The Chorus of Blade and Sword (Part Two)

Tales had never seen Yala's blades so furious, so overwhelmingly forceful.

He could vaguely sense that the two Wolf Leg Knives now contained a suffocating pressure.

Rolf summoned all his strength, raising both sleeve swords together before his chest as he retreated rapidly!

The Barmaid charged in even more violently, and in an instant, her twin blades slashed out like thunderbolts!

The two moved in sync like ballroom dancers, but there was nothing elegant or civilized about it. Rolf's sleeve swords became phantoms, meeting Yala's knife-wielding arms in an instant.

"Clang, clang, clang!"

The sounds of impact continued without pause.

The sleeve swords blocked the twin blades descending upon Rolf time and again.

And the twin blades knocked aside the sleeve swords thrusting at Yala time and again!

Both of them moved at the very limit. Signs and storefronts along the street flashed past, yet to each other, they seemed utterly still, wholly focused on unraveling the other's moves.

Tales watched without blinking, nearly forgetting to breathe.

But the balance of attack and defense was obvious: Yala's twin blades aimed for her opponent's vital points, while Rolf's sleeve swords existed only to halt her offensive.

One attacked and one defended, in a contest of speed and agility.

But after the next clash of metal, the Wolf Leg Knife in Yala's left hand suddenly erupted with a burst of thunder amid its owner's unstoppable momentum. It sent ripples through the air and knocked aside one of Rolf's blocking swords!

Yala's unexpected trump card took Rolf completely by surprise.

One misstep led to countless more.

The failure of that block left Rolf no time to withdraw his other sword, exposing his vulnerable chest and abdomen beneath Yala's left blade!

"Slice!"

It was the sound of the Wolf Leg Knife cutting through cloth, then cutting into flesh.

At that life-or-death moment, Rolf activated his ability with everything he had, without a shred of hesitation.

Rolf the Wind Ghost had not earned his name for nothing. He pursed his lips, and the tattoo on his face emitted a faint White Light. A savage whirlwind formed in the gap between them, blowing Yala and himself apart in opposite directions!

With a stamp of his foot, Rolf actually used the gale to leap lightly into the air, leaving only a few flecks of blood where he had stood.

The Barmaid was forced to stop, drawing back her arms to adjust her body and withstand the sudden wind. The thunderous momentum of her twin blades was cut short as well.

Tales, watching from afar, did not feel the gale directly, but that did not affect his judgment: both had been hit by the wind. Rolf was blown backward into the air, while Yala's advance had been halted.

The wind did not subside. Instead, it kept growing stronger. Rolf floated through the air like a kite, stepping upon the wind, while the light of his facial tattoo shone brighter and brighter.

The Barmaid had no choice but to bend her knees against the increasing gale, taking the chance to recover some of her strength.

Rolf was no longer grinning flippantly. The pain in his chest left him shaken: this little girl before him was likely no less troublesome than any of the Brotherhood's Thirteen Great Generals.

Remembering the force behind those two blades, Rolf the Wind Ghost decided he could not give her another chance to unleash that explosive, unbroken assault.

Fortunately, that barrage of hers had taken a heavy toll as well.

Rolf's expression turned cold. With a flick of his hands, the two sleeve swords spread out at his sides.

The wind rose.

Under the cover of the gale, Rolf once more displayed his ghostlike movements.

The next instant, Rolf appeared directly above Yala!

Yala gritted her teeth and immediately swung her blades upward to block.

"Clang!"

But Rolf retreated after one strike. His figure vanished into the distance like a passing breeze, giving Yala no chance to counterattack or link her moves into another offensive.

"Clang!"

Rolf's sleeve sword appeared again, this time from Yala's lower left. When the strike failed, he drifted away once more!

"As long as I disrupt your sudden bursts and relentless offense, House Sarridon's assassination blades, famed for centuries, will no longer work."

Rolf's voice drifted out of the wind once more.

Yala struggled to withstand his hit-and-run attacks. The gusts that struck from time to time forced her to spend enormous effort maintaining her posture and movements, all while predicting Rolf's next direction of attack.

Tales, watching the battle, grew tense—what should he do?

Rolf's effeminate voice sounded again from all around.

"But if you tell me why House Sarridon has infiltrated the Brotherhood, perhaps we can sit down and have a talk?"

Yala's expression hardened. At this moment, she actually closed her eyes.

As if she had made up her mind.

Holding both blades in reverse, she viciously drove them into the earthen bricks beneath her feet.

