A Maiden’s Unwanted Heroic Epic

Chapter 56: The Warrior

***Arc 3 The Precious, Chapter 56 The Warrior*** The sound of steel clanging leaked through the trees. Great flames scorched the heavens, and the twinkling of the starry moon reflected and flickered countless lights in the forest. At the center of it was a man.

He was clad in scarred armor, with a long sword in his right hand. His left hand held a small sword. He adorned a heroic helmet in the shape of a hawk. Like a bird of prey, he leaned forward and stepped toward the enemy who was slashing at him.

'He's skilled.'

Bogan Christand clicked his tongue and flicked the sword that was swung at him with the long sword in his right hand. Then he stepped through the side and thrust the small sword in his left opposite hand through the gap in his opponent's armor.

There was no time to pull it out. He let go of the small sword, leaned forward, and drove the tip of the long sword through the neck of the man in the back.

His breathing was ragged. The men he had brought to escort him were all excellent. However, only two remained. There were still 20 opponents left, including the famous Nakhilus Felizar, who could freely wield two great axes, and Walter Zagan, the successor of Zain style swordsmanship. "General, our way out is--"

"... I'm sorry."

"What, if it's for the general's sake, there is no life that's too frugal." The two laughed. They were men who had accepted death and laughed at it. "...I am proud to have subordinates like you."

"Haha, serving General is the greatest honor for us." The other nodded at his words and ran. He slashed at the enemy on both sides, and there was only one enemy in front of Bogan. Bogan stepped in as the enemy raised his sword. With his left hand held out in front of him, he struck the armor with the palm of his hand and leaped. The black-armored warrior, who had been focused only on attacking with his sword, fell over, and Bogan escaped into the trees.

However, the next large tree that Bogan was going jump on was broken in front of him. "Guh!?" Bogan rolled to his feet and quickly stood up. Gildanstein laughed as he lifted the great axe that had snapped the tree with ease. "I won't let you escape. Don't think you can escape from me, Bogan."

"...Certainly, that seems to be a fleeting dream." Gildanstein stood in front of him, showing off his black lion armor without a scratch on it. The two remaining escorts were also surrounded and had their swords thrust at them. Again, they were surrounded. "... Let's, have a duel." Gildanstein threw down his great axe and drew his sword from his left hip. It was a thick, broad, long sword. This man liked to use such a sturdy and heavy weapon. "Sooner or later, someone will come to your aid. If you can endure until then, you win. It's a simple game like that."

"What if I say no?"

"I'm afraid that's the end of my compassion for you. This is the second time I've been merciful to you. There will be no third time." If they were to attack together, it would be over in an instant. But instead, Gildanstein pointed his sword at Bogan. "Take up your sword as a warrior." His appearance was truly that of a noble, an imposing figure that should be called royalty.

Bogan smiled wryly and answered. "... I guess I should be grateful."

"Ahh, you should be thankful. It results from my utmost respect for the man you are." Gildanstein was strong. Even Kolkis, whom Bogan trusted as a pure warrior, could not beat this man. Faring against him was highly doubtful.

However, surely it wouldn't be more reckless than dealing with everyone in this place. "It's a repayment for the loyalty you showed me long ago. You can rest assured. Whatever happens, I will leave the name of Christand behind. You were a man who deserved what I did."

"Haha, going to the afterlife with those words sure is something I don't want." Bogan laughed. The road to survival was narrow, and there was no way out. But if this was the end, that wasn't bad either. At least, as a warrior, it is the best end he could have hoped for. "... Your Royal Highness, I think you deserved my respect as a warrior. I hold no grudges. ...As you wish, I will accompany you in a duel."

"That's good. We didn't get a conclusion with a tactical battle. Now, it's time to end this." Bogan moved the left half of his body forward. He thrust his left hand toward Gildarstein and drew his right arm. He used a traditional swordsmanship handed down in the military called the Lorka style.

Originally, a small shield is used to lure the opponent's sword, repel it, or use it as it is for an offense. Even if it's bare-handed, the stance makes the opponent lose their sense of distance, and the open left can be used as a fist or to grab the opponent----this swordsmanship was a battlefield swordsmanship that specialized in disrupting the body of an armored opponent and striking a fatal blow. "...That stance yours is the most brilliant I've ever seen."

"Now Verreich is better. I feel old. I'm starting to lose even to my daughter in sparring." This swordsmanship required a superior physique. Tall stature and long limbs. For Selene, who did not have them, it was better to learn swordsmanship from Krische. Selene's height was average for a woman and small for a warrior, but she could sink her body further, slash from below, and stab through. Selene's swordsmanship, which was sharp and fast, extending inferior spacing by keeping her posture low, and cutting and breaking with her blade, was so brilliant that even Bogan was amazed. She was fifteen years old and had such great swordsmanship. The brilliant daughter's future looks endlessly bright, and he just looked forward to it.

