Chapter 23 - Sword Saint

Chapter 23 - Sword Saint

"P ut the girl down," Saul said. "Now."

The leader, however, remained still. He was unbothered, even. Smoke curled lazily from his lips as he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head with mild amusement.

"Who are you supposed to be?!" one of the bandits barked, trying to mask his unease with bravado.

Saul offered no verbal response.

"SAUL!!" Lyra shouted, her voice thickly strained from fatigue. Her gold-colored eyes were widened with thick layers of relief and pain from being so worn down. "Y-you really are here..."

I pushed my small body upright with trembling, mud-slicked arms, my young muscles screaming at me to collapse. Sweat and grime stung my eyes, but my racing heart steadied instantly. Saul...! We might actually have a chance here.

"Get him!" one of the bandits shouted.

swwiiinnggg~

Steel whistled with sharpness through the leather as the four grunts charged forward in an unorganized swarm. Yet from my position down below, Saul was less a man than a raging cyclone of steel blades.

His movement was perfect and balanced even while standing on slippery swamp floor. His sword clashed against the first attacker with a powerful blow which broke the Aura of the man in a flash of orange light and energy. Before the bandit had a chance to do something else, Saul turned around and smashed the hilt of his sword into the neck of his opponent who immediately fainted on the ground.

The second and the third tried to attack Saul at the same time, one trying to hit him with the upper swing of his sword, and the other one with lower one. But the swordsman managed to evade their attacks, twisting around with agility. His sword pushed away one sword, then came back again, striking the other bandit on the head with its flat side. There was a loud glass sound of breaking Aura.

The last tried to turn and flee like a scared child.

Saul dug into his coat pocket. With a quick flip of his wrist, he threw a knife, which did not stab him, but hit him in the shoulder, pushing the man to fall. Saul was already there before he fell, hitting him in the face with an elbow.

In less than ten seconds, four thugs had been methodically put out of action. Two opponents were still standing on the wet clearing of the swamp: Saul and the Bandit Leader.

Disgusted with disappointment, the scarred leader let go of Lyra, carelessly letting her go. And then, in a disgusting manner, the man threw his heavy leather boot at her small figure, as if throwing some old luggage away. She fell down with a thud into the sticky muck, lying up against the root of a rotten tree.

My heart sank from the sight.

"Lyra!" I shouted out, my voice hoarse from sheer fear. I struggled mightily to stand on my feet but could not get my legs to obey me at all. All that my body could do was a pathetic, painful crawl through the mud, inch by inch towards her.

The jaw of Saul tightened as he took a step forward.

Finally, the bandit leader brought his hand to the rear, grasping the handle of a broad, finely curved steel falchion. In contrast to the primitive and rusty weapons of his men, this weapon was spotlessly clean and had an incredibly sharp edge to it. In the instant that the steel left its leather cover, I noticed Saul go into an absolutely defensive position.

“You are not your ordinary thug,” Saul said matter-of-factly, his voice dripping with cold acknowledgment.

The boss chuckled, rotating his neck slowly until a series of cracking pops echoed in the clearing. “You will see.”

After that, they went to a swing.

CLANG!

Steel clashed with steel, and their first exchange caused an explosion of force that reverberated through the swamp as they slid across the soaked earth and their blades rang with pure violence. The air was filled with tension.

Saul dodged a vicious attack and responded with a slicing move. The man parried Saul’s attack cleanly and hit with his elbow. Saul deflected the hit and responded with a low attack that grazed the leader’s thigh.

Their duel went back and forth but neither gained the upper hand. Saul was efficient in his attacks, calculating them. The style of the man was rough and powerful.

It was a violent fight and there was no room for unnecessary motions.

“You know what you’re doing,” the leader said between attacks. “Your defense… all the strength behind each swing… You’re not just some random guard of the backwater settlement.”

No words escaped Saul, whose eyes were focused solely on the leader’s actions.

Blades met again with a flash of sparks, both were shoved off by the force of their blades, their feet digging into the mud as they stopped. Both exchanged glances with each other. The leader grinned sharply then, like an animal identifying a fellow hunter.

