Whispers spread rapidly through the audience and grew louder by the second.
‘How dare he?’
‘Because he beat one Intermediate and one Advanced swordsman?’
‘Or because he’s the Sword God’s disciple and the Sword Emperor’s son?’
‘Does he seriously think nobody strong has the nerve to challenge him?’
Several disciples who considered themselves powerful immediately wanted to step forward and teach Noah a lesson.
Before any of them could speak, someone else did first.
“I cannot agree with that.”
The moment everyone followed the voice and saw who had spoken, those would-be challengers suppressed their impulses.
Now this would be interesting.
Silas.
Before coming to the Holy Land of Swords, he had traveled extensively as a wandering swordsman.
Whenever he encountered injustice, he was known to intervene.
Eventually, Silas realized his natural ability alone couldn’t push him through his swordsmanship bottleneck, so he followed his ideals to the sacred land of swordsmen and joined the Sword God Style.
Born a commoner, he retained a strong sense of justice.
Many disciples had heard stories of him protecting the weak and opposing bullies.
After joining the school, his combination of talent, humility, and decent character earned him an excellent reputation among the disciples.
Even Gal and the Sword Emperors viewed him favorably.
Most importantly—
Silas was only eighteen and already approaching Sword Saint.
Timothy had evaluated him as the disciple most likely to become the next Sword Saint and treated him as an important prospect for future development.
Among the many talented swordsmen gathered in the Holy Land of Swords, Silas could reasonably be called a genius among geniuses.
“Noah, everyone here knows Clair and Alvi’s strength,” Silas said.
“Among the disciples, both rank in the upper half.”
He pushed himself up from a proper kneeling posture.
At eighteen, Silas had already reached full adult height.
Compared with Noah, he was nearly two heads taller.
His thin training uniform made him look lean rather than bulky, but years of training had built streamlined muscle along his frame.
Even in the Holy Land of Swords’ bitter cold, Sword God Style disciples trained every day in thin uniforms.
The school’s philosophy demanded speed.
Heavy clothing that interfered with sword movement was unacceptable.
“Their swordsmanship may still be somewhat below yours…”
Silas wasn’t speaking because Clair or Alvi were close friends.
He knew many people in the Sanctum, but his relationship with those two was ordinary.
“But calling them naive and weak is unfair.
Every person in the Holy Land of Swords devotes themselves to the sword.
Victory and defeat are normal.
They don’t deserve humiliation for losing.”
Silas wasn’t jealous of Noah.
He acknowledged the boy’s talent.
In fact, he believed Noah’s raw potential surpassed his own by a large margin.
Noah’s arrogant attitude had always looked to Silas like the natural pride of a genius.
Reaching Advanced at eight was something even Silas couldn’t compare with.
He had once gone through a similar phase himself—that youthful period of looking down on everyone and acting as though ordinary rules didn’t apply to him.
Then reality struck him.
He learned that there was always another mountain above the mountain, another person beyond the person.
Only humility, learning, and a clear understanding of reality allowed a swordsman to continue moving forward.
So Silas didn’t mind becoming the person who made Noah understand that lesson.
The boy still had a long road ahead.
“I would also like to experience your swordsmanship.
If I win, please take back what you said.”
Confident in his own strength, Silas walked out from the crowd.
After saluting Gal, he formally challenged Noah.
“Hahahaha!
Now this is worth watching.” Gal laughed loudly and slapped Timothy on the shoulder.
“Right, Timothy?”
The Sword God loved watching trouble unfold.
Teaching everyone quietly and properly was nowhere near this entertaining.
Timothy could only smile bitterly.
Silas was one of the students he valued most.
Noah’s talent repeatedly astonished him too.
Was it really a good idea to let these two clash?
The age difference alone was enormous.
Noah hadn’t even properly entered puberty yet.
Noah, meanwhile, was equally surprised.
His taunt had better AOE range than expected.
It had even pulled in someone Noah had been hoping to harvest a talent from later.
He didn’t live in isolation.
Naturally he’d heard of Silas.
