Chapter 714 - Just as Planned
The glint in her eyes, the ironclad hands, the muscles set anew beneath the armor, the faintest shifts, the rain, the wind, even the killing intent floating in the humid air—
Alexandra gathered every scrap of information and locked it into her mind.
Calculating the surroundings to use them in battle was a trick her friend Enkrid often displayed.
'You're not the only one who can do that.'
Even in the raging storm, Alexandra kept her focus on the enemy before her.
She blocked out everything else, narrowing her perception until only she and her opponent remained.
With this, even Medusa's petrifying curse could be ignored.
Of course, the curse would still have some influence outside her immediate awareness,
but since she couldn't exactly cut off Medusa's head and return at this moment, ignoring it was her only option.
So she did just that—blocked it all out, sharpening her concentration.
She forgot about the rain, the pounding storm—
and entered a world where only she and her enemy existed.
From the friend who had returned from death, traces of his living self could still be glimpsed.
Behind the helmet, leaking black steam, his braided hair could be seen.
Andante had always had long, flowing hair.
It was Alexandra who told him it would be a waste to cut it short when he had tried to chop it off.
After teaching him how to braid it, Andante had always worn his hair in a braid ever since.
'You really did grow it out for a long time after that.'
Later, Andante had even shown a trick of hiding blades between the braids, but that was just a playful thing back then.
Ssssss—
The black steam gathered, coiling before it seeped back into the helmet.
It looked almost like a preparatory motion before a fight.
Alexandra also subtly shifted her weight, pressing a little more into her big toe.
Alexandra and Andante had never dueled at length.
They always settled their fights with a single exchange.
Their spars were half a gamble with their lives, and Andante had always enjoyed it greatly while he lived.
"When you brush against death, the world doesn't look so bloody red anymore."
He said it with a laugh even as blood poured from a wound in his thigh.
To Andante, sometimes the world seemed blood-red.
It would have been a disturbing statement to anyone who heard it— and it spoke to the miserable fate that had forged in his an uncontrollable urge.
An urge that could only be quelled by killing.
Now, that bloodthirst became a blade, sharp and red, pressing right up against Alexandra.
But Alexandra did not move even a single step.
It was like two clowns walking a tightrope.
'Let's end it in a single stroke, Andante.'
What happens when you add death to the disaster that is a knight?
The answer was standing right before her.
Andante would now react faster, move more dynamically than he ever had in life— that much was clear even without crossing swords.
Andante had many advantages now.
First, his breathing couldn't be read—because the dead do not breathe.
Second, he could unleash full power without any telegraphed movements or tensioning of muscles.
One of the strengths of a death knight was a mind left with only pure battle instinct.
If there was any silver lining, it was that a knight's Will would not have changed.
A knight's Will never grew easily, and after death, it could never grow at all—only the Will they had held in life remained.
However, his limbs would regenerate if severed.
Which meant only specific targets could be aimed for.
The head or the neck must be taken.
And Andante would instinctively guard against that.
On the surface, they seemed peaceful, simply standing there.
Neither had drawn a sword, both standing awkwardly with their arms hanging loosely.
To an uninformed onlooker, it might have looked like they were about to shake hands.
But a death knight was not nearly so sociable.
KWA-RAANG!
A white bolt of lightning tore through the space between them.
Still, neither moved a muscle.
After a long—or short—standoff, it was Alexandra who moved first.
She bent her knees and sprang forward.
Just before her body lunged ahead, her hand was already gripping her sword.
Blitzcling—the name "Lightning Blade" had been given to her because the sword she swung was fast enough to resemble a lightning strike.
It was a speed she had never once revealed even during her sparring with Enkrid.
Even Rhinox was around, but that didn't mean Alexandra had no secret techniques of her own.
Of course she did.
She compressed the Will swirling inside her, concentrating it, and then detonated it.
That explosive force allowed her to momentarily surpass her own limits.
BOOM!
The blast erupted, and the sword cleaved through the air, crossing the bounds of time itself as it raced toward the enemy.
Bang!
Andante, now transformed into a Death Knight, matched Alexandra's speed.
But instead of blocking her, he thrust forward.
In the split second where a hole could have been punched through her stomach while only scratching his helmet, Alexandra accelerated once more.
Boom—
A noise rang in her ears.
It wasn't real.
