My Beloved Princess ~The Boy Called Incompetent Rises with Only a Sword and the Princess's Devotion~ - Chapter 96: Dance of the Water Dragon

It was a strike like a storm.

A slash meant to split his skull in two came crashing down, wrapped in raging purple [Sword Aura]. Unran, Commander of the Imperial Guard, held his blade horizontally and received that purple sword-light in a cross-block.

In an instant, an indescribable burden slammed into his arms, and the boy’s sheer strength and spirit drove him backward. The image that flashed through Unran’s mind was that of a hurricane.

“—Gh, so you can go this far.”

He had been doubtful when ordered to go all out against a student, but the blow before him was unexpectedly magnificent. The step-in was large, the kick off the white-tiled floor utterly without hesitation. It was an oversized strike that ignored even the title of Commander of the Imperial Guard. It was heavy, and the collision of their [Sword Aura] burst over him like a violent gust.

This was unmistakably [Sword Aura] on the level of a Dragon Duke.

If he let his guard slip, even for a moment, that power would absolutely take Unran’s life.

At the end of the contest of strength, Unran increased the output of his own [Sword Aura] and forced the boy back with raw power.

Bang!

The sound of [Sword Aura] colliding rang out, slightly different from metal striking metal.

On the other side of the clash, the boy’s face had twisted into something almost demonic. The light in his eyes burned with belligerence, flickering and shifting moment to moment like lightning.

(What is… this pressure?)

That abnormal spirit made even a veteran of a hundred battles tremble.

Over these past several decades, Unran had served as the Dragon Emperor’s sword and crossed countless battlefields. Every mission entrusted to him had been dangerous work too filthy for the Consorts to handle. The number of scenes of carnage he had passed through easily exceeded a hundred.

Living beside death was already ordinary to him.

Days spent prepared to die, throwing himself into the dust of battle.

He had carved his way through flying blades of certain death and forced open paths to survival.

To Unran, death was familiar. It was not something to fear.

And yet—

What was this trembling?

The sensation of every hair on his body standing on end even felt strangely nostalgic.

The pressure coming from this boy was clearly abnormal.

Fear stiffened the body and brought death one step closer.

That principle, carved into his bones through long experience, drove Unran to move.

He raised the output of his [SwordAura] and, with the strength of an adult dragon, forcibly shoved the practice sword back. In simple terms, his current output was already enough to cut Black Dragon Stone with a mere stroke. It was not power that should ever be directed at a student.

And yet unless he used this much, he could not push the boy back.

The boy, apparently used to being handled violently, adjusted his balance through pure core strength and launched another rush.

And on top of that, his swordsmanship was no joke either.

Perhaps because he had no intention of handling his opponent’s blade delicately, he did not weave [Invite] into his attacks. Instead, he employed an astonishingly muscle-brained style: focusing entirely on [Pull] to cancel Unran’s [Invite], sealing off his guidance, then crashing [Release] into him head-on. Simple, yes—but combined with the absurd [SwordAura] the boy possessed, it produced tremendous results.

Because the attack pattern itself was monotonous, the flow of [SwordAura] was easy enough to read.

But he still had to deal with the sword lines that came straight at him and had to be received head-on.

Each heavy clash sent numbness spreading little by little through Unran’s arms.

Strong arms.

A tactic made possible only by absolute confidence in one’s [Sword Aura].

“Hm. Tremendous spirit and [Sword Aura]. Splendid.”

“Thanks for tha-t.”

The boy tossed back a light remark, but unlike his words, there was no trace of ease in his expression.

He was releasing [SwordAura] at full power with every strike, hammering away wildly, and never allowing Unran the chance to counterattack. It was only natural that he would already be breathing hard.

Another slash came in diagonally. Unran intercepted it by cutting upward from the side.

Crack!

Their [SwordAura], compressed to extreme density, scattered sparks and vanished into the air.

Unran considered the situation coolly.

There was no need to strike back yet.

If time passed, the boy’s movements would naturally begin to dull. He could counterattack then.

He shifted his steps and slipped his body away from the line of the slash.

Purple flame passed by the tip of his chin by a hair’s breadth.

