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260. Engagement – Divorce

In the pitch-black night, the campfires scattered here and there illuminated the faces of the soldiers from various angles. Some displayed gaping mouths, others wide-eyed expressions with flared nostrils, and others stood frozen, all struck with surprise.

Leo burst into laughter, overstepping his bounds.

“Hahahahahaha! The Swordmaster is nothing special! Everyone, attack!”

{Leadership}. There was something in Leo’s shout that soldiers couldn’t defy. While most had crossed the river to fend off the enemy attack, those who broke free from the commander’s control let out resounding cheers.

“Wait, just a moment…!”

The prince’s cry fell on deaf ears. As the soldiers bravely charged towards Count Forte and his knights, the camp turned chaotic in an instant. Count Forte shouted.

“Stick to the original plan! The 2nd Knights will secure the retreat; the rest, follow me! We will capture the prince alive!”

Forty knights were an extraordinary force.

Especially since they belonged to the 1st Knights Order of Belita, the strongest nation on the continent, trained under Count Hermann Forte.

“Single-handedly worth a hundred” didn’t do justice to these superhumans. With talent, effort, and an excellent master, these forty knights sparked a blood vortex. The soldiers of the Austin Kingdom fell one after another, their previous cries of excitement rendered meaningless.

Count Forte glared down at me, his blazing eyes locking onto the Swordmaster blocking his path.

To block an Oblivion Blade… It surprised me, but then again, how many mysterious things are there in this world? With a short huff, the Count plunged his sword down, truly intending to kill.

– Clang!!

“Leo!”

The white-hot Oblivion Blade clashed with the light brown, antiquated sword. A deafening sound rang out, and Leo’s knees buckled, dropping him to the ground.

The sword pressure was astounding. Leo, built larger than average, was still dwarfed by Count Forte, whose physique was on another level altogether.

Standing at nine feet (2.13 m) tall, with shoulders wide enough to fit five human heads and limbs that were as thick as those of a horse, not a human. Gritting his teeth, Leo pulled himself back up.

“Blocking again?”

Count Forte leaned his weight against him. As the pressure pushed back Leo’s body, the Count eyed him with an expression of intrigue.

Yes, it was strange.

Hermann Forte’s swordsmanship specialized in concealing signals. He masked minute muscle movements, shifts in weight, and even his gaze and steps, making it difficult to predict his next move.

So, if one were inferior to the Count, they stood no chance. It was natural that someone of lesser skill could not compete. Even minimal resistance was nearly impossible against his swordsmanship.

– Creak.

Leo tensed, tilting his sword. Although he had an urge to fight unrestrained with the Oblivion Blade… it didn’t seem necessary. Leo’s weapon scraped against the surface of the Count’s sword.

“Leo! Be careful! Prince, hurry and retreat!”

Once could be a coincidence, but twice could not. A warning bell rang in Hermann Forte’s mind.

He decided not to consider the fact that his opponent was just a young man.

What is visible is not everything. The eyes can deceive people, and the Count, well-versed in the swordsmanship that conceals its signs, knew that better than anyone. Moreover, there was no time to dally here.

Count Forte knocked Leo’s sword high into the air and attempted to kick him. Leo, propelled back, did a backflip to evade the kick, and during that opening, the Count scanned their surroundings.

Soldiers were closing in. Behind them, the 2nd Knights were clearing a path for retreat, and ahead were twenty knights from the 1st Knights Order chasing after the prince. The knights guarding the prince and the Thousand-man Commander, Squires, and soldiers were trying to hold them off but were no match.

Most, excluding the guarding knights, couldn’t handle even a few strikes and collapsed. The knights of the 1st Order seemed ready to capture the fleeing prince at any moment. However, just as one knight lunged for the prince’s cloak,

“Qualm!”

A red-robed sorcerer pointed at him. The knight’s fist grabbed at thin air for only a brief moment while the prince slipped away.

“He’s a sorcerer!”

The knights staggered as if dizzy. Count Forte steadied his breath. Anxiety exhaled, and tension inhaled, consolidating his focus.

The momentum shifted.

Leo felt a tingling sensation course throughout his body. Was it like this when he first faced Off the Old Phantom Fox? Count Forte now appeared much larger than life.

Explosive strength flowed within his grounded legs, and the tightly gripped longsword felt cold in his hand. The Count’s gaze was calm, devoid of any feeling.

Although he had hidden the Oblivion Blade, Leo steadied himself, preparing for anything.

A duel between high-level masters begins at the toes.

With a sway starting from the big toe, he positioned his feet carefully, shifting to create a balance while avoiding any crossing of legs, taking half-steps in caution.

But then, if the sway became too pronounced and he reacted slowly, he would be attacked. Even great masters make such mistakes, but if one stood still with a flat-footed sway, the enemy would find the perfect angle to strike.

Count Forte clicked his tongue, realizing he was in a disadvantaged position. He couldn’t waste time being cautious, so he took the initiative.

As his upper body leaned back, he took a step backward. The motion of widening the gap tricked his opponent, and suddenly, he sprang forward!

His center of weight was low. As he surged ahead, he pushed forcefully from his rear.

A swift slash.

Yet there was sufficient power behind it. Though the sword’s handle moved only five inches, the blade swung widely, coming down diagonally at Leo.

Leo lowered his sword to block.

However, the position he had chosen was somewhat low. Count Forte instantly gauged the intention of his opponent and stepped to the right.

