Jamal judged time to be on his side. He saw no need to exhaust himself by swinging his sword with full force.
His engraved weapon,
Plunder
would steadily drain the strength of his opponent.
The first time this happened to anyone, their expression always changed dramatically.
At first, they wouldn't notice anything.
Plunder
worked like a mouse gnawing away at cheese, bit by bit.
Then, at some point their legs would give out all at once. That was the moment their face would turn pale.
Watching that expression wasn't a source of joy for Jamal, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction. After all seeing that face meant victory was at hand and it was only natural to feel relief mingled with a tinge of delight.
And when the opponent was strong enough to send chills down his spine and make his heart race, yet the battle's outcome was already set in his favor. How could that not be thrilling?
"Now, it begins." Jamal muttered, preparing himself while explaining his weapon
Plunder
It was obvious. Once the opponent realized their strength was waning they would have only one choice:
Kill before being drained.
Moreover, Jamal wasn't alone. Around him were soldiers armed with crossbows and a Frog who was as skilled as a squire. The burden of the fight wouldn't fall solely on Jamal.
In anticipation, Jamal adopted a defensive stance gripping his sword tightly and preparing to hurl the shortsword at his waist if an opportunity presented itself. His strategy was simple: endure the opponent's fierce attacks without giving them room to breathe, pushing them further into desperation.
The harder they pushed themselves, the faster they would reach the limits of their
Will
. They would feel their strength wane much earlier than they expected. Fierce attacks required greater
Will
, making it inevitable.
Even explaining his weapon
Plunder,
had been part of the strategy. Jamal had deliberately poisoned his opponent's mind with the urgency of despair.
He lowered his center of gravity, planting his feet firmly on the ground and raised his sword. From within his armor he activated a palm-sized scroll, a protection spell that would block a single attack that is strong enough to reach his armor.
There was no harm in being cautious. Jamal employed every resource he had doing what his survival instincts had taught him over the years.
In his mind's eye, he imagined shackles binding his opponent's feet growing heavier and heavier until lifting a foot from the ground would become unbearable.
Fully prepared, he moved forward but the situation that unfolded was far from his expectations.
Enkrid didn't unleash a furious assault. His swordplay, compared to moments earlier had slowed significantly.
His strikes were deliberate, descending straight from above in a controlled arc.
While the speed had lessened the oppressive aura around his sword made the air thick and stifling, crushing Jamal from all sides.
"What's he playing at?"
Jamal used his
Will
to shake off the oppressive force and deflected Enkrid's descending blade with a smooth motion of his own sword, avoiding any sparks from the collision.
Ring!
It was a graceful deflection, a masterful use of the
flowing sword technique
This was Jamal's ultimate weapon—redirecting an opponent's frenzied strikes.
The technique caused his opponents to gradually fall victim to
Plunder
, crumbling under the poison of desperation. It was both his greatest tactic and his most effective weapon. Even Barnas had considered him a troublesome opponent for this reason.
"To defeat you, it's absolutely necessary to end it quickly," Barnas had once grumbled.
Failing to achieve a quick victory meant their strength would be drained. And Jamal's flowing sword technique was exceptional, even among knights.
Combined with his variety of defensive tools, like the scroll. Jamal's defenses were practically impenetrable.
If needed, he could even throw daggers or circle his opponent endlessly to buy time. He was fast on his feet, knew assassin-like tactics and exploited his opponent's impatience.
But this... this was different.
"What the hell is this guy?"
Jamal didn't show it outwardly, but he was deeply perturbed. Enkrid wasn't panicking, gasping for air or showing any signs of distress.
Since earlier, he had been striking with an unchanging expression.
His only noticeable change?
"His face?"
It wasn't exactly a smile, but to Jamal, Enkrid seemed utterly focused almost as if enjoying himself.
Upon closer observation, it became undeniable.
"What's so enjoyable?"
It reminded Jamal of a boy wielding a real sword for the first time completely absorbed in play.
Watching that face made the thrill Jamal felt earlier seem petty and hollow.
