The Mythical Hero's Otherworld Chronicles: Volume 5 [Parts 1 to 9] by Tatematsuri

Author:Tatematsuri
Language: eng
Format: epub

The twenty-third day of the twelfth month of Imperial Year 1023

Verrat, in the north of the southern territories

At last, the rain lifted. The sky was unmarred blue, clear from horizon to horizon as though the earlier clouds had been nothing but a bad dream. A gentle breeze blew over the land, carrying a chill and setting newly budding greenery dancing.

Twenty-five sel from Berg Fortress, Hiro and his allies had parted ways with Rosa and set up by the roadside. A command tent stood in the center of the camp, with Hiro’s, Scáthach’s, and Aura’s tents arrayed around it. A short distance away, Liz and Scáthach were sparring.

“Yaaagh!”

Liz swung her wooden sword in a downward chop. Scáthach caught the blow with her own weapon. Their two training blades smacked into one another with an ominous crack, but neither noticed. They had no attention to spare for anything but one another.

“Fine! How about this?!” Liz threw a distracting punch, then dropped low. She braced one hand on the ground and launched a kick at her opponent’s ankle.

A grunt of surprise left Scáthach’s lips as her leg buckled. Reacting quickly, she planted her sword in the ground and launched herself into a flying kick.

Liz cried out, plunging forward without hesitation, and met the kick with her own fist. Her inhuman strength sent Scáthach flying back. The woman didn’t resist the blow, however, instead converting its momentum into a backflip and landing gracefully on the ground. As Liz overcommitted and stumbled, Scáthach launched herself back into close range.

“I have you now!” Scáthach cried, swinging her wooden sword.

Liz leaned into the momentum of her fall, twisted, and sprang away. Scáthach saw the move coming and launched a punch at the right of Liz’s head, but Liz batted it away with little effort.

“I can no longer contest you in strength, I see!”

Then skill would have to make up the difference. Scáthach’s strikes became sweeping slashes. Liz ducked evenly out of the way of the blows, looking for an opening in which to plant her fist. With the Lævateinn’s Might behind her, a single punch could knock an opponent unconscious. That was one of the reasons her Spiritblade was so fearsome—she did not need it in her hand to land a killing blow.

Hiro sat in silence, watching the two blossoms dance. With the ground turned to mud by the rain, he was reclining in a chair.

“Who do you think will win, Aura?”

By his side, Aura looked up from the Black Chronicle on her knees and turned her unfeeling gray eyes toward the fight. “I’m not sure.”

He should probably have counted himself lucky that she had answered at all. Her focus had been on the Black Chronicle, not on Liz and Scáthach. Even now, the book was pulling her gaze back down. The intensity of their battle didn’t seem to interest her whatsoever. It wasn’t a surprise that she wasn’t sure.

“You need to be aware of their strengths and weaknesses, you know. Someday, you might have to decide where to assign them.

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