Chapter 340 (Patreon)

Kana darted through the gray world like a shadow refusing to be caught.

Steel clanged against steel for what felt like the hundredth time as her curved sword crashed into the enormous shield. The impact reverberated through her arms, but the man barely moved. He simply adjusted his footing and absorbed the strike as if he had been expecting it all along.

That was what irritated her.

He wasn't fast. Not even close.

Kana had fought monsters, assassins, adventurers, and dungeon bosses that moved faster than this man. Yet no matter what angle she attacked from, no matter how quickly she accelerated, the shield was always there waiting for her.

She slid backward across the gray floor and immediately lunged again. Her sword flashed toward his shoulder.

Blocked.

She twisted her body and attacked his exposed side.

Blocked.

A low strike aimed at his knee.

Blocked.

Every exchange ended the same way. The giant shield moved. The attack disappeared. The man retreated a single step.

Nothing else. Kana clicked her tongue. Her [Night Awareness] flooded her with information. She could hear every breath he took. Every heartbeat. Every shift of muscle beneath the armor.

Yet somehow, that only made the situation more frustrating.

His heartbeat remained calm. Steady. Unchanging. The breathing of a man sitting beside a campfire rather than one locked in combat. He wasn't nervous. He wasn't excited. He wasn't even annoyed.

The realization bothered her more than the shield itself. After several more exchanges, Kana retreated and began circling him slowly.

The man never pursued. His shield remained raised. His mace rested at the ready. He watched her through the narrow slits of his intimidating helmet with the patience of a mountain.

That was another thing she disliked.

Most opponents eventually became greedy. They saw her size. Her age. A young girl carrying a curved sword.Sooner or later, they underestimated her. This man never did. From the moment she arrived, he had treated her like a genuine threat.

He knows who I am. The thought settled heavily in her mind.

There was no other explanation. The defensive stance. The caution. The refusal to attack. This wasn't a random encounter.

The man had been prepared for her before they ever met. Kana inhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm down. Frustration solved nothing. Patterns did.

Every fighter had habits. Every defense had flaws. She simply needed to find them.

So she attacked again. This time she wasn't trying to win. She was studying. 

Testing.

Watching.

A downward strike.

Shield.

A thrust toward the ribs.

Shield.

A feint high followed by a slash toward the ankle.

Shield.

Again.

Again.

Again.

With every exchange, her understanding grew. The man pivoted his left foot before most blocks. His shield always moved first, his body following half a heartbeat later. When defending high, his weight shifted slightly onto his back leg.

Tiny details. The sort of things most people never noticed. Kana noticed everything. Then she found it. Not a weakness. Not exactly. More like a crack hidden beneath layers of stone. A moment where the man's awareness focused entirely on one threat.

A single opening.

Small enough that anyone else would have missed it.

Kana smiled.

Then she moved. Her sword came down from above. The shield intercepted it instantly. Just as expected. 

She rotated and attacked from the left.

Blocked.

A strike toward the legs.

Blocked.

Everything unfolded exactly as it had dozens of times before. The same rhythm. The same sequence. The same expectation. Then Kana broke the pattern.

The moment her curved sword collided with the shield, she released it. The weapon spun away.

At the same time, she launched herself upward. The sudden movement forced the man's attention to follow her. Only for an instant. But an instant was enough.

A dagger appeared in her hand.

"[Black Pierce]."

Some sort of dark mana flooded the blade, staining it black as midnight.

Kana hurled it directly toward his temple. For the first time since the battle began, the man reacted. Not physically. Instinctively. His heartbeat jumped. His breathing caught. His head began turning.

Too late. He hadn't seen the attack. He hadn't anticipated it. The dagger was going to hit. Then a crimson barrier erupted around him. The red light flashed across the gray world. The dagger struck it with a sharp crack and bounced harmlessly away.

Kana landed several paces back, staring. The man stared back. Neither moved. The surprise in his eyes told her everything. He hadn't activated the barrier. He hadn't even noticed the dagger until the final moment.

The skill had protected him automatically. A passive skill defense. One that reacted faster than its owner.

Which meant her attack had worked. If not for that barrier, the fight would have ended. The giant warrior slowly returned to his defensive stance.

Shield forward.

Mace ready.

Silent as ever.

Kana rubbed the back of her neck and released a long breath. At least she had learned something.

Unfortunately, learning and winning were not the same thing. The gray world remained silent around them as she retrieved another dagger from her belt.

Then she glanced at the unmoving shield and sighed.

This is getting nowhere. And judging by the calm rhythm of the man's heartbeat, he seemed to know it too.

….

Rose Light wiped the thin trail of blood from the corner of her mouth and stared at the crimson smear left on her gauntlet. The sight annoyed her more than the pain itself. It had only been a few minutes since the fight began, yet she could already feel the strain building throughout her body. Her shoulders ached. Her hands tingled from repeated impacts. Even her breathing had become slightly heavier.

