The Villainous Son Loves His Mother - Chapter 20

◆

There is a principle behind all things.
There are laws that dictate how things work: if you do this, then that will happen.
These laws also apply to sword combat.
The quickest way to win is to strike faster than your opponent—the most obvious principle.
But against an inferior opponent, even such basic laws become unnecessary.
A mere glare is enough to make them cower and drop their sword.
However, this crude method only works against inferior opponents…

・
・

“Whoa! Hein! You’ve got quite the intimidating presence!”

The fact that he could say that so casually while still pointing his sword at me showed considerable nerve.
Embarrassingly, I found myself in a bit of a predicament.
He was more guarded than I’d anticipated, and if I wanted to break through his defenses, I might need to get a little serious.
The only problem was whether I could control my strength enough not to kill him.
If I attacked, someone with Alphaidos’s student-level training would stand no chance of blocking it.
Even if I killed Alphaidos here, I wouldn’t mourn him.

But what would Mother think?
She often told me to get along with my friends.
And killing someone probably wouldn’t count as “getting along.”
Would it be enough to properly hold a memorial service after I beat him to a pulp?
No, that wouldn’t work.
My instincts as her son whispered that it was wrong.
So I wanted to hold back and just send him flying—

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you coming at me? You were all ‘whoosh’ just now, like you were about to unleash something! Did you change your mind?”

Alphaidos was spouting arrogant nonsense, but I wasn’t confident I could disarm him without killing him using only my sword.
I usually have a good sense of how capable an opponent is just by looking at them, but for some reason, I couldn’t read Alphaidos at all.
He seemed like a worthless piece of trash, yet he also appeared skilled enough to rival Gaddem or Feri.
Since this was a mock sword fight, using magic was out of the question.

“Alright, I’ve changed my mind. You come at me.”

So I told Alphaidos to make the first move.
It seemed like a good plan to me.
One exchange would be enough to gauge his skill level.
Come on, you inferior!

I braced myself… but he didn’t move.
Alphaidos showed no sign of attacking.
Audaciously glaring at me, he stood poised as if waiting for me to make the first move.
I could sense the unwavering resolve in his stance, as if nothing could budge him.
And before I knew it, all the underachievers in the class were watching us.

“Damn, what a pain,”

I muttered involuntarily.

◆◆◆

“Damn, what a pain.”

Seeing Hein take his stance with those words, Azel couldn’t help but think, “Oh come on, seriously?”
A wave of pressure grazed Azel’s skin.

(I’ve fought Hein several times before. But…)

In an instant, Azel flicked his sword upward, deflecting the horizontal slash.

(He caught me off guard.)

The “gap” refers to the momentary lapse in awareness that exists even in the most skilled fighters.
As long as humans remain human, they cannot eliminate their vulnerabilities.
It is possible to conceal them, but…

・
・

Hein continued to swing his sword calmly.
Thrusts, horizontal slashes, downward strikes—each movement was simple.
Yet Azel struggled to defend against them.
Azel parried Hein’s second horizontal slash, his movements still somewhat awkward.

(Tch. What a pain.)

Hein’s sword was relentlessly precise.
While overly precise swords are usually easy to read, Hein’s blade combined accuracy with cunning.
There is no such thing as a perfect sword stance.
Every stance has weaknesses that can be exploited to shatter it.
Hein’s sword struck those vulnerabilities with unerring accuracy.

(And to top it off, he doesn’t fall for feints.)

Azel had been alternating between feints and genuine attacks for some time, but Hein remained completely unfazed.
Still, Azel’s sword was undeniably sharp.
Several times, it nearly found its mark on Hein’s neck or shoulder, only to be evaded at the last moment or casually deflected.
Swords clashed, their steel impacts echoing heavily through the arena.
Hein’s sword movements flowed with mechanical precision, constantly stifling Azel’s advances as if preordained.
Yet Azel refused to yield, launching counterattacks with unwavering resolve.
But each time his blade threatened to pierce Hein’s defenses, Hein had already retreated a step, maintaining his distance.

(He’s too perceptive. Has Hein always been this good?)

The image of the eight-armed Demon General Kairaldi, whom Azel had once encountered, flashed through his mind.
Kairaldi was one of the Demon generals, renowned for his mastery of the sword.
In a previous world, the Duke of Orléans, the reigning Sword Saint of that era, had been defeated by this very demon general.

(If only I could use a Holy Sword…)

But such things were out of the question in a mock battle.
Still, Azel couldn’t afford to lose so easily.
As far as Azel knew, Hein was a believer in strength above all else.
If he proved weak, there would be no point in trying to befriend him.
Therefore, to pique Hein’s interest, Azel couldn’t afford to lose here without putting up a fight.

(Is this really impossible without using my full power? Fine, I’ll have to use a little.)

The power of a Hero.
The moment Azel steeled his resolve, Hein’s stride shifted, and he lunged sharply toward Azel.
His speed was like lightning.
Reflexively, Azel thrust his sword forward.
Azel’s sword found Hein’s throat, while Hein’s blade pressed against Azel’s neck.
The audience gasped.

“…It’s over,”

Hein said, sheathing his sword.

“So it’s a draw?”

Azel asked, and Hein replied, “Yes,” and left the place.
The other students who had been watching the mock battle erupted into cheers.
The tension that had held them breathless instantly dissipated, replaced by a wave of excited chatter.
Amid the uproar, Azel glanced at Hein and was astonished to see he hadn’t broken a sweat.
Azel, on the other hand, felt a faint sheen of perspiration on his forehead.

(So, things really are different here.)

Azel reaffirmed his understanding that this world was fundamentally different from the one he had known.
Hein’s contempt for others, treating them like insects, was identical to the Hein from his original world, but his behavior was completely different.
At least, Hein’s personality would never allow him to acknowledge a draw.
After all, he had barely honed his swordsmanship, dismissing it as childish play for commoners.
When he did swing a sword, he would simply imbue it with vast amounts of Magic Power and swing it carelessly.
In essence, it was nothing more than brute force.
Well, that brute force was precisely what made him so terrifying.

(I couldn’t win, but oh well.)

Azel watched Hein’s retreating back with a sense of accomplishment.

“He was looking at me.”

Azel grinned, waving at Serena as she rushed toward him.
What lingered in his mind was Hein’s gaze—not the insect-like stare he usually reserved for others, but a gaze that acknowledged him as human.