Saul took a step back, raising his sword.

Shimazu! He thought, in an instant, his mana channeled through the blade as he dashed in a blink of an eye. Saul appeared in front of the leader, but the leader caught it and blocked the attack by raising his blade.

CLANG!

He caught Shimazu..?! Saul's eyes widened.

"Oh..?" The bandit leader said, curiously. "Now I see it. So you're a Sword Saint, huh?"

The bandit then pushed Saul away with enough force as Saul's boots slid through the muddy floor, halting shortly after.

Saul's eyes never left the man; he raised his blade again.

"You just used Shimazu on me." he laughed. "Isn't that a technique used mostly by Sword Saints?"

Saul held the handle of his sword firmly, which was wrapped in leather. "And what of it?"

"Ah, so you are a Sword Saint?"

Saul's sweat fell from his cheek as he held his sword a little tighter.

The Leader laughed. "No wonder why my men couldn't resist for a second before they even realized what hit them. Don't worry, they were nothing but cannon fodder."

Saul stayed utterly silent, his eyes tracking every shift in the body of the leader. Suddenly, the leader laughed softly, and the aura of the leader exploded. A dense, violent purple aura violently burst out of his body, swirling around him as if he was caught up inside a mini-hurricane.

"You're not the only one with a martial title, bud."

Even lying down on the muddy floor, the overwhelming pressure of the air squeezed my little chest as if with an invisible hydraulic press. I couldn’t even draw a breath; the air was extremely thick and felt too heavy to be breathed through.

Saul stayed firm in his place, lowered his center of gravity, and slowed his breathing to an agonizing pace. Every part of his experienced body got ready for the coming attack.

And, in the next moment, the bandit leader disappeared from my sight altogether.

The pupils of Saul’s eyes contracted to microscopic size. A blind flash of silver steel appeared before him in the next second, and then a bright, searing pain exploded in his right shoulder.

The sword fell from his right hand immediately, spinning helplessly into the muddy ground. Crimson blood was spattered everywhere as Saul's entire right arm was brutally hacked off at the shoulder joint with one swift motion. In that very same instant, his defensive orange aura was broken apart with a loud crack, like a sheet of ice being split apart with the stomp of a large boot. The ground flashed with erratic blue-white sparks before going pitch-black dark.

Before Saul's own nervous system could fully process the amputation, a heavy, mud-covered boot crashed into him from behind.

Was that... Shimazu..?! Saul was in disbelief.

A guttural sound was forced out of Saul's mouth as his body was flung through the air, landing hard in the mud. His other arm sank deep into the muddy ground as he gasped for breath.

"SAUL!" I screamed. Soon after, I coughed up blood. My lungs still hurt from that bastard's punch. I turned back to the fight.

What…? My entire brain was simply crushed from sheer disbelief. What just happened…? Saul is a Sword Saint… how did he have his defense so easily bypassed?!

Slow footsteps followed after.

With nonchalance, the bandit leader made his way towards the wounded veteran, pulling his bloody falchion behind him, scraping it on the ground. He flexed his neck once again and gave off a light laugh of amusement.

"Is that the very limit of your strength?" The leader asked mockingly while he gazed at the man lying in blood before him. "Sword Saint? Is that the glorious name which they give to you in this land?"

Groaning with effort, Saul tried with all his might to push himself up using his single left hand. Muddy dirt stuck to his white face as he raised himself up with only one knee.

"You do not stand a chance of being able to fight a true apex fighter," said the leader, lifting his shining falchion way above his head. "You are like some pathetic fool crowned with a decaying piece of wood. Sword Saint... How utterly ridiculous!"

The sword was perfectly positioned over the neck of Saul.

"I will demonstrate to you what a Sword King is!"

I frantically scanned the area and locked my gaze on the unmoving figure of Lyra lying by the tree roots.

I have a plan. I will have to divert his attention and get Lyra out of here.

I swallowed, raising my arm and pointing it at the bandit. It was impossible for me not to tremble. Just one false move, and we were dead.