It was an auditory hallucination triggered by the final burst of her remaining Will.
Alexandra's advancing body twisted to the side, her blade tracing a zigzagging arc that struck across the Death Knight's helmet.
Clang!
The helmet split apart, and black smoke erupted from within.
Alexandra's vision turned blood-red.
A searing heat flooded her nostrils, and her legs trembled uncontrollably.
Turning her reddened gaze behind her, she saw the rotten skull revealed inside the broken helmet.
Whirl-whirl-whirl-whirl.
A horizontal vortex formed along the ground in her wake, like a long tunnel carved by a storm.
Only after the clash ended did the scars of her movement—ripping through the very air—become visible.
"Cut..."
A Will-infused sword—an engraved weapon—had split the head.
Even a Death Knight wasn't invincible.
If the head was severed, it would die.
Andante's final words were "Cut."
Though his true last words had likely been heard by Hescal.
"Cough!"
Alexandra closed her bleeding eyes, letting the rain wash away the blood, and drove her sword tip into the ground, kneeling on one knee.
She spoke.
"Andante, if you're satisfied, you can go now."
Once, he had said he wished to see a sword swifter than anything before.
She had shown him that now.
Triggering two explosions of Will was already a borderline suicidal move.
And she had done it twice—more violently the second time.
Her abdomen ached sharply, her head throbbed fiercely.
The pain echoed through her entire body, as if she might die.
Her guts felt twisted beyond repair, and she couldn't lift herself—
—but it was fine.
In her youth, she had honed this technique to the point of losing the ability to bear children, but she had no regrets then or now.
Even without bearing them in her womb, she had raised children in her heart.
And in the end, the skills she had forged helped her protect her home.
'Still, this might be a bit much.'
Even within Yohan, Alexandra's illness had never been severe—just a mild cough.
But now, with her body in shambles, her sickness surfaced too.
A sudden chill gripped her.
In a way, it had been just a single sword stroke.
But that one strike had killed a Death Knight.
She had fulfilled her role.
The real problem was that the battle wasn't over yet.
'My body won't move.'
A monster flapped toward her.
Medusa's gaze still hung heavy over the battlefield.
Before, she could ignore the petrification curse.
Now, it pressed in on her without mercy.
Alexandra lowered her head to avoid the monster's stare.
The sorcery snake above her head still writhed, and Medusa, overseeing the battlefield, sent a winged beast diving toward her.
'This is bad.'
Meanwhile, perhaps because its brain was smaller than others', one of the lizard monsters recklessly charged at her.
Alexandra, leaning heavily on her sword, looked like she could barely stay standing.
The lizard, lacking its rider, lunged with jaws wide to bite her head.
Alexandra yanked her sword free and swung it—then slammed it back into the ground.
Her hand moved so fast that most people would not even have seen it.
Splurt!
The monster collapsed at her feet, its upper skull soaring through the air with its jaw still gaping.
'Seriously, this is really bad.'
She didn't even have the strength to speak anymore, and the number of monsters and beasts around her only kept increasing.
It wasn't hard to guess why.
'Tempest.'
He had been pinned down, despite having Rhinox by his side.
'Hescal, you sly fox.'
It was surely a strategy crafted in that bastard's head—turning Andante into a Death Knight and sending him at her.
Though Alexandra didn't know who Hescal had bet on in their duel, if she died here, the balance would tip a little toward Yohan's defeat.
Her senses dulled, and she started feeling the heavy drag of her soaked clothes.
Definitely a bad sign.
'Somebody take care of that snake's head already.'
The petrification curse and the sorcery snake made it even harder to survive.
One of the scalers, wielding psychokinesis, seized her sword. An invisible hand gripped her blade.
And from behind, she sensed a presence.
Her dulled mind and sluggish senses hadn't noticed until someone was right behind her.
'Pathetic.'
She shook off the telekinetic grip and swung her sword backward.
She had strength for only one swing.
If this was to be her last strike, she might as well swing it and cry out her husband's name.
If she died, he'd have to take care of things somehow.
Otherwise, she'd just die here and become a lingering spirit to sabotage his second marriage.
Absolutely.
'So come save me, Tempest.'
Judging the distance to the enemy approaching from behind, Alexandra tore her sword free from the telekinetic grip and swung it.
Crack, whoosh, thud!
Her attack was blocked.