But he would probably not be able to see that future. If he had any regrets, that was it. "It's a parent's pride. It is something to be happy about, but."

"...that's something that I won't understand." Gildanstein readied his sword after the exchange.

Grabbing the sword with both hands, the stance is Seigan----the sword of champions.

The sword, made of metal, was once the weapon of the Hero. It started out as a small, one-handed sword but gradually came to be revered for its martial prowess------and to show it, it become a long, thick sword. The techniques also changed accordingly.

Without holding a shield, hold the sword with both hands, face the enemy, and then overwhelm the opponent. From the front, in a fair and dignified manner, only look at the opponent and cut down. It was a stance that embodied the way a noble should be.

The ever-changing right hand toward the heavens, and the left hand which stabilizes everything around its axis, toward the earth. The Shogan, with its principle of containing all of heaven and earth within the sphere of its blade and its ability to respond to any attack, is the foundation of the sword that many still study as the sword of a proud noble.

Gildanstein's stance was beautiful to the point of splendor and could truly be called the sword of champions.

The feet that firmly grasp the earth would remind you of the solidity of a mountain, and the tip of the sword that it holds up would make you imagine the wrath of the raging heavens.

Bogan's brow wrinkles deepened, and his hand relaxed as he gripped the sword.

Both Salva and those around him gasped. The Hero Christand and the Black Lion Gildanstein.

It was not every day that they could witness a one-on-one battle between two generals who had led great armies. And if it was the two warriors who had left their mark on history, it was only natural that they would be tense.

For a while, the two men simply stared at their opponents. Blood and sweat dripped from Bogan's chin, and Gildanstein's eyes narrowed. "So, you won't come, huh? No, I'm sorry. It's a defensive style in the first place." Gildanstein said and stepped in. He stepped through the earth and crushed the distance between them. Rather than engaging in feints, he boldly attacked from the front. The sword raised to the right, the wind rushing through the air, and with a roar that was hard to believe to be a sword, it closed in on Bogan---- "Kh!" But Gildenstein's handsome face was distorted. Bogan's body in front of him was sunken so deeply that it was as if he had laid down on the ground. Like a snake crawling on the ground. Pulling his left hand and twisting his waist, Bogan's blade runs precisely to Gildenstein's neck.

A blow extending from his own feet. Gildanstein quickly shook his sword with his strong arm and flicked Bogan's blade. However, Bogan did not stop even after being repelled. He raised his body and struck Guildenstein in the body armor with his left palm strike. "Gah!" But Gildanstein was also skillful. While being blown away, Gildarstein used his blade to make a shallow tear in Bogan's left arm. Bogan's face distorted as he retreated and breathed heavily as he shook his shoulders. Gildenstein laughed, his breathing disrupted by the impact through his armor. "Old huh, kuku, You're too modest, Bogan."

"You can't call yourself a warrior unless you study hard even when you're old." What Bogan showed was Krische's sword. The sword was as vivid as a dance, shimmering in a thousand different ways. Even Bogan was mesmerized by the beauty of her swordsmanship, which was not fixed on a particular stance, but pursued only the most appropriate solution for the moment. A sword that always aimed only at life from outside of the opponent's consciousness. Although he did not understand all of it, the philosophy of the sword, which he had seen many times, had a strong influence on Bogan. "Your Highness's the Champion's Sword. It's truly beautiful. However, a sword sharpened only to take lives is also beautiful. Despite my age, I was fascinated by the new swordsmanship of my daughter."

"That girl... huh?"

"Yes. Though it's child's play compared to Krische's, it should buy me some time."

"... Interesting." From there, however, the match was close------not. Although he had learned that swordsmanship from Krische, it was only a surprise attack.

A sword technique that confuses the opponent with an attack from an unexpected position breaks the balance and strikes from where they're not prepared.

Bogan knew that this technique was only possible with the small stature of Krische.

The basis is the familiar Lorka-style sword technique. It was nothing more than a desperate blow to make up for the missing last step. If it was an ordinary person, that first blow would have been enough. However, the same move would not work in front of Gildanstein, who was skilled in swordsmanship.

The Champion's Sword slashed the chain mail shallowly, and it was the Bogan that increased the number of cuts. His innate sense of balance defied the instability of his footing and solidified both his body's and sword's core. The thrust, concentrated on a single point, was released with the flexibility of a whip and pierced through the sheet metal armor.

