I Obtained Sword God Level Talent

19 – 019. The Guest (1)

First, I pocketed the unclaimed pouch.

“Let’s fight.”

“What’s with you all of a sudden?”

“I mean, let’s cross swords. I’ve been dying to spar with you, but the situation hasn’t been ideal, so I’ve held back.”

It was during breakfast. Lancelot’s proposal dropped out of nowhere.

A spar, huh. The word alone piqued my curiosity.

I had this weird experience fighting the five knights of Martis. Mana and sword aura. I’d like to see how naturally I can fight now that I’ve awakened to those new powers.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Before we do, there’s something we need to clear up.”

“……A problem? What problem?”

“Tell me precisely, Frey. What is your current rank?”

Lancelot’s calm gaze settled on me.

…What’s my current rank, he asks?

Honestly, I don’t really know either. For now, I’ve awakened my mana and can use sword aura. If I recall, I think I’m probably 5th rank, like Lancelot.

“I’m not sure, but since I can use sword aura, I guess I’m 5th rank, same as you?”

“Ha! You monstrous b*stard. What kind of messed-up guy are you?”

…Did this asshole just…? Isn’t he being a little *too* honest?

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything out loud.

This was the result of the dazzling blessing that had ensnared me. Anyone, any *person*, would feel their insides twist with such emotion.

“Be careful. Those jealous of your talent might try some tricks. You’re not famous yet, but a footless horse can travel a thousand *li*.”

“I know, I know. Though I’m not sure if being careful will actually help.”

I nodded at Lancelot’s words.

Jealousy towards radiant talent isn’t strange at all.

To explain it further, feeling displeasure or unease at the emergence of a genius rising from below is only natural.

‘This brings back memories.’

But acting on that vile feeling is another story altogether.

How many people spew out foul and harsh insults at colleagues who surpass them, or at juniors who are fiercely chasing after them? Considering that, a guy like Lancelot is a saint, comparatively.

“Anyway, how should we spar?”

“…With real swords, imbued with mana. Don’t worry about injuries. I’ll cover the healing costs.”

Had he decided from the very start? Lancelot spoke with unwavering certainty.

For me, with my limited experience in one-on-one combat, it seemed like a definite positive. As long as we could avoid serious injuries, it would benefit both of us, without any drawbacks.

“Let’s move locations though.”

“Understood. It would probably be much better to go outside the city.”

*Click.*

Nodding, I got up from my seat.

Right now, with the victory celebration in full swing, there were an overwhelming number of people in the city. Just like Lancelot said, it seemed much more sensible to spar outside the city.

* * *

Moving locations, Lancelot swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

Then, a feeling of ‘tension,’ alien to him, wrapped around his spine. In his entire life, Lancelot had never faced a man who shone with such dazzling brilliance, sword in hand.

“Is this place alright?”

“It’s a good thirty minutes from the city, so it should be fine. Nobody’s passing through.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Replying quietly to Frey’s question, Lancelot placed his hand on his sword hilt and thought.

‘To clash with a talent whose limits are unknown… how could that *not* be a blessing?’

To exchange blows with Frey.

How immense a blessing was this reality to him? Swordsmanship and mana… and everything encompassing the concept of ‘martiality *wu*’… that was exactly it. A journey to temper oneself and climb to a higher place.

‘…He’s not even tense.’

*Scoff.*

Lancelot, still looking at his sparring partner, couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Unlike him, caught in a flurry of pre-match fantasies, Frey wore his usual calm expression.

*Swish!*

Soon, both of them drew their swords.

“It would be best to use mana, but not sword aura. A stray blade could cause an innocent victim.”

“Alright. I understand.”

*Hoo,* Lancelot took a deep breath right after Frey’s quiet reply.

The hands gripping his sword were already soaked with sweat.

‘This is exhilarating.’

The dramatic tension sometimes veers off in strange directions. Yes, Lancelot decided this was closer to elation.

*Sssip.*

After steadying his breath, Lancelot could no longer bear the heavy air.

A bizarre emotion, a mix of tension and elation, made the tips of his fingers tingle. He wanted to cross swords then and there.

“I’ll go first!”

*Thump-thump!*

Lancelot yelled loudly, kicking off the ground and moving.

The way Frey wielded his sword wasn’t bound to form or formality. That meant it seemed better to pressure him with a ‘textbook’ approach rather than provoke a messy brawl.

*Whoosh-*!

The sword cutting through the air moved forward, sparking blue flames. The moment Lancelot’s mana-filled sword clashed with Frey’s dark one…

*Clang.*

A heavy sound echoed.

“……?!”

Immediately after the impact, Lancelot couldn’t help but be bewildered.

Frey’s action was extremely simple. One step back with his left foot, then one step forward with his right. Then, he swung his sword, leaning back, striking a delicate space.

‘……Unbelievable!’

*Grin.*

Facing the divine technique he’d witnessed a few times, the corners of his mouth curved into a smile without him even realizing it.

That was the kind of swordsmanship he wielded.

Frey always aimed at spaces others couldn’t see, and his sword traveled along an unpredictable path. It felt as if the god of swords himself had descended upon this land.

*Clink! Clang-clink!*

Swords clash, a dazzling light erupting. Mana-filled blades, each like a burning flame. Azure flames and obsidian fire wrestled, their forms growing larger, vying for dominance.

‘…This is insane.’

Lancelot felt every hair on his body stand on end.

Growing? Becoming familiar? Honing himself?

