Zig put on his clothes as the two got even more excited in the discussion.
Siasha had the tendency to look into every detail of something she was interested in, giving her the personality of a researcher. Zig wasn’t convinced of the theory, since the women on his continent gave birth like everyone else did. He was an amateur, of course, and had no evidence to back it up, but he had a feeling that the ability to bear children wasn’t what made the women here capable of fighting on the front line with men.
But he was a mercenary, and as such was content to leave the complicated thinking to the academics. All he needed to do was swing a sword.
“Doc, I’ll be borrowing your garden.”
Although Halian was a remote town, it was among the most prosperous in terms of size, population, and economy.
The key to the town’s prosperity was its adventurers, monsters, and transportation stone, which gave it access to various regions.
However, the transportation stone’s magic seals and materials could not be analyzed, since it was too important to be taken apart. No one knew why such a useful stone was there in the first place, but it made it difficult for Halian to be conquered by the average settlement. The town was rich in profitable resources, but it was surrounded by monstrosity-infested forests and craggy mountains, which meant prospective invaders would have to get through. Merchants had to use large-scale caravans to get to and from the area, with guild-provided adventurers as their escorts.
However, due to its structure, Halian suffered from numerous internal conflicts due to several organizations keeping each other in check.
The association of merchants and tradesmen exercised heavy influence over the central district, where the business and artisan districts were located. They were interdependent in all things—business, armaments, food. There were some disputes here and there but never large-scale conflicts. Most disagreements in Halian were territorial, with factions fighting for control over the cardinal districts.
The southern red light and gambling districts belonged to the Cantarella while the northern ones belonged to the Bazarta—the two great mafia families of Halian. The Jinsu-Yah immigrated some twenty years ago and took the eastern district for themselves from the two warring families. The western district belonged to people who thought humans were the chosen race and treated demi-humans like foul sinners—the Claritists.
However, just the other day, some important members of the Claritists disappeared, causing a stir among the people. The members in question were the Claritists’ combat personnel and their leader, the remitter. With them gone, the Claritists would lose a great amount of their influence, creating a major power vacuum in its place.
He took a deep breath and breathed out.
He spread his feet shoulder width apart, shifting his weight onto his left foot.
The twinblade in his hand was lowered, the left side of his body pointing forward while the top blade of his weapon was pointed back.
The tail guard hid the range of his weapon while allowing him to swing with great momentum. However, it did mean that he would be one beat slower to react to attacks than if he had been in longpoint with his sword pointed at the enemy. In his case, the bottom blade of the twinblade could be used for defense while the top could be used for attack. The weapon’s size stood out, but the length of the handle could cause errors in calculation.
Such a weapon could be considered highly versatile if not for the fact that you had to account for the movement of the equally heavy bottom blade and the sheer amount of strength needed to execute the weapon’s movements properly.
He exhaled, focusing himself all the way to the tips of his limbs.
Once he knew that his muscles and joints were in good working order and they were supplied with enough blood, he moved.
“Hmph!”
There was a rumbling, followed by the blowing of the wind.
His hips rotated, power rising from his feet, transferring fully to his blade. The twinblade transmitted his energy, creating a gust of wind. The laundry hanging in the garden fluttered in the presence of the sword-generated tempest.
But a twinblade wasn’t restricted to a single slash.
The top blade swung in an arc from his lower right to his upper left, traveling to the twinblade’s opposite side. After both blades had slashed the target, he twisted, turning around to thrust with the bottom blade. The continuous attack didn’t stop as he tapped into his martial arts training to keep the flurry going. His skill with the blade was evident as he kept up the offense in a smooth and quick flow.
The movement had been set into his body, making him truly one with his blade. He had sent many to their graves with the skills he honed on the battlefield.
But it’s not enough.
No one would have the right to criticize his skill. And yet, Zig was not satisfied.
Scenes from his last battle played in the back of his mind as he swung his sword. It had been a true battle to the death with the remitter Yaesar Burlon.
Yaesar had been a formidable opponent, far more skilled than Zig, but he managed to claim victory through sheer strength and stamina.
A win was a win.
Zig had no plans of changing his statement any time soon, but if he had to fight him again or if someone of Yaesar’s level came along, he didn’t know if he could have the same result. He believed that combat was about one’s affinity against the opponent and overall strength. Perfecting a single point of your strategy might make you untouchable in one field, but in the real world, combat was rarely that convenient.
Speed, strength, skill—a time would come where investing in only one of these things would fail you. At that point, you had two options.
You could either run or make do with the cards you had in hand. There wouldn’t be a problem if you could run away from all situations.
The right person in the right place. The logical decision would be to let someone who was an expert deal with situations you weren’t good in.
It would be logical. It would be ideal. Many workplaces functioned in such a way.
But the battlefield was no such workplace.
You couldn’t say to an enemy “Hang on while I get someone who’s actually good at fighting you.”
When it came time to run away, you couldn’t get someone else to do it for you. At that point, the more cards you had in your hand, the better.
War wasn’t so kind as to let you escape from situations you couldn’t handle.
That was why Zig was brushing up on his speed and skill. It was so that he wouldn’t have to solely rely on his strength.
I haven’t been slacking off. There’s just been a lot of situations where my strength was enough. Not that it makes for a good excuse.
Put simply, he had been spoiling himself.
Oftentimes, his skill and speed had been good enough to see him through. His strength was first rate and carried him to victory, but he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been slacking off because of it. His eyes were opened when he saw Yaesar showcase true skill.
I need to sharpen myself again.
He continued swinging his blade, tracing the movements of the remitter burned into his subconscious.
Yaesar’s skill had highlighted what was lacking in himself.
“Feel like giving it a rest yet?”
His whole body was drenched in sweat by the time he was done with sword practice. Though he was not completely satisfied, he would call it here.
“I guess I can’t build all that skill in a day.”
Zig turned to the voice that spoke to him as he concluded his training session.