Chapter 113

Clang!

A sharp metallic sound rang out, and Josephine clicked her tongue.

“Tsk!”

The thrust she had been so sure would land was cleanly blocked.

“Shit! That almost killed me!”

The train bandit, lucky to be alive, cursed as he glared at Josephine.

“Hey, take it easy. What’s the rush?”

“……”

Josephine didn’t answer and pressed her attack.

Her opponent’s stance was sloppy, and his swordsmanship seemed just as frivolous as his vulgar words.

However…

Clang-rattle!

When her second strike slid off the enemy’s blade as if deflected, Josephine had to admit it.

The fact that he had survived twice wasn’t just luck.

Taking a step back, Josephine asked him,

“Are you hiding your true skill?”

“Who knows? Maybe. Ha!”

This time, the bandit moved in with an aggressive strike.

A short cut aimed at her legs with a single-handed swing.

Josephine lowered her sword to block it, and just as naturally, the bandit rotated his blade upward.

When Josephine raised her guard to block the upper strike, his sword once again swept downward.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Down, up, down.

A simple back-and-forth, as if planned out.

It was the narrow space that dictated the nature of the fight.

The corridor of the train was barely a meter wide. Just enough for two people to stand side by side.

With no room to circle or create angles, the attacker had little choice but to rely on linear strikes.

But the same went for the defender. Dodging movements were equally restricted.

All that was left was a pure contest of fundamentals, relying solely on reflexes and athletic ability.

That’s why Josephine felt something was off.

“That’s no crude street thug’s swordsmanship. Who are you really? A soldier? Or perhaps a former soldier?”

“I’m just a poor, pitiful bandit.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. With skills like yours, why are you resorting to petty theft?”

“Everyone has a secret side, something they don’t want to talk about. Don’t you?”

As the bandit spoke, Josephine briefly recalled the Candela Order of Knights and pondered the meaning behind his words.

Before she realized it, the enemy had closed in, his blade nearly at her throat. She quickly knocked it away.

Only then did it dawn on her….he’d been running his mouth just to distract her.

Josephine frowned.

“A cheap trick.”

“That’s how bandits fight!”

“Then from this moment on, I’ll take you seriously.”

Josephine shifted her weight back, lowered her torso, and brought her center of gravity as low as possible. It was a stance meant to minimize her exposed target area.

She and the bandit now faced off just outside each other’s striking range.

Their swords met at a low angle, the tips barely crossing—

A straight line aimed at each other’s vitals.

The weapon Josephine had brought for this escort mission was a sleek, one-handed sword.

It was lightweight and easy to carry and ideal for travel, but not the kind of blade Josephine typically preferred, as she favored longer swords in normal circumstances.

That’s not to say she wasn’t proficient with it, though.

The corridor is narrow. This will likely be a thrust-based fight. My opponent is also using a one-handed sword, and the lengths of our weapons are about the same. But physically, he has the advantage.

Even if a man and woman were the same height, differences in body proportions meant there was still a disparity in reach.

That meant it was up to Josephine to close the gap herself.

Still, she didn’t consider it a serious disadvantage.

In sword duels, the one who advances usually takes the initiative.

If she could channel her weight into her blade and push her opponent’s weapon aside, she’d easily find an opening to exploit.

Of course, he’s no fool. He’ll be waiting to counter the moment I try to advance.

Which meant she needed deception.

Josephine shifted her grip, slipping her index finger over the crossguard and subtly adjusting the blade’s angle, gently pulling and releasing the hilt.

The wavering tip of her sword was meant to distract and mislead her opponent’s gaze.

She followed with two feints using her arm and a single deceptive step.

Tap!

Her opponent didn’t fall for it.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t react.

Had he not responded at all, Josephine would’ve lunged forward and taken the upper hand.

His quick reactions to Josephine’s ever-changing angles were inevitably inefficient.

The coordination of his toes, thigh muscles, shoulders, and elbows began to show strain.

Josephine read the flow of force within her opponent’s body through her eyes, detecting even the subtlest of reverse movements.

And… now!

A momentary misalignment in the direction of power. A tiny inconsistency the opponent himself hadn’t noticed.

Josephine seized upon this not-quite-opening that was too subtle to even be called a weakness, and she moved first.

“Haaah!”

With a sharp cry, she struck with only the portion of her arm below the elbow, flicking the enemy’s blade aside with a horizontal sweep.

Clang!

That was the signal for the real fight to begin.

She pushed off the ground with her back foot, her body propelling forward with elastic force—

And drove her sword straight toward the bandit’s chest.

Ting!

The bandit quickly stepped back and barely blocked the thrust with the guard of his sword.

The deflected blade grazed his upper arm, slicing it slightly.

Had his reaction been a second slower, the blow might have ended the fight.

But with the bandit shifting his footing and Josephine quickly retreating with a swift step to regroup, a counterattack never came.

“You’re quick….like a rabbit.”

“Hmph!”

Josephine didn’t waste time responding.

Instead, she swung her sword again.

A short, close-range slash aimed at his leg.

“Eek!”

The bandit lifted his leg just in time to avoid the blade, then brought it down and stepped forward, swinging his sword in return—

A direct downward strike from above.

The corridor may have been narrow side to side, but the ceiling was high enough to allow for full swings—

Which meant that, at least in this manner, swordplay inside the train was still viable.

However, the downside was that attack paths became predictable.

