The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Family Wants A Divorce - Chapter 69



68. Request for Reinforcements

Merely watching Arundel fight Blackthorn taught Isaac volumes.

Not only swordsmanship, but multi-opponent combat, greatsword usage, breathing, the intentionally drawn-out footwork, and more.

Arundel was like a massive tree, each swing of his sword showering Isaac with inspiration and realization, as if shaking down ripe fruit.

But now.

The giant tree was being violently shaken.

Assaulted by too fierce a storm, a torrent of knowledge tangled and snarled within his mind.

He was diligently stacking knowledge within his mind, yet he knew that, even so, he couldn’t simply stand by and let this continue.

grresd!

As the great tachi descended in a cleaving arc from above, Arundel met it head-on, without evasion.

Arundel was not likely to be overpowered.

The Grand Master knew this as well, yet she fought in precisely the manner her opponent desired for one reason.

‘Victory isn’t the goal.’

What the Grand Master sought was Isaac.

More precisely, Isaac, who might know something of her old comrades.

The unfortunate truth was that this was a misunderstanding.

The great tachi and the greatsword collided in a whirlwind of steel.

Not even a first-rate knight, nor a member of the honorable royal family, would be permitted to approach them.

The crowd retreated from the two combatants locked in a ferocious duel.

To be caught too close would mean being chopped to pieces without a chance to resist.

That place, where the pinnacle of aura and the extreme of swordsmanship clashed, was a place where the very wind itself slashed like a blade.

“Isaac, let’s get out of here!”

Sharen frantically tugged at Isaac’s arm, who had been watching the duel, captivated, forgetting even to blink.

“You’ll die if you stay here!”

Finally, forced back by her strength, Isaac stumbled.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

The Grand Master’s eyes flashed.

She lightly stepped upon the descending greatsword and immediately launched herself, passing Arundel to fly towards Isaac.

“Ho, Scarlet Blaze!”

A crimson flash of energy shot forth, quick as a viper.

Though, alas, its power was faint, born as it was from a mere palm strike.

Yet, to speak plainly, even fired from a greatsword, the result would be no different.

“How adorable-!”

Inevitably, Sharen’s Scarlet Blaze was cleaved cleanly in twain. Startled, Sharen trembled, yet her grip on Isaac tightened.

Then, contrarily, Isaac shoved Sharen away, drawing his blade.

Lest the Grandmaster slay Sharen in error.

Such a misfortune was to be avoided.

Iaijutsu.

‘Swing with the intent to kill!’

For he knew full well he could not truly kill her.

If only it could make her hesitate, even for a breath, he would be content. But…

“Impressive.”

The iai swing aimed at the Grandmaster cut through empty air. She had already arced over Isaac’s head, seizing his back.

*KWAANG!*

She snatched the nape of his neck and slammed him into the ground.

‘She twisted her body, using her sword mid-air!’

Using the wind pressure of the descending blade to propel herself, a second, leaping twist – a feat worthy of praise as acrobatics.

“Krrgh!”

“Forgive my rough handling of a fellow disciple, but know that I am, in equal measure, desperate.”

“Isaac!”

Sharen hastily moved to reach Isaac, but he stretched out a hand to halt her.

“Don’t come!”

He was alright.

He knew he would not die.

But Sharen was different.

The moment anyone other than him approached, they might die.

“Let me explain-!”

A moment.

The earth drinks in a crimson light.

The ground trembles as if an earthquake has struck, the Grand Master’s ears twitching in response.

Crimson light erupts skyward like a volcanic spray, the scattered clods of earth momentarily blinding.

Yet, the Grand Master did not relinquish his grip on Isaac.

“Shareen! Catch!”

Silberna’s voice echoed from afar, and a spear, hurled with intent, sliced the space between Isaac and the Grand Master.

The pure white aura contained within, even as it detached from its owner, momentarily expanded, distinctly widening the distance between the Grand Master and Isaac.

“There, I caught him! I caught him!”

Shareen snatched Isaac as his body was flung up, weightless.

He beamed, relieved that Isaac was safe, but his gaze remained fixed on the Grand Master.

“At this point, it’s magic, not swordsmanship.”

