The False Hero, Volume 12, Chapter 15 pt 2

The king moves so quickly, the weaker soldiers may even think he used a movement spell. He arrives before Bradley, towering over the former noble with his massive frame, covered by a fearsome set of fullplate.

With his warhammer already mid-swing, Edgar aims for a devastating opening blow. Defeating the opponent before the battle can even begin may be dishonorable in a duel, but no such social rules apply in war.

Bradley finally moves his body. As a level 80, he’s close enough to the level 89 Edgar that winning is a real possibility. However, it doesn’t take an S-Class adventurer to see that Bradley lacks the fighting form and movements of a true warrior. The man’s casual sidestep would leave any normal opponent wide open for a follow-up strike, but…

Edgar’s warhammer slams into the dirt, forcing into an awkward stance to avoid it. Yet despite being completely off-balance, the former noble manages to land a direct hit on Edgar’s shoulder pauldron, narrowly missing one of the chinks in his fullplate.

The king pulls on his weapon, the hammer head a blur as it seeks Bradley’s body. To Edgar’s surprise, his opponent manages to parry the warhammer just enough to avoid a hit, despite his amateur movements.

“You were never a warrior, Bradley!” Edgar continues his assault, forcing the traitorous noble into a corner. “Even if you’ve been granted strength, it won’t be enough to defeat me!”

“A civilized man doesn’t need to defeat their opponent. Not that you would know how a civilized man thinks, Edgar.” Bradley ducks a swing meant to split his skull in two. “Since you’re so unwilling to learn, it seems I’ll have to teach you by force.”

Bradley, who has done nothing but block and dodge since the beginning, holds out his sword to continue his passive combat style. Edgar doesn’t target the man himself. Rather, he aims the hammer head right where the blade meets the hilt, just above where Bradley is holding the weapon.

Edgar feels the satisfying resistance he expected, his swing landing precisely where he aimed. The impact rips the sword from Bradley’s novice grasp, sending the blade flying harmlessly across the arena.

Never taking his eyes off his opponent, Edgar pulls back on his warhammer without a shred of hesitation. “You should never have stepped onto the battlefield, Bradley!”

The noble, disarmed from the sword given to him by his new god, can only watch as the hammer begins to fall towards him.

“Guh…!” Edgar’s hammer hits the dirt, narrowly missing his opponent.

The king reaches to his back, right where his shoulder pauldron overlaps his breastplate. His gauntleted hand finds a blade, stuck in the small gap between the sheets of metal.

He yanks it out, the rune-etched blade now covered in his blood. “Curses. I should have expected foul play from you, Bradley.”

The noble has already retreated several steps, putting enough distance between them that he would be able to avoid nearly any attack Edgar might try. “You always were straightforward, Edgar. Easy to read, easy to maneuver around. In almost any other case, such a lack of delicacy would inevitably lead to the erosion of your power and give aspiring nobles like myself a chance to seize it.”

Bradley shakes his head. “Yet all our attacks against you were thwarted by your sheer tenacity and royal authority, an armor you used to protect you against our political maneuvers, no different from the armor that adorns you now. And when that failed, you took up the warhammer, as you do today.”

He raises an arm, and the blade in Edgar’s hand begins to hum and vibrate. “We’ve fought for decades now, Edgar. Did you not think I would know how to defeat you by now?”

Edgar tightened his grip on Bradley’s sword. The weapon isn’t just vibrating, it’s pulling on him, the hilt pointed right at Bradley’s outstretched hand.

I can’t send it to my [Inventory]? Edgar tries again, but the result is the same. The sword simply will not vanish.

Despite his level 89 strength, enhanced by some of the most powerful equipment in the world, Bradley’s sword rips itself free from his grasp, flying back to its owner’s hand.

“Thank you for handing it back to me, Edgar.” Bradley gives it a couple swings, his stance still far from perfect. “But it seems I can’t fully bring out its power when holding it. So while I certainly appreciate your gesture, I believe it would be better if you kept it.”

The nobleman opens his hand, and the blade flies.

Having been pointed directly at his face, the sword simply grows larger in his vision as it aims directly for the slit in his helmet. Rather than risk parrying such a quick weapon with a cumbersome warhammer, Edgar opts to dodge it.

