A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat

Chapter 25.2: First Princess Assassination Attempt (4) Part 2

There’s a saying that when rage surpasses a certain threshold, exceeding the capacity of the human mind, it leaves one cold and indifferent.

I had dismissed it as just a saying at the time.

But now, faced with the reality of it, I couldn’t shake off a strange feeling.

“Hey.”

The trembling in my body ceased.

My ragged breaths from moments ago calmed, as if by magic.

It was cold.

As if my heart had frozen solid.

“What did you just say.”

An excessively emotionless voice.

It might sound strange, but this was the maximum extent of my rage.

My emotions gradually faded.

In their place, a chillingly calm rationality began to consume me.

“Say that again.”

Capturing them alive.

That thought had long vanished from my mind.

All I could think about now was

how to make their deaths as agonizing as possible.

How to make that mouth, which dared to mock my mother’s death, beg for its life.

“…”

My mind made up, I raised my sword once more.

It was simple.

I would do what I wanted to do.

With that thought, I kicked off the ground.

“He’s coming…!”

“Stall for time, no matter what!!”

Stall for time?

Did they really believe that was possible?

Their words struck me as comical, and I let out a faint sneer.

-Clang!!

My sword swung lightly, clashing with the sword of the robe in front of me.

Sparks flew.

I pushed forward, breaking through his defenses.

-Kang!! Kik, kreeek…!

As we engaged in a power struggle, our blades locked together,

another robe, who had stealthily approached from the side, lunged at my neck with a thrusting attack.

It was a decent combination.

But they should have chosen their opponent more carefully.

“Ugh, ptooey.”

I gathered the blood pooling in my mouth and spat it at the robe’s face.

“Kuh…?!”

The blood splattered across his eyes, blinding him.

His swordsmanship faltered, his vision obscured.

His attack missed its mark, narrowly avoiding my neck.

I didn’t miss the opportunity.

I quickly shoved aside the robe in front of me and grabbed a fistful of his long, flowing hair.

“W-wait…!”

-Slice

A silver line flashed through the air.

A fountain of blood erupted, drenching my face.

His cleanly severed head lay in my hand.

As I stared down at my trophy with an impassive face, I saw the robe I had pushed aside charging back towards me.

“Aaaaagh!!!”

He roared in fear, swinging his sword wildly.

I effortlessly deflected his attack with one hand,

while my other hand, still clutching the severed head, swung it like a mace.

-Swoosh… Thud!!

The head, hurled with all my might, slammed into the robe’s temple with a sickening thud.

He staggered for a moment,

then lost his balance and collapsed.

I stabbed the fallen robe with my sword, my eyes fixed on the last remaining assailant.

“…Shit.”

It was the one who had gleefully mocked my mother’s death just moments ago.

I sneered.

Then, I charged towards him, my feet pounding against the floor.

“Damn it…!”

He cursed, preparing to counterattack.

I raised my sword, accepting his audacious challenge.

Then,

a fierce clash of steel echoed through the banquet hall.

-Clang!!

My sword danced, weaving through his defenses, exploiting every opening.

Attacks like a swarm of bees, defense like a fluttering butterfly.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t withstand my relentless assault and began to retreat.

-Clang! Crack…! Thud!!

One step.

Two steps.

I gradually herded him towards the trap I had set.

The fierce exchange continued for a while.

Then, as he took his fifth step back,

“…!!”

He tripped over something, losing his balance and falling to the ground.

It was an arrow that had brought him down.

One of the arrows I had deflected with Reflect earlier, embedded in the floor.

-Slice!

Without hesitation, I launched my final strike.

A silver afterimage traced an arc, rising from low to high, and the sound of flesh and bone parting filled the air.

-Clang! Thud…

A flurry of sounds followed, scattering across the floor.

His sword lay there, along with his severed hands.

“Whew… Now then. Shall we have a little chat?”

I calmly addressed the man, sprawled on the ground, his face a mask of bewilderment.

It was time for him to pay.

To pay for daring to speak of my mother’s death.

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