Rolf's sleeve sword appeared again, still from above!

But this time, Yala spun in place, and the twin blades embedded in the ground whipped around with her arms in a fierce arc!

"Boom!"

With a burst of thunder, Yala flung up the dirt and stones beneath her feet, sending them flying several meters into the air!

Earth and stone scattered everywhere, blocking Rolf's vision.

Blade light flickered faintly amid the debris!

Rolf howled and retreated, while the tattoo on his face blazed ever brighter. The gale overhead abruptly accelerated, gathering terrible force and sweeping the dirt and stones in every direction!

Amid the gale, rocks and clods of earth shot outward in all directions!

At that moment, Tales was peeking out from his hiding place, engrossed in the battle, when a hoarse, indistinct voice suddenly sounded beside his ear:

"Duck."

Without even time to be stunned, Tales instinctively lowered himself.

"Whoosh!"

The flying debris shot from the center of the battle and tore over Tales's head!

Several chunks struck the side door of the shop behind Tales, denting the wooden panels!

Tales stared at the door behind him, cold sweat pouring down his face as he patted his chest. If he had not ducked just then—

But before he could react, a slender, valiant figure appeared at his hiding place.

"Go. Now."

Tales was a little dumbfounded.

Yala before him was in no state to be called "fine." The once dashing Barmaid now looked exhausted. As she panted softly, her left arm was even trembling slightly.

"He found my weakness. If I can't form a continuous offense, I can't beat him."

The Barmaid draped an arm over Tales's shoulder and revealed an ugly smile.

"If this continues, you'll be discovered sooner or later. I'll lure him away, then you leave by yourself!"

"Crouch low and follow the alley on the left. Cover your breath with the black cloth. If you hear anything at all, turn around immediately and take another route."

"The Brotherhood hasn't pushed in too deeply. Once you get past the center of Red Quarter, there'll be fewer and fewer people."

"Kid, even alone, you have to survive!"

Tales stared blankly at the Barmaid who was suddenly saying goodbye.

Until her figure shot away, charging toward the center of the howling gale beyond the street.

Tales unconsciously reached out toward her retreating back.

Yala.

As the boy listened to the sounds of fighting resume in the distance, the dog meat from the Sunset Tavern's back kitchen that night surfaced before his eyes.

"Eat slower! Kid, I was the one who took down that dog!"

"What's wrong with being a bartender? I, Y— I, Yala, am a professionally trained bartender!"

"You can't have this dog leg! You can't bite through it!"

Goodbye.

Sister Yala.

Goodbye.

JC.

Tales resolutely turned around and headed deeper into Red Quarter.

I have to survive—I still owe Yala a favor.

The fierce battle behind him grew more and more distant.

A battlefield in complete disarray.

Kohn knelt against the wall at his left, propped up by his sword, coughing violently.

Blood dripped from the Alert Officer's chest.

His left ribs had been pierced, damaging his lung. The wound had come within a hair's breadth of reaching his heart.

And the enemy's savage Ending Power still lingered within the wound.

Even Kohn's prized Ending Power—Glory of the Stars—could not drive it back.

And his enemy—Kohn raised his head and looked at the swordsman before him, dressed in red and black, whose expression had not changed at all.

The Red-Black Swordsman's left shoulder guard had been pierced by Kohn's Star Sword, and blood ran from his shoulder. He also had cuts on his lower left jaw and beside the left side of his neck.

But he was in far better condition than Kohn.

In the instant when both swords had been about to pierce the other, the two had displayed entirely different levels of combat instinct.

Kohn had activated a portion of Glory of the Stars, condensing it into a Star Shield to protect his heart and deflect the fatal blade aimed at his vital point, before doing his best to thrust his own sword forward.

The Red-Black Swordsman, however, had ignored the silver-white blade aimed at his throat. At the instant the blade was about to touch him, he had sent out his own sword with greater calm—and greater madness. He had been a fraction faster than Kohn, driving his sword into the other man's chest and ribs.

Then, when Kohn's sword trembled, the swordsman lowered his head and avoided the vital point at his throat, leaving only a cut on his jaw and neck. He allowed Kohn to pierce his shoulder guard just to drive his own sword another inch deeper.

The difference between them was immediately clear.

"You are an excellent swordsman," the Red-Black Swordsman suddenly said.

"When faced with a sword like that, many would avoid its edge before seeking a counterattack."

"But you insisted on delivering that thrust."

"As for forming a protective barrier—that was something the army taught you, wasn't it?"

