There was a clang as the wooden sword met the staff. Well, no. It was a much softer sound effect than clang; a weird percussive noise that didn’t sound at all like it came from the collision of a wooden sword and a staff. It was more like swboh, gwooong, calunk calunk. Eris threw out rapid-fire strikes at crazy speed, interspersed with feints and diversions, but every one of them got blocked. I had a lot of mock fights with Eris, so I could tell she was serious. I wasn’t sure about Sandor, but given how comfortable he looked, I didn’t think he was going all out.
Having said that, every now and then a look flashed over his face like he was struggling, which implied Eris was getting somewhere. They fought bout after bout. Nothing marked the start or the finish. They just took their distance, then one—usually Eris—attacked, then at some point they suddenly stopped. Okay, Sandor usually had his staff at Eris’s neck or her heart or some other vital point, which I guess meant he was winning.
Every three or four exchanges, Eris’s sword found its mark. Whenever that happened, there was a murmured “Ooh!” from around them. At some point, their audience had grown. Cliff, Elinalise, Zanoba, Ginger, Dohga, some young Superd, and even the doctors from Asura were watching Eris and Sandor’s battle, wide-eyed.
Fair enough. This is worth watching.
You wouldn’t see this in a fight between Eris and me. It was too fast for me to see anything other than that it was incredible, but she was essentially at the rank of a Sword God; she knew the theory well enough to teach sword fighting. So she might not be on even footing with the Sword God, who was the best in his class, but she was only a step behind him. To Sandor, she might have some weak points, but even accounting for those, she was winning one in every three or four matches. Even from the sidelines, it was clear straight away: you were watching to see how Eris would slip through Sandor’s defenses to get a hit in.
In short, it was an exciting match—even to an amateur’s eyes.
“Gaaaah!”
These bouts were, at last, winding up. Eris had taken three rounds in a row from Sandor.
She let out a deep breath and sat down on the ground. “Like this, huh?”
“Just like that. You lived up to your name, Mad Sword King Eris. Your instincts are on another level.”
Despite the praise he was giving her, Eris’s expression was hard. She sure hates to lose.
“You’re adaptable. You avoid the things you’ve seen don’t work and actively pursue the things that do. Even when the things you’ve seen work turn out to be false, you have the presence of mind to move on to the next thing without assuming it was simply bad luck. When defeat seems imminent you don’t give up and graciously accept it. You keep hunting for a path to victory to the last… I caught a glimpse of North God Style in your technique. Who was your master?”
“Auber.”
“Oh, him. How ironic. Whenever he saw something wasn’t working, he tried everything to find a clever way to use it. His growth was all twisted.”
“His secret weapon wasn’t, though.”
“True. At his core, he was earnest. I’m sure he knew it. His twistedness was his strength, but he couldn’t rely on it at the very end.”
This was turning into a touching scene. I didn’t know the details, but maybe North Emperor Auber, whom Eris had fought in the Asura Kingdom, had been Sandor’s student.
“Right, now that our bout is over.” Sandor clapped his hands together, and the onlookers scattered. They all looked pleased, like they’d seen something spectacular. Cliff was looking at his hands, squeezing them into fists. Maybe he was thinking sword fighting might be for him, too. Elinalise quickly wrapped her own hands around his fist to keep him in check.
Cliff, you’re awesome enough as is. You don’t need to go learning sword fighting.
After the clap, Sandor immediately transitioned to rubbing his hands together as he turned to me.
“Now then, Master Rudeus, Miss Eris. Returning to my most humble request of you.”
All righty, what kind of request is the mighty North God going to throw at us?
Sandor’s mouth was squirming. He looked uncharacteristically nervous. How to put it? It was like he wasn’t sure how to proceed.
“I’d like you to introduce me once more to Master Ruijerd!”
To…Ruijerd?
“But…why?” Perhaps Sandor was into dudes. He had a kid, so I’d been sure he liked women, like your average guy… Maybe his tastes had changed as he got older? Or maybe he’d picked up a few dodgy habits after joining the Asuran Knights. Maybe I should report this to his mom. I wanted to see how Atofe would react.
Just as I was thinking along those lines, Sandor said, “I’d appreciate it if you could ask him to talk to me. About what happened the moment they finished off Laplace and sealed him away at last.”
“Um, North God Kalman I was your father, right? Didn’t you ask him?”
“My father was unconscious for the final moments and didn’t know the details of what happened. I once endeavored to meet with Sir Perugius and I tried to ask him, but he wouldn’t answer me…and Sir Urupen met his end before I could meet him…”
Aha, that makes sense. Sandor wanted to know about the end of the Laplace War—specifically, the details of the final battle with Demon God Laplace, but he hadn’t had the opportunity. He hadn’t been able to ask any of the Three Godslayers—North God Kalman I, Armored Dragon King Perugius, and Dragon God Urupen—and had given up. Now, he’d been lucky enough to run into the last one, obscured by history: the man whose blow had helped to turn the tide against Laplace in that final battle, Ruijerd Superdia of Dead End.
I guess he would know.
“What do you plan to do with the answer?”
“Huh? Don’t you want to know?! This is a real heroic epic we’re talking about. Not like the cheap excuse for an epic they made about me. I ran around all over the world poking my nose into situations that looked like they could win me some fame until things just sort of fell into place. No, this was the finale of a battle fought by true heroes facing certain death against an enemy far beyond their powers but fighting anyway to save the world!”
I knew the story of The Epic of the North God. Who knew how much writers in this world had exaggerated? Still, his heroic epic was incredible. The particulars varied from chapter to chapter, but broadly speaking, it was the tale of how he’d traveled the world vanquishing evil and rescuing the weak. He’d saved tons of people. Whatever he thought of it, I thought it was amazing. In contrast, Ruijerd’s story was a tragedy. He hadn’t done what they said about him, but his family had still been killed, and his people put in danger of extinction.
He hadn’t saved anyone or achieved anything, and it was because of him that the Superd were forced to live such a restricted life. There was nothing he was proud of. I doubted he’d bring it up of his own accord. If I asked him…yeah, he might tell me, but I was sure it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about.
With that, I looked over at Eris. Her eyes were sparkling.
“I want to hear about it too!” she said.
I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know myself.