Chapter 747: Death Match I: Abel vs Oranj

Editor: Tseirp

“At last. I’ve been waiting for you, Abel.”

“I wasn’t particularly waiting for you.”

Oranj and Abel.

With their swords at the ready, the two faced each other.

It had been a year.

But…

(What’s with this guy…? No, it’s Abel. I know that. I know it, but he’s so completely different from a year ago.)

Oranj took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

He was so overwhelmed that he could not remain calm without doing so.

Abel was doing nothing.

He was simply holding his sword at the ready.

He wasn’t even deliberately applying any pressure.

And yet…

(He’s way too different from a year ago! Abel is human, isn’t he? Can a human really change this much in just one year? Just by facing him… Am I trembling? No, no, no, no. Me? A familiar of Garwin-sama?)

Oranj took another deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“What’s wrong, Oranj?”

Abel asked.

Oranj flinched at the question.

It was an inexplicable sense of pressure, as though his heart had been seized in a crushing grip, as though his throat were being squeezed…

“You’ve changed in just one year.”

The words slipped from Oranj’s mouth before he knew it.

He had said it. He had no choice but to say it.

Unless he put it into words, he could not escape that overwhelming pressure…

“Have I? I’ve indeed started swinging my sword every day.”

Abel answered, nodding repeatedly.

There was not the slightest sign of tension in him.

“I don’t think it’s something that superficial.”

“Even if you say that.”

Oranj squeezed the words out, but Abel remained completely unconcerned.

In reality, Abel himself hardly felt that he had changed at all.

In the Eastern Countries, he had regained the desire he had once held to ‘become stronger’.

That much was certain.

However, he also knew that one could not become stronger in just a year or so simply because of that.

For now, he had only just resumed his efforts.

The results would come several years from now, perhaps even a decade or more into the future…

“To be honest, I would have preferred to have our rematch a little later.”

“What did you say?”

“I mean, I wanted to fight you after I’d gotten a little stronger!”

Abel closed the distance in an instant.

Clang!

The sound of sword striking sword rang out sharply.

Abel’s onslaught began.

“Urgh.”

Oranj desperately focused on defense.

Abel was human, while Oranj was a familiar of a Djinn.

Normally, a Djinn’s familiar should overwhelmingly surpass a human in both strength and speed.

Even now, Oranj should have surpassed Abel in both strength and speed… And yet…

Abel was the one pressing the attack.

Why?

Because Oranj was being overwhelmed by Abel mentally.

In close-quarters combat, one’s state of mind accounts for a very large part of the outcome.

Wasn’t that what Ryo always said?

Taking away an opponent’s composure was the most basic of the basics in one-on-one combat.

Making them angry wasn’t the only way to take away their composure.

Making them afraid could do the same.

When someone loses their composure, what is affected most?

Strength?

Speed?

No, technique.

Oranj’s wounds multiplied before his eyes.

He had not suffered any fatal blows.

His hands and feet still moved without issue.

His actual combat ability had not declined, but…

The place taking heavy damage was not somewhere visible like that.

It was inside his mind.

(Why? Why has the gap become this wide?)

Those thoughts were throwing Oranj’s mind into disarray.

In reality, the gap was not as great as Oranj believed.

If anything, Oranj was superior in strength and speed.

There was not even an astonishing gap in technique.

But because Oranj’s mind had fallen behind, that difference had spilled over into his technique, increasing the number of wounds he suffered.

Abel did not fully understand all of that, either.

He simply knew that his ability to read his opponent’s moves was smoother than usual.

He also knew that his body was moving more smoothly than usual.

For some reason, his sword also seemed to be shining whiter than red, more so than usual…

Regardless of the sword, he could tell that everything else was going well.

At the same time, he could tell that Oranj’s mind was in disarray, that it was manifesting as a difference in technique, and that the result was magnifying the gap.

Since he knew that, he would exploit it to the fullest.

There was no need to open his mouth.

He only had to let his sword speak for him.

And then…

“Impossible… Why is there such a gap between us?”

The words leaking from Oranj’s mouth sounded almost like a curse.

Of course, Abel said nothing in response.

If he answered, that information might allow Oranj to recover.

In silence, the clash of swords grew even fiercer.

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