By the Grace of the Gods (LN) - Volume 12 - Chapter 16

Chapter 7, Episode 54: Back in His Element

The clash of metal rang in the air; sparks flickered in the torchlight. How is he alive...? one of the men in black couldn’t help but wonder. Just a few moments ago, he had thought Ryoma was as good as dead—that he’d have no chance of retaliating against the Greatsword Brothers who flanked him from either side.

But Ryoma was certainly alive. In fact, he was holding his own against the relentless attacks of the hit men.

Greatswords were the brothers’ choice of weapon, each blade as long as an adult man was tall. The swords’ sheer mass and the brothers’ technique combined made each swing lethal. Compared to Ryoma’s lightweight sword, they lacked dexterity but made up for it with power. Still, wearing their aura of energy, the brothers moved much faster than their appearance let on. They also staggered their attacks ever so slightly to cover each other, which made their onslaught anything but straightforward.

But they had yet to hit Ryoma. His movements were so relaxed and precise that some of the men in black had mistaken them for inaction; in reality, however, he was deftly keeping himself out of the flurry of greatswords, parrying only when he had to. He had even initiated a counterattack a few times already, and he was beginning to find openings in the brothers’ coordination.

Who could have expected this? 

Ryoma’s attackers had been briefed on Ryoma’s strengths, from observation and prediction. Naturally, one such prediction was about his melee combat ability. They had expected, however, that Ryoma’s best talents would be his magic, which he’d demonstrated by plowing snow and demolishing old buildings and familiars that encompassed the many slimes he contracted. Ryoma’s magic had become an integral part of Gimul, and everyone knew about Ryoma’s slimes through his work.

However, the attackers had little to go on to discern how good of a fighter Ryoma would be—other than that one story about him dominating a group of delinquent adventurers, they’d had only rumors. It had seemed prudent to focus their preparation on magic and slimes, because none of them had expected Ryoma’s swordsmanship to be more of a threat than his other skills. This was especially considering how young he was. He was so skilled in magic that most people wondered how he would have trained so much in his short life; who could have predicted that, by all appearances, he’d spent even more time training with the sword?

No sane person would have guessed that Ryoma, apparently a preteen, had forty years’ worth of swordsmanship training under his belt!

All things considered, the men in black had been very thorough in their preparation: they’d disabled Ryoma’s magic, hired the Greatsword brothers, and even staffed what they’d thought would be enough backup support. If Ryoma had been any other child, they would have been in and out of the mountain in a flash, having completed their mission.

After less than thirty seconds of combat, the older brother grunted and stepped out of the thick of it, holding his faceguard in one hand.

His brother immediately put distance between him and Ryoma. “Brother?” he called.

“Just chipped the buckle.” The faceguard dangled to one side of his helmet because of the broken buckle. He forcibly tore it the rest of the way off, at last revealing a scaly face.

“You’re a dragonewt,” Ryoma said.

“Unlike the one you’ve met, I wasn’t born in the village,” he confirmed. “I nearly didn’t believe you’d fashioned a sword out of a slime.”

“So you know about Asagi and my slime sword? You really did your homework,” said Ryoma.

This sword had the same appearance as his previous one, but this time, it was made of a steel slime that had evolved from an iron slime. While it didn’t come with any additional powers, the steel slime was more durable and better suited for a blade.

“Anyone who could jeopardize our mission, we research. As for the sword, we only heard a rumor that you were a slime maniac—hellbent on using slimes for everything imaginable,” one of the brothers said.

“Not a scratch after all this... It seems we underestimated you,” said the other.

Both of them raised their swords to attack, and the air about their blades flickered almost imperceptibly. It was a telltale sign that the amount of energy they used for enhancement had surpassed a certain threshold.

The mirage-like effect served as a warning—they were about to use a technique that required a lot of energy.

“Behold: the secret Greatsword technique!”

“Dragon’s Descent!” the younger brother cried, swinging his sword, which was now brimming with energy.

That energy became a tangible slash that flew towards Ryoma, carving its course in the ground. Just as Ryoma dove sideways to avoid it, the older brother followed ruthlessly.

“Dragon’s Descent!”

Ryoma lifted his sword, and the brothers saw how the air flickered unmistakably around his blade. The next moment, Ryoma had fired an identical slash that met the second brother’s and neutralized it. By then, the brothers had started their next attack, wielding the mirage-shrouded blades in unison this time.

“Secret Greatsword technique: Dragon Crossing!”

Blades flew, crossing into each other’s paths in pursuit of Ryoma. Once again, he held his slime sword high and brought it down, creating a larger slash than before to strike both blades at once, just as they crossed.

