Shin and Zaimon faced each other with their swords held at the ready.
“Cowardly?” Zaimon repeated with a murderous look.
“Yes.” Shin watched closely as Zaimon slowly closed the gap between them. “A world so unreasonable that it couldn’t grant one simple wish to draw. A world full of submissive castle lords who meekly obey such absurdity without question. What would you call it if not cowardly?”
With one last step forwards Zaimon swung his castle sword. But he was immediately overcome with an odd feeling; the distance between had not changed. He had definitely moved forwards, yet he hadn’t gotten any closer to Shin.
What he was feeling was a result of Shin’s walking technique, which reduced the beginning of his motions to practically nothing. With no preliminary signs of his movements to be detected, he was able to move his feet in a way that allowed him to control his distance from another without his opponents noticing.
By reading Zaimon’s breathing patterns, Shin could tell when he was about to step forwards and move backwards accordingly. The time it took for Zaimon to perceive what was happening skewed his perception and threw him slightly off-kilter.
“How fitting for the so-called Silvercastle World,” Shin said, “to have soldiers so cowardly they can’t even step out of the cover of their castles.”
Shin’s demon sword stabbed into Zaimon’s Magic Eye. Just as the blade was about to pierce his pupil, the sword snapped first. A small trickle of blood oozed from Zaimon’s Eye.
“Farris chose to fight. This is an insult to him,” Zaimon said. His body suddenly split into two—not magic, but an afterimage. He appeared to be moving unhurried, but he was actually moving around at a high speed to make Shin see such an illusion.
Movement techniques could be countered by movement techniques. He was trying to turn the tables on Shin by disturbing his breathing and sense of distance instead.
“We were waiting for the true king of Balandias to appear,” Zaimon said. “We bit our tongues, endured humiliation upon humiliation, and disgraced ourselves, never once unsheathing our castle swords. You may call us cowards for that, but that was our fight—the fight to keep our very souls as castle demons! A castle cannot be built with pride alone!”
Zaimon and his clone rushed at Shin. His thrusting attack was faster than the eye could follow, but still seemingly passed through Shin’s body once again. But something was different this time; blood was dripping down Shin’s cheek. He hadn’t evaded it perfectly.
“My brother-in-arms, Farris, was waiting for a light. He was too kind and gentle to even imagine himself as the ruler. That’s why we had to prove it to him! We showed him we were willing to give our lives to him, because only he has the capacity to become our ruler!”
Zaimon’s speed increased once more. The top student of the deep-level world Balandias was several times faster than Shin, dominating Shin’s vision with his clone.
“And so Farris responded with his soul! He chose to fight, slew Kaltinas, and proved his determination to build the true Silvercastle of Balandias in the Sacred Silverwater Sea! Now our conquest is unstoppable!”
His clones, now six in total, all launched a flurry of attacks that were too fast to see. With every passing second Shin acquired more injuries, more blood spilling from his wounds. His movement technique allowed him to avoid any fatal blows, but Zaimon was too fast for him to counterattack. His clothes were quickly dyed red with his blood, but the look in Shin’s eyes was still sharp.
“You say you risked your lives to prove his capacity?” Shin’s body began to tremble. He started walking forwards in a way that further distorted Zaimon’s perception. “You were just threatening him by holding your own lives hostage.”
Shin evaded Zaimon’s attack at the last second, thrusting his sword at Zaimon’s chest. On the first try, he caught Zaimon’s true body, stopping him in his tracks. From the wound, blood poured out, Shin’s demon sword shattering soon after.
“If Farris hadn’t decided to take down Kaltinas, all of you castle lords would have been massacred along with your families. Yet you still claim he made his decision of his own free will?”
Zaimon glared at Shin from point-blank range.
“He’s a greedy man. Greedy enough to seek peace in an era of war,” Shin said.
“That’s why he chose the path of conquest,” Zaimon replied.
“Have you not considered that he was waiting for a light as well?”
Zaimon slashed his sword diagonally downwards. “If you want something done, you do it yourself! He is the most suited for the role! If he walks the path of conquest, he’ll reach the light either way.”
He then executed a series of high-speed slashes that shallowly cut across Shin’s chest. In response, Shin drew a new demon sword from a magic circle.