The Grand Master remained untouched amidst the rising crimson tide.

Brushing the earth from his person, he glared at Arundel, who once again stood before him.

“……”

Arundel silently raised his greatsword high.

As if intending no further delay, the crimson surge swirled and concentrated within Arundel’s blade.

A strike of utter destruction – shattering, tearing, burning, and demolishing – was unleashed from Arundel’s two hands.

Annihilation Strike.

The extreme of Helmund, a sword technique so named, once more extended from Arundel’s grasp, and the Grand Master, wielding his great katana with both hands, flashed his eyes.

A single stroke that dyed the world crimson.

Within it, a sharply curved crescent moon emerged.

Moon Flash.

From noble mtl dot com

The devouring force and the slicing blade collided, a tremendous cloud of dust obscuring vision before vanishing in an instant.

The victor in this brief clash was undeniably clear.

“Hmph, how absurd.”

The Grand Master knelt on one knee, his great katana thrust into the earth, struggling to regain his breath.

A portion of his robes was torn, and his pale skin was sullied with blood.

Conversely, Arundel stood firmly on both feet.

He, too, bore wounds across his body, but the outcome was resolute.

The Grand Master’s Moon Flash failed to pierce Arundel’s Annihilation Strike.

However, considering that no one managed to draw Arendal’s blood during this battle with Blackthorn…

To single-handedly inflict a wound, to draw blood – that was a glimpse into the Grandmaster’s true skill.

“Yeah, that’s my father!”

“I just saw something incredible.”

Sharen and Silverna, on either side of Isaac, murmured in awe.

Not only them, but others as well, waved their hands, cheering Arendal’s victory, but then…

“Keuh-heuk!”

A gush of crimson-black blood erupted from Arendal’s tightly closed mouth.

The torrent spilled forth, quickly running down Arendal’s chin, stretching out in a long streak upon the ground.

His massive frame wavered.

He slammed his greatsword into the earth, desperately preventing his fall.

“Father?!”

“He lost? Arendal?”

Amidst the countless souls who thought the victory had been instantly reversed…

Only Isaac and the Grandmaster truly grasped the situation.

“So that’s why you desired a swift conclusion.”

The Grandmaster realized Arendal’s physical condition was not good.

His hidden illness, unexpectedly, seemed to reset the outcome of the match to its origin.

While everyone’s gaze was fixed on Arendal, Isaac alone was watching the Grandmaster.

Amidst the teeming throng, their eyes met, held fast.

The distance was somewhat too great to convey words.

Yet, the moment the Grandmaster saw the light in Isaac’s eyes, his own widened slowly.

‘You always had a good intuition.’

Whether it was due to being a mixed-blood of the transcendent race, or simply because the Grandmaster was born that way, no one could be certain.

Slowly, the Grandmaster rose, sheathing his great tachi as he composed himself.

Then, without a sound, he retreated.

“Pursue!”

At Loengreen’s shout, the knights of Hellmunt frantically chased after the Grandmaster.

But even a wounded wolf could hardly be outrun by humans.

With Arendal unable to move, the Grandmaster would surely escape unscathed.

‘The problem….’

Arundel Helmunth was the color of dirt, so much so it was visible on his face.

* * *

“…A chronic ailment.”

Having heard Arundel’s circumstances, Princess Clarice sighed, a sound born of frustration.

A somber mood settled over the tent.

The fact that Arundel had concealed his chronic ailment, and that the kingdom’s sword was, in truth, faltering, were both very grave matters. But…

“The Blackthorn suppression is just around the corner….”

Now, only the Blackthorn’s imposing manor remained.

Presumably teeming with Transcendent Ones within, even the mere absence of Arundel stirred a peculiar unease.

They, too, would resist with all their might; it would be the fiercest engagement yet.

‘Hence, the one hour.’

Clarice folded her arms, tapping her fingers against them as she nodded.

Arundel had only been active for one hour to conceal his ailment.

The puzzle pieces were falling, more or less, into place, yet she felt no joy.

Truth be told, besides that, there was also the desire to expose Isaac to more practical experience.

Clarice, naturally, didn’t quite voice that part.

Regardless.

“For now, it seems we must launch the assault on Blackthorn immediately tomorrow.”

