Chapter 98: One Strike (2)
Ysolde Marr did not rush.
She walked the ten paces between them at an ordinary pace, giving Encrid plenty of time to understand exactly what he had agreed to.
She was taking the challenge seriously.
There was no amusement left in her expression now, nor any trace of the casual confidence she had shown when she first saw the straw cushions tied beneath his armour. She was going to end the matter with a single proper strike, and she intended to make sure there was nothing careless about it.
Then she released her aura.
The change was immediate.
The pressure that descended upon the yard seemed to crush the air itself. Ysolde’s killing intent spread across the drill ground and settled on Encrid with such weight that his body reacted before his mind could.
His muscles tightened.
His breathing became shallow.
For one brief moment, every instinct he possessed told him to run.
Encrid had spent days calculating this moment.
He had considered Ysolde’s strength carefully.
He had watched her train.
He had also understood that she stood at the peak of the Grandmaster realm while he was barely at the Initiate realm.
But calculation was not the same thing as standing in front of her.
Now that her aura was pressing against him, Encrid finally understood the difference.
He was an Initiate standing before someone at the peak of the Grandmaster realm.
The difference was absurd.
He felt like a rat standing in front of a mammoth and somehow expecting the mammoth to be impressed by his courage.
Ysolde had not even moved her sword yet, and Encrid already knew that a careless flick of her hand would be enough to kill him.
His mouth had gone dry.
His body wanted to step backward.
He did not.
He had deliberately left his own sword behind in the Third Office before coming here. He had known himself well enough to understand that, faced with a real attack, some instinct buried beneath all his calculations might make him reach for it.
That could not happen.
His entire plan depended on one thing.
He simply had to stand there and take the attack.
Ysolde noticed that he had not moved.
A small smile appeared on her face.
"At least you are not pissing your pants."
Encrid said nothing and Ysolde raised her sword.
There was no dramatic burst of light.
No great display of power.
The blade itself remained plain grey, but the air alongside its edge seemed to disappear. It was as though the space around the sword had been shaved away, leaving something impossibly thin where the blade passed.
Encrid’s stomach tightened.
He had seen a Grandmaster use their power before.
This was different.
This was what it meant for someone to stand at the very peak of the realm and completely concentrate on killing someone.
Ysolde lowered her stance.
A moment later, red aura began to emerge from her body.
It spread across her arms and gathered around the sword until the entire blade was wrapped in a dense red glow. The pressure coming from it increased until even the spectators closest to the edge of the yard began stepping backward.
Ysolde looked at him.
"This is the last chance you will get to save yourself, young lord."
Encrid smiled.
It was not a particularly confident smile.
He was terrified.
But he had already come this far, and there was no point pretending otherwise.
"Try your best."
Ysolde’s smile widened.
"Suit yourself."
She swung.
The red aura tore away from the blade.
It became a massive crescent of power that raced toward Encrid with enough force to cut him in half.
There was no time left to think.
Encrid braced himself.
His knees locked beneath the oversized armour. His fingers curled against his palms. He stared directly at the incoming strike and waited until the last possible moment.
Then he spoke.
"Later."
The attack reached him.
And disappeared!
For one impossible instant, the six hundred people watching could see the red blade passing through the space where Encrid’s shoulder should have been.
Then it simply ceased to exist.
There was no explosion.
No clash.
No resistance.
The attack that should have cut Encrid in half seemed to be swallowed by his body, vanishing the instant it touched him.
Encrid remained standing.
The straw cushions beneath his armour had not even shifted.
Silence fell across the entire drill yard.
Six hundred men stared at him.
Ysolde Marr stared harder.
Encrid slowly exhaled.
He was still alive.
More importantly, it had worked.
He could feel the enormous weight settle somewhere deep inside him, just as it had when he had tested the pillow alone.
[ Pillow of the Sleeping God - a consequence has been deferred. ]
[ The debt remains until it is taken. ]
Encrid did not move.
Neither did Ysolde.
She looked at her sword.
Then at Encrid.
Then back at the place where her attack had disappeared.
Her eyes narrowed.
"That was not a block."
Encrid remained silent.
"You did not parry it."
Silence.
"You did not withstand it."
She took a step toward him.
"I watched you. You did nothing."
Encrid said nothing.
Ysolde’s expression changed as the pieces came together.
Her attack had not been deflected.
It had simply vanished.
Something had taken the entire strike.
"What did you do?"
Encrid finally looked at her.
"The wager was that I take one strike."
Ysolde stared at him.
"That is your answer?"
"It is."
Ysolde looked at him for several seconds.
Then her gaze shifted to the ridiculous armour, the straw cushions, and finally back to his face.
Understanding slowly replaced confusion.
She began to laugh.
It started quietly, almost disbelievingly, before growing into a genuine laugh that echoed across the drill yard.
"You bastard."
Encrid blinked.
Ysolde shook her head.
"All this time, I thought you were gambling with your life."
Encrid said nothing.
She laughed again.
"You never agreed to block my attack. You never agreed to withstand it. You only agreed to take one strike."
"That was the agreement."
Ysolde looked at him for a long moment.
Then she sheathed her sword.
"I suppose I cannot complain."
The crowd was still too stunned to speak.
Ysolde turned slightly so that her voice would carry across the yard.
"You have my vote."
A murmur finally passed through the spectators.
Encrid’s shoulders relaxed by the smallest amount.
Ysolde raised a hand before he could speak.
"And I will not question your fitness for the Council seat again."
Encrid nodded.
"Thank you."
She studied him for another moment.
There was curiosity in her eyes now, but not suspicion and there was even something closer to respect.
"You have a secret, young lord."
Encrid’s expression remained neutral.
"I have several, Commander."
"I am sure you do."
Ysolde smiled.
"Someday, I am going to find out what that one is."
Encrid looked at her.
"I would prefer if you did not."
"That makes me want to find out even more."
She walked past him, leaving Encrid standing alone in the centre of the yard.
Only then did the six hundred spectators begin to speak.
The noise rose all at once, spreading through the drill ground as men tried to explain what they had just witnessed.
Encrid paid them little attention.
He had come here for one reason.
He had taken the strike.
Ysolde Marr had given him her vote.
And, for the first time since he had begun counting the votes, the Council no longer seemed quite so far away.
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