The boy’s missed swing left him full of openings. Even so, Unran did not pursue recklessly. He took a backstep instead and widened the distance.

(At most, he has another three minutes.)

Carving the countdown to victory into his mind, Unran regulated his breathing.

◇◇◇◇◇

Ordinary people could not truly see [Sword Aura].

And yet the clash of such abnormal [Sword Aura] violently shook the atmosphere itself, and the resulting shockwaves tore through the arena like gusts of wind.

That collision was enough to distort space.

And so, by perceiving the distortion in the air, even Kōran could see the [Sword Aura] that should have been invisible.

“I can see it… flames like heat haze, shaking the air itself.”

Clenching her sweaty fists and forgetting even to blink, she stared fixedly at the two men crossing swords.

Kishō’s style was a reckless charge.

It was not smart.

At a glance, his fierce assault made it seem as if he were overwhelming the fight, but in reality Unran was avoiding him skillfully.

“Just like a matador.”

Kōran was not the only one watching with bated breath.

Shishiten, first-year second seat, exhaled a white breath into the cold air and said through chattering teeth,

“So his [Sword Aura] really was that monstrous…”

Of the nine hundred students of the Upper and Lower Schools combined, many of those in the seats were excited.

Shishiten, however, was trembling as he clutched his own arms. Not from the cold, but from awe.

“Correct. That tremendous spirit and [Sword Aura] are like a raging lion. I judged him as Dragon Duke class, but it seems I misjudged. If it is that level, then it truly can reach the life of a Dragon Duke.”

To Kōran’s right, Kuroyō answered without taking her eyes off the stage.

“So that is why I stood no chance. Even if only a little of something like that grazed me, I would not survive.”

“The same goes for me. You cannot underestimate the power of a dragonkin in the growth period.”

Even indirectly, through the distortion in the atmosphere, the [Sword Aura] was visible even to ordinary people. And even the tiniest fragments scattering from those practice swords carried certain death.

“Does that mean Master is amazing?”

“Correct. Our master is incredibly amazing.”

At Tsukino’s admiring “Wah,” Kuroyō answered with special emphasis on incredibly.

The two girls watched with flushed cheeks.

Between them sat Ōka, caught in the middle, radiating a warm atmosphere entirely different from the blazing tension in the arena.

“Before I knew it, there’s one more heroine now—. Sho-kun really can’t be underestimated, huh.”

She muttered to herself, groaning over a completely different topic.

But no one heard her. Everyone’s attention was fixed on the fight, and her optimistic little world failed to spread.

“So is Kishō-kun winning? Or losing? Which is it?!”

Alice clasped her hands as if in prayer, anxiety plain on her face.

Beside her, Fūyō, kneeling on the seat because she was too short to see properly otherwise, knitted her brows in concern.

“Mm~, let’s see~. I feel like it’s a little ba~d.”

Next to the little teacher, the Lower School female teachers sat in a line.

“Kishō is doing more than well enough. But the opponent may simply be too much.”

“The Commander of the Imperial Guard is powerful enough to slaughter a Dragon Duke, after all. That much can’t be helped.”

Mion with her triangular glasses and Meika with her drill curls both expressed the same conclusion.

At those words, Tsukino and Alice began to fidget even more nervously.

“Riju-san, Riju-san. What exactly is transfer student-kun’s ability?”

“Shut up! Be quiet. You’re distracting me.”

Instructor Ayana, in her intensely passionate pink, was answered coldly by Riju.

Seeking sympathy, Ayana turned toward the white coat beside her.

“Hyōri-san, Hyōri-san. The muscle gorilla is skipping the explanation.”

“Try looking at the color of Riju’s eyes. She’s serious. If you make her angry now, it’ll be scary later.”

Hyōri remained detached as always.

Ayana glanced at the gorilla-like woman’s rolled-up sleeves and thick upper arms, then visibly shivered.

From the high special seats of the arena, Sōgetsu and Princess Suiren observed the duel.

“What do you think of this match, Suiren? As expected, is it difficult?”

