Chapter 18: Little Sword Saint (5)

With a resounding bang, Martin was blown back, tumbling over the floor where he hastily halted his momentum by digging his sword into the ruined tile. Scratches marred his clothes from haphazardly raised mana exuded to offset the steady rotation of clashing energy, but the bruising beneath caused Martin's body to ache incessantly. 

Martin's composure melted like winter's snow in spring. 

"What trickery is this?!" Martin yelled, hands growing clammy as he pushed himself up onto his feet. 

More than pain and injury, the feeling of humiliation and defeat suffocated him. The unwillingness resounded with his mana, spurring out whatever was left within him to continue fighting. 

By now it was abundantly clear who was weak and who was strong in this clash, but Martin couldn't accept it! 

It would have been fine if he simply categorized Noah on the same level of 'strong' as he did himself and his older peers, but he couldn't. Besides Noah's strikingly noble appearance, Martin inferred that he was just a slum rat! 

Who else would have called mere roadkill his brother? 

Mustering his strength, Martin forcibly fixed his posture and stared Noah down. 

Like before, Noah stood without a trace of emotion on his face. He wasn't even delighting in causing Martin pain, but simply going through the motions most efficient to kill him. 

How? How?! 

Martin charged forward, mana swirling over the edge of his sword once more. 

One step, then two, he quickly entered strike range and slashed down. 

His hands numbed instantly as Noah blocked, the clashing of identical techniques creating a whirring noise as the revolving mana on both their swords cut and bit into each other.

Errant strands of mana diffusing outward cut into Martin's cheek as he put strength into his arms and leaned his body in to apply more pressure. 

The same could not be said for Noah. Through it all, not a single stray offshoot of mana marred his form. The sheer rotational control of Noah's mana created a vacuum that only now Martin was starting to realize wasn't so simple. 

While Martin was defending against the errant mana emitted from their clash, Noah was using the force of his sword's mana rotation to assimilate the emitted mana back into the spiral of his sword. 

Martin couldn't do that. His mana was too flame-like and wild to generate such flexibility. 

"That's not even your technique!" Martin gnashed his teeth as he began to be pushed back, once more losing ground. "You think I don't know its weakness?!" 

Martin shifted the flow of his sword's rotation to run parallel with Noah's sword. The sudden shift in direction should have disorientated Noah since Martin's mana now added to Noah's rotational force, greatly amplifying it. 

Mana outside one's own capability was exceedingly difficult to handle, and a Knight would have had no choice but to cut the flow of energy or risk overloading himself. This would have been true for any mana user. 

Once Martin caused Noah's mana control to run away, he'd use his physical advantage to grapple Noah over the ground. He refused to believe a physique developed in the slums could compare to one honed and trained under experienced instructors! 

"You're getting ahead of yourself." 

Martin's expression stiffened as Noah's voice echoed in his ears. 

W-Why hadn't the mana dissipated yet? 

Rather, the mana Martin added to Noah's rotation had been fully assimilated, and turned the Dale Family Drill sword in Noah's hands into a veritable force of nature. The violent wind produced was enough to create a roaring howl that reverberated across the ruined reception hall. 

Noah and Martin made eye contact. 

One was stewing in fury beneath an emotionless visage, and the other felt the cold embrace of death creeping over him. 

Noah leaned closer to Martin's ear moments before he swung. 

"Your family's sword," he whispered sharply, Martin's complexion paling. "I'll take it." 

Noah swung down, the wind lifting Martin off his feet before the current of mana began sawing through him and-

"Hold your sword." 

Blankly, Noah glanced to his side where Natalie had appeared and grabbed onto his arm. Her grip tightened, her fingers digging into his wrist and making it impossible for Noah to move his arm further. 

"If you were once noble, you would know the consequence of killing a guest in another's house." She warned. "Consider Everbright's position." 

Noah stared at Natalie then to Martin, and then back to Natalie. 

Natalie's eyes suddenly widened as a continuous stream of light poured down from the sigils of the cross on the back of Noah's palms. 

"Consider mine," he said. "Would you have stayed still if it were Annette or Henri, and not my brother?" 

Natalie pursed her lips, but she knew to separate personal matters from business. 

"Enough." 

This time Sophia stood up, the mana of a First-Tier Knight directly pressuring the room. 

Noah fell to a knee while Martin fell sprawled face-first into the floor. 

Knights were divided by their class into nine levels called tiers, and even in those tiers, there were skilled Knights and unskilled Knights. It was abundantly clear which side Sophia Everbright fell on. 

Beads of sweat formed over Noah's brow. He was a Lambert, and Mana was something he reveled in, but it was far too much of a risk to provoke someone of Sophia's caliber given his situation. 

Grudgingly, he put away the sword. 

It was only then that Sophia reeled in her mana. 

Panting for breath, Martin had never felt so thankful and shifted his impression of Sophia. Just because she wasn't as strong or as capable as Duke Everbright, didn't mean she was a pushover. 

Putting on his most ingratiating smile, he bore with the pain and raised his head up. He opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly doused with a bucket of cold water. 

"Next time, tell your father to come in your place." 

Sophia did not even look in Martin's direction, her focus on Noah alone. 

"Get out." 

Martin shivered.