Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 241

Chapter 241: Learn Swordsmanship?
 

As Field’s aura flared with a vibrant blue, it enveloped the sword platform in a dense spiritual pressure, creating an almost tangible tension in the air.

“Well, here I come,” Ryan announced calmly, his voice slicing through the charged atmosphere. With his greatsword gripped in one hand, he advanced towards Field. His pace was deliberately slow, so much so that it seemed almost comical. To any casual observer, his movement was unhurried, perhaps even clumsy, certainly not the stride of a seasoned warrior.

Yet, Field, standing in the heart of the platform, perceived something entirely different. Every instinct honed by years of combat screamed a warning with each of Ryan’s deliberate steps. It was as though the very air around Ryan thrummed with potential energy, holding Field in a cautious stillness, his heart pounding against his will.

To the crowd, it appeared as if Field merely stood with an air of disdain, facing down the audacious challenger who dared approach him so boldly with such a cumbersome weapon.

“A level 2 daring to challenge a level 4? Does he think the Hurricane Swordsman is that gentle?” murmured a spectator, amusement lacing their tone.

“There’s something interesting to watch here,” another agreed, the audience’s murmurs swelling into a chorus of anticipatory whispers.

Field, with his acute senses, caught every word, but addressing the crowd was the furthest thing from his mind. The closer Ryan got, the more overwhelming the sense of impending danger became, drowning out all other sounds until only the heavy thuds of his own heartbeat filled his ears.

This standoff couldn’t continue. With a fierce cry of “Drink!” Field attempted to quash the internal alarms blaring within him. His spiritual energy, a vibrant green, exploded forth, propelling him forward in a blur. His sword, an extension of his will, sliced through the air, aimed directly at Ryan’s face.

The strike, fueled by a blend of intricate techniques and raw power, was devastatingly swift, a lethal dance of steel and spirit that could fell even an equal opponent.

Ryan’s hair fluttered back from the gust, his eyes shimmering with an intensifying blue glow. The sword tip neared, a mere meter away from its target.

Yet, as it approached, Ryan’s expression shifted subtly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Before Field could decipher it, a shocking force paralyzed his sword arm, rendering it numb. Panic surged as he found himself defenseless, his sword halted by the immense weight of Ryan’s greatsword now resting ominously on his shoulder, its edge mere millimeters from his neck.

The weight of the blade pressed uncomfortably against Field, his shoulders straining under the unexpected burden. He gazed into Ryan’s eyes, still smiling, baffled by the strength required to wield such a massive sword single-handedly.

The touch of the cold steel against his skin sent a chill down his spine, goosebumps erupting across his neck.

A tense silence fell over the platform, heavy with the expectation of Field’s imminent surrender. However, just as he braced himself to voice his defeat, he felt the pressure on his shoulder lift unexpectedly.

As the dust settled on the sword platform, Ryan, his greatsword now sheathed across his back, turned and descended the steps with a composed stride.

“I give up,” he declared lightly, his voice cutting through the tense air to reach Field’s ears.

Field stood frozen, the words echoing in his mind. Disbelief and confusion washed over him. Was this…?

It wasn’t until Ryan’s figure had fully disappeared from the arena that the realization hit Field like a cold splash of water, he had just been utterly dismissed.

The fleeting look of disappointment in Ryan’s eyes now haunted him, casting a shadow of humiliation that welled up within. This wasn’t merely about losing a match; it was the casual, almost indifferent manner in which Ryan had walked away after such a clear victory that seemed to stomp on Field’s pride.

Mixed within Field’s surge of fury was an undercurrent of fear and helplessness, emotions he was loath to acknowledge. Thus, instead of a victorious roar, he stood silent and deflated on the platform, reminiscent of a forsaken pup in the rain.

…

After leaving the stage, Ryan quickly vanished from the public eye. With his superior skills and swift exit, the level three onlookers, still reeling in shock, had no chance of keeping pace, even had they wished to follow.

Ryan eventually found solitude far from the clamor of Sky City, at a cliff overlooking the sea. Sitting cross-legged, he gazed out at the relentless waves, a sigh escaping him.

“Alas…” he muttered, his disappointment in Field’s swordsmanship palpable.

As a senior fourth-level master and a core disciple of the Sky Sword Dojo, Ryan had held certain expectations. He had hoped for a fulfilling sparring session, a true test of his skills honed to near mastery.

Field was undoubtedly fast, his proficiency hovering between a skilled practitioner and a master. Yet, it was still not enough. Ryan’s own technique, the “True Charge Slash,” had propelled his Storm Swordsmanship to what he considered a “Master Level.” Since then, he had only advanced further, leaving competitors like Field appearing fraught with vulnerabilities.

The disparity was stark, rendering Field’s moves predictable and riddled with flaws through Ryan’s eyes. This level of skill couldn’t showcase even a fraction of the artistry he had witnessed in the performances of the Sky Sword Hall’s leader.

Ryan pondered whether his own strength had outpaced the dojo’s offerings or if the calibre of its core disciples had waned.

He had entertained thoughts of challenging Chief Sky himself, but the visibility of such a move held him back. After considerable deliberation, he decided against it, unwilling to draw undue attention.

For now, Ryan would carry his expectations and his doubts alone, against the backdrop of the endless sea, hoping that perhaps, somewhere beyond the horizon, a worthy challenge awaited.