Dare I, against Count Forte, clash with the ‘forte’ of the blade bottom?! No, with the blade lacking a guard, he surely wouldn’t be trying to pivot into the blade for a counterattack.

As expected, the fool made a low move to the right (in the Count’s perspective). Yet due to the Count’s preemptive motion, the clash sent shivers down their spines, and Leo’s attempt never reached fruition.

Finally, they both exhaled a breath.

Neither gained an advantage, but with their swords crossing, the larger Count Forte had maintained his posture with ease. The Count pressed down on Leo’s sword with all his might, and unable to bear the pressure, Leo gripped ‘foible’ with his opposite hand. He braced his palm against the surface of his sword to shield against the Count’s thrust.

At that point, the sword could bend or break.

But was Leo’s sword a typical one? It was inscribed that it does not break through achievements, thus it would never shatter, not even in his wildest dreams. Of course, bending was also out of the question.

Holding the handle far down by the blade’s end and pushing down versus spreading his arms to raise the sword like a stick. No matter how strong Count Forte was, he couldn’t win.

Leo rose up, finding his stance. He widened his legs, gathering his breath, and with a grunt, pushed Forte’s sword away and spun around.

– Whooooosh! Crash!

Leo’s sword whirled down at an angle. With his one-handed grip receiving the full force of acceleration, this time, the Count lowered his sword to block.

While they exchanged blows back and forth, Lena had arrived nearby.

Having barely repelled the knight who charged at her with other Squires, she contemplated whether to assist the other guard knights or run to save the prince and ended up approaching Leo.

But she stood there dumbfounded, watching the clash between Leo and the Swordmaster. Leo seemed slightly on the backfoot, but the exchanges of moves were artful.

Every strike held nothing back. Each footprint carried five or six checks and meanings.

It could have been even more numerous. Only after the exchange could she realize—ah! There was so much to learn! The two, now lost in their world, were surely exchanging even more.

So envious.

I, I too…

Lena approached as if entranced. Leo’s {Passing Technique} dictated the spot where she should stand, and it was when Count Forte took notice of her that she displayed a cold thrusting stance.

“Oh dear.”

Though no one had intervened in their fight until now, sometimes a clueless soldier would foolishly jump in and be carelessly swept away by the Count’s sword.

Soldiers had no right to intrude into their exchange. This time, the Count thought, ‘Another distraction?’ As he tried to predict Leo’s next move and eliminate his would-be interloper, it felt strangely disconcerting.

Moreover, the bizarre linkage felt like something uncanny, as the young man with his sword held slightly to the left reacted with the ragtag behind him dropping their swords down in tandem.

He couldn’t sweep them away.

It was only then that the Count snapped out of his daze. He took a sidestep and surveyed the surroundings… a sigh escaped him.

The prince had escaped. The knights of the 1st Order were struggling against a magician who toyed with them, throwing soldiers into the fray while casting every kind of spell.

The mission had failed. He should have persuaded the prince or swiftly captured him, but things had devolved significantly.

If he were to charge now, he could smash that insufferable magician and seize the prince. But if he could have done that, he would have done so earlier… Count Forte lamented, staring at the strange young man before him.

This kid has ruined everything.

However, the count showed respect to the young man he was sure would become a great swordsman. Though he still hadn’t used the Oblivion Blade, it was only a matter of time before he did.

“Impressive indeed. I genuinely admire you.”

Hermann Forte seldom addressed anyone with honorifics. Only those fortunate to be born into royalty and a select few possessing extraordinary talents like Marquis Benard Tatian. That was it.

Receiving honorifics from him was a tremendous honor, proving one was worthy…

“It’s a pity meeting you as an enemy. I would love to exchange swords more, but circumstances are not conducive. Once the war’s over, we must…”

“Why the rambling?”

What returned was an insult.

“Why? Feeling uneasy, so you’re trying to save face and run away? Hahaha. How amusing. If you’ve entered enemy territory, you should be prepared to die like a true warrior—coward.”

Count Hermann Forte’s eyes flickered with uncontained irritation.

When in his forty-seven years of life had he ever heard such words? Especially from a young man still green behind the ears.

Born into a prestigious family, he had traversed only the royal path, wielding a sword at five and defeating knights at thirteen.

At sixteen, having reached adulthood, there was no one capable of training him but his father in the Forte household. Feeling boredom, Hermann Forte enlisted with the royal knights.

At seventeen, he became captain of the knights in the 1st Order. The world remembered Hermann not as the youngest knight of the Belita Kingdom but as the youngest captain, who became captain of the 1st Knights Order at twenty-five. He became a Swordmaster at thirty, during the reign of King Caroman de Tatalia.

It was also around that time that Hermann Forte began dipping into politics.

Renting an office in the royal palace, he was in and out daily, so he couldn’t avoid meeting with the nobles, and possessing a knack for politics, began to establish himself among factions, challenging Marquis Benard Tatian, the undeniable leader of the royalists.

Indeed… he had succeeded in everything except raising children. Even if he found himself in a ridiculous situation as an enemy, he was still someone to be respected.

Hoo. Count Forte took a deep breath to calm his slightly ruffled spirits.

A rude young man. Well, after all, he’s an enemy; no need for honorifics and such.

He resolved to think only of finding a way to escape safely. That was until Leo threw out those words.

“Well, you must have divorced your wife. I heard your wife is the princess of the Aisel Kingdom? What could have been the issue that made you divorce a wife who bore you a son? If it were me…”

Count Forte’s patience snapped. Turning coldly again, the Count did not blink. With a firm, composed face, he glared at Leo.