Kohn coughed up blood and chuckled. "An old soldier once told me: on the battlefield, you need to keep one move in reserve to save your life—then you'll live longer than your enemies and suffer lighter wounds."

The Red-Black Swordsman fell silent for a moment, then gave a soft laugh as well. "He must never have served in a suicide squad."

Kohn panted, frowning. "A suicide squad that Charged Aridbone people and Orcs on the Western Front—you served in one?"

The swordsman nodded.

"Three times."

"Which guard?" Kohn licked the blood in his mouth and raised his head.

"Skull Guard, Seventeenth Suicide Squad."

"Falkenhaus's suicide squad, three times?" Kohn showed a familiar smile. "Looks like you offended someone important."

"And you, Alert Officer?" the Red-Black Swordsman asked quietly.

"Raven Guard, Second Assault Squad."

"Thunderous Crows? Second Assault Squad?" The swordsman frowned as well. "Hmph. No wonder Karabian sounded so familiar. So he's a noble."

Kohn spat out blood and smiled bitterly.

"I've always wanted to ask—was the Chaka Wine before a charge any good? My father never let me drink it."

"It tasted awful. Those damned quartermasters even skimmed off the liquor meant to let the dead get drunk." The swordsman answered coldly.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

Their conversation suddenly came to a halt.

The Red-Black Swordsman put away his madness and savagery, while Kohn also set aside his helplessness and ragged breathing.

"Glaton Remmer, Skull Guard, Seventeenth Suicide Squad, sword-and-shield infantryman," the red-and-black swordsman, Glaton, said coldly. "This is my name. It is an honor to fight you, Alert Officer."

"Kohn Karabiyen, Raven Guard, Second Assault Squad, combat captain," the Alert Officer said with a miserable smile. "The honor is mine, uh, gang punk?"

The next second, Kohn's smile vanished.

Both men stared at each other with grave concentration.

Glory of the Stars flickered on and off along Kohn's sword.

On the Red-Black Swordsman Glaton's right arm, violent power surged, forcing his veins to bulge.

The final sword stroke that would decide life and death—this was the moment belonging to a Terminus Swordsman.

Glorious, sacred, inviolable.

But the next moment, both their expressions abruptly changed!

The howl of a gale suddenly came from next door.

A slender, valiant figure holding twin blades flipped down from the air and landed in the street!

This distance should be enough.

The Barmaid panted as she looked at the two men, one kneeling and one standing.

Until she saw Kohn's clothing.

I hope that kid can—huh? A kingdom Alert Officer?

This is a gang war. Why is a Green Skin here?

Kohn and Glaton stared at her in uncertainty as well.

Another gang member? Kohn thought. I hope she's not from the Blood Bottle Gang.

I don't think the adults ever mentioned this woman, Glaton thought. Is she a piece brought in from outside?

"You can't get away, little bartender!"

The wind howled, accompanied by an effeminate voice. Rolf appeared at the street corner, and he too spotted the two Swordsmen.

"Glaton? You should be protecting the boss," Rolf said, frowning at the swordsman. "Why are you here with a—Green Skin?"

Excellent, Kohn thought. They're together, so...

The Alert Officer turned to the Barmaid. Since this woman was his enemy's opponent, she probably was not from the Blood Bottle Gang.

"Focus on clearing out your rat." The Red-Black Swordsman, Glaton, spoke coldly, apparently unwilling to waste words on Rolf. "I'll do my job."

After saying that, Glaton raised his sword at Kohn with icy determination.

Kohn slowly rose to his feet as well, gritting his teeth, his silver sword held across his chest.

Rolf curled his lips, the wind at his side continuing to surge.

Yala took a deep breath, dropped to one knee, and adjusted her angle.

All four understood the situation on the field.

Two from the Blood Bottle Gang, one from the Brotherhood, and one Green Skin—oh, an Alert Officer.

The next moment, all four moved!

Red light flashed from Gulaton's longsword as it mercilessly pursued Kohn's heart!

Kohn's face went pale. Facing Gulaton, he spun his sword into a defensive ring!

Rolf vanished once more, but the sound of wind rushed toward Yala!

Yala sprang up, her twin blades slicing through the air as she charged forward—yet, unexpectedly, toward—

Kohn!

Tales carefully clutched the black cloth over himself, hiding his breath as he fled, circling around two groups of elite thugs locked in a desperate fight.

Within the crowd, a figure nearly two meters tall stood out sharply. Wherever his iron fists struck, Blood Bottle Gang members in red scarves went flying.