For an instant I locked gazes with Saul. He slowly looked away, fixing me with his stare and then saw the flame appearing in my hand, blinking slowly and giving me a very small nod.

The old man fully understood the play here. Old and had lived a long life. His physical usefulness was exhausted; those were Saul’s silent thoughts. He was ready to die as a temporary meat shield and give a chance at our survival. He understood what I was about to do, and I suddenly understood it too. The ball of guilt squeezed my throat, making it harder to swallow and I nodded back.

Sorry, Saul.

FIREBALL! I screamed in my mind, casting the spell silently.

Fwoom!

Flames appeared as they rushed towards the back of the Bandit leader's head.

Boom!

It was a direct hit. Smoke rose to the sky for a moment, and then I ran towards Lyra's body. Each step brought me closer to her. I hoped the distraction had worked, and I knew it wouldn't hurt me.

Hopefully that'll concuss him... or at least stun him for a bit.

Aura flared around the bandit, heavy and dark and suffocating . Oh, suffocating was the best word to describe my situation. My blast of fire dissipated as quickly as steam. His head was smoking slightly from where I’d burned him, but he didn’t move an inch. Not even a blink.

Slowly, he turned his head. He met my gaze with his eyes. They were devoid of any kind of humor at this point; just pure concentration. A mere flicker of the eyes and his aura burst out like fire. The tremendous amount of energy from it brought me to my knees, making me kneel down on my toes through the mud.

"Ugh!" I grunted, my body slamming into the wet mud.

Come on, get up!

I yelled at myself. I tried to get back on my feet, but my legs were like water. I was so close to Lyra; just a few feet from her.

What is happening...?

Something icy slithered up my spine. Slowly turning to face the bandit, I ceased breathing altogether. It was not the abrupt silence that made me scared, but the way he fixed me with his eyes, keeping me frozen in place. My surroundings began to blur at the edges, noise disappearing as everything faded except for those eyes.

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t even talk.

My hands were shaking at my sides while my legs stayed put. My entire body was screaming out to move, but my body failed me. I was frozen in fear like a statue. My chest was hurting, and breathing was becoming an effort all by itself. Then, the sound of coughing reached me.

Cough, cough..

My head snapped to one side. Lyra! She was alive! Leaning up against the ground, her hand extended as she struggled to breathe. I felt relief wash over me in a wave, but it was horribly short-lived.

The man turned. He walked slowly away from Saul’s dead body. But his smile was not kind; it was rather a nasty one. A vicious hunger for blood. He came towards Lyra like a predator.

"No," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.

All at once, Saul made a move. He reached out suddenly, grabbing the bandit's ankle. The leader hesitated for a moment before bringing his leg up and stepping down on Saul's other arm.

Crack

An ominous crack rang through the air. Saul shouted out loud; a scream that came from the inner depths of his soul, before the thief kicked him straight on the face. There was dead silence again. Saul lay back in the mud; absolutely motionless, but was still breathing.

My heart pounded louder than my thoughts. I watched, entirely helpless, as the man neared my sister. Lyra groaned, her eyes fluttering open. She tried to sit up, confused and dazed.

A shadow loomed over her.

"No. No!" My voice finally broke free, tearing from my throat. "Get away from her!"

I forced myself forward. My legs shook violently, and my steps stumbled through the muck. Too slow. I was far too slow.

The leader reached for her, hand inched closer and closer. But then, rushed footsteps tore through the forest. A blur of muscle and fury surged into view. The bandit leader sensed this and turned to raise his sword.

CLANG!

A battle-axe collided with the bandit's sword, the impact sending a shockwave that rippled through the swamp. The leader was hurled several feet away, his boots dragging trenches in the dirt.

He regained his footing, eyes wide.

What..? More of them? Bandit clicked his tongue.

Before him stood a woman with an apron, tall and powerful. Her golden hair clung to her sweat-soaked tanned skin. Her green eyes burned with rage. Her grip on the massive battle-axe was unshakable. Each breath she exhaled hissed in the air like steam off hot iron.

It was Reyna, and she looked pissed.

"Mom!"

"Mama!" Me and Lyra cried out together.

[End]