Across from her stood the man responsible.

He wasn't particularly large. In fact, he was only slightly taller than she was. Long black hair rested over his shoulders, partially hidden beneath a strip of dark cloth tied around his head. His features were unmistakably imperial. Tanned skin, sharp jawline, blue eyes that carried neither arrogance nor anger. Unlike most elite warriors, he wore no armor. No enchanted equipment. No protective artifacts. Just black clothing wrapped tightly around his body as though he had no need for anything else.

The sword in his hand looked equally unimpressive.

A thin blade. Old. Scarred by countless battles. The grip had been repaired so many times that white bandages now covered most of the hilt. It looked like the sort of weapon an old veteran would refuse to replace, not because it was valuable, but because it had survived too much to be discarded.

Rose had learned long ago that the most dangerous people often carried the simplest weapons.

Earlier, when the world had changed around them and everyone vanished, the man had calmly informed her that she wasn't the primary target. Unfortunately, he had followed that statement by mentioning that killing her would still earn him an enormous amount of coin and other benefits.

Then he tried to do exactly that.

Rose adjusted her grip on her longsword. The first exchange still lingered vividly in her mind. The instant she sensed danger, she had activated [Duel], trapping them together within its restrictions. It should have given her an advantage. Few people could fight effectively once their skills were taken away.

This man wasn't one of those people. If anything, removing skills seemed to favor him. The realization was deeply unpleasant. The swordsman moved again.

No warning.

No wasted motion.

One moment he stood still. The next, his blade was already descending toward her. Rose reacted instantly. Steel met steel. The impact surged through her arms like a shockwave.

She successfully blocked the strike, but it felt less like stopping a sword and more like intercepting a charging warhammer. The force traveled through her shoulders and rattled her bones. Her boots slid backward across the gray floor before she could stabilize herself.

The man didn't pause.

Another strike followed immediately.

Then another.

Then another.

Rose defended each attack, but every exchange revealed the same uncomfortable truth.

She was losing. Not because she was weaker. Not because she was slower. Because he was better.

Far better.

Every movement he made felt refined to an absurd degree. His footwork flowed effortlessly from one stance into another. His balance never broke. His attacks contained no hesitation, no unnecessary motion, no wasted energy.

Rose could practically see the years hidden behind every strike.

No.

Not years.

Decades.

This was a man who had probably held a sword since childhood. A man who had repeated the same movements thousands upon thousands of times until they became instinct. She had fought talented warriors before.

This wasn't talent. This was obsession. The difference mattered. A blade flashed toward her shoulder.

Rose pivoted and deflected it. The impact numbed two fingers on her left hand. The swordsman barely seemed winded.

"If only I could use my skills," he said as he pressed forward again, his voice calm and almost conversational, "you wouldn't need to suffer."

Rose blocked another strike. The force nearly drove her to one knee.

"It's going to be quick," he continued. "That. I promise."

A grin spread across Rose's face despite everything. Perhaps it was stubbornness. Perhaps it was pride. Most likely both.

"I'm just warming up."

For the first time, a flicker of irritation crossed the man's face.

Tiny. Barely noticeable. But it was there.

Rose took satisfaction in that. Small victories were still victories. The swordsman attacked again. Rose met the strike head-on.

Steel screamed.

Her muscles protested. The gap between them became clearer with every exchange. Under normal circumstances, Rose would have already begun using skills, barriers, feints, traps, teleportation. She had spent years building a fighting style around versatility.

However, she knew the man had probably dangerous skills. She did not have any information about him so she was betting that without skills, she was better. It seemed today it was not.

Inside [Duel], they only had their swords.

And the man opposite her had spent his entire life mastering exactly that.

Her fingers briefly brushed the pocket containing a [Teleportation] Scroll.

It was useless. She had tested it earlier. Whatever this strange gray prison was, it blocked escape completely. A grim realization settled over her. If she couldn't win quickly, then survival became the objective. And if survival was the objective, she needed information.

Time.

Anything.

The students were out there somewhere.

Kana. Suri. Boris. Chelle. Ryle.

All of them were likely facing their own opponents.

Every second mattered. Rose stepped back, creating the smallest opening she could without appearing desperate.

"Who's the primary target?" she asked.

She already knew the answer.

Kana.

It had always been Kana. But that wasn't the point. Conversation bought time. Time bought possibilities. The swordsman paused for the briefest moment. Then his expression flattened.

"One of the rules," he said.

His thin sword rose smoothly into position. "Never talk to someone you're fighting."

Before Rose could respond, he moved. The distance between them vanished.

Steel flashed through the gray world. And Rose immediately understood that whatever time she wanted to steal, she would have to earn it the hard way.

Post note:Rose Light vs Hora Espada(Kana defeated the Espada empire student)

Sixth Chap of the week.

Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂

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