The enemy raised his sword vertically, neatly stopping her blade's movement.
Then he closed the distance with a quick, decisive step—so fast she didn't even have time to call her husband's name.
Enkrid had been silently counting the number of floating arrows around him.
By now, he realized that most of the monsters with notable abilities, especially those with superior psychic skills, had gathered here.
There were still plenty of psychokinetic monsters left, but they could be dismissed as mere rabble.
Even without relying on instinct, the truth was obvious before his eyes.
There were at least five enemies standing there without even a gesture, effortlessly keeping a dozen arrows each afloat.
Fifty black-tipped arrows hovered ominously, all aimed at him.
If those started flying, it would be a nasty fight.
And seeing the arrows' darkened points, Enkrid was willing to bet Rem's left hand that they were poisoned.
"I am Panito, the right hand of Lord Hescal."
The owner of the net spoke.
Enkrid turned his head to look at him.
The faintly glowing steel-plated armor he wore was a treasure by itself.
Krais would definitely covet it if he saw it.
The opponent seemed quite convinced he had cornered Enkrid.
His attitude said as much.
Watching him, a sudden thought struck Enkrid.
'So being caught in a net is the end?'
No.
That wasn't it.
An idea burst into his mind instantly—almost like a flash of inspiration.
'I'll blend the Blade of Coincidence with the Tactical Blade.'
He would base his calculations on Tactical Blade techniques, execute them like a lightning flash, and weave coincidence and fortune into his strategy.
All for the sake of seizing the upper hand.
After all, that's what tactics were for.
His mind spun fiercely, hot enough to feel feverish, until it finally found an answer.
And so, Enkrid opened his mouth like a well-tuned instrument and spoke.
"Just as planned."
Of course, he had indeed been caught.
But if he could weave even coincidence into his intentions, then this situation too could be called part of the plan.
"…You anticipated this?" Panito asked, startled.
"Of course."
Enkrid was utterly shameless.
Compared to Ragna, who could point west and call it north without blinking, this level of bluffing was practically cute.
"Impressive, Border Guard Enkrid."
Panito—whom Enkrid had never met even during sparring matches—genuinely sounded impressed.
Apparently, some of Hescal's subordinates had been too busy with external affairs to meet easily, and Panito must have been one of them.
Enkrid's mind wandered briefly.
Since he had decided to treat all coincidences as part of his plan, it was now within the realm of the Tactical Blade's domain to make it look that way.
Tactics were about deceiving the opponent—thus, the Luagarne style Tactical Blade was all about illusions.
And from there, a small but powerful chain of ideas began to ring inside Enkrid's head.
Valen-style mercenary swordsmanship never taught how to handle a sword properly.
That was because it was based on illusions.
In other words, tactics were fundamentally rooted in deception.
If he continued honing his skills through tactical swordsmanship, the next path forward would naturally reveal itself.
Would it be better to call it the method of honing a deceptive sword, or simply deceptive swordsmanship?
At the moment, it was an idea he could do little with — something to be recalled and remembered later, when the time allowed.
For now, he had more pressing matters to deal with right in front of him.
"You must have gathered all the superior monsters with transcendent abilities here to wipe out the entire knight order and then planned to push straight into Yohan."
It was something he could say because he had read the opponent's intentions.
Now that the enemy had shown their hand this far, it wasn't hard to guess the purpose behind their moves.
"Correct. You even foresaw that?"
Panito still seemed surprised, suggesting he wasn't particularly clever.
In a way, it meant he had been properly fooled.
Or, put differently, it spoke to the peak of Enkrid's acting skills.
Following the path his tactical swordsmanship showed him, Enkrid spoke again.
"Yeah, it's all going according to plan."
If Krais had heard him, he would have probably called him the greatest liar on the continent.
If Luagarne had been around, she would've clapped endlessly with those slippery hands of hers.
"None of you will ever get past me."
And this part was genuine.
Whatever plans or tricks there were, from the moment Enkrid faced them, he knew what his role was.
By now, that bastard Ragna should know what he had to do too.
"Even if you know, stopping it won't be easy."
Panito bit down hard as he spoke.
The fact that someone had seen through his master's strategy filled him with bitter jealousy.
And that jealousy quickly turned into rage, crystallizing into a killing intent — an unshakable urge to destroy the man before him.
***
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