Chapter 12

The Swordsmanship Genius Possessed by a God — Chapter 12

The silence did not last long.

Pfft.

Beginning with someone who could no longer suppress his laughter, laughter erupted from all around.

“Puhahahaha!”

“Heh, bwahaha!”

“What the hell is that brat saying?”

“He says he hates people like us.”

Allen looked around at the laughing men.

There were around fifty of them.

There was no other escape route. Apart from the door behind him, there were no windows large enough for a person to pass through.

“You certainly know how to spout nonsense like some righteous knight.”

Shing—

Osval, who had been sneering along with his subordinates, drew a large axe.

A hint of caution could be seen in his eyes. Unlike his subordinates, who were doing nothing but laughing, he had his doubts about the situation.

“You don't seem to be here for money. Who sent you? Did you come alone?”

“You don't deserve an answer.”

“Still spouting arrogant nonsense to the very end—”

Osval roared.

“What are you all doing? Are you just going to stand there and listen?”

At Osval's words, his subordinates began moving.

They spread out widely around Allen. It was a formation intended to guard against the possibility that Allen might be a highly skilled swordsman.

Regardless, Allen remained standing with his back to the door. As though declaring that no one would be leaving this place.

“Kill him!”

Once again, the moment Osval gave the order—

“Hyaaaah!”

With a battle cry, one of the men brought his axe down toward Allen.

Whoooosh!

The sound of wind came immediately afterward.

The charging man stopped in his tracks. Something felt strange.

Why couldn't he move his body?

His companions watching nearby were startled.

A bright red line appeared along the man's body, running from his crotch all the way to his head.

Riiip.

The man's body split into two halves, revealing the space behind him. The others were overwhelmed by the corpse that had appeared in an instant and hesitated.

His body had been severed with a single stroke? They hadn't even seen the sword move, yet it had sliced through both flesh and bone.

It had been only a single move, but the men of the Iron Shackles Society gathered in the warehouse could tell that it was no ordinary technique.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Osval urged his subordinates on.

“Are you all going to stand there and die? There's only one of him! Attack him all at once! Otherwise, I'll kill you myself!”

He no longer underestimated Allen. Having confirmed that his opponent possessed extraordinary skill, he had to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.

Apparently more frightened of Osval, who was nearby, than Allen, who stood farther away, the men charged at Allen simultaneously.

Flash.

Immediately afterward, Allen disappeared from where he had been standing.

Although he had seemed completely surrounded, Allen vanished like a mirage.

It was a dazzling footwork technique.

The startled men hurriedly searched for Allen. If they failed to locate their opponent, they might be the first to fall.

At that moment.

Whooooosh!

Once again, the same sound of wind rang out.

Celestial Star Style, First Form.

Behold.

With the sound of wind being cut apart, the sword raced forward, slicing through the arms and waists of the men blocking its path.

Arms were severed, and shoulders and waists were cut open. It happened in the blink of an eye, as though a gust of wind had swept past.

A storm of blood erupted among the charging men in an instant.

“Aaaaaaargh!”

The men who had been charging forward collapsed to the floor, screaming.

There was no further assault. Allen had simply reappeared in the very spot from which he had vanished.

With that single move, they understood one thing with certainty.

Their opponent was no inexperienced swordsman. This young swordsman was the real thing, someone who had come to claim their lives.

“Father told me to eliminate the leader, but I see things a little differently.”

Swish—

Out of habit, Allen swung his bloodstained sword toward the ground. The blood coating the blade scattered in a straight line across the floor.

“There's no particular reason I have to spare the rest of you.”

Among the many men before him, Allen made no effort to identify which one was the leader.

The bastard who had shouted for them to kill him seemed to be the leader, but it didn't matter.

He was going to kill them all anyway.

“As I said earlier, I hate people like you. Because each one of you who survives will torment hundreds of people and kill dozens more.”

Allen took a step toward them.

He would kill every last one of them.

Killing intent carrying that very resolve poured from Allen's body. Osval staggered backward and shouted.

“S-stop him!”

The order had changed from killing him.

Having realized just how powerful his opponent was, Osval's objective had now become survival.

But Allen had no intention of allowing even one of them to leave this place alive.

“Consider it an honor.”

Whooooo.

“It's my first time using this in battle.”

Mana gathered around Allen's sword.

For the first time in his life, Allen executed a sword technique imbued with mana.

Unlike the First Form, Behold, which he had always used, the techniques from the Second Form onward were based on mana.

Celestial Star Style, Second Form.

Rainstorm.

Whoooooosh.

The wind intensified.

It was not merely wind generated by swinging a sword.

It was genuine sword energy created by imbuing the wind with mana.

Whooooosh!

It shot from Allen's sword, tearing apart the bodies of the men blocking his path.

Crack, crack, crack!

Splaaash!

The warehouse floor and ceiling split apart as a storm of blood erupted. Blood and flesh mingled with the wind-shaped sword energy. Screams were swallowed by the howling wind.

The technique swept through the warehouse. When the wind finally subsided, the bodies of men who had been hacked to pieces lay scattered across the floor.

It looked quite literally as though a rainstorm of sword energy had poured down upon them.

A single execution of the technique had wiped out half the men inside the warehouse.

“Huh...?”

“What... just happened...?”

The men who had been fortunate enough to survive by avoiding Rainstorm stood in a daze.

Allen himself was momentarily taken aback.

‘So this is the Second Form, Rainstorm.’

He understood the technique, but this was his first time actually using it.

Unlike the First Form, Behold, the Vishken Style required mana from the Second Form onward.

The technique's power exceeded his expectations. Not only did it cover a wide area, but its destructive force was also outstanding.

Of course, the drawback of Vishken swordsmanship was that it consumed an enormous amount of mana.

‘With the mana I have now, I could use it two or three times.’

But for the moment, that was more than enough. After all, he would continue accumulating mana in the future.

Once he did, the number of times he could execute the techniques would increase, and he would also become capable of using higher forms.

And if he could someday execute every technique of Vishken swordsmanship without limit?

‘I'd be invincible.’

If the Second Form alone was this powerful, what kind of swordsmanship could his father unleash? Surely even this would seem laughable in his father's eyes.

Once again, Allen understood why his father was called the greatest swordsman on the continent.

Clench.

His grip on his sword tightened unconsciously. The joy of using Rainstorm for the first time mingled with his anticipation of becoming even stronger.

But that joy lasted only a moment.

Fear spread through the warehouse a beat later.

“U-aaaaah!”

“A m-monster!”

To them, Allen looked like a monster.

If a swordsman who could cut down dozens of people with a single stroke wasn't a monster, then who was?

“R-run... We have to run...”

Whoosh.

Leaving behind the lingering excitement of his first technique, Allen charged toward the men attempting to flee.

Allen was fast because he did not hesitate.

At that moment, he seemed to be moving in a different flow of time from the men whose bodies had grown sluggish with flesh and fat.

Every time his sword flashed, another head was inevitably severed. Whenever something round flew toward the warehouse ceiling, it was a human head.

Watching his subordinates rapidly diminish in number, Osval was bewildered.

‘What the hell is happening?’

Everything had happened so suddenly that he could hardly believe it. It was so shocking that it almost didn't feel real.

His subordinates had already lost the will to fight and were desperately trying to escape. Allen pursued them and severed their heads one by one.

The moment Osval realized that only a handful of his subordinates remained—

‘A hostage!’

Osval thought of his last hope.

‘If that bastard is a knight dispatched by the Empire, there's no way he'll ignore a hostage.’

Having reached that conclusion, Osval stretched his hand toward Meiran.

He intended to grab her by the hair and press a blade against her throat.

Swoooosh.

Celestial Star Style, First Form.

Behold.

Slash.

A chilling sound of flesh being severed accompanied a gust of wind.

Osval saw a thick arm flying through the air.

It seemed impossible, but that was—

‘My... arm?’

Allen, who had been keeping an eye on Meiran the entire time, had noticed Osval's movement and immediately rushed over.

“Aaaaaaargh!”

Drip, drip, drip.

Blood poured from the severed stump of his arm. Osval collapsed to the floor, clutching his shoulder.

When he raised his head, Allen was already standing between him and Meiran. All those countless subordinates of his lay sprawled across the floor.

Cold sweat streamed down Osval's face as he prostrated himself.

“P-please spare me, Sir Knight. Please spare my life.”

Having seen Allen save Meiran, Osval became convinced.

The young man before him must be a knight of the Empire. Allen had acted according to the spirit of chivalry.

“I was wrong. From now on... From now on, I'll live as a good man. Please...”

But he had completely misjudged the man before him.

“If I were a knight of the Empire, I might have believed those words.”

Slash!

Allen's sword severed Osval's neck with a single stroke.

“But we're not on that side.”

Thud.

Osval's head fell to the floor. Allen lightly kicked the head that had rolled to his feet.

At that moment.

[Mission completed.]

[All stats have increased by 2.]

Along with a pleasant notification sound, Allen felt a fresh surge of vitality welling up within his body.

Not only his mana, but also his strength, agility, and stamina had increased. The reward was by no means small.

‘At this rate, it's far better than several months of training.’

He could already feel a distinct difference from the increase in mana alone.

The technique he had thought he could use only two or three times could now definitely be used three times.

He was growing increasingly fond of this system. Smiling with satisfaction, Allen turned his head.

“Are you all right?”

Meiran flinched in surprise and lowered her head.

“I-I'm fine! I'm all right.”

Her face had turned deathly pale.

She was more frightened of Allen standing before her than she had been of the men of the Iron Shackles Society.

“Your face is badly injured. And your other wounds aren't minor either.”

“No. I'm really...”

“How can you say you're fine? Ah, put this on first. Your clothes are all torn.”

Allen removed his outer garment and draped it over Meiran.

As she put on the clothing that still held his body warmth and looked into Allen's calm eyes, her trembling stopped as though it had never existed.

Until just moments ago, Allen had seemed like a murderous demon in Meiran's eyes. She had trembled in terror as she watched him slaughter dozens of people with a single move and sever human heads without hesitation.

But could those truly be the eyes of someone who had just slaughtered dozens of people?

Meiran, who had already given up everything, thinking her turn would be next, suddenly burst into tears.

“Uhuuuhuhu, thank you. Thank you so much.”

Allen patted her shoulder and helped her stand. Then he supported the woman, whose legs had gone weak, and led her out of the warehouse.

Outside, the coachman was waiting with the carriage.

When he spotted Allen, the coachman stood and hurried over.

“Are you injured anywh— Eeeek!”

The coachman, who had been examining Allen and Meiran, recoiled in shock.

Beyond the wide-open door, he could see countless corpses strewn across the floor.

The Iron Shackles Society had been completely wiped out in such a short time?

It was a display of skill that was truly difficult to believe.

For a moment, Allen seemed like an entirely different person.

“Do you happen to know a good tavern around here?”

Unable to contain himself any longer, Allen spoke while holding his stomach.

“I'm hungry after all that exertion. Let's stop somewhere for a meal on the way.”

Before he knew it, Allen had returned to being the same young man who had shared a meal with him beside the campfire the previous night.

The coachman's tension vanished in an instant, and he smiled brightly.

He nodded vigorously.

“Coachmen always know the best places to eat. And this meal is on me!”

With the Iron Shackles Society gone, neither of them would have to suffer under their debts any longer. The coachman felt as though he could soar into the sky.

After helping the two into the carriage, the coachman hurriedly took hold of the reins. The carriage quickly began rolling forward.

And inside that carriage, Allen repeatedly clenched and opened his hands, savoring the lingering sensation from earlier.

The feeling of unleashing a powerful sword technique by pouring out his mana all at once.

‘I need more mana.’

As he recalled that sensation, his desire grew stronger.

He wanted to accumulate more mana. He wanted to unleash even more powerful techniques. He wanted to become stronger.

To accomplish that, he needed an elixir. He had to obtain the treasure said to be inside the dungeon, the Flower of Stars.

Allen's gaze turned toward the city at the foot of the mountain, visible through the carriage window.

With this, the mission his father had assigned him was complete.

The carriage began making its way in earnest toward Allen's true destination: the dungeon.