Carr

I don't have the slightest idea what a Legendary Skill is or how they differ from regular skills. At the end of the day, they were the same as far as I was concerned. Who cared what slightly different brand of bullshit they were? In the end they were just stupid fucking numbers for me to crush.

But I had triggered it in some way he said.

[Nameless the Assassin]

[Level]: 15

[Swordsmanship]: 0

[Sword]: 690

His [Swordsmanship] was…zero? Wasn't it higher than that a second ago? Was he hiding his numbers now? I couldn't think of a purpose for that though. It's not like I cared much about numbers and after Valle I knew when to be ready for it. Was that a trick?

"How lucky I am…how lucky I am…" the Longswordsman said. "I came here for a simple job…and instead I manage to fight you…and activate my [Legendary Skill]. I am truly a man blessed by the Gods! Ahh….Lord Johan…is that what you were like when you were younger?"

Mentions of Johan and the past were enough to put me in a bad mood. "You talk too much," I grumbled. "Shut up, Nameless, if that's your real name. Fence me."

"As you wish."

He charged at me again and this time things were different. His footwork was flawless and he knew exactly where to place his blade—I didn't know much about longsword, but the little I did know told me there were no flaws in his moves. No. It wasn't just that which scared me. It was the type of mastery he displayed now.

Despite wielding a longsword, he bounced toward me, like a modern fencer would have.

Many HEMA—historical European martial arts—practitioners frowned upon moves like that because they were either too 'sporty' or 'modern' as it was simply not something that old fencers would have done(well, there is a measure of debate there as there often is with historical swordsmanship). I will grant them this: no historical sources to the best of my knowledge tell us of bouncing footwork. That said, none of them argue against it. Maybe they thought it was so obviously the superior footwork they never mentioned it or more likely they never thought of modern footwork until later on. This is a matter of historical guesswork, but as we have evidence that bouncing footwork while existent was mostly seen as a fringe movement in classical fencing, I imagine it wasn't the norm.

But I position that if you see HEMA as less of a piece of frozen history and move of a living sport, you should probably fucking bounce most of the time unless you have a very specific gameplan. It's fantastic. In one of HEMA's best tournaments, Swordfish, I remember watching Lehto and Konopacki's Longsword finals; Konopacki's beautiful bouncing footwork allowed him to score numerous beautiful straight thrust that went unanswered due to his sheer speed—though attributing his victory only to that would be a disservice to the man's technique, athleticism and strategy. There's just something beautiful about taking a classical discipline and applying modern principles to it.

That said, this is somewhat controversial opinion that I hold. Many coaches will admonish their students for using modern footwork and when you win a tournament with said footwork someone who can't even finish running a goddamn 5k will whine and say, 'Well, he won but that wasn't historical so it doesn't count, really' based on some logic only they understand.

So I was very surprised to see the Longswordsman approach me with bouncing footwork. It's perfect. It's exactly how I would do it. What else would I do? How would I approach it? Thrusts. My primary lesson in longsword was Meyer, who did not really encourage thrusting attacks for a lot of reasons—though there was some of that in that system. But I was a goddamn épée fencer at heart and thrusting is what I did. I picked up thrusting attacks here and there and made them work—honestly, Meyer was a terrible basis for how I liked to fence longsword. So what will you do, Longswordsman?

And to my surprise, he went with a thrust.

There was some disguise of his intentions and shifting of his guard, to be sure, but his thrust came straight and I could only scarcely defend myself against it. A longsword was a two handed weapon, though there were one-handed moves—I could hardly count on my damaged left arm to be of much use here. I could still rest some weight on it, but it didn't make for much finesse.

"What the hell?" I asked, as I retreated to a safer distance. "You're a completely different person now."

"It's his skill," Valle shouted. "He…he did something with it."

A horrible theory passed through my head. I wanted to test it out as soon as possible. If it were me…against a nearly one-handed opponent…I would stay out of range, bounce and go for a thrust. Even if I got parried, if they were effectively one handed, so long as I didn't commit too deep I would be mostly safe. No need to overly complicate things. I could also in theory try to disarm myself in some way—that was probably the better approach. But I hadn't practiced much disarming and I was more confident in my bouncing and straight thrusting than anything else. Still, a bind or a disarm would have been the right solution, just not my solution.

Strangely, it was also his solution. The Longswordsman bounced just outside my range, then lunged at me—or the longsword version of a lunge, rather—grazing my left shoulder as I was too slow in my defense. Still, it was all he got.

"You…it's not reading my mind. You just…" I hesitated. "You…you know everything I know about fencing now, don't you?"