Though his victory seemed certain, Jamal couldn't help but feel his elation cheapened in contrast to Enkrid's pure enjoyment of the moment.
The thought angered him.
"Are you insane!?"
Jamal roared, swinging his sword furiously. His weapon
Plunder
, collided once more with Enkrid's Valerian steel blade.
Bang!
The sound was quieter than before. The air didn't tremble, nor did it split with violent force.
Instead, Enkrid's sword faintly glowing blue, moved like a snake, coiling around
Plunder
and slipping through Jamal's defenses to pierce his shoulder.
Thunk.
Realizing he had been struck, Jamal quickly retreated. The wound wasn't deep—just a shallow stab to his shoulder blade and skin but the sense of defeat stung deeply.
"Damn it."
Jamal knew he had fallen for a psychological trick.
Enkrid had seized the upper hand in that moment and Jamal had shown an opening.
Though the wound was minor, it was a symbolic loss that tipped the scales against him.
Bracing himself for Enkrid to press the attack, Jamal was again surprised.
Enkrid didn't rush forward.
Instead, he slashed at the air a few times before calmly sheathing his sword and drawing another weapon a sharp, needle-like blade.
From a gladius to Valerian steel, and now to a fairy-forged blade called
Spark
Holding
Spark
in front of his face, Enkrid thrust it forward with a motion faster than sound.
Jamal reacted with superhuman reflexes. For even with all his faults, he was still a knight.
He twisted
Plunder
upward to block, all the while retrieving a wide, defensive shortsword imbued with magic from his back.
It resembled a cooking pan, broad and flat but in the hands of a knight, it was a shield fortified by enchantments.
Jamal was determined to endure.
And endure he did, as
Spark
struck
Pillage
delivering a rapid barrage of precise and relentless thrusts.
The assault demanded all of Jamal's concentration. His flowing sword technique, designed to conserve his
Will
, was now being pushed to its limits just to fend off Enkrid's relentless attack.
The fight escalated into a storm.
Bang! Clang! Clang!
Their clash sent shockwaves through the air, splitting it apart and creating unnatural currents that radiated outward.
The ground cracked, trees splintered and rocks shattered as the battle raged on.
"Fall back!"
The Frog general barked the order with wisdom born of experience.
Staying too close to the duel meant courting death. At this point, survival required retreat.
He didn't even entertain the thought of firing a bolt from his crossbow to intervene.
What would he aim at to shoot?
Should he trust his luck and shoot blindly?
And what if it hit an ally's back?
Honestly, neither option seemed likely to succeed.
As the soldier retreated at Frog's command, the two combatants' weapons clashed relentlessly, colliding and probing each other's bodies.
Amidst the sharp sounds of repeated strikes, a resounding metallic
clang!
echoed, followed by a deafening explosion.
Fragments flew over the soldiers' heads along with the explosion—pieces of armor.
No matter how Frog looked at it, those fragments didn't seem to belong to the enemy.
Enkrid showcased his Gladius with overwhelming pressure, then utilized
Spark
for quick thrusts and concentrated strikes.
He also demonstrated techniques emphasizing force and suppression using his Valerian steel sword.
That wasn't all.
He gripped the blade and swung the sword like a bludgeon, incorporating unorthodox moves.
Additionally, he introduced the
Valen Mercenary Sword Techniques
Mixing in irregular breathing, he sowed confusion in his opponent's rhythm and revealed the feint technique known as
Deceptive Breath
Feigning exhaustion caused Jamal's eyes to glimmer momentarily.
Enkrid spotted it, immediately returning his breathing to normal.
Jamal's eyes widened, filled with wild confusion.
His gaze conveyed what words could not:
"You bastard!"
With no time to speak, Jamal busied himself blocking the flurry of attacks.
Enkrid intensified the pressure by wielding the
Valen Mercenary Sword Triad Style
Feigning with
Spark
in hand, he suddenly dropped the sword hurling a
Whistle Dagger
instead.
Jamal flinched in surprise, twisting his body like a startled worm.
Enkrid followed this by throwing a second
Whistle Dagger
at Jamal's waist.
The knife-throwing technique he learned from Jaxen exploded into action.
