Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 14

Chapter 14
At the very first clash, Leon was the one who was pushed back. His strike had been perfect—half a beat faster than Lyon’s, and he had even gained the briefest edge, but he had still been thoroughly overpowered.
Even without Aura, the difference in their raw strength was clear. Leon took a step back and immediately thrust forward.
His blade pierced the air in a minimal movement using only his wrist and elbow, and the sharp pressure halted Lyon’s attempt to chase him down.
A step behind. Still, not a bad start.
Leon thought as he squared up again, reassessing as he faced Lyon.
He had known their power gap, but the stats window hadn’t conveyed just how wide it was. He understood now, after crossing blades, that if they continued trading blows directly, he wouldn’t even last thirty seconds.
With a short breath, he released the tension in his body. His sword drooped diagonally—only to whip upward like a snake and slash down. The strike was loose in form but razor-sharp in precision. The motion was fluid, almost sluggish, but the tip gleamed with menace like a viper striking.
Lyon coolly blocked it with his crossguard. Had he misjudged even slightly, his wrist would’ve shattered. Instead, with the smallest movement, he earned maximum gain in defense.
Lyon’s block was straight out of the textbook, and from that guard, he flowed straight into riposte, a diagonal slash for a cleaving blow meant to shatter Leon’s collarbone. The speed of his transition alone was absurd. It was a technique that followed up an ideal defense by exploiting the opponent’s unstable footing or psychological opening.
Leon deflected Lyon’s riposte sideways and took a half-step back. Though he had redirected the force cleanly, his wrist still tingled. It wasn’t a serious shock; a few seconds of rest and he would be fine.
Of course, Lyon wouldn’t let that opening go wasted.
Here it comes.
A faint echo rushed toward Leon’s vision. It was the hazy forewarning granted by Rodrick’s Vision, an image that arrived half a beat ahead of the actual movement.
Leon’s eyes widened, tracking the blur. He couldn’t afford to blink even once. That would be the end of it all.
He’s on a different level than Elmont.
This vision was a “prediction,” not “foresight.” The faster and more refined the enemy’s movements, the less precise the image. Lyon’s pre-attack silhouette was fainter and less complete than anyone’s, which meant Leon had to fill in the gaps with his own instincts and skill.
Blow after blow, clash after clash, the two exchanged attacks relentlessly.
This couldn’t be called a cadet duel. Even without Aura, the sheer depth of their swordsmanship and combat sense outclassed most officially appointed knights.
Their fundamental swordsmanship was evenly matched. Lyon was faster and stronger, yes, but Leon’s “eyes” let him see half a beat ahead, allowing him to hold his own.
He couldn’t perform perfect parries or counters like he had done against Elmont, but he was always a step ahead in their mental exchange, which was just enough to let him keep pace.
He’s strong. A real monster.
Leon, when did you get so strong...?
Both were shocked—Leon by Lyon’s boundless strength, and Lyon by the fact that even at full force, he couldn’t overwhelm Leon.
It was enough to ignite the flame of resolve in both of their eyes.
“...Incredible,” Gilbert muttered in awe.
He had known of his liege’s genius, but he hadn’t expected Leon to keep up like this. Even a battle-hardened knight of decades was stirred. Their next flurry was even more vicious.
With a brief cry, Lyon attempted a double feint move. Leon saw through it and responded with a time thrust, a pinpoint stab meant to puncture the moment between complex fakes.
Lyon dodged that with half a step and slashed at Leon’s exposed lower half. Leon retreated just enough to counter, aiming at Lyon’s head, but managed only to shear a few strands of his golden hair.
Their blades, sometimes held with both hands and sometimes with just one, clashed in a ferocious storm. No solid hits had landed yet, but the ferocity only escalated—faster, harder. Whoever backed down first would take on a massive disadvantage.
Both men exhaled at the same time, staring each other down with contrasting expressions. And surprisingly, it was Lyon whose face had hardened.
It was a minuscule difference, but he had run out of breath first. If the exchanges continued at this rate, the gap would only widen, and Leon would inevitably gain the upper hand.
Leon had spent years in grueling training. In endurance and grit, even Lyon couldn’t compete.
I can’t let this drag on,
Lyon reevaluated his strategy with a clear mind.
He had intended to dominate with swordsmanship alone, but that plan had already crumbled. They had exchanged nearly a hundred blows, and they were still even.
No—if only in terms of technique, Leon might even be ahead. To think that despite Lyon’s superior strength and speed, he had only managed an even match. If their physical abilities were equal, he would’ve already lost. Only then did Lyon realize Leon’s plan.
So that’s why you haven’t gone for a serious yet, Leon...
You’ve been aiming to grind me down from the beginning.
It was a strategy without glamour. Stay close to your opponent, don’t give them a chance to catch a breath, and wear them down. Whittle away their advantage piece by piece.
A war of attrition where a single mistake could end it all. Even the idea of it reeked of sweat.
