Supreme Swordfiend

Leon bit back his first response.

His second as well.

“Three people alive know what that aura is. The first and second are beyond my control. The third swore an unbreakable oath to never harm me. Unless you make the same oath, I’m not telling. Plus, we’re on T.V. No way are the public getting a scoop that juicy for free.”

William eyed him with confusion.

“Sorry what? We’re on TV?”

Watching the crimson pooling in the sand, Leon remembered he’d never explained that to anyone.

“Few billion people watching live at any moment. Helps with earning Fame. Not really important. Pretty sure they’re keeping the camera tied to me. I’m not hitting the next area today. Kinda wiped my mana reserves after dealing with Brucey. Go on and head back, William. I’ve got busy work to take care of.”

As William pulled himself to his feet, Leon felt compelled to speak again, his voice lower.

“Thanks, William. For helping me. If I’d kept spiralling back there, I’d have done something stupid.”

Lazily flicking a knife from hand to hand, the trickster replied with a wry smile.

“Anytime boss. Next time pick a fight with something on land. The others were just as worried- I told ‘em to hang back, didn’t want you crowded when you got out.”

William travelled back along the path towards home while Leon remained on the blood-soaked beach.

Alone with his thoughts once more, he reviewed.

A part of him gnashed its teeth in fury, that he’d accepted help implied weakness and Leon Knox would never allow weakness in himself.

The larger whole remained subdued. A pervasive feeling of loss dragged his thoughts down paths of comfortable familiarity.

Fears, that he’d lose himself to the bloodshed, lose what little of the man who’d entered the Tutorial remained.

Every day Leon felt more parts of himself slip away, whittled from the core through circumstances beyond his control. Refinement through reduction, a trimming of the fat.

The fat in this case being his moral scruples and sense of normalcy.

He diverted these thoughts as they cropped up, now fully cognizant that indulging himself in comfortable pity led to what Leon would dub ‘The Megalodon Incident’.

Busy work would keep both his hands and mind occupied.

Gutting Bruce took an hour, an hour of cutting through rancid meat, seeking a pearly white orb.

Once claimed, he then sliced the fins off, then stored them aside from the rest of the corpse.

He needed them for later.

Next on the list, the chest from the trial.

Popping it open revealed a single glowing scroll emblazoned with a flowing script.

“The Scroll of Uncomfortable Truths.”

Unfurling it, Leon watched as the text appeared, written in the same looping cursive.

“Take a mental health day. One day of rest and relaxation won’t kill you.”

Leon watched in stunned disbelief as another line followed.

“You need release. You’re pent-up and stressed. At least one of the three women on the island would enjoy some quality time with you. Wink wink, nudge nudge.”

Wrapping the scroll back up, Leon shoved it right to the back of his storage ring.

It seemed every written text in the multiverse existed just to annoy him.

The rest of his to-do list took him back to camp.

Walking back left him more time to think.

Perhaps, in the course of a normal life, his preferred coping mechanism- that of bottling all his negativity and sealing it away- would have worked.

In this life?

No chance.

He’d break and his experiences would warp him into a rabid beast.

To say nothing of his bloodline.

Its ever-present influence waned at present, despite his victory over Bruce.

Loss curtailed him.

The destruction of a family.

In time, the memories would fade.

Time Leon didn’t have.

One bad day, one wrong word. Hell, one intrusive thought.

It would send him racing over the edge again, searching for a fight to the death.

Two more trials, two more Unique bosses and then, presumably, a final boss in the volcano.

Three days left.

He just had to hold himself together for three more days.

Once the last obstacle lay broken and bloody at his feet, he’d sleep for a month.

The tale of the first Swordfiend, the man who’d spent millennia luxuriating in excess, had seemed like an exaggeration when he’d first heard it.

Now he understood better.

Enjoying a fight against a willing opponent still held appeal, but butchering entire families, putting defenceless non-combatants to the sword left marks on a man’s soul.

Against his expectations, the camp remained deserted, the pile of food on the table running dangerously low.

Restocking it took mere seconds, Leon considering his next move.

He owed Zerasos an apology for his standoffish behaviour.

Finding the devil sprawled on the now downright ratty beanbag, watching a replay of Leon ripping the Megalodon’s heart apart wasn’t what he’d expected.

Pocketing his crystal display, Zerasos turned a grin on Leon before the swordsman could speak.

“The second recorded Megalodon kill in the Proving Grounds. Ever. May as well be the first, since there’s no footage of any other kills. Goddamn kid. Even I thought you were dead. Shows what I know, eh? Y’know, they’re refusing to air it?”

Playing along, Leon asked the question Zerasos wanted to answer.

“Why’s that?”

Zerasos grin lengthened, shining teeth looking predatory.

“They’re scared. Scared all the other guides’ll push their participants to take on the overgrown fish. It’d be a bloodbath. The video of your kill is doing the rounds among those of us in the know. I got my guys beating down doors. We’ll force them to air it tonight. Don’t you worry, kid. No way we’re letting ‘em bury this.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Sorry, by the way. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

A scoff followed his apology.

“You should apologise when you lose or mess up, kid. Not when you do something that will make me even richer. Now scram! I got calls to make, people to threaten and blackmail to leverage!”

Chuckling as he left, Leon moved to the next item on his list.

Lightning magic.

Honestly, he would be surprised if Lightning’s Supremacy would work as he hoped.

Gaining back more mana than he put in seemed unlikely, yet the potential to regenerate his magical energy as quick as he could cast held great appeal.

Though it seemed he would have to wait- the camp remained deserted, Leon contenting himself to partake in a late lunch while waiting for someone to show up.