Josephine twisted her blade against her opponent’s and pressed diagonally downward, using the force to close the distance.

This time, she had a clear opportunity to end the fight.

That’s when the bandit shouted:

“Now, Ron!”

Josephine frowned.

Another distraction?

Calling out to a comrade, whoever this “Ron” was, would be pointless in a corridor this tight. Two-on-one just wasn’t feasible here.

Which meant she shouldn’t hesitate. She had to finish it now—

Crash!

Suddenly, the glass of the private room window right beside Josephine shattered, and a flash of silver shot toward her.

“Ahh! Josephine, look out!”

Estelle’s scream snapped Josephine’s nerves into sharp awareness.

In a beat she normally wouldn’t have been able to move in, she shifted her center of gravity.

Her legs slid out beneath her like on ice as she dropped into a low stance,

And just as she arched her waist like a bow—

Whoosh!

For a moment, time seemed to slow.

Josephine watched the blade cut through the air.

It passed cleanly through the strands of her bangs.

It was quite literally a moment when death brushed right past her eyes.

A normal person’s legs would’ve given out from the sheer horror of it, but Josephine moved like a machine.

With her gloved left hand, she grabbed the blade that had shot out from the private room and pulled herself upright, then drove her own blade back into the room in return.

Thud.

She had only taken a rough guess based on the angle the enemy’s blade had appeared from, but it seemed luck was on her side.

She felt the tremor travel up her sword, followed by the enemy’s strangled groan.

She had never imagined someone would be hiding inside the private room.

But the danger wasn’t over yet.

“You can’t just ignore me!”

Seizing the moment when Josephine’s sword was caught in the private room window, the bandit in front of her swung his blade, aiming straight for her neck.

Clack.

Josephine clenched her teeth.

If she let go of her sword and backed off, she could avoid it.

But then she’d lose her weapon.

Even for Josephine, fighting a skilled swordsman unarmed wasn’t realistic.

Sure, she could try to improvise or rely on luck but with someone behind her she absolutely had to protect, she couldn’t afford to gamble on chances.

Then what? Sacrifice an arm to retrieve the sword?

There has to be another way…!

Her eyes flashed.

The moment she made the decision, her hand shot out and flung open the door to the private room on her right.

The very room where the attacker who ambushed her had been hiding.

Crash!

The blade aimed at Josephine slammed into the thick wooden door, and she quickly reached through the small window set into it.

Between the iron grates of the window, two different swords were lodged, each pointing in the opposite direction.

One belonged to the dead attacker who had targeted Josephine.

The other was Josephine’s, buried in the man she’d just killed.

Josephine pulled out the dead man’s sword, the one embedded deeper inside the room.

As for the bandit in the hallway who had narrowly missed her, instead of retrieving his own sword from the door, he grabbed the blade sticking out through the window, the one Josephine had used, and swung it at her.

And so, both fighters found themselves wielding weapons that weren’t their own.

Shiiing!

As if drawing swords fresh from their scabbards, the two resumed their clash without pause.

Clang! Cling! Thwack. Clang!

The longer the fight dragged on, the faster and fiercer their exchange became.

Low thrusts aimed at the legs were blocked with upright blades; strikes aimed at the torso were parried using the guards of their hilts.

When Josephine deflected an incoming thrust with her gloved left hand and launched a counter, the enemy would immediately respond in kind.

“This sword’s got a damn good feel to it. Talk about a lucky find.”

“And your friend’s dead, yet the sword’s what you care about first?”

“Tch. He’s the one who screwed it up. If he’d done his job, you’d be the one lying in a pool of blood right now.”

Suddenly, Josephine felt a sharp sting in her right eye.

At the same time, her vision began to blur. It started clouding over with a dark murky red.

The strike she thought she’d dodged during the earlier ambush through the window had, in fact, sliced just above her eyebrow.

Josephine raised her left hand to wipe the blood away.

But her opponent wasn’t about to let her.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

With a forceful step forward, the thug pressed in aggressively.

Whoosh. Whip.

Twice, his sword slashed through empty air. This likely meant more to keep her on edge than to land a real hit.

But in that instant,

Josephine sensed it. This was her chance to end the fight.

Her body reacted before her mind caught up.

Instead of simply stepping forward, she lunged in with her whole body.

She thrust her sword up toward her opponent’s head.

The strike missed….cleanly.

And the enemy immediately countered.

“Getting sloppy from all that blood, huh?!”

But that too was part of the setup.

Josephine caught the counterstrike…not with her blade, not with the crossguard, but with the knuckle bow of the hilt, and from a distance far closer than standard.

It was an odd stance. The handle was closer to her opponent than the blade, and the point of the sword was aimed back toward herself.

But that strange stance existed for one reason. Josephine was already mid-swing in her next attack.

Until now, neither swordsman had been able to put real force behind their slashes; the corridor was too narrow to allow for a full swing.

But here…. there was still just enough room for a blade to rotate.

With a smooth twist of her wrist and elbow, Josephine looped the blade inward rather than to either side.

Her sword traced a wide arc as it circled back over her head and came crashing down on the enemy from above.

Because Josephine had advanced, even if her opponent tried to retreat, he couldn’t escape the blow.

Worse, her timing beat his by a full beat.

He tried, too late, to raise his blade and block.

But Josephine’s slash, fully accelerated and precise, tore through his soft chest as if his guard didn’t matter.

Slice.

Bright red blood sprayed across the hallway, tracing the path of Josephine’s swing.