Even with his full plate slowing him down, all he has to do is move enough that the weapon bounces harmlessly off his armor. After that, Bradley will have nothing left to protect him.

With that in mind, Edgar doesn’t just avoid the oncoming blade, he steps forward at the same time, already beginning to cover the distance between him and Bradley. With a gauntleted hand over the slit in his visor, he tracks his opponent’s mana to ensure that he doesn’t make any sudden movements.

Barreling straight through the oncoming sword, the weapon merely scrapes his gauntlet in its attempt to reach the slit and doing nothing to stop his aggressive counter-charge.

The sword isn’t his only opponent, however.

“[Impale].” Bradley casts the third-tier Earth Spell.

A spear of thick stone erupts from the ground, the jagged point sharp enough to puncture steel and hardened with a powerful magic. Edgar swings his warhammer just as the spell materializes, crushing the magical stone into a spray of shattered rocks.

A second spear follows the first, appearing right where he intends to step. Rather than change directions, Edgar pushes his weight forward and stomps, his foot stomping down on the stone as it rises from the ground.

The powerful force of the Earth Spell hits the bottom of his armor’s sabaton, the hardened tip of stone fighting against the weight and momentum of Orakio’s king. With a satisfying crunch, the growing spear of stone is pulverized into a pile of pebbles beneath his foot.

“Hm?” Bradley watches with surprise as his magic is thwarted before it can even strike its target.

A third spear breaks free from the dirt, only a step ahead of Bradley himself. Edgar’s stomp may have crushed the second attack, but it leaves him unable to stop the third. It grows from the ground, threatening to stop his charge in its tracks.

“Not good enough!” Edgar lowers his shoulder, putting the weight of his charge behind it.

The stone spear hits him with full force, containing power equivalent to that of an Archfiend’s magic. An explosion covers both of the men’s vision as Bradley’s spell is crushed by the king’s pauldron.

Even Bradley didn’t expect him to rush right through his third-tier spell like a fearless Berserker, but he can’t deny what he’s seeing with his own eyes.

“Right through–guh…!”

The warhammer slams into Bradley, sending the noble skidding into the dirt. Edgar grunts as he brings his weapon down to crush his opponent, not from the exertion from the attack, but from a sudden and hot pain in his side.

His warhammer veers off-course just enough for Bradley to roll out of the way. Rather than continuing the attack, Edgar reaches to his side and pulls out the same rune-etched sword from before, the one he deflected when he began his charge.

“This blasted sword.” Edgar tightens his grip on the blade, but it pulls itself free, despite his efforts.

He expected it to fly back to Bradley’s hand, allowing him to activate whatever magic that gives the sword the ability to attack on its own. But that isn’t the case. The weapon spins in the air, turning its point back to Edgar.

“What kind of foul magic are you using to control this sword, Bradley?” Edgar swats at the blade as it swoops in, knocking it off-course.

“Our new god is a wise one.” Bradley stands, brushing off the dirt from his overly extravagant clothing. “He understands that I can’t defeat you in a duel. Instead, he granted me a weapon that can perform that task for me.”

“You always were a coward, sending others to do your dirty work.” Edgar twists his armored body, and the sword finds only the metal of his breastplate. “You must have been mortified when this god of yours demanded you fight in this battle like every other expendable soldier.”

“You think too lowly of me, Edgar, as you typically do. Have you forgotten that I spent over two decades working directly against the crown’s interest, in a bid to seize it for myself? You and most of the court knew I was responsible for the civil war, yet I remained untouchable–no, I became even more powerful, drawing all the dissidents to my side. The throne was as good as mine, before her champion ruined it all.”

“Hiding in the shadows may work in the courts, Bradley.” Edgar’s hand blurs, grasping the sword by the hilt as it comes in for another attack. “But in a battle, the darkness won’t protect you from my warhammer.”

The hum and vibrations emanating from the blade only increase the longer Edgar holds it. Even with a firm grasp on the hilt, the weapon yanks itself free from his gauntleted hand. And this time, it does return to Bradley.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” The former noble takes another amateur combat stance. “So much so that perhaps I will take my time killing you.”

“That decision does not belong to you.” Edgar readies his warhammer. “I’ve seen what you are capable of now, and I’m not impressed. This arena will be your grave, Bradley.”

The battle between the king and his noble adversary begins to heat up.