“Those who walk the path of conquest cannot see their own backs,” Shin replied. Though Zaimon’s sword swung at the speed of a hundred cuts in a single breath, Shin still passed through it, appearing behind him. “How do you paint something you cannot see?”
Shin thrust his demon sword at Zaimon’s back.
“Anyone can look upon themselves with their Magic Eyes. If he really wanted to draw, he could have done it at any time,” Zaimon replied, watching the demon sword pointed at him.
“I completely agree.”
“What?”
“You’re just like me. You don’t get it either.”
Shin thrust down his demon sword, the Karmic Fire Blade, while simultaneously invoking the sword’s fifth hidden art, Roaring Hellfire. The now shapeless, fiery blade coiled around Zaimon like a snake, refusing to snap no matter how tough his body was and how it bucked against the attack. It broke through layers of his anti-magic wards, scorching his skin and flesh.
“Balandialtar,” Zaimon said.
The highest grade of Balandias’s castle construction magic created an armor around him that resembled a castle, erasing Shin’s blade of fire easily.
“Karmic Fire Blade, sixth hidden art—”
Shin aimed his blade of fire at the neck of the armor, where there was a gap.
“Red-Hot Crimson.”
A crimson blade, so hot it could burn the source itself, touched Zaimon’s neck—and bounced back. Not only did the blade vanish, but the hilt in Shin’s hand was erased as well.
“Is this the best you can do?” Zaimon muttered in clear disappointment. “I expected more from a former comrade of Farris, but it seems I worried over nothing.”
Clad in his castle armor, Zaimon leaped forwards. Shin drew a new demon sword and swung it down, but it was easily knocked away by Zaimon’s castle sword. At the same time, Shin’s thigh was slashed open, blood seeping from the wound.
“If flowery words alone could change the world, I would speak until my throat was torn to shreds!” Zaimon yelled.
The situation had turned instantly: Shin’s shoulder was slashed, his cheek was cut, and his abdomen was stabbed through in quick succession. He had been cornered.
“It was Farris who realized that his drawings could save no one! He himself could see that Balandias would only stabilize with a strong castle—one that would not yield to anyone!”
Now with the knowledge that even Shin’s strongest attack against him would not be fatal, Zaimon charged forwards without any consideration for distance or breathing, leaving his protection solely to Balandialtar. It was an attack that discarded all defense, its purpose only to weaken the effect of Shin’s skills and techniques.
“Your words are the same as your swords! Your enemies may have been swayed by their beauty, but there’s no weight, speed, or power behind them. A man who can’t even cut down a single soldier like me cannot cut down Balandias!”
Shin attempted to draw out another demon sword with his left hand, but Zaimon moved faster to slice the magic circle apart. At the same moment, the demon sword in Shin’s right hand passed through the gap of Zaimon’s armor. A dull metallic thud rang through the air, but not even a single layer of the armor had been torn.
“See? This is reality. This is the order of the world. If you’re going to preach about how wrong we are, we’ll just have to prove ourselves right and cut you down.”
“Those are just excuses to run away from your true enemy—order. Stop using your weakness as a weapon to control your allies,” Shin said in reply. “True warriors stand together before their enemies.”
“Stop talking already.”
Zaimon swung his castle sword, which Shin blocked using his own demon blade. Another dull clash later, Shin’s body was thrown back through the air from the overwhelming difference in physical power. In the next moment, Zaimon’s magic power vanished as he grabbed his castle sword with his source.
“Castle Slasher, first hidden art—”
The moment Shin landed on the ground, a surge of magic was released from Castle Slasher’s downwards strike.
“Winter Wind Strike.”
The diagonal slash was so fast, it was impossible to see. The longsword cut Shin across the body, from his shoulder down to the opposite hip.
“You’ll never utter such foolish ideals again.”
With a swift flick of his blade, Zaimon whipped the blood off of Castle Slasher and sheathed it. He turned his back to Shin, and, as if on cue, Shin’s battered body, now severed in two, began to slide out of place. But then Shin’s arm moved. He drew a demon sword out of a magic circle and stabbed it into his body, pinning himself in place.