Stunning swordsmanship---Gildanstein, the Royal Prince, was fearless and truly possessed the dignity of a king. "------tsu!"

"Kuh!?" However, Bogan also showed his stubbornness. Bogan, who had spent much of his life on the battlefield, though covered in scars, held the sword of a fierce warrior.

He swung his sword while on his knees to open up a gap between the two, sometimes slamming into Gildanstein's body at the cost of wounds and sending his body flying.

Whenever there was an opening, he grabbed Gildanstein's body, pushed him down, and tried to drag him not into swordplay but into pure violence. What Bogan, who was always calm at all times, showed at this place of death is a beast.

When he was not a hero, he was just a warrior. The blood that had once been in Bogan, who had risen from the rank of captain in the hellish front lines, was now boiling in his veins.

Bogan's face had already been stripped of its rationality, and a beast-like ferocious look replaced it in his face. His eyes were filled with madness as he neared death. The corners of his mouth smiled. It was an extremely aggressive smile.

It was a maniacal smile, like a wolf facing its prey.

In contrast, Gildenstein's cheeks were lifted, and he laughed as well. His black armor, without a scratch on it, was now stained with dirt and covered with countless scars. "Good one, Bogan! You are a great warrior, after all!"

"Haha, my blood is boiling for the first time in a long time! I can't show this to my daughters...!" Bogan wielded his sword. It was more like hitting with steel than swordsmanship. It was a large swing----a blow that seemed full of openings, but there was a heat to it that matched the great flame. It was a sword that made even Gildanstein flinch for a moment and take a step back.

Gushing from his flesh was a blue vortex of magic power. A roar that could not have been made by a sword resounded through the air, gouging out the earth. "What's the matter, Your Highness? You won't get my head if you just run away!!"

"Tch!" Gildanstein clicked his tongue and kept his distance. Aim for the opening of the attack----Gildanstein calmly tried to find it, but Bogan was a storm. Countless swords flashed like a storm that roared with heavy rain and thunder. Even though every single move of the sword was crude but the power it contained evoked an instinctive fear just by being in front of it.

Christand the *Thunder*. It was not just his superior ability as a general that gave him the name. It was a nickname given to him by soldiers who saw Bogan's brutality as he stood before anyone else on the battlefield and unleashed his violence. Even in the land of defeat, he made countless corpses, ate flesh, and drank blood. The soldiers who were with him were shaken to the core and gave themselves over to the madness.

Thunder----that was the name of a warrior who summoned a storm like the thunder that foretold it.

From the corps commander under Christand to the centurions, Bogan is revered as a hero. Everyone has been moved by Bogan's image, which is why those heroic men gathered under him to wield their swords. He creates winds that bind the surroundings together and strike the enemy in front of him with a thunderstorm of blood.

The Bogan here was indeed a storm in the form of a human worthy of its name.

The men who were watching were also trembling with both excitement and fear. Only Gildanstein could stand in front of it.

Even though Bogan's pure violence drew him into a defensive position, he had pure respect for his appearance. The image of a man who once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him on the battlefield. Remembering that, Gildanstein smiled. "Kuku, my spine is trembling. Unbearable bogan, this is what a warrior fight is all about!" If he took the blow, the sword would break. Everything was such a blow. It could be fatal even if it were received on top of heavy armor. Bogan no longer had the finesse to pull through the gaps in his armor, but it was a marvel that was incomparable to what it was before. Then what should be done---- "I thought I could do it with you, Bogan!" He also had no choice but to become a beast. Aim for a gap. Pierce the opening. Such tricks were thrown out of his head. This was the battle of the sacred warriors.

He simply swung with such monstrous strength that he almost squeezed the hilt of his sword. The fastest and best blow. Bogan twisted his hips to avoid the air-crushing roar and swung his left arm to shoot through Gildanstein's helm with his fist. The blow, which caused the gauntlet to crack, distorted the massive helmet and shook Gildenstein's skull. But Gildstein swung his sword further and pierced Bogan's right leg as he fell.

It was deep, but Bogan gritted his teeth and endured it. Bogan stood, his whole body bleeding profusely and the heat rising like steam. Gildanstein also rolled and stood up, took off his helmet roughly, and slammed it down. The crumpled helmet scratched his fair face, but he didn't even notice it. Bogan responds by taking off his helmet as well. Spitting blood, Bogan leaned forward.

He picked up the dirt and threw it at Gildanstein, and lunged at him. Gildanstein did not care, nor did he think it cowardly, and stepped forward even lower in his posture. The shoulder of his black armor was twisted by Bogan's sword, and Gildstein's face contorted in pain. But the wound on his thigh made the distance and the sharpness of his sword insufficient. Gildanstein, prepared for the injury, moved forward even more and popped Bogan's huge body as if he were thrusting up from his shoulder.

