I Became a Crazy Swordsmanship Instructor in the Game

Chapter 73:

“What’s this brat doing here?”

Several mercenaries who caught sight of Phillip intruding out of nowhere turned their bodies towards him. However, as they noticed Phillip’s demeanor, they felt a chill run down their spines and gulped nervously.

Usually, when a handsome and pretty young man or woman held a sword, they could be considered nobles.

Being handsome and pretty meant being born between well-off parents, and in this world, one could marry a beautiful wife or a handsome husband if they were wealthy or nobles.

Teaching the difficult art of swordsmanship was a task usually reserved for noble families, so it was reasonable to assume that someone who mastered it had spent a decade or more honing their skills within their family, making them a deadly weapon.

Furthermore, the young man in front of them showed no signs of tension in front of a dozen or so armed individuals.

‘… Huh?’

His appearance was enough to cool their head, which was heated due to the battle.

Sensing that the mercenaries had frozen for a reason, Phillip warned in a low voice, “I don’t intend to kill all of you, so don’t resist for nothing. Put down your weapons. If you resist, I can’t guarantee anything.”

The situation was somewhat different from the last Crescent incident. Assassins were lowly humans who killed for money, but mercenaries had a legitimate profession.

Of course, they also killed people, but given the norms of this continent, they could be seen as somewhat more aggressive contract workers, making Phillip a bit hesitant to