Chapter 80: Reinhard: Brothers Are the Best (Patreon)

Since sitting around waiting in the parlor was boring anyway, Subaru simply suggested to Wilhelm that they head out to the Astrea family's courtyard to spar a little — call it stretching their legs.

After letting old butler Grimm know, the two of them picked up a pair of standard wooden practice swords and walked single file down the wide corridor toward the inner courtyard.

Murphy's Law, however, had never once failed to deliver its full value in the noble district of the royal capital.

The two had just rounded the corner leading to the central courtyard when they ran face-first into a noble young lady dressed in an outrageously lavish gown, its skirt so voluminous it looked like a portable tent.

"Oh!"

She let out a startled cry and instinctively tried to jump back, but the heavy, elaborate skirts threw her off balance. She spun in place three times like a top losing momentum, and only her remarkable coordination let her steady herself — in an utterly undignified horse stance.

Her brilliant golden hair swayed in the sunlight, revealing a delicate face full of irritation and impatience.

But the instant she recognized the man walking toward her as Natsuki Subaru, her ruby-red eyes lit up. She looked like a cat that had just spotted catnip, hiking up her skirts and scurrying over in quick little steps.

"Master!!"

Felt shouted loud enough that it probably carried across half the mansion.

"Teach me that Dark Swordsmanship thing of yours! I want to learn it too! You know — the move where you go 'whoosh' and dive into a shadow, then 'bam,' pop up behind someone! It's so cool!"

Watching Felt's eyes practically sparkle with stars, brimming with adoration for him, Subaru was thoroughly baffled. Since when did he pick up a disciple?

And what exactly was "Dark Swordsmanship" supposed to be, anyway? He was a Dark Templar, not some undead swordsman — was she barking up the wrong master's tree entirely?

"Me? Your master?"

He pointed at his own nose, and when Felt nodded with total conviction, he finally recalled that, yes, this had actually happened.

"Oh, right... I did say I'd teach you stealth. But you don't even need to be a thief anymore, so why bother learning that stuff?"

"You're a candidate for the Royal Selection now, practically the young lady of old Lugnica's true dragon banner. Sneaking through shadows and playing thief every day — is that really appropriate?"

"But I'd much rather not be king anyway."

Felt wrinkled her nose in disgust, clasped her hands behind her head, and rolled her eyes.

"Not to mention this country's situation is worse than a sewage ditch in the slums. Running around free is the life I actually like."

She sighed, a rare note of seriousness slipping into her voice.

"If I had to sit on a throne every day listening to a bunch of old geezers drone on, I'd go crazy. If it weren't to pay back that Sword Saint guy for looking after me all this time, I wouldn't bother with the Royal Selection at all!"

It was obvious that supreme throne meant nothing to Felt — how could it possibly compare to the way this guy, Natsuki Subaru, could vanish and reappear without a trace? So cool.

Moving freely through shadows — if she ever learned that trick, just let those two little maids try to drag her off to etiquette lessons then!

But the second clause of Murphy's Law was soon confirmed as well: once things start going wrong, they will inevitably get worse.

Just as Felt grabbed Subaru's sleeve, eager to keep chattering, two pink-haired maids with twin-tail braids appeared silently behind her.

"Lady Felt, today's etiquette lesson is about to begin."

"Lady Felt, please don't trouble our guests. It would leave a poor impression on the honored visitors from House Barielle and House Karsten."

Such an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

Not just Subaru — Felt's whole body went rigid too.

She turned her head stiffly, and upon seeing the two maids standing behind her — barely reaching her shoulder in height — her face filled with pure terror.

"Ah! No, please!!"

"Lady Felt, please maintain your composure."

"Lady Felt, struggling is impolite."

The twin maids looked barely twelve years old, dainty and delicate, yet their strength was shockingly disproportionate.

Once their small hands clamped onto her arms, Felt might as well have been chained in iron. No matter how she struggled she couldn't budge an inch, and could only watch helplessly as her not-quite-official master drifted farther and farther away.

"Master! Save me——!!"

"I don't want to learn boring etiquette! I want to learn your moves! Master!!"

"Well... take care. A bit of etiquette won't do you any harm."

Subaru waved goodbye, glanced at Wilhelm beside him, then at the twin maids behind Felt, and ultimately decided not to step in.

Considering the years Felt had spent in the slums, Subaru figured her education was probably minimal at best. The girl had a bright future ahead of her — better she not pick up Dark Swordsmanship from a drifter like him and instead properly learn something respectable. Who knew, she might even end up part of the royal family someday.