Lyon found the tenacity distasteful, and yet, for some reason, he was enjoying himself. Leon truly intended to win even if it meant fighting ugly, and even if it meant looking pathetic. His desperation and determination came through loud and clear.
Yes, he had to break that will. If he couldn’t, Leon would never surrender.
Lyon abruptly retreated and knocked Leon’s sword away. Their blades had been clashing nonstop, but this gave them a brief moment to cool down. The distance between them widened to four paces again.
Just as Leon had planned—it was a stalemate. However, Lyon had the power to break that equilibrium with a secret technique of the Imperial Martial Arts. It interfered with muscles and blood flow to push the body beyond its limits. It was only half as effective without Aura, but even that was plenty.
Lyon’s entire body gave off an eerie, creaking sound as his muscles contracted. Leon couldn’t hear it, but Lyon could. His muscle fibers tightened, and blood circulated faster, not just in his arms and legs—even his deep core muscles engaged.
It was the essence of a “fortified body” technique like Blinkstep. It even drew energy meant for basic bodily functions and redirecting it for combat.
Though Leon couldn’t hear the change, he could sense it. And when he did, his spine froze. Time, already slowed to a crawl, decelerated further. Blood vessels burst in his eyes, turning his vision red.
Only by pushing himself that far could he even
react
,
but that instinct to push himself saved him one second later. Blood spattered from his right shoulder after being struck by a horizontal thrust at impossible speed. There hadn’t even been a visible wind-up.
So that’s Blinkstep...!
Leon thought, amazed.
The blade didn’t come at a deceiving, twisted trajectory like Elmont’s. Lyon had overwhelmed him on pure speed alone. This made him doubt whether Lyon was truly suppressing his Aura, but a voice answered his question.
—He’s not using his Aura. Not even a little.
Seriously?!
—The human body’s stronger and faster than you think. There are techniques like Blinkstep for speed and others for strength or durability. Don’t measure everything by your own limits.
That was all El-Cid said. Their conversation ended, and right then, Lyon made his move—a thunderous downward slash crashed toward Leon’s crown.
Leon barely blocked it, but his knees screamed in pain. Speed
was
power. His average speed was about a time and a half faster, and his burst speed was double the usual speed. Naturally, Lyon’s strikes with Blinkstep were nearly twice as destructive as before.
Blocking everything like before was impossible. Leon’s upper body was already soaked in blood. He could only afford to protect his lower half to maintain his mobility. Thank the goddess they were using blunt blades. If these were real swords, he'd be full of deep, fatal wounds.
Each impact sent Leon staggering. There was no room for counters when even trying to strike back would spell instant defeat.
However, he couldn’t just keep retreating, either, especially when there were only five or six steps remaining before he would be out of bounds for an automatic forfeit.
He had to find a way to push forward.
It’s impossible...
Leon thought, trying to rack his brain to find an opening.
There was none. Even dedicating everything to defense, he would last maybe twenty more exchanges. There was no room to think about advancing. This outcome had been set the moment Lyon activated Blinkstep.
Leon’s only option was to hold out and use what little edge he had in endurance, waiting until Blinkstep drained Lyon completely. Unfortunately, that wait was dragging on too long.
Should I use Accel...?
Leon hesitated.
He had pulled it off once. El-Cid had warned against it, but that was for safety. If he concentrated it in a single limb like before and minimized the damage...
Hah... who am I kidding? What a joke.
Leon laughed at himself. He’d used it once and couldn’t walk for days. What made him think he could control it precisely now?
Unless there were no other options, it was foolish to rely on such a gamble. He had to trust the strength he’d built up with his own hands.
His breath wasn’t ragged yet. His grip on the sword was still steady. He had overcome pain and fatigue like this countless times before.
“Let’s keep going, then,” Leon muttered to himself and proceeded to deflect all three invisible slashes that came at him. One did scrape his skin, but it only drew a few drops of blood. At this point, that was a win.
Leon’s focus had reached a transcendental level. No distractions. Just pure execution.
If Lyon’s sword was a storm, Leon’s was a mountain. It could be chipped away but never toppled.
Only the screaming of steel filled the air as one monstrous strike took place after another. Speed, power, and technique—merged. It broke through Leon’s trance.
He was blown back, tumbling four full steps before he caught himself, barely avoiding a ring-out.
Snapping back to attention, Leon raised his sword, and that was when he saw it. Lyon wasn’t charging in. He hadn’t come to finish him off.
His shoulders heaved, sweat poured like rain, and steam visibly rose from his clothes.
Leon’s moment had arrived. This was his one and only chance. With no hesitation, Leon lunged forward. He was also at his limit. This attack would be the last.
“LYOOOOOON!!” Leon shouted with everything he had as he sprinted across the four-step gap in a flash.
His roar split the air and as if responding, thunder boomed outside. Then—one step more.
Their final blows crossed.