The mad Longswordsman laughed—no, he cackled. Rain had started to fall now; less of a rain and more of a greasy mist, splashing behind him and giving him almost something of a misty aura. "Not just what you know about fencing. I have learned everything you have ever known. Every memory—including your muscle memory. It doesn't matter what weapon we use. Longsword, épée, smallsword—I now know everything you know. Only both my arms are healthy…and even though it's only a small amount, I have [Swordsmanship] to power my strikes. What will you do, Swordsman of Zero?"

Ah…this was a problem. If he really was fencing like me, then—

"I WON'T GIVE YOU THE TIME TO THINK!"

He bounced aggressively toward me and I did the same. He thrusted at me from outside my range, missing me barely. I did the same but actually landed the hit—however, it was shallow, and he brought his blade underneath mine to push it off his shoulder and then attacked me in an afterblow. The cutting wasn't disastrous, but it did hit me. I wasn't sure how much damage it had inflicted because it targeted my nerve damaged arm and frankly I didn't have much feeling there.

"What's the matter, Swordsman of Zero? Can't handle yourself?"

"I guess it makes sense why Johan sent you now…" I said slowly. "A weak assassin, but in a one-on-one scenario there shouldn't be too many people that can beat you." I paused. "Wait, no, there should be tons of people that can defeat you. Even if you copy their skills, you can't copy their [Skills]. Someone with high enough stats should be able to defeat you…what kind of assassin are you?"

"He can copy it…" Valle shouted. "Legendary Skills trigger when you have drawn blood from your opponent a certain amount of times. His skill apparently only needed once…and when you grabbed his blade was enough."

I looked at the Longswordsman and smiled bemusedly. "Oh man, your skill lets you copy your opponent's [Swordsmanship]? I'm the worst fucking opponent for you, my dude."

He did not appear to think so. Nameless twitched, moving his arms back and forth in an excited fashion. Something about this situation appeared to amuse him. "Do you not understand, Zero? As long as I can copy someone's [Swordsmanship] I will win if I have the better sword. Even if we have the same sword…「He Who Whispers」will tell me everything I need to do to win."

That reminded me…why hadn't the sword magnetism triggered when we clashed blades? I had stolen his longsword, it should have stats, did it not?

[Sword]: 0

When did it become zero? When I grabbed it? Or when he made a new one? No…that isn't important right now.

Again he charged at me. I held firm. If he was fighting based on my limited longsword knowledge he wouldn't commit to a killing attack except for thrusts, and those I could parry even with my limited leverage, albeit at a cost. To say that the blood price was heavy was understating it—in three exchanges I managed to half deflect his blade and only partially succeed, losing much blood in grazing exchanges. I should be thankful he is copying my skills instead of being an actual master. I'm shit at longsword, if I were fencing Valder right now I'd be dead many times over. Still…

I had a clear disadvantage now. He copied all of my moves except he was less injured, faster and stronger due to [Swordsmanship]. This very fact disproved his earlier claim—he wasn't fighting exactly like me. The Longswordsman was better than me right now. This meant I could dismantle him. About as tall as me…much scrawnier though. If not for [Swordsmanship] he would struggle with the weight of the weapon and it's not even that heavy.

"CARR!" I recognized Celle's voice and the number of footsteps beside her. They had all arrived. "Step away, we haven't made you a new sword yet!"

"I will take this one," Fedal said. "Isabella is still fucked and she's not used to having only one eye. Let me handle this one, Carr!"

Isabella made a loud sound of protest, more a screech than an argument, before actually elaborating on her point. "Doesn't matter if I only have one eye. If that guy copies your [Swordsmanship] we're all fucked!"

Have you ever had that feeling? When your friends argue about what the best way to help you is and you are standing there, still trying to get your task done, and all you want to scream is thanks guys, but please shut the fuck up? Because that was very much my vibe when I had to barely block another one of the Longswordsman's strikes and nearly failed to do so when they were distracting me.

"Guys, I would really appreciate it if you—"

"Legendary Skills have a time limit!" Valle shouted. "He can only use it for 1002 seconds from the moment of activation. If you can outlast him, he would have to activate it again to be able to do that!" I heard the sound of a struggle, like Valle had fallen but stood up right after. His injuries were a concern, I should end this quickly. "Not only that…why did he already have a good stance before he activated his skill but without the muscle memory? There must be more to his technique than he said, Carr!"

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"Doesn't matter, just tag me in!" Fedal shouted.

Another sound of annoyance from Isabella. "No, let me in!"