As the twilight deepened, Ryan found solace in the thought of engaging in a fierce battle with the mythical corpse dragon under the cloak of night, a challenge that excited him far more than any human adversary had of late.

Lost in his reflections, a sudden, clear voice pierced the solitude: “You seem disappointed?”

Startled, Ryan spun around. His heightened senses, both spiritual and physical, had failed to detect any nearby presence, an unnerving realization. He scanned the surroundings and his gaze landed on a familiar figure perched casually on a tree branch.

“It’s you?!” Ryan’s eyes narrowed in recognition and surprise.

There, with a playful swing of her legs and a sweet smile, was Noel, the girl from the audience at Sword Platform No. 6, her white garment contrasting starkly against the darkening sky.

“Who are you?” Ryan asked, his tone wary as he stood and reached for the hilt of his greatsword.

“Hehe, the greatsword is also a one-handed sword, right? I’m dying of laughter, hahaha…” Noel’s laughter rang out, unguarded and merry. She then leapt down from the branch with a grace that belied her jovial nature, landing lightly on the ground.

“Mr. Ryan, didn’t I tell you who I am earlier?” Noel continued, her smile persisting. “You look quite disappointed with Field’s swordsmanship. It’s true, his technique is quite lacking, and it’s been that way for years.”

“Then, Mr. Ryan, let’s make this cliff our sword platform. Allow me to show you the real Sky swordsmanship. How about that?” Her proposal floated through the air, mingling with the breeze.

Ryan’s response was a silent, stern tightening of his grip on his sword, his posture tensing as he prepared for what may come.

“You attack first,” Noel invited, drawing her own weapon, a standard one-handed longsword of impressive, but not exceptional, quality.

Despite its ordinary appearance, Ryan’s expression remained taut. Noel’s ability to approach him undetected was a clear indicator of her formidable skills, either in stealth or in strength surpassing his own perceptions.

With no room for underestimation, Ryan channeled his full power. His spirituality surged, enveloping him as his [Storm Battle Body] and the “Third Stage” activated simultaneously. A hazy black light shimmered around his greatsword as the [Food War] ability kicked in.

After ingesting the “Blade Heart,” his [Special Sword Skill·Attack Collision] had evolved into [Special Sword Skill·Charge Collision], granting him unparalleled speed and momentum.

As the last light of day faded, the cliffside transformed into a makeshift arena, the air crackling with the promise of a duel that would perhaps restore his faith in the challenge that the Sky Sword Dojo could offer.

Now, Ryan’s [Tide of Pain] had amplified his attributes to their zenith: his [spirituality] peaked at 54 while his [physical strength] hit the ceiling at 100. For a fourth-level professional, this was the absolute limit, the upper threshold of what [Tide of Pain] could boost. Describing Ryan’s skill level as merely “terrifying” seemed an understatement; it was unprecedented for someone of his tier.

With [Special Sword Skill: Charge and Collision] activated, the air around Ryan thickened, taking on the properties of a dense fluid that allowed him to touch the brink of subsonic speeds. Although his Wandering Clone could surpass the speed of sound with [Special Sword Skill: Crash], his original body, slightly less robust, maxed out just shy of that mark. Nonetheless, the speed was formidable.

His sword, empowered by formidable force, swung ruthlessly towards Noel’s neck. In dealing with this enigmatic opponent, her strength, origins, and intentions all cloaked in mystery, Ryan withheld no mercy.

“That’s amazing…” Noel murmured, her eyes sparkling with admiration for a sword style she’d never before encountered.

Her response was swift and peculiar, a stance that appeared leisurely but masked a rapid execution. As Ryan’s [Crown Dragon Slaying Greatsword] descended, he heard a clear “ding,” and his blade passed harmlessly through Noel’s translucent form, striking the earth with a thunderous crash.

“Boom!”

The ground where the sword struck fractured and caved, creating a deep, menacing pit amid a cloud of dust. From this haze, a streak of green light zipped, halting a mere whisper from Ryan’s skin.

This moment was a mirror of his earlier confrontation with Field, only now the roles of victor and vanquished were reversed.

Noel, resheathing her sword with a metallic clang, flashed a mischievous smile. “Hey, Mr. Ryan, my swordsmanship isn’t too shabby, right? The Sky Sword Technique must have met your expectations.”

Ryan, collecting himself, fixed his gaze on her. “What do you want?” His voice was tinged with a blend of awe and suspicion.

Noel, clearly superior in skill and power, had managed to dissolve his full-force strike using barely a third of the spiritual power typical of a fourth-level professional. If she had intended harm, Ryan knew a mere flick of her wrist would have been lethal.

The disparity in their prowess was stark.

Noel’s eyes twinkled as she sensed his puzzlement. “If I say I followed you just because I found you interesting, would you believe me?”

Ryan’s silence was his response, heavy with skepticism.

“Well… got it!” Noel’s demeanor brightened, a new idea sparking to life. She leaned in, excitement palpable. “How about I teach you swordsmanship?”

Her suggestion hung in the air, intriguing yet daunting.

“I’m very curious to see how your ‘one-handed long sword’ would handle the Azure Sword Technique, haha.”

Her proposal was tempting, a rare opportunity to bridge the gap between his current capabilities and the elusive mastery that had just eluded him.