A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat - Chapter 55 (1) - A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat
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- Chapter 55 (1) - A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat
“Reflect!”
-Clang…!
I barely managed to deflect the arrow that came flying at me with a sinister aura.
The sudden attack caught me off guard, and the force of the impact sliced through my fingertips, drawing blood.
I bit back a curse, pressing my fingers against the wound to stop the bleeding.
“Ra-Raiden?! Are you… what just happened?!”
“Maniac!”
“Y-Young Master Lishite…!”
My companions rushed to my side, their faces etched with concern.
“I’m fine!” I snapped, raising a hand to stop them. “Just… stay alert!”
My words seemed to snap them out of their stupor. They quickly turned their attention back to the direction of the arrow.
Golden Boy drew his practice mace from his belt, while Margaret and Violet began channeling their mana.
I tore off a strip of cloth from my sleeve, quickly bandaging my wound before joining my companions in a defensive stance.
“Sharp senses you’ve got there.”
A voice, cold and menacing, cut through the silence.
Several figures emerged from behind the trees, their forms shrouded in an ominous black aura.
They were clad in jet-black armor, their weapons glinting menacingly in the dappled sunlight. Beneath their helmets, I could make out glimpses of rotting flesh and glowing red eyes.
“Undead…?”
Margaret, who had been preparing a spell, faltered.
“But… why are there Undead here? I didn’t sense any mana…”
“Undead… that don’t emit mana?” I muttered, my brow furrowing.
That was impossible. As far as I knew, there was only one being in this world capable of creating such an abomination.
“…The Four Heavenly Kings. Pyren.”
The Four Heavenly Kings…
No, that couldn’t be right. They weren’t supposed to appear until much later in the story.
Why was the plot going haywire?
“Hey… Raiden…”
Golden Boy nudged my shoulder, his face pale.
He pointed a trembling finger towards the back of the Undead ranks.
“Look…”
“What is it…?”
I followed his gaze, forcing myself to remain calm.
And then I saw it.
Impaled on the spear of the largest Undead, his head lolling at an unnatural angle…
Professor Lucas.
His emerald eyes, usually so full of life, were glazed over, staring blankly into the distance.
My mind screeched to a halt.
Professor Lucas… was supposed to be back at base camp.
Why…? How…?
Dead…?
No. It couldn’t be.
“I-I must be… seeing things…” I muttered, my voice hollow.
Please, let this be some kind of sick hallucination.
But Golden Boy’s reply shattered my hopes into a million pieces.
“Well, whatever it is… we’re both seeing the same thing.”
“…”
This has to be a lie.
I wanted to scream those words, but they wouldn’t come out.
Professor Lucas… dead?
He was one of the strongest mages in the Academy, second only to Headmistress Korn. How could he…
My breath hitched in my throat, my carefully constructed composure crumbling like a house of cards.
Just yesterday, we were talking and laughing… and now…
He was dead.
A cold dread gripped my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs.
I stumbled back, my vision swimming.
“Gah…haah…”
Get a hold of yourself, Raiden.
I bit down on my tongue, hard, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth. I had to stay conscious. If I lost it now, we were all dead.
That thought, grim and desperate, was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.
-Remember, Raiden. In any match, the first rule is to stay calm.
-Train with the mindset that any moment of weakness will lead to your defeat.
Ironically, it was my father’s “teachings” that brought me back from the brink.
The countless hours of verbal and physical abuse had been seared into my very being, and now, they were the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart.
I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat, repeating those words like a mantra.
Right. This was a match.
A match where I had to stay calm, no matter what.
A match where a single moment of weakness would spell my doom.
And I couldn’t afford to lose.
Not when…
“I… can’t… lose…”
I muttered to myself like a crazy person.
I opened my eyes, a newfound resolve hardening my gaze.
My mind, now ice-cold and calculating, quickly assessed the situation.
We were completely outmatched.
We had no proper equipment, while the Undead were armed to the teeth.
And there were at least twenty of them, five times our number.
We were exhausted from hours of travel, while they…
‘We can’t win in a straight fight.’
These weren’t your average, run-of-the-mill Undead.
These were Pyren’s elite, imbued with a chilling power that sent shivers down my spine.
I glanced at Golden Boy, who was watching me with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
“…”
“…”
We locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between us. He was already a step ahead, his body tensed, ready to spring into action.
I gave him a curt nod.
“Golden Boy,”
“Yeah?”
He gripped his mace tightly, his muscles coiling like a spring.
“Run. Now!”
As soon as the words left my mouth, Golden Boy launched himself forward, his mace whistling through the air.
It connected with the head of the leading Undead knight with a sickening crunch.
-Bang!!
The impact caved in the Undead’s helmet, sending a spray of black, viscous blood splattering across the forest floor.
The Undead ranks faltered for a moment, momentarily stunned by the unexpected attack.
It was all the time we needed.
I grabbed Margaret, while Golden Boy scooped up Violet, and we ran.
“Kyaaa!”
“Whoa!”
The first chapter of the Academy’s “Combat Tactics” textbook flashed through my mind.
Rule number four for surviving a battle:
If you encounter an enemy you cannot defeat, retreat immediately.
“Move, maniac!”
We didn’t need to be told twice.
We turned and fled, our pursuers hot on our heels.
“They’re gaining on us!” Margaret cried, her voice laced with panic.
“Just keep running!” I shouted back, pushing myself harder.
And so began a deadly game of hide-and-seek in the heart of the forest.
***
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