Besides, even if Felt genuinely wanted to learn the Dark Templar's arts from him, Subaru had no idea how to help someone develop psionic power. It wasn't that he didn't want to teach her — he simply had no clue how.

And so, Felt's path as a Dark Templar was declared over before it had even begun.

"Are those two Carol's granddaughters? Seems I've been away from the Astrea household far too long — I didn't even know she and Grimm had grandchildren."

Wilhelm watched the twins, a trace of wistfulness in his eyes.

"It's been so long since I last came back here. Everything about this place has become... so unfamiliar to me."

Subaru spun the wooden sword in his hand with a laugh.

"At least you're back here now, old man Wil. That's a good start, isn't it?"

Wilhelm didn't answer. For a man with such limited emotional range, simply mustering the courage to face his son and grandson despite the crushing awkwardness had already been the absolute limit of what he could manage.

Even now, he still harbored reservations about being tied to the Astrea name once more.

The two crossed the corridor and arrived at an open space in the inner courtyard.

The ground here was paved with smooth flagstones, surrounded by tall evergreen trees. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting mottled patches of light and shadow across the stone.

"Young friend Subaru."

Wilhelm stopped walking, turned around, gripped the hilt of his wooden sword with both hands, and slowly settled into a perfectly textbook ready stance.

"Since we're here to stretch our legs, let me see just how much substance there is to this so-called 'Dark Swordsmanship' Felt keeps going on about."

In that instant, the old man's eyes changed.

The somewhat forlorn, somewhat awkward old coachman vanished.

In his place stood the legendary swordsman who had once made countless enemies flee in terror during the Demi-Human War, who had forged the name "Sword Devil" through rivers of blood and mountains of bone.

He stood there holding nothing more than an ordinary wooden sword, yet the razor-edged killing intent radiating off him seemed to freeze the very air around them.

"Whew. That presence is no joke."

Subaru arched one eyebrow. He could tell Wilhelm wasn't fooling around.

The old man meant business.

Then he'd better bring his own full effort, out of respect!

"Honestly, I'm not all that familiar with using a sword like this."

Subaru raised his right hand, holding the wooden sword horizontally in front of him, his left hand brushing lightly against the golden vambrace, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

"But a blade's a blade — there ought to be some overlap. At least, that's what I'd like to think."

"Come on! Watch yourself!"

Before the words had even finished, Wilhelm launched forward with a single powerful step, bringing his wooden sword down in a heavy, decisive strike — swift and merciless.

Tremendous force surged through the wood, numbing Subaru's arm slightly. Only then did he realize, with pleasant surprise, that despite his age, the old man's stamina and explosive power remained monstrous. No wonder he'd earned the name "Sword Devil" in his youth — the old ginger really was the spiciest.

"Good reflexes, young friend."

As Wilhelm's voice sounded in his ear, a second strike was already arriving — an upward slash aimed straight at Subaru's chin, forcing him to leap backward to create distance.

From those two exchanges alone, Wilhelm could tell this young man was no ordinary opponent. Even in his advancing years — and having once reached the half-step Sword Saint realm in his youth — he was confident that very few in this kingdom could withstand more than a handful of his strikes.

He felt his long-dormant fighting spirit stir back to life. In his youth, Wilhelm could hardly be called gentle-natured — if anything, he'd been unusually violent, roaming the streets with his family heirloom sword looking for duels, once earning a reputation as the most troublesome street brawler in the royal capital, until he met Theresia.

As the saying goes, a leopard never changes its spots. Facing an opponent worthy of his true strength — one who could even resonate with him on some emotional level — the long-dormant "Sword Devil" finally bared his fangs once more.

Subaru kept retreating step by step while Wilhelm pressed relentlessly, his wooden sword becoming a blur of brown wind — chopping, slashing, thrusting, striking in rapid succession, each blow aimed straight at the blind spots in Subaru's guard.

Subaru swung his sword to block again and again, silently grumbling to himself.

In truth, with his reflexes, keeping pace with Wilhelm for a few exchanges wasn't particularly difficult. The problem was that after years of relying on the Warp Blade fixed to his wrist, switching to an ordinary sword made him instinctively fall into the wrong motions.

The Warp Blade's edge ran parallel to his forearm, so blocking only required lining up his whole arm along that plane. But with a wooden sword, that same instinctive motion threw off the angle of his blocks and made everything far more strenuous.

Wilhelm noticed this too, of course, but assumed the young man's swordsmanship simply wasn't refined yet. Still, Subaru's agile reflexes and footwork more than compensated for that small flaw — holding out this long against an opponent showing almost no mercy was genuinely impressive.