It took me some effort—and some more blood loss—to survive another strike. That was it. My patience had run out. "Guys, I love you, but please SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I screamed as I retreated to a safe distance, which happened to be right beside them. "I'm not going to tag out. And I'm not going to try to exploit his [Skill] either. Why are you guys making it so complicated? I don't care what his numbers are. I don't care what his plan is. I don't care what the limitations in his [Legendary Skill] are. At the end of the day…" I pointed my blade at him. "He's just a guy I have to defeat."

"You can't defeat me, Zero," he said. Was that a taunt? Was this creature trying to taunt me? Did he not realize his mere existence was more of a taunt than his tongue could ever summon? "I am you, but stronger. 「He Who Whispers」 has told me everything about you…every technique you ever dreamed of…your past…your decisions. "

"You're not me if you're stronger. The moment you gain a skill you become someone else." I started to take a step forward when I felt Celle grab the back of my shirt. Hesitation clouded me for just a moment, then—"Let me go. I promise it won't take long."

Something about my confidence must have spoken to her deeply, because she let go without saying anything. I bounced toward the Longswordsman—towards the Faker.

Was destiny real? If so then mine was impressively petty, for it had presented me something I somehow hated more than [Skills]. Those stupid big numbers were bad enough, but here was a maniac who dared to copy me. Not only that, but he had used it on my stupid longsword skill—did he not know I was incompetent at it? Seeing him copy my mediocre attempts at longsword as if he were mimicking a master upset me more than I thought it would.

"Shall I enlighten you as to your mistake?" I asked. With some effort, I two-handed the sword—my useless arm gripped it after some trial and error and it would keep doing so, provided I didn't ask it to do anything fancy. "It's too bad. Maybe your stupid fucking trick would have worked on anyone else. Against me? I'm your worst possible matchup. I'm surprised Johan sent you against us." It was a mystifying decision. Why send him against us? Surely, such an assassin was an asset he wouldn't want to waste? And Johan had to know this man couldn't beat me, right?

"There is no mistake!" The man roared at me. "「He Who Whispers」has told me everything you can possibly do!"

"That's part of the problem, jackass." I rushed at him.

He had copied my memories and my muscle memory. Not only he knew everything I knew about fencing his body also knew exactly how to behave. But there was one thing he hadn't copied. One thing I noticed when he continued to thrust at me exactly as I would have. This dumb fucking creature hadn't copied my adaptability.

Yeah, I would probably have used shallow one-handed thrusts against an injured opponent of similar skill but worse levels of athleticism. But only if I were fencing against a normal person. If I were up against someone of my level, I wouldn't want to prolong the match. The longer it went for, the more someone like me would be likely to adapt and become stronger. I would have made the decision to change my strategy and go for a finishing hit. But this man was sticking to what my general strategy would be and not adapting to the fight.

He was too rigid.

He had never fought by himself before. He just relied on the habits and memories of the people he copied and let the stats difference speak for itself. Against most people in this world, usually untrained, this would have been enough. But against me?

"The first difference between us is that you don't have the balls to make a decision by yourself, you piece of shit."

I moved toward him and he readied himself. At my top speed, I could barely manage an attack before him. No…maybe with his [Swordsmanship] he could have stopped my move in time. But he was following my own fencing knowledge. The problem with that was that I didn't have supernatural fencing powers, so in my head, the right decision would have been to parry the attack instead of killing me before I could do anything.

"SECOND FLAW, YOUR MOVES ARE FOLLOWING A PLAN CREATED FOR A DIFFERENT BODY THAN YOURS!"

It was a very telegraphed overhead strike. Longswords are hard to feint with—at least in the way I'm used to—and it was better for my purposes that he attempted to parry me traditionally. This wasn't something I would have ever done and I doubted it was a memory of mine he could easily access. Still, the possibility was there, and given these circumstances, I knew how to counter him.

My blade came down and he lifted his in a parry—blade pointed toward the wall, both hands raised high up to block the vertical strike with his horizontal blade. Our blades touched each other for a moment and I saw the triumph he felt when our eyes met. Words were unneeded; the situation spoke for itself. You are weaker than me, so from this position I'm going to move your blade aside and kill you. His threat spoke for itself. He did not expect me, however, to drop my blade just as steel met steel, then squat down, while his arms were still raised over his head and wrap my arms around his hips.

"THIRD FLAW: YOU'RE A SCRAWNY FUCK AND I'M AN ATHLETE!"