“Yes. The Commander of the Imperial Guard is Father’s right arm. In terms of ability, he is on the level of Rakuyō-sama. Defeating someone like that would naturally be difficult. Just—”

“Just what? No need to hold back. Go on.”

“I am interested in how much reserve strength remains in the man my sister fell in love with.”

Princess Suiren’s lips curved in a bewitching arc.

At the next moment, the match shifted dramatically, and the entire arena erupted in cheers.

◇◇◇◇◇

It was when five minutes had passed since the start of the fight that Unran sensed something was wrong.

The endless chain of sword clashes continued like heavy rain.

His calculation—that the boy’s stamina should have run out soon—had been overturned, and instead that torrential rain of violent sword strikes only continued without pause.

No—

It was not merely that.

The weight of each blow was increasing little by little.

Each strike came heavier than the last. Stronger. Sharper. The [Sword Aura] itself was being honed.

“Don’t tell me his [SwordAura] output is rising at this point?”

And that rise showed no sign of stopping.

It was as though the boy were growing in the midst of battle, using the powerful enemy called Unran as nourishment.

The rain of purple flame thickened, and what had been a storm became a thunderstorm laced with lightning.

A true storm.

As the sword-dance tempest raged, [Sword Aura] cracked through the air like actual lightning. It built up charge, transformed into violet lightning, and clung to the practice sword. The resulting blow was refined to a degree Unran had never felt before, forcing him into a state where guarding was no longer a real option.

The phrase like being struck by a hammer had never been more accurate.

The instant that blow came crashing straight down from above, the weight pressing onto his knees seemed to multiply dozens of times over. His entire skeleton groaned together with the practice sword bearing the impact, and for the first time, Unran gasped in severe pain.

Just as ores differed in specific gravity, the weight of [Sword Aura] also varied depending on the user’s ability.

The boy’s [Sword Aura] was now creating a massive disparity against Unran’s own.

It was like a lightweight weapon colliding against a super-heavy one.

Far from being able to counterattack, every time a blow landed, Unran’s body lurched violently and his balance was driven farther from stability.

Until now, no matter how powerful the [SwordAura] had been, [Invite] had at least reduced some of the burden.

But against the absurd [Sword Aura] before him now, the effect of [Invite] had already been completely erased by the opponent’s [Pull].

In other words, Unran now had no choice but to receive this insane [Sword Aura] directly, from the front.

Then, before his eyes, the greatest storm yet was unleashed.

It was a mass of outrageous [SwordAura] so overwhelming that even Unran, who had crossed countless scenes of carnage, felt his instincts scream a warning without condition.

Unran understood in an instant.

It was impossible.

If he attempted to receive this attack, then almost certainly he would fail—and lose his life.

His judgment had been naive.

He regretted underestimating the boy because he was a student. He regretted deciding to defeat him gently once his stamina ran out.

He had no idea what had caused this sudden acceleration.

But he should have finished the fight before it ever reached this point.

Even if it was too late now, that thought still came to him.

The slash came for his skull.

He had been fully caught.

He could not dodge.

And before certain death, Unran’s body unconsciously stepped.

Graceful steps—

Like a leaf drifting on the flow of water.

Unran’s entire body blurred with afterimages, layering into an uncertain, insubstantial illusion.

The boy’s blow had absolutely caught him.

And yet what it struck was only a false image with no substance.

Violet lightning [Sword Aura] sliced uselessly through empty air, while the real Unran had already slipped around to the boy’s back.

A horizontal sweep from the blind spot caught the boy across the abdomen—

And the full force of a strike he could no longer hold back sent the boy flying sideways.

He remained airborne for dozens of meters.

After that long arc through the air, he slammed into the thick wall of the colosseum. Cracks instantly ran through the hard stone wall, caving inward in a semicircle around the point of impact. A heartbeat later, fragments exploded outward in all directions.

A leaf on the current.

The current was the Water Dragon.

A secret technique among secret techniques, said to be learnable only by those of the Water attribute.

Before that irregular movement, any attack became powerless.

No one could catch the true body.

This was the very trump card that had once slaughtered an active Dragon Duke.

The Dance of the Water Dragon.