It made him understand, at least a little, why Reinhard had become friends with this young man.

"There's an opening!"

Spotting a gap in Subaru's guard, Wilhelm thrust forward sharply, his wooden sword slipping past the side of Subaru's own weapon and driving straight toward his chest. But just as Wilhelm moved to pull the strike short, Subaru's figure suddenly blurred — the wooden sword struck nothing but a fleeting wisp of black mist, and the man himself had vanished.

"Yin magic?"

Wilhelm frowned slightly. This was a spell he'd never seen before; instinct alone told him it must be some form of Yin magic.

His gaze sharpened. Without losing his composure, instincts honed over years of battlefield combat let him sense, almost instantly, a presence coming from the shadow at his side. His wooden sword swept sideways in a single stroke, cutting a shrill whistle through the air.

But what emerged from that shadow wasn't the sword strike he expected — instead, a cloud of purple-black mist billowed out, wrapping around him with a suffocating sense of paralysis. It was the most basic Yin magic technique: Shamak.

Wilhelm made an instant decision, stepping forward before his mind could be fully overtaken by Shamak, and broke free of the mist's grip. Acting purely on instinct, he raised his wooden sword and, by the narrowest of margins, blocked another sword falling from directly above his head.

"Ha! Old man Wil's really got the moves!"

Suspended in midair, Subaru used the recoil from the clashing swords to flip backward, landing lightly on the ground. A faint hint of fatigue crossed his face as he shook out his numbed wrist and offered a suggestion.

"Let's call it there. I'd say this counts as a draw, wouldn't you? Keep going and I'm going to start embarrassing myself."

It had to be said, attempting to conjure Yin magic mid-duel against a master was a massive test of willpower and focus. In under a fraction of a second, he'd had to use his psionic power to forcibly wrangle the wildly unruly mana inside him into the right configuration, all while figuring out his next move — how was that any different from tackling a boss fight with over five hundred milliseconds of lag using a busted controller with dead buttons?

The process couldn't exactly be called smooth — "grueling" would be more accurate. The moment atmospheric mana passed through his gate, every particle of it acted like an escaped mental patient, making the construction of a Yin magic formation an absolute nightmare.

To put it another way, it was like watering a potted plant with a pressure washer — apply even a little too much force, and the whole pot, soil and all, ends up flying into your neighbor's face.

"You're being too modest, young friend Subaru."

Wilhelm nodded, returned his wooden sword to the weapon rack in the courtyard, and turned to look at Subaru, a note of genuine admiration in his eyes.

"Your swordsmanship is admittedly a bit rough around the edges, but your reflexes and the clever way you weave Yin magic into your combat are truly remarkable. In all my years wielding a blade, I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Have you ever considered studying proper swordsmanship? It would likely do wonders for your 'Dark Swordsmanship.'"

"Ha, well, how do I put this... The weapon I actually use isn't a sword at all, and it's not 'Dark Swordsmanship' either — that name was just something Felt made up out of nowhere."

As he spoke, Subaru shrugged helplessly, pulled back the sleeve on his right arm to reveal the golden vambrace belonging to the Dark Prelate, and channeled his void psionic power. A blade of jade-green light instantly manifested, radiating a chilly, ethereal glow.

"It's called the Warp Blade — a symbol of the Dark Templar's path."

"I see. So this whole time, you've been sparring with me using a weapon you're unfamiliar with."

Wilhelm walked over to Subaru's side, studying the blade of light closely, and murmured with feeling.

"If this had been a real battlefield, with no restrictions at all, the one lying dead right now would very likely have been me."

"Don't flatter me too much, old man Wil."

Subaru gave a helpless little laugh and dismissed the Warp Blade.

"When it comes to actual swordsmanship, I'm still no match for you. What I'm really good at is small tricks — stealth and assassination. If we really went all out, who knows who'd come out on top."

That much wasn't a lie. Before his soul had been fused with a Deathwing, Subaru's true specialty had indeed been infiltration — slipping in unnoticed and eliminating a target without a sound, making up for his lack of raw frontal combat strength with absurdly, almost pathologically thorough planning and contingencies.

But now, ever since binding so deeply with that mad dragon, Subaru felt like going head-to-head with anyone was no longer really a problem either.

—Your thinking is correct. You've finally realized just what kind of power you carry.

The instant that thought flashed through his mind, a deep, resonant voice suddenly rose from the depths of Subaru's consciousness, accompanied by that long-familiar, world-shattering pressure, as a crimson dragon's eye slowly opened within his mind.