…That wasn’t enough to explain it. Frey’s eyes, focused on the spar, were unfathomably deep, as though he could see something Lancelot couldn’t.

‘Ah, that’s it.’

*Clang!*

It was the moment their swords clashed once more. Lancelot finally understood what this feeling meant.

Learning.

A shiver ran down his spine. At this monster’s genius, Lancelot felt a lifelong first: a fear of the word ‘talent.’

‘Learning, he’s learning. He’s learning everything I have!’

*Screech!*

“Kuh…!”

Frey’s sword, leaping across the diagonal, traversing space, came at that very instant.

A pitch-black reaper’s fire threatened to cut and burn everything. The raw, chilling dread, met for the first time, slowly eroded Lancelot’s mind.

*Whoosh! Clang!*

“Huff! Huff! Huff!”

A light thrust was coming. Yet, for the recipient, it was an attack that could not be taken lightly.

‘I have to turn this around. If this keeps up, it’s a sure loss.’

He had lost his chance to find an opening for an attack a long time ago. Lancelot, panting, parried the barrage of strikes.

Now, his chances were almost gone… He made his decision.

“Frey! Look out!”

Lancelot, having given Frey a warning, retreated a few steps. And, he thickly coated his sword with burning mana.

*Ziiiing—!*

And, with a flash of transparent sword light, Lancelot leapt forward.

The man who would one day become the 12th Imperial Swordsman, a Swordmaster, wanted to clash everything he had against Frey. Perhaps it was a bit childish… an act fueled by a surge of competitiveness.

*Whizzzzzz!*

A sword, tearing through the heavens, rained down on Frey. Lancelot believed it. Frey, this monster, would be able to block this attack as well.

However.

*Swoosh.*

“W-what, what?!”

The ensuing situation surpassed Lancelot’s expectations by a mile. It wasn’t just a block, his sword had simply been brushed aside with a frustrating ease.

*Shhhk.*

Then, Frey twisted his body. Like a magnet, the pitch-black sword, which had drawn close to Frey’s chest, approached Lancelot again with a speed that defied all logic.

“…!”

That sword… it felt like the god of death himself had come charging with his scythe. Death, or something resembling that pitch-black entity, was approaching. Lancelot’s face, having just exerted all his power in his previous attack, turned deathly white.

‘I’m… I’m going to die…!’

The unfamiliar, paralyzing terror of death froze his thoughts.

*Thwack,* Lancelot stepped back and instantly unleashed mana forward, a desperate flailing in his own way to resist the encroaching death.

*KWAHaaaHH-!*

“D-dodge it!”

A sword aura.

Lancelot, who had involuntarily unleashed a sword aura, immediately screamed. It was just a spar. How repulsive it was that he had been so terrified in a spar that he used a sword aura that he had sworn not to!

*WHoooM!*

Several trees, struck by the sword aura, were shattered into pieces.

The good thing was that Frey’s reaction speed far surpassed the speed of the sword aura, which flew like light. Frey, having dodged the sword aura simply by tilting his head sideways, glared at Lancelot with a dumbfounded expression.

“Hey, you little shit!”

“S-sorry. I was unconsciously… consumed by your swordsmanship.”

*Shiver shiver.*

Lancelot, raising his trembling hand, sincerely apologized. Frey sighed deeply and muttered.

“I thought I was going to grasp something new…”

“You crazy b*stard…!”

Even amidst that, he was close to grasping ‘something else’? Lancelot’s jaw dropped.

“Let’s rest for a bit and then go back. You look terrible right now. I’m exhausted too.”

“D-didn’t I say I was sorry?”

Frey plopped down on the spot. As if he was planning to take a nap, he laid down flat on his back, like an eighty-year-old man.

After watching the scene for a moment, Lancelot gripped his trembling arms.

The spar was over. Therefore, he had to sheath his sword, but his still fear-stricken arms prevented him.

“Hm?”

Frey, who had been quietly watching him, tilted his head with a questioning look.

“Why the face?”

Lancelot couldn’t help but let out a bewildered reaction. It was all because of Frey’s expression, like he’d witnessed something extraordinary.

“Your shoulder.”

“……?”

At Frey’s reply, pointing a finger, Lancelot turned his head.

“……What the hell?”

Then, a bizarre scene came into his view.

What had settled on Lancelot’s shoulder was pure white frost. Frost in the middle of a bright, sunny day; it was a scene impossible to believe even with his own two eyes.

Crunch, crunch.

“Oh, Queen of the Seasons.”

*Shimmer!*

The astounding event unfolded right then. Between the trees where Frey and Lancelot had been sparring, a blue, sparkling mana flickered and revealed itself.

“Oh, three lights illuminating the heavens. Oh, beacon of despair leading to ruin.”

*Whooshh-*!

With a low voice, the mana in the air began to flow rapidly.

Something, something was wrong.

Lancelot looked at the source of the voice. There, was a woman with blue hair and blue eyes…walking towards them with a pallid complexion.

“Now, descend upon this place, and guide the world into winter.”

“……Magic!”

It was too sudden of an appearance. Lancelot, as well as Frey, stared at the intruder with skeptical eyes.

“You. Why are you tormenting Frey?”

The woman’s voice, as cold as frost, murmured softly.

“Frey, Frey is… a body incapable of wielding mana. You, on the other hand, use mana even….”

The woman’s face was filled with sorrow, longing, and grief.

However.

“Who are you?”

Quietly observing the situation… a composed voice burst forth from Frey, sprawled on the ground.