At Princess Clarice’s words, having unwillingly found herself in command, the other nobles concurred.

If time were to be wasted, there was no telling what bizarre methods the Transcendent Ones might employ, and moreover, the possibility of Arundel’s injury reaching their ears existed.

They didn’t want to give a cornered rat any chance to wriggle free again.

“It will be over quickly, regardless.”

“It won’t even take an hour.”

“The state of the war is already overwhelmingly in our favor. There is no need to worry.”

At the staff’s confident declaration, Clarice also nodded. It was certainly true that the situation was overwhelmingly favorable.

But.

And yet.

‘Ah, why do I feel so uneasy?’

Clarice was rather gifted when it came to premonitions.

It was strange, but the more boisterously the nobles affirmed things, the more ominous the feeling grew within her.

“So, who shall take command at the front lines tomorrow—?”

“Princess.”

Loengreen, occupying Arundel’s seat, placed a hand over his chest with an assured expression.

“Entrust it to me.”

“……”

The Princess thought.

*I* need to pull some strings here.

* * *

“That’s why I’ve come to see Isaac.”

“……”

Isaac wore a slightly embarrassed expression as he looked at the Princess standing within his tent.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand the blatant disregard for Loengreen.

*‘He really has no trust at all, does he.’*

Apparently, in Clarice’s eyes, Loengreen ranked somewhere around Helmut’s fringes.

“I beg of you. Lead the manor subjugation tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

Until now, he had only watched from behind, following Arundel’s orders.

But Arundel was gone now, wasn’t he?

Isaac felt a slight thrill; the moment to finally draw his sword in actual combat had arrived.

Moreover, he wanted to keep the promise he’d made to Polu in the North, with his own hands.

Clarice’s face brightened considerably at Isaac’s response.

“Thank you! My anxiety feels lessened, even just a little. I’ll go tell Silverna, so I’m counting on the two of you for tomorrow.”

With those words, Clarice exited.

Silverna hadn’t been at the front lines alongside Isaac either, so she would likely welcome the news.

“Ahem.”

After the Princess left, Isaac stealthily pulled out a book.

He scanned the margins of the already worn-out book and smacked his lips.

*‘Won’t be enough, will it.’*

Isaac retrieved yet another book.

An empty ledger, awaiting.

The quill of the somber ink traced across the pages, calm yet quick, filling the white expanse.

Of the astonishingly magnificent and majestic swordplay he had witnessed from both sides today.

First, he would unravel it all on paper, then distill the parts he could adapt or utilize.

A mere ten minutes of clashing steel, and yet…

Isaac’s book grew thick with ink, the margins overflowing.

“Hmm, ingenious.”

The voice of a woman, spoken from behind.

Normally, Isaac lost himself entirely when focused, but this time, he had to concede that the woman moved with considerable stealth.

She had evaded the eyes of the knights stationed nearby to arrive here, after all.

“……!”

He turned with a start, and there stood the Grand Master, hand to her chin, peering over his shoulder at the open book.

“Such meticulous detail. Quite embarrassing, truly.”

“If you can arrive so secretly, why come so brazenly during the day?”

“Now, now, how can a woman enter a man’s chambers so late at night?”

“……”

“Ahem, Arundel would have noticed immediately. Though, he’s departed the front for treatment, I hear?”

A closely guarded secret, and yet she knew.

Isaac chose not to inquire.

“Indeed, to observe me so furtively must mean you have something you wish to say. And I, too, have a story I wish to hear.”

“Is your wound alright?”

Having trusted she would come, he retrieved the bandages and disinfectant he had set aside.

“Not at all alright.”

The Grand Master did not refuse.

The wound Arundel had inflicted must have been quite severe.

Judging by the roughly applied, enormous leaves plastered on the wound, it seemed likely to fester.

As he tended to the visible injuries, Isaac spoke.

“Tomorrow, the Blackthorn subjugation is scheduled.”

“Hm? I’m aware. But, lest there be any misapprehensions, the true me has absolutely nothing to do with those scoundrels-“

“Help me.”

“…Hmm?”

“I require your assistance.”

The Grand Master’s ears twitched, as if to ensure she had heard correctly.