
"What kind of fool comes alone?"
One thrust his spear at Chandler's side. Without armor or shield, the strike could've skewered Chandler's heart. Yet, he simply stepped half a pace back and spun around, catching the shaft and pushing right. The momentum drove the spear clean through the throat of another bandit standing slack-jawed beside him.
A single half-step and a flick of the wrist, and one was dead. Chandler's sword was still sheathed.
"Kill him!"
Three spears darted from different angles. It was the perfect tactic for many against one. Crude form, yet their killing intent was practiced enough. Chandler struck all three with his scabbard in one sweep, knocking them aside. Using the rebound, he slipped to the outside and behind another bandit standing poorly placed.
Crack!
The leader loosed an arrow in desperation, striking his own man's arm. "Damn it! Should've fallen back!"
By then, Chandler had cut down two more.
"Boss! We're finished!"
Screams echoed as blades pierced backs and bellies, cries carrying through the mountain pass. The formation shattered. Now it was Chandler alone, weaving through them, cutting men down one after another. He didn't even move that quickly, but his efficiency and sudden bursts of speed were on another level entirely. It was like seeing a monkey dancing through tree trunks while the logs toppled clumsily around him.
Within minutes, the bandits were gasping, their breath ragged. "Haah... haah...!"
They had hardly shifted positions at all, yet their stamina was spent, wasted by panic.
"Puhah!"
Fear and tension made their breathing frantic, but excess breath only worsened their terror.
Thud!
The last one fell, neck snapped by a heavy strike of Chandler's scabbard.
At last, Chandler exhaled slowly. "Phew..."
He had slain over a dozen men in mere minutes, without ever drawing his blade.
Impressive.
Ding!
[Skill: Swordsmanship Instruction Lv. 2 activated!]
[The trainee's weaknesses are now fully visible to you. If training is conducted, the target's skill acquisition, stat growth, focus, and comprehension will temporarily increase significantly.]
He'd soon inherit Grassmere. Winning his full cooperation was necessary. And now that we had met, weaving another layer of bond seemed wise.
Thump!
I tossed a branch lightly. It struck earth, driving into the soil, dirt scattering up into Chandler's face.
Shing!
He drew the sword he had kept sheathed through the whole fight. The steel sang, glinting in the pale spring sun. He spun, eyes sharp, hunting the source. Perhaps I should have let him rest a little longer, but his breathing had already steadied.
I dropped lightly from the tree. Seeing his tense expression nearly made me laugh.
"And who might you be?"
"What do you think? Doesn't a bandit chief seem fitting? Appearing just as you finish here?"
Chandler shook his head in disbelief. "Impossible..."
"Does it matter? Draw your blade."
"..."
His eyes gleamed as he raised his sword in both hands. He eased his right foot forward, inch by inch.
"What stance is that?"
"A guard for facing experts. Even if I fall, it ensures I can land one strike. But..." He bit his lip, spitting his words like a challenge, "You challenged me, yet you haven't drawn yours?"
I nodded toward the corpses. "You didn't either."
A simple provocation, and yet Chandler's face flushed red. "To compare me with them...!"
His grip tightened. Embarrassed at his own temper, he shook his head, forcing composure back. Then, color returned to his face.
Crack!
I didn't waste the opening. I snatched up a spearshaft from the ground and struck Chandler across the leg.
"In real combat, even brief lapses in composure are fatal. You lose your calm too easily when your honor is provoked."
"Urgh... Wh-who are you, really...?"
"I told you. Think of me as the bandit chief."
"Ridiculous..."
Smack!
I rapped his arm. Not hard, as the true training had yet to begin. Yet the humiliation proved harder to bear than the pain, as his face flared red. Even his long, black hair seemed to burn crimson.
Smack! Smack!
"When you swing right, your teeth clench together."
Smack!
"When you swing left, they part slightly. Every attack is revealed."
Crack!
"Gh!"
To the untrained eye, his lips never moved. The signs were minute. I knew them from months of training Chandler.
His expression, though, was as if lightning had struck. "You're right... I never even knew that habit myself. Yet you saw it at a glance...!"
Crack!
"And before you strike downward, you take a deep breath. It slows you. The blow that should be your strongest ends up weak. Your diagonal slash may be your strength, but your vertical strike is your greatest weakness."
Smack! Smack!
Another flaw I'd learned while training him. Though truthfully, it was Rena who first noticed.
Smack!
"Ughk!"
I lost control for a moment, thinking of her, and struck too hard. The blow to his chest knocked Chandler rolling across the ground. At least he wasn't dead.
"That intake of breath leaves you wide open. A fatal flaw."
A clumsy cover, but Chandler's eyes shone with fierce trust, as though my words were law.
[The Perfect Criticism succeeded three times in succession.]
[Swordsmanship Instruction proficiency has greatly increased.]
[The trainee's trust in you has risen significantly.]
[The trainee's affection has increased.]
[Training efficiency has greatly improved.]
***
Smack!
"That's enough for now."
Any further, and he'd actually die.
"Th-thank you... truly, thank you for your guidance."
"..."
"You were here to cull the bandits in my stead, weren't you? Forgive me for showing such poor form."
"Well... something like that."
In truth, I had come to kill them. Not much of a misunderstanding, so I left it uncorrected. Still, the moment was strange. The first time I met Chandler, he was nothing more than a plaything for the necromancer Gith-Za-Rai. He was fresh from the East, seized on the road, and tossed to me as my first meal.
I had been so weak then, nearly crushed by a Snow Troll. Absorbing Chandler had made me leap in power. The second time, we crossed paths freely. Even then, knowing his habits made the fight easier.
But now...
Smack!
"What was that?"
"Ghh... I thought you were distracted, so I tried to strike..."
The difference was absurd. Even dozens like Chandler couldn't stand against me now. Using him as a yardstick, I realized just how far I had come. What once had nearly broken me was now beneath reckoning.
"..."
I glanced at the broken spears I'd used for training and asked him, "Where are you headed?"
"Grassmere... I'm going to Grassmere." He hesitated, then continued slowly, "my father lives there. If you pass that way, I'd like to repay today's debt, at least in a small way."
No mention of inheriting the lordship. He chose his words carefully.
"Sure."
When he realized who his savior truly was, the look in his eyes would be amusing.