Burgers. Only burgers would soothe him, specifically triple-decker cheeseburgers.

Sucking down that greasy goodness, Leon could practically feel his arteries clogging with fat.

His vision alighted upon a freshly carved tree, one a short distance from the others that Pierre had converted into a domicile for Fred.

He’d refused the invitation to follow Leon, then proved his worth by recovering his lost sword.

Cowardice washed out with bravery.

Leon could, and would, forgive a moment of weakness.

He’d be hypocritical not to after his breakdown on the beach.

But he’d never forget it. He’d never fully extend his trust to Fred.

A stirring came from another of the treehouses, a woman emerging, rubbing sleep from her eyes, twin blades strapped to her side.

Bethany didn’t even see Leon as she pulled a seat out, then pulled a salad towards her.

Amused, Leon waited for her to notice him, which only took a minute.

Her head turned his way when she reached for a pitcher containing water, eyes briefly scanning him while she forced down a yawn.

“Morning. That’s a shoddy haircut.”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re a long way from the nearest barbers.”

He got to watch her snap straight into wakefulness as her brain caught up with her mouth.

“Leon! William woke everyone up this morning, yelling. Something about a shark?”

Traces of emotion flittered across her features.

One stood out over the others.

Fear.

Always fear.

Some hid it better than others, but any who knew him knew better than to let their guard drop.

Of more interest, she seemed excited.

Anticipatory.

Hungry.

The words on that damnable scroll crossed his mind and Leon forced them out.

Perhaps it had a point, but Leon wasn’t about to do anything he wasn’t comfortable being shared with the multiverse.

A sex tape would follow him to the grave- and possibly beyond.

That being firmly off the cards, he supposed a spar would help clear his mind before he collapsed into bed.

“Shark’s dead. Finish up your lunch. I need a sparring partner.”

Drawing his blades while he walked, Leon inspected them for any lingering damage.

Both deep crimson and blinding white remained pristine.

Wavecutter hadn’t suffered under the sea either, the blue blade remaining sharp and unchipped.

Having three swords on him felt novel.

Drawing his fourth from within his storage ring, the Sunlight Greatsword, he readied himself.

Silent and Scream couldn’t be used in a spar- a single nick would transmit their deadly venom to his training partner.

Bethany arrived with her swords at the ready.

She’d improved over the past few days- so now he’d push her. Drawing his greatsword into a ready stance, he announced his intent.

“I’ll be going all out. Let’s find your limits.”

He hadn’t really moved since his last level-up.

The boost of two hundred speed let Leon move faster than ever before, crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

Before the poor woman could react, his sword had stopped short of her neck.

A single bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she realised Leon could have killed her easily.

Removing his sword suddenly, he then retreated to his starting position.

“Too fast huh? My bad, let’s try... fifty per cent. Alright. Ready?”

This time, she saw him.

Saw the thrust of his blade aimed at her chest.

Leon watched with disinterest as she opted to dodge. Planting his feet, he transitioned from a thrust into a horizontal slice.

Two blades slammed into his sword, the force generated subsequently leveraged, used to vault over the carmine greatsword.

A hint of genuine amusement crept into Leon’s expression as their dance began.

The screaming of steel on steel rang for another five minutes before Leon disengaged.

Bethany remained in centerfield, hairs sticking out from her ponytail, a sheen of sweat covering her.

Quick breaths racked her body, a slight flush of exertion lit her cheeks.

In stark contrast, Leon remained in the same sloppy sleep-deprived state he’d started the fight in, absently scratching the tufts of a fresh beard he’d begun sprouting.

Throwing his sword into the dirt, point first, he made a snap decision.

“Stop thinking and stop defending.”

Her eyes met his, the frigidity of his tone commanding her attention.

Leon continued, not allowing an interjection.

“You think too much. Just move. Trust your judgements. The second you stop attacking me, I’ll take the momentum back. Deny me that opportunity. Now, again.”

She hesitated to strike as he advanced with only his fists, though soon felt herself pushed to the limit by evading strikes.

Their dance lasted only a pair of minutes this time, with Bethany eventually seizing an opening to counterattack.

A terribly harsh swing tore into Leon’s golden armour, the swordsman backing off to draw his weapon once more, offering congratulations.

“Yes! Just like that, good! Don’t think, feel.”

Slipping into the flow state took her less time, bladework chaining together a net of steel.

Strike by strike, she drove Leon on the back foot, his expression now full of genuine excitement.

Another screeching blow, accompanied by flecks of shorn metal, stopped the fight.

A gash in Leon’s gilded bracers, alongside a splatter of blood where the sword tip had caught exposed skin. The sight sent Bethany pale as a sheet.

Leon closed the wound with the replenished energy from his lunch, then nodded at his student.

She’d taken to the path of the sword well.

However, without a proper style, her skill would only carry her so far.

Imparting the Demonic Storm to another held no genuine risks- the style relied on talent and quick decision-making. Its leaking would expose very little of his strength.

Should this onetime student become someone important, she would always remember Leon’s favour.

A tiny part of Leon knew he did this not out of selfish self-interest but because he truly intended to uphold his promise to the people.

He would make them strong.

None of this showed on his face as he spoke.

“You’re ready. Get me a blank book by tomorrow and I’ll record my dual blades style in it. Now, you’re going to train alone and I’m gonna sleep for at least a day. Possibly more.”

Still stunned from having landed an actual cut on Leon, Bethany failed to reply, allowing Leon to return to his abode and flop into bed, still fully armoured up.

Sleep claimed him immediately.