“I tip my hat to you,” one of the brothers said. “Not that I’m surprised to see you have technique.”

“You copied ours,” the other added.

“Strange thing to say to an opponent, but...your technique was so clean that it made it easier. They were perfect models,” Ryoma said.

The older brother’s frown deepened, and the other seemed to share his sentiment.

“How did you keep such a talent hidden?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Ryoma explained. “Couldn’t if I tried. If I’m being honest, I was scared.”

“Scared?”

“Back in the forest, I was all alone, for better or worse. I just had to survive. But in the city—in human society—there are rules, from written laws and regulations to unspoken social contracts. Solving your problems with violence is frowned upon in most places. A quick way to make yourself a pariah. So I may be good at fighting, but I don’t like flaunting it. Also, using magic and slimes is usually more efficient for my jobs in the city,” Ryoma said.

“I see your point, but it is a foolish one. You are strong. Why put any stake in what the weak say or think of you?” the older brother asked.

“Strength is all that matters in this world,” the younger chimed in. “If anyone defies you, you can make them answer to your sword. You must understand that much.”

“The sad reality is that you do need strength to get what you want. Not necessarily violence, but authority, wealth, negotiation tactics... Without strength, things can be taken from you. I can’t deny that a part of me was reassured by the idea that I could kill my enemies if I really wanted to. If I’d never met the duke’s people in the forest of Gana...” As Ryoma spoke, more to himself than to his opponents, the aura about him grew more intense. “If I’d never been accepted by my friends in the city...at the very least, I wouldn’t be on the defensive. Could have been on your side of the line. I was just very, very lucky.”

“You are strong—and growing stronger,” said one of the brothers. “But with all of our strength, we will take you out.”

The flickering in the air spread, soon enveloping their entire bodies. More than just risking their lives, the brothers were ready to spend their lives to defeat Ryoma. That they were utilizing their true strength now was an indication of just how much their perception of Ryoma had changed.

“Let us begin!” the brothers declared.

Torchlight flashed in their armor as the brothers both darted towards Ryoma, abandoning technique for speed and power. Facing down two greatswords that could tear through his sword and body in one swing, Ryoma poured every drop of energy into his sword to compete against the brothers’ enhanced armor. Without energy left to enhance his body, Ryoma defended himself with precise, minimal movements and pure swordsmanship.

Both sides were aiming to end the fight with one hit, and the battle became more intense with every clash of their swords. Their auras blended into one, like a pillar stretching to the heavens.

The battle ended suddenly.

Ryoma parried the younger brother’s sword with the guard of his own, then stepped past the blade and struck his foe with the pommel of his sword. It wasn’t a strong enough blow on its own to take down the brother, but the momentary stun was enough to disrupt the brothers’ coordination. Ryoma turned to parry the older brother’s sword coming for his neck, relaxing his arms at the moment of contact. Using the gravity and momentum of the sword, Ryoma deflected the blade. As soon as the sword was out of his way, Ryoma cut straight across the older brother’s arms. Blood sprayed Ryoma as the brother dropped his sword.

A moment later, the younger brother swiped at Ryoma’s neck, but met the same fate as his brother. Blood came gushing from the crack in his armor; his arms fell to his side.

The older brother chuckled. “It looks like we lost...”

“Looks like it,” said his brother. “I’m sorry, brother.”

“Don’t be, brother.”

Ryoma expected the brothers to fall then—both their arms were nearly severed, and they were completely spent from the battle. But the pair only let out a groan and took to their knees, their sharp gazes still held on Ryoma.

“A decisive strike to both of us.”

“I might have carried on until the bitter end, if only my arms would budge... I’m almost glad it ended like this.”

The flickering in the air about them grew fainter by the second. With all the blood loss, the brothers were on the brink of death.

“Where are the others?” one of them asked with great effort.

“Ran as soon as our battle was over,” Ryoma said. “I expected them to attack me.”

Screams of terror soon came from the direction in which the men in black had escaped. Keeping his attention on the brothers, Ryoma glanced in that direction to find them being caught by thorny weeds, growing through the layers of snow and pulling them down into the earth.

“Snared in my familiars’ traps, just now,” Ryoma said.

“I see... No wonder...we didn’t see them.”

“You set them up...not to defend...but to keep from escaping...”

“Brilliant,” the brothers said together, and fell flat on their faces.

The clatter of falling armor echoed through the mountain. Snow began to fall. Once Ryoma flicked his sword to shake the blood off the blade, quiet returned to the abandoned mines for the night.