Whizz!
Just before the dagger could strike Jamal's waist, a sudden flash of light burst forth deflecting it away.
A protective spell imbued in a scroll had done its job.
This fact remained unknown to Enkrid and he had no need to know.
He was simply reveling in the moment.
Enkrid unleashed additional techniques, such as
Shadow Thrust
and
Double Draw
Thud! Clang!
Jamal managed to block the
Double Draw
, but he noticed that Enkrid now held a sword in each hand. It was the
Valen Mercenary Sword Dual Rhythm
The two blades moved with different tempos and patterns.
The Valerian steel sword in Enkrid's right hand bore down heavily, employing slow, deliberate strokes.
Meanwhile,
Spark
in his left hand darted forward with swift, piercing thrusts.
Jamal, holding his breath blocked blow after blow with his makeshift shield—a sword.
"I'm losing ground."
Jamal realized this grim truth.
Meanwhile, Enkrid was still enjoying himself.
Why wouldn't he?
"Everything is going as I planned."
Every strike, every move, every insight born of his honed instincts—it all aligned perfectly.
His opponent could do nothing but defend, every reaction falling within Enkrid's expectations.
There was no reason for his hands and feet to falter when everything unfolded as envisioned.
This was a first for him.
In the world of swordsmanship Enkrid had experienced stumbling, falling and clawing forward were the norm.
The swords he learned and trained with were forged in the crucible of suffering and relentless progress, no matter the odds.
But this time, it was different.
Everything he'd learned and practiced flowed effortlessly, every move executed as he initially intended.
For the first time in his life, Enkrid walked a path unblocked by walls.
A path free of brambles.
A path unscorched by the blazing sun.
A path unassailed by biting winds.
How could he not enjoy this?
As a knight, Jamal was not a master of any single art.
Rather, he possessed a broad but shallow grasp of techniques making him a perfect sparring partner.
Unleashing all he had learned, Enkrid lost himself in the moment wholly immersed.
Starting from what he'd gained in the ritual world created by Aker, he reversed through his experiences one by one, leaving wounds on Jamal's body.
Jamal's armor fractured and burst under the strikes he couldn't block.
Amidst the storm of pressure the two created, fragments of Jamal's armor scattered outward.
The blade he used as a makeshift shield chipped at the edge, cracks forming along
Stronghold
These cracks symbolized the faltering of Jamal's resolve.
"You damn monster... why don't you ever run dry?"
For Jamal, this was an unprecedented experience.
His voice brimmed with frustration.
"An unyielding Will?"
Wasn't that the stuff of legends?
Yet, the man before him embodied that very legend.
Enkrid used his
Will
relentlessly.
Even when
Plunder
drained it, his reserves remained unexhausted.
It was as if he'd only just begun—no, he seemed even more invigorated.
Jamal foresaw the end.
Enkrid saw it too.
Both had the same insight into the inevitable outcome, leaving no room for uncertainty.
Enkrid ended his
Dual Rhythm
, setting aside the two swords he had retrieved. In their place, he gripped
Spark
Jamal discarded his shattered guard sword, gripping Plunder tightly with both hands.
Enkrid extended his left foot, boldly stepping into Jamal's range.
His feet crossed as his body shot forward like an arrow.
It was a lunge step—an arrow step, a modified foundational move in swordsmanship.
Just as
Plunder
came within inches of splitting Enkrid's head, the blade in Enkrid's hand pierced Jamal's neck.
Thwack!
The tip of
Spark
tore through flesh and bone, protruding from the back of Jamal's neck.
The red-stained blade retracted as swiftly as it struck.
Whump.
Jamal's sword fell from his powerless hands, dropping feebly to the ground.
By then, Enkrid had already sidestepped evading Jamal's final attack completely.
The knight known as Jamal toppled forward, collapsing with a heavy thud.
Until the body hit the ground, no one among the onlookers could find words.
Was this an overwhelming difference in power?
More likely, it was a matter of poor compatibility.
But who among the witnesses could understand that?
All they knew was the suffocating pressure that radiated from the man called Enkrid.

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