Realizing that he had hurt his left shoulder, Gildanstein brought his sword to his right hand and launched a follow-up attack. Bogan rolled away from him and kicked Gildenstein before staggering to his feet. And Bogan also raised his right arm. "...." The countless wounds, however, were damaging Bogan's blood volume. Bogan, who had lost the pressure of his boiling blood and was unable to stand his ground, lost his posture, and Gildanstein did not miss it.

A sharp blow sliced through Bogan's right arm, sending it flying through the air. "Ggh, nu!" With his arm cut off, Bogan threw Gildanstein off and leaned against a tree, wobbling. The arm was gushing a lot of blood, and Bogan's eyes were shaking blankly.

Gildanstein, who had been slammed to the ground, sat up coughing. Then, breathing heavily, he approached and said. "...it was a good match." He lifted his sword over his shoulder, "I would like to say that this is the end, but---" Gildanstein turned his face to the bottom of the mountain.

Countless battle cries echoed through the air. He could see a battalion's worth of infantrymen rushing up the mountain, and the sound of horses' hoofs was echoing. "...I can't say it's a victory. So, it's a draw." He muttered. "Your Royal Highness! The enemy's troops are----hurry up, take his neck."

"... I don't care. With this much blood, death is inevitable."

"However--"

"I said, it's fine." He glared at the man in black armor and looked at Bogan. "I have no intention of taking your neck. Your sword and arm, I will take it." Bogan couldn't answer, so he just stared at him, then lost consciousness.

Gildanstein said 'let's go' and started running. "... Thank you, Your Royal Highness." Salva, following behind, said. "I don't need it. It's not for you. It's a thank you to the warriors I recognized."

"Yes, sir." Gildenstein's words from the cliff top. And the sword and arm in his hand. Whether or not it was real, there weren't many who could say which it was with certainty.

However, Gildenstein declared his name and spoke. If you know what a name means to a noble, you cannot doubt his words. And the man standing on the cliff is Alberan----a legitimate noble of royal blood.

The battlefield was silent.

Serene, who heard the voice, gazed with her eyes at the sword and arm raised in the distance. Still, she wanted to believe it was a lie. Her eyesight, enhanced by magic power, brutally conveyed the facts to Selene as they really were.

It was Bogan's gauntlet and sword that she had seen many times. It belonged to her father, whom she respected more than anyone else. "Lies!" The repeated mental and physical exhaustion. The body of Selene, who managed to deceive it, staggered on horseback and was supported by the Fourth battalion commander----Varga, who was next to her. "Selene-sama, keep composed. It is not the neck. The fact that he brought the arms and sword suggests that the General may still be alive." It was a mere consolation. Even so, he had to say it. That was Varga's role. Emotionally, Selene wanted to cling to those words, but some part of her rational head denied that words. "The soldiers are watching." Varga said bitterly. It was a harsh word for her, who had so far forced herself to carry out her grueling duties. However, she was the commander.

She was not allowed to squat down and cry like a little girl.

Serene shook her gaze in fear, closed her eyes, and regulated her breathing.

To stay calm.

The soldiers around her looked at Serene. Confused and frightened, they had been in a frenzy, and now they were silent.

----The flow of the air was also changing.

And what was heard was a cheer. It was not coming from their own army but from the enemy. The enemy soldiers, who had been under attack, turned around and went on the offensive.

The situation was halfway. If Second Corps had completely finished striking the center, perhaps.

However, the current situation was in the middle of the attack. In other words, the situation was most dangerous because the formation was in disarray.

A horse's hoof was coming towards them. Messenger of the Fourth Corps. "From the Commander of the Fourth Corps. ----The tide has shifted. Recovering from this point will not be easy, and serious damage is expected. It is regrettable, but I judge that it is appropriate to withdraw our troops while there are few damages. The First Corps should withdraw its troops. That is all." The messenger looked at Selene with concern.

Was it possible to regain the lead or not?

There was certainly little hope. However, was it okay to have the Dragon's Maw stolen?

Selene nodded her head, trying not to think about anything else; she just focused on what she should do. "... message. Pull back the heavy infantry. Krische will probably withdraw the Second Corps light infantry. Tell him not to worry about it. Also, Thank you for your concern. And--" The commanding tone of the message was probably out of concern for Selene's confusion. At the very least, she must be the corps commander while she was here at this place.

The messenger gave a strong salute of respect and drove off again. "Krische?" Then, out of the corner of her eyes, she caught a shadow running up the cliff.