Chapter 46: Bait

Clang!

The sound of metal clashing echoed through the temple.

I looked up, seeing the sword in Nolan’s hand spin and fly out again.

The boy stepped back, panting slowly.

I gazed silently at the black iron longsword on the ground.

Since our first practice, some time had passed.

Underground, day and night blurred, but it felt like a day—maybe more.

This time, Nolan and I exchanged over twenty strikes.

He lost control during a spinning slash, and I seized the opening to knock his sword away…

“Sorry… my fault,” his blue eyes glimmered with shame.

He glanced around, then went to pick up the sword.

No—it wasn’t his fault, I thought.

Nolan was gradually syncing his steps with the sword’s guidance.

Not mastering the art, but under the sword’s lead, his moves were taking shape.

But—there was a fatal flaw.

I looked at his left hand, understanding the issue.

Darryl’s swordsmanship used both hands, but Nolan’s left arm was useless, leaving a gap.

During our third spar, I noticed this.

His already injured left arm, now completely limp, seemed worse than ever.

I vaguely guessed why—

Even normal buff magic burdens its target, let alone enchantments meant for weapons.

Combined with his old injury, it was a double blow.

Was it because he saved me and Kritiya?

That potion was meant for…

A dark thought flashed, but no, what’s done can’t be undone.

“So—let’s go again!”

Nolan gripped the sword, stepping forward eagerly.

I shook my head at his enthusiastic gaze:

“That’s enough…”

“Enough? What do you mean?”

“Well… we need to save energy. Wasting too much on practice means you won’t have strength to fight…”

I mumbled, unsure if I should tell him the truth.

Nolan had reached his limit; dragging this out was pointless…

“One more try! I’m getting the hang of it.”

Nolan’s loud voice cut through my hesitation.

I looked at him, wavering:

“Fine… last one.”

I muttered, almost to myself, then faced the boy:

“After this, we move.”

“Got it!”

Nolan pressed his lips, nodding.

I stood still, watching him.

This time, he didn’t strike the elven sword stance immediately, instead crouching cautiously, circling me—

I rubbed the rough, rounded hilt in my palm.

Nolan lunged with a side slash.

“As expected—this swordsmanship’s too rigid.”

The blade arced as I predicted.

It wasn’t Nolan controlling the sword; the magic guided him—

But his strength was immense, likely from lingering enchantments.

I sidestepped, dodging the edge—

“Hah!”

Nolan shouted, following with a horizontal slash.

I didn’t dare block, slipping aside—

We traded a dozen predictable blows.

It felt like memorizing a game boss’s patterns—scary at first, but fixed moves became obvious.

Finally, in a gap between strikes, Nolan exposed a flaw.

I swung the flat of my blade at his back—

Clang!

Something unexpected happened.

A glitch disrupted the smooth, rigid swordplay.

Nolan spun, slashing back.

I could’ve dodged, but the surprise move distracted me.

When I reacted, I only managed to parry—

Nolan’s strength was overwhelming.

The blades clashed, my grip trembling, and his force pushed me back—

“Tiya!”

Nolan pulled back quickly, tossing his sword aside.

I steadied myself, staring at him in shock:

“That was—”

“Yeah, I realized this sword’s moves can’t beat you, Tiya.”

“So?”

I paused, recalling his spinning thrust—a move I’d used on him not long ago.

“So, it’s your swordsmanship,” Nolan said, scratching his hair, half-embarrassed, half-proud.

“Some parts of this sword’s style felt off. I wondered if mixing in other moves would work better—and tried it.”

Everyone has a competitive streak, and Nolan was no exception.

After repeated failures, landing a hit must’ve thrilled him.

I looked at the excited boy, smiling, realizing again the absurdity of a “protagonist”—

Just half a day ago, a clueless rookie, now picking up Kritiya’s and my basic moves?

“Fine, you win…”

Nolan leaned the sword against the wall, approaching me.

I turned sharply, looking outside the temple, saying calmly, “Time for the next step.”

A hand reached out before me.

Nolan’s voice followed:

“So… let’s go, master.”

“Don’t joke like that…”

I muttered, face turned aside, grabbing his hand to stand.

***

“Listen—next, I’ll be the bait. The eyeball prioritizes me over you, so I’ll lure it down, giving you a chance—”

“No way! Let me—”

“I’m trusting you with this. Don’t let me down, okay?”

“Wait—hold on!”

Nolan hid in the temple’s shadows, watching the plaza.

The slender girl, half-holding, half-dragging her longsword, strolled before the hall, shouting provocatively like a naughty child.

Soon, a purple glow descended from the sky.

A faint buzz rang out.

Nolan saw the girl’s body tremble—

Then she swayed, as if in pain.

“Come on—think this stuff… works on me?”

Her clear voice quavered.

She swung her sword wildly, stumbling.

Nolan’s heart pounded, but he couldn’t look away.

Despite the distance, he swore he saw pain flash in her green eyes.

“Urgh—just this much? If that’s all you’ve got…”

Kritiya knelt, propping herself with her sword.

Nolan felt the urge to rush out, but her tactical words echoed:

“Listen—there’s one chance. I have a way to lure it down. You act only when it’s low, when you’re sure you can hit it”

But now, Kritiya’s real voice drowned out the memory:

“Ugh—come on, I’m not scared! Urgh… what is this… stay back, don’t come closer!”

The purple light grew thicker.

The girl, as if seeing an invisible foe, showed fear, slashing at the air.

Her voice weakened, whimpering, retreating clumsily, clutching her head with one hand, waving the sword with the other, glancing back in terror.

Watching this, Nolan clenched his teeth, suppressing the urge to charge.

“I’ll act weak to lure the eyeball down. Whatever you see—crazed rants or sobbing—it’s all an act. Remember that.”

Yes—I remembered.

It was all planned.

One chance—

But… was this really an act?

If it was, Nolan thought, she could star at the Imperial Royal Opera, captivating audiences with a wave and a mournful glance, bringing them to tears.

But he had no taste for tragic plays.

Watching her performance, he wanted to shut his eyes, but knew closing them would be selfish, risking their chance.

Waiting felt like endless torture.

Her sobbing voice faded to faint murmurs.

The eyeball monster descended, its gaze smug, approaching the gray-haired girl kneeling exhaustedly.

Nolan’s sweaty palm gripped the hilt tightly.

Now was the moment!