The young man was considered a minor prodigy even by Holy Land of Swords standards, so his talents couldn’t possibly be poor.
Noah had simply never found a natural opportunity to approach him.
And now Silas had walked out on his own.
“Sure.”
At this point, Noah could hardly refuse.
The officiating Sword Saint returned yet again, looking at Noah strangely as he approached.
‘This kid causes too much damn trouble.
We still haven’t even started the normal lottery matches.’
Names were exchanged.
The duel began.
Both fighters retreated to their respective sides and locked eyes.
Neither dared relax.
‘He’s no ordinary opponent.
A prodigy that young has already defeated several people.
His sword talent is unquestionable.’
‘Huge physical difference.
Height disadvantage too.
The surprise tricks from earlier probably won’t work.
So this one comes down to raw ability?’
Both quietly assessed the other.
The atmosphere became so silent and solemn that the spectators unconsciously slowed their breathing.
Silas moved first.
The Sword God Style was a school of offense.
He stepped forward sharply—a motion repeated countless times across years of training.
His feet were positioned with almost perfect natural efficiency.
The explosive force generated by the step traveled upward through his body.
Battle aura and physical power merged, concentrated through his arm, and finally poured into the wooden sword.
[Longsword of Silence]
No.
There was already a trace of the Longsword of Light’s principle inside it.
A strike approaching Sword Saint level.
The high stance descended with sword speed that seemed to overwhelm sound itself, carrying unstoppable momentum toward Noah.
By Silas’s normal standards, it was a perfect attack.
A strike he could be proud of.
Against most swordsmen of the same rank, it would have ended the duel immediately.
And yet—
Crack.
Silas’s abdomen was hit first.
The impact launched him completely out of the dueling area.
He flew backward and crashed into the wall of the dojo before sliding slowly to the ground.
The force tore part of his training uniform and exposed the hardened muscles of his abdomen.
A red mark was already spreading across the skin.
Silas felt intense, almost burning pain radiating through his stomach.
The referee immediately announced the result.
“The match is decided!
Noah wins!”
The disciples stared with mouths hanging open.
Silas himself looked blankly at Noah.
He genuinely couldn’t understand why he’d lost.
The instant Silas moved, Noah’s Mind’s Eye had been tracking him at full capacity.
Noah stepped forward almost simultaneously.
Against Silas’s high stance, Noah lowered his own body and released a horizontal cut.
Because of the difference in height, Silas’s abdomen was the most natural target for Noah’s sword.
But Silas couldn’t understand one thing.
His vertical line was shorter.
His sword should have reached Noah first.
Height advantage.
Strength advantage.
Technique advantage.
Why had Noah’s sword arrived sooner?
Silas clenched his teeth against the pain.
“Why…?”
“Haa…”
Noah exhaled a hot breath.
Even inside the warm hall, a long plume of white mist formed in front of him.
That brief sword strike had overdrawn his body’s performance and placed a considerable burden on him.
After stabilizing his breathing, Noah answered.
“I only put as much power into the blade as I needed.
Enough to knock you down.
Everything else went into speed.”
Noah had redistributed the battle aura normally used to increase destructive force back into his body.
It stimulated his physical potential, especially his legs, waist, and core—the sources of movement.
Mind’s Eye let him estimate exactly how much impact was necessary to defeat Silas without wasting power.
Everything beyond that threshold was converted into acceleration.
This wasn’t simple muscular motion.
Only precise allocation of battle aura made it possible.
All those days practicing aura control had paid off.
And seriously, the old bastard’s talent was incredible.
Compared with the Longsword of Light, which concentrated battle aura into a single point to maximize lethality, this attack’s destructive power was unimpressive.
But this wasn’t a death match.
The advantage was that Noah’s method was far easier than executing a genuine Longsword of Light while still increasing sword speed dramatically.
It used battle aura to force the body’s potential into overdrive for a brief instant.
That reminded Noah of a certain sword-wielding knight technique from a series in his previous life.
‘Might as well call it Ittou Shura.’
[System Notice: The System greatly approves of your combat decision!]