I lifted him high up in the air. It's a funny thing, lifting someone up—so long as you don't intend on doing it safely, it's actually pretty easy. All you need is to pick them up from low enough. He struggled and brought down his pommel onto my head, but it wouldn't stop me. The man did not have enough leverage to put much force behind the strike, and nearly as soon as I had lifted him, I turned around and slammed his back onto the floor.

It's a funny thing, slams.

You can do a surprising amount of things after you're stabbed—it hurts, but if nothing lethal was reached and you haven't lost that much blood you can pretty much keep going as if nothing happened. Once you're slammed, however, your body can pretty much shut down even if nothing lethal has been hurt. The sheer impact is too much and chances are your back and head both can't handle it.

Under normal circumstances, that is.

"Get up, you loser!" I exclaimed. "I know your stupid [HP] means you aren't dead yet, so stand the fuck up and let's finish this."

I could have picked up my fallen sword and merely stabbed him while he was down on the floor. But I didn't want that. Not by a long shot. This creature's existence annoyed me and he had been taunting me for too long for me to let it end like that. While he was down, I walked around to pick up my blade, true. Only it wasn't the one anyone expected me to pick up.

"In the end, it has to be you, doesn't it?" I asked my Vniti épée when I picked it up. I pressed the button at the end a few times—surprisingly, it was still functional and the spring hadn't rusted over our voyage. "Nothing else will feel right."

"CARR ARE YOU SERIOUS?" Valle shouted. "THAT'S NOT A REAL SWORD!"

"Was real enough to beat you," I said. He replied with some sort of curse, but I didn't think it mattered. I was gonna give Valle his rematch at some point. "Shall I enlighten you, Longswordsman, about the fourth flaw in your technique?"

With effort the man stood up and took numerous steps backwards, until his back was nearly to the hole in the wall he had created and he held his sword at me. "I am not done yet. 「He Who Whispers」will save me…any tricks you can come up with I have already thought of. I know all your épée moves! Lunges, flèches, parries—there's nothing I don't know how to do!"

"There's one," I said simply. "You don't know how to win."

He had all my muscle memory, skill and knowledge I acquired over many years. On top of that, a longsword was a much heavier and longer weapon than the épée. His advantage must have seemed monstrous at this point from his perspective. The lack of complaints from Celle and the others meant they had likely already seen the issue with his plan as well.

The Longswordsman came at me with a thrust—I ducked underneath him and let him walk into my blade. It was the same passtta sotto I had used against the Executioner, only my blade wasn't sharp this time. Still, I felt my button at the end of my blade click and the blade bent on contact, which pleased me. "If this was sharp, you'd be dead," I said.

He leaped back and tried slashing at me—I retreated then lunged at his shoulder. Contact was made, the button was pressed, and then I retreated before he could attack me again. "HOW ARE YOU DODGING THIS, SWORDSMAN OF ZERO?" He cried out. "I KNOW ALL YOUR SKILLS! YOU CAN'T BE OUTPERFORMING YOURSELF!"

"You're right. I'm not. You really don't get it yet?"

The Longswordsman approached me and attempted at a straight thrust from a bouncing position once again. I waited for his distance to fall short, and then closed in with a lunge, going through his left eye before retreating to safety again. There had been no need to hurry back to safety: the Longswordsman screamed like a mad man and didn't appear like he could attack me so easily.

"FOURTH FLAW: YOU COPIED SOMEONE'S SHITTY LONGSWORDSMAN SKILLS!" I screamed. "I'm really bad at longsword but I'm excellent at épée. Even smallsword and rapier would have been better options, but you had to show up with a longsword eh? Bad choice my friend, bad choice. You copied my worst ability—that's just handicapping yourself, honestly." I laughed and gestured at the floor where the man had summoned his second longsword from before. "As for your fifth flaw…how about we make this more entertaining? Summon an épée. Make it fair. That might make it a much closer match."

"I…I can't!" The man appeared positively outraged at my suggestion. "I can't create weapons just summon them from the armoury. The only épées are Lord Johan's!"

Now I really wanted him to summon those. "Why, if you kill me and return the blade there, Johan will never know, will he? Unless…you think I won't let you return."

It was a transparent taunt but it had been all it took. "YOU'LL REGRET THIS, ZERO!" He screamed like a wild animal as a green hole formed beside him and I saw an épée slowly float upwards until he grabbed it. It wasn't Godslayer but it was quite the blade. Ignoring stats and all of that boring shit, it just looked nice.

"You'll regret not finishing me off when you had the chance," he cried out.

"Doubt it,"I replied. "I'm gonna level with you, my man, I really want to steal Johan's sword now, just to see the look on his face when he realizes it's gone."