Probably some master from the Brotherhood. Who knew whether he was one of the Thirteen Great Generals or the Six Titans?

In any case, he could not have been one of the three legendary assassins.

But Tales merely slipped around him.

This was not his fight.

He needed to escape.

For himself, and for Yala.

For the beggar children of Sixth House.

Tales turned a street corner, only to run headlong into a wall of air.

At the time, he did not know that this was the famed Air Wall among experts.

Annoyed, he punched the barrier.

Damn Magic User.

He would have to take another detour.

Hopefully, he would not run into anyone.

Thinking of people, Tales could not help recalling the voice that had just warned him to "duck."

He had initially thought it was Yala, since she had appeared right in front of him immediately afterward.

But he later realized that voice could not have belonged to Yala.

It had been hoarse and indistinct.

There had been more than just himself, Yala, and Rolf present.

There had been a fourth person.

Tales's scalp tightened. He suddenly realized that if the person who had warned him to duck had been that fourth person—

Why had neither Yala nor Rolf noticed anything?

Yala had clearly appeared before Tales at the first possible moment after the earth and rocks shot out.

There was no doubt about it, Tales concluded: that person was far more terrifying than Yala and Rolf.

But if he bore Tales no hostility, why had he not helped?

Bang! Tales crashed into another invisible barrier.

He slapped his forehead in frustration.

There were more and more of these damn things. Did they cost nothing and use no mana?

Tales turned in another direction and ran ahead.

Crash!

Another wall!

This time, Tales could not stop in time. He slammed to the ground, his left forehead striking the corner of a nearby house.

Grimacing, Tales rubbed his scraped head, then raised his bleeding face and looked ahead.

Something was wrong.

This was an intersection. Though the surroundings were pitch-black, according to his memory, he should be near the center of Red Quarter by now.

Even the sounds of fighting had gradually faded away.

Tales cautiously moved toward the other three directions, stretching out his hand.

Then, in two of the nearby directions, he felt two barriers.

Three paths blocked? Tales's heart jolted.

This was really both creepy and suggestive, like a horror movie.

Tales fell silent for a while, then turned toward the only direction without a barrier.

He silently reached out his hand. Sure enough, this time he walked more than ten meters without obstruction.

As if an exit had been deliberately left for him.

Tales's heart sank deeper and deeper.

To think that after making it all the way here...

Sigh.

Fate, you really are a bitch.

He abruptly lowered his right hand from his forehead, allowing blood to drip continuously onto the ground.

Resolutely, the boy walked another dozen steps down the empty street until he approached a building.

At the center of the building was a pair of large wooden doors, half-open.

Tales raised his head. There was a huge sign above the doors. With his limited literacy, the boy could barely recognize one word, only because he had learned it while begging at the Black Gold Casino.

That word was:

Chess and cards.

Tales turned back to look at the other three sealed-off directions, recalling the pain of blood running down his forehead.

No way out, then?

"What a crude invitation," Tales muttered.

But he still sighed, stopped hesitating, shoved open the half-open doors, and entered the Chess and Card Room at the center of Red Quarter.

The interior was pitch-black, with only a faint light in the distance, like that of an old-fashioned candle.

He really knew how to set the mood.

"Welcome to my playground, my little friend."

As Tales passed table after table of chess and card games—bumping into quite a few of them—a cheerful, relaxed voice sounded beside his ear.

"I am Echeida Sackern. My peers are accustomed to calling me the Air Elementalist."

For a long while.

Tales used all the strength of both his lives to calm the panic in his heart.

In the darkness before him, only a single candle flame flickered faintly. There lay the entrance to the Chess and Card Room's cellar.

Tales took a deep breath, descended into the cellar, then held his breath as he forcibly suppressed his wildly pounding heart.

Before him, a handsome Blue-Clad Man with long dark-brown hair sat beside a long table, smiling and nodding at him.

"As for the matter of the invitation, I'll pay attention to it next time."

Sunset Temple, inner altar.

The gray-haired middle-aged noble could barely conceal his excitement. Before him, the flame of the lamp upon the Altar of God, which bore the kingdom's future, was growing larger and redder.

He seized the lamp and strode out of the temple's inner altar.

The elderly priestess behind him was startled and reached out to stop him, but then she seemed to remember something, and her hand froze in midair.

The priestess let out a sigh, watched the noble's figure recede, and slowly sat down.

After a while, the elderly priestess summoned Nia, the still bleary-eyed trainee.

"Make your preparations. Starting tomorrow, open the inner altar."