"Your skill."
The smile on Oara's face faded slightly. She didn't always wear a smiling face, after all.
She wasn't exactly startled, but the way she blinked repeatedly was an expression anyone could recognize as surprise.
It was only natural. Even without exchanging many moves, it wouldn't be difficult to notice the difference from before.
His inexhaustible Will—Usuke—his skill in handling the sword, his mindset, even his utilization of Will.
The Enkrid who'd met her in Thousand Brick, now the city that inherited the name Oara, was far too different from the Enkrid standing before her now.
Just moments ago, Oara had swung her sword down, and Enkrid had deflected it by striking it with a thrust.
Then Oara forcibly seized the sword being pushed back by the thrust, stopped it with pure strength, and used her footwork to dissipate the remaining force.
The skill of the knight who'd changed the city's name hadn't gone anywhere. Enkrid confirmed that, and Oara recognized that the man standing before her now had clearly changed from before. A smile appeared on Oara's face again. This was more interesting than expected.
Seeing the changed Enkrid, and crossing swords with this man like this.
It was the first moment a truly sincere smile could appear since being captured by the Balrog.
"Back then, didn't I advise you to discard something?"
It was a question that came from recalling old thoughts. There was no particular intent behind it. Enkrid answered nonchalantly. He opened his mouth immediately as if it wasn't even worth considering.
"Ah, I let that go in one ear and out the other."
Oara laughed as she received Enkrid's words.
"...This bastard, he's good at provocation."
And Oara learned something now that she hadn't known when they'd met in the city. This bastard moved his tongue just like a Ghoul.
When done with a face and attitude that seemed unlikely to do so, the effect was doubled. Oara was someone with exceptional battlefield experience. She knew that principle well too.
Clang.
This time Oara thrust, and Enkrid shortened his movement line to swing his sword down. Their blades met and parted lightly. Not even sparks flew. As if they were doing a rehearsed sparring match, they swung, dodged, blocked, and deflected their swords.
This wasn't Oara's will. Enkrid's intent was leading, and she was following it.
'I can tell he's improved to some degree and come this far, but.'
Was it to this extent?
Oara was surprised several times. Originally, she hadn't planned to play with her sword like this. She didn't want to drain this man's strength. So she'd intended to skip the sparring altogether and just talk. Right now she was only going along briefly because her opponent wanted it.
Though surprised, Oara knew this level couldn't surpass the Balrog.
'But then, do I have anything to say?'
There wouldn't be. Oara looked into her opponent's eyes as she moved. She saw eyes like a clear sky without a single cloud.
Eyes holding light hard to see in this place. Also eyes where one could glimpse a will not to retreat no matter what happened. That's why she couldn't stop him. By what right could she block someone who stood here of their own will and swung their sword?
Even if the end was predetermined, even if it was a story whose ending was already known, Oara had to read it. Even if that story's end was decided to be a tragedy.
'Insufficient.'
She knew from fighting many times. The Balrog couldn't be dismissed as just a monster good at fighting.
As always, time was finite. Whether outside or inside the labyrinth, when there's a beginning, there's an end.
Oara judged that the time had now come to begin, whether tragedy or whatever else.
Thunk.
Oara pushed her sword out as if thrusting it away, about to say the time had come.
Enkrid retreated smoothly and sheathed his sword. There was precision in the motion. It seemed like military courtesy could come out right after. Oara muttered inwardly.
Yes, you must know the time has come too.
Just as she was about to open her mouth, Enkrid made the first move.
"Can you do bare-handed combat?"
Then he suddenly extended his hand. Oara dodged the fist aimed at her eye socket with a whoosh. This time it wasn't at the level of dodging with a smile like before.
She twisted her waist to shift her center of gravity and sharply bent her neck. At the same time, she spread her palm and struck out. This counterattack came because dodging such an attack wasn't the end. It was a knight's insight and trained habit reflexively bursting out.
Thwack!
Enkrid aimed at Oara's face with his left fist, then immediately struck Oara's extended palm with his right elbow. The sound was quite loud. He'd hit that hard.
Oara, her palm blocked, leaped backward twice like a startled rabbit. Originally her specialty was the Continuing Sword used while moving her feet, so her footwork was also extraordinary. Even to a knight's eyes, her center of gravity shifted quickly and her reflexes were exceptional.
"...What was that?"
The retreated Oara asked.
"Warming up?"
Enkrid answered blandly.
"So you're saying I'm your warm-up?"
Oara realized anew just how exceptional Enkrid's tongue-work was. This bastard knew how to get under someone's skin. It was a talent for making one irritated regardless of battlefield experience or anything else. The talk about the Balrog she'd been about to bring up temporarily disappeared from her mind.
"Why? Oara without a smile is third-rate? Like trash? Small fry? Something like that?"
And the smiling Oara was a knight with a very strong heart, but she wasn't the type to let provocations pass. She was someone who crushed opponents with skill no matter what they said.
"Well, not exactly that."
That blue-eyed bastard received her words with a calm attitude. That tranquility itself was what gently scratched at one's insides.
Oara reacted, and Enkrid smiled. Oara even took that smile as provocation.
"Fine, let's see who dies first."
Once upon a time, she'd swept across battlefields with a single sword. It was her life before becoming a knight.
"Come at me!"
Her name had become widely known when she'd cut down ten famous mercenaries by herself.
