The Wandering Sword

Mavros ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The trees lining along the rustic path passed before his eyes like fleeting figures.

I've been moving around here for quite some time, and I still don't sense anything. This forest is too vast…

He slowed down, overcome by something that had been bothering him for a few minutes.

I should have asked for the exact location of the last attack by those beasts. Even with my nefeshic sense, finding them in a place like this without a point of reference will be like finding a needle in a haystack.

He clenched his fists, with his head bowed and his brow furrowed. That “something” bothering him was undoubtedly the fact that he was completely disoriented.

Curse me... I was too hasty, he admitted, frustrated by how his quest was getting more complicated than necessary, and all because of his foolish mistake.

But…

“Ah?' he jerked his head up, very alert. He finally detected something unusual. The distant, faint rumble of thunder, accompanied by something else that caught his attention.

That was... Nefesh! Someone has just released a large amount of electric nefesh to the southeast! he interpreted, straightening his body in that direction. Now that I remember, Lady Menuha mentioned that some men had been sent to search for and hunt down the beasts. She didn't tell me, but it's likely that some of them are Holy Warriors... Does this nefesh belong to one of them? Did they encounter the beasts before me?

***

The masked swordsman stood on guard, immobile and solemn as a statue, with his right leg forward and the left behind it. The silver of his rapier sword gleamed in the pupils of the looming eyes of the monstrosities surrounding him. Their continuous growls were the only thing interrupting the silence of what had become a tense calm.

Behind them, the campers observed them with absolute interest. The initial commotion over what could have ended in a gruesome tragedy was slowly dissipating. Their thoughts organized and regained clarity as they tried to find explanations for the events they were witnessing. Despite the looming danger, no one wanted to retreat. Everyone had the intuition that they were about to witness something astonishing.

One of them swallowed hard.

I... I should be dead, he thought, feeling icy chills as he recalled the image of the open jaws of one of those abominations just inches from his face. In the blink of an eye, that image turned into that of a harmless lifeless body lying on the ground. This man... This man was a blessing from Senshan.

His son gave him a long look, blinking several times, struggling as much as he did to believe what had happened. Then, his eyes shifted to the author of that miracle.

It was lightning... He saved my father with a lightning bolt. I could barely see it... It was as fast as one from a storm, Sheida remembered, appreciating the firmness and elegance of the swordsman's stance. The violent electrical discharges forming a shield in his left palm and the beautiful sword held in his right hand became his main source of fascination, just as it did for the other young and adult campers.

That electricity... There's no doubt, it's nefesh.

That sword... It's not ordinary. It looks like that of a noble.

His guard... it's very solid and refined. This fellow is no ordinary soldier. He's well-trained.

These were the deductions of several of them as they examined him more closely. The audience raised their eyebrows. The three conclusions merged into a more decisive one.

This man is…

A Holy Warrior?

The beasts took a few steps, aligning themselves in a fan-like formation around their prey. They flexed their paws and parted their jaws. Nevertheless, their challenger continued to face them without a hint of fear. As far as his sight and other senses could tell, it was a pack of eight.

Suddenly, what everyone had been waiting for happened. The monsters lunged in unison towards the solitary swordsman. Their fangs and claws aimed at him with uncontrollable desire to shred him to pieces.

Just as they were about to make contact.

Now.

He placed his left hand in front of him, creating a strong electric field around him that repelled the monsters as they collided with his barrier. Affected by the shock they received, the beasts were stunned. The swordsman launched his counterattack. He moved to the far left of the formation to neutralize the first of the beasts.

"Senshan!"

"It can't be!"

The mouths of the audience hung open in astonishment. The swordsman delivered straight consecutive thrusts that pierced the head and chest of his enemy at such speed that they could only see them as blurry flashes. In less than five seconds, the beast collapsed dead on the ground. Light columns of smoke emanated from its punctured flesh. It had been a genuine lightning-fast attack.

The swordsman immediately advanced towards the next of the beasts to repeat his deadly combination. One of its companions blocked his path and tried to intercept him by lunging at him with its claws, but he immobilized it with his electric shield and, with a dancer's graceful spin, severed its neck with the edge of his blade. He narrowly avoided being splattered by the jets of blood that gushed from its open throat with an agile sidestep, allowing him to reach his original target.

That fencing style... That art of nefesh capable of manipulating electricity for unstoppable attacks and impenetrable defense... I've heard and read stories about a Holy Warrior famous for these qualities; for his unmatched elegance and precision in sword combat... ”The best swordsman in all of Elvira.” Sheida recalled as he watched in amazement how the swordsman killed the third of the monsters with the same ease as the previous ones. His name and identity came to the tip of his tongue. The historical hero whose magnificent monument had been partially destroyed by the wandering knight he had just met.

His eyebrows arched.

Could this man be... Santario Monteros, the leader of the Holy House of the Royal Rose?!

Meanwhile, the beasts that had survived the onslaught of their human opponent ran in a disorganized column towards him. He took a defensive stance, merely waiting for their charge. With his sky-blue eyes, he followed and calculated in meticulous detail each of their footsteps, every one of their slightest movements, in order to compose his symphony. He wanted to end this confrontation as quickly as possible, and his plan required him to concentrate fully on careful planning for success.

When they were close enough…

Art of Lightning: Silver Storm.

The swordsman turned into a streak that slid through his adversaries, describing straight and violent strokes: a constellation of lightning where silver and blue intertwined. An explosive visual spectacle that left the campsite breathless. The constellation vanished as quickly as it had been created. The swordsman stood still with his sword held horizontally, his back to the last beast in the column. Like a series of falling dominoes, this one and the others collapsed to the ground in perfect synchrony. The entire pack had been annihilated. Their once fierce bodies were now peaceful corpses.

"In... Incredible..." was the word muttered by several of the onlookers in common. It was their verdict on the end of this short but spectacular battle, where one side clearly had the advantage.

Finally able to take a break, the swordsman lowered his guard and relaxed his tense muscles. He dissipated the electrical charges from his left hand to retrieve a handkerchief from a pocket of his old leather jacket.

It seems these were all, he judged, wiping the remnants of flesh and blood from his sword blade with the handkerchief. His calmness was enviable, giving the impression that all of this had been a simple task for him. The outbreak has been eradicated.

Behind him, the campers timidly began to approach, perplexed and nervous due to his apparent indifference toward them. They still couldn't find the right words to express their gratitude.

"Hm?!"

To add to their bewilderment, he had a small startle as they came within a few meters of his position. He suddenly froze and stopped cleaning his sword.

A nefesh?! He shifted his gaze in all directions. It has tremendous magnitude, and its bearer is rapidly approaching... It's no Holy Warrior I know. He put away his handkerchief and wielded his sword again as a precaution. Intimidated, the curious onlookers stepped back. Who or what could it be? A local elite warrior?... An Ashaim abomination of Quinctos level?!

For the first time during the entire encounter, the swordsman addressed his spectators, looking down at them.

"Listen! This place is still not safe!" he informed them imperatively. "Withdraw immediat…"

"Watch out!" they interrupted him with an alarmed exclamation. Their fear resurfaced as they pointed their index fingers at something just steps away from him.

As he returned his gaze to the front to see what they were referring to, he spotted something launching itself maliciously towards his body.

Damn!

He narrowly managed to avoid a direct hit, but it grazed the middle part of his right side in a whip-like motion, slicing through his jacket and reaching his skin. He cautiously touched the cut with his left hand, feeling warm blood oozing from the wound.

Before him stood his assailant. His earlier count of his enemies had been inaccurate.

The battle was not yet over.