At that time, those ten enemy mercenaries had ambushed her specifically. It had been a fight started with the calculation that if they could kill her, they could lose one battle and still win the war in this battlefield where tactics emphasizing small elite forces had become commonplace.
"I'll make you crawl under my crotch."
The one who'd kept up provocations had his crotch cut off first. She didn't tolerate provocations. Why did that memory come to mind now?
Oara gathered her scattered thoughts and gripped her sword. The Imprinted Weapon called Laughter was absent. But the 'me' who'd wielded that Laughter still existed.
Whether this was a fragment of a soul, literally just dregs of memory, or scraps of obsession, she didn't know.
Though he'd asked if she could do bare-handed combat, she ignored it all as her hand went to the sword.
Srrrng.
The drawn sword rode the flow. Her sword was an unceasing line. An unending wave.
Oara's sword traced a diagonal trajectory, and Enkrid's sword facing it traced the same diagonal. A sword swinging down in reverse like looking in a mirror. The two blades met in midair.
Clang—!
Sparks flew. It meant both had swung with proper force. Oara wore clothing with wide sleeves, and this clash pushed the sleeves up to her elbows.
The delicate muscle lines on those arms rippled like waves.
'Soft.'
In the very brief moment their swords met, Enkrid grasped the nature Oara's sword possessed.
Reading the sword's nature immediately wasn't due to a skill difference. It was thanks to knowing her from before and training using part of her techniques as a standard.
He applied force to push his opponent's sword sideways. He'd pushed it aside with heavy strength.
Kragagagagagang!
Just before they could lock together in a bind, the moment Oara realized she'd been pushed back in the same diagonal slash, she retreated again. Then, as quickly as she'd retreated, she rushed forward and swung her sword diagonally again.
Thwack! The sound of kicking off the ground was heard, and in that instant, a dull-colored blade fell tracing the same diagonal trajectory. If before it had been soft, this time it was a fierce slash. Enkrid lifted his sword upward and pushed softly.
Krgrgrgng.
The two swords crossed as they switched positions. Until now Oara had her back to the bonfire, but this time Enkrid faced the fire.
The torch fire was far and the bonfire close. The shadows of the two standing between them overlapped. Just as sword and body crossed, their gazes also crossed.
Those unfathomable blue eyes remained upright, clear, and pure as always. Oara understood why those ten mercenaries from long ago had come to mind.
She'd noticed those ten mercenaries' ambush from the start. Their tactics hadn't been that sophisticated.
Yet she'd gone along with it knowingly. Just like now.
This was a rehearsed sparring match. Oara knew that if she fought with full power, she could leave at least one wound even as scraps of obsession, but she didn't do so.
"You've really improved a lot."
"Thanks to letting it go in one ear and out the other back then."
"...Did you always talk like that?"
"Ah, this time Oara let it go in one ear and out the other. I was always like this."
If there were a competition for speaking annoyingly, this bastard might be first on the continent.
Oara had engaged with Enkrid wanting to help him. She'd tried to pass on part of the experience gained from fighting the Balrog.
'...Why do you already know everything?'
How to utilize wings, how to escape from intimidation, even kicks flying from outside the realm of calculation.
'He knows it all.'
Enkrid had naturally fought the Balrog over a hundred times recently, but from Oara's perspective, it was something to tilt her head at.
Not that she could question it either.
From then on, Oara understood what Enkrid wanted. Without speaking directly, their intentions connected just by crossing swords.
She swung her sword while disregarding defense altogether, and Enkrid deflected, parried, and blocked every sword strike Oara unleashed. A notched iron sword remained gripped in Oara's hand throughout.
The sparring between the two was long. Long enough for a group of madmen to find the madman leading that group, in fact.
"Ah, that's enough."
After engaging for quite a while, Oara retreated. Enkrid also naturally pulled back his sword and took his stance.
There was no time to exchange words. Oara's body flew sideways with a whoosh. Her body bounced sideways like a doll on a string.
Then a blood-red hide-covered foot burst out from the shadow where she'd been standing. The positions had changed at some point, and Oara had her back to the bonfire. The foot had burst out while their shadows overlapped.
In other words, it happened right before his eyes.
Enkrid's thoughts stretched out. The air pressed heavily on his shoulders, and his dynamic vision far exceeded human limits to identify what had risen from the shadow. In truth, he would have known even without seeing it. Insight through experience would have noticed what had just occurred.
In other words, the Balrog's foot had burst out. Even in stretched time, the Balrog's foot drew a blurry afterimage. It was a trajectory and speed impossible to dodge no matter how much he stretched his thoughts. Moreover, it wasn't just the foot—intimidation was mixed in too. The formless pressure, intimidation taking the form of burning chains, seized his limbs.
Boom!
Enkrid was struck by the foot. His body flew backward with a whoosh, seeming about to crash into the wall. But that didn't happen.
Thunk.
A huge hand, truly as large as a bear's, caught Enkrid's flying back and diverted the force sideways. The massive body that had caught Enkrid spun in a circle. The force that could have smashed through the wall or even dug into it scattered in midair.
A ringing sound echoed in Enkrid's ears. Though he'd protected his body with Will, the tinnitus was a phenomenon from his body suddenly flying. Though it disappeared quickly too. It was thanks to his sturdy body.
The person who'd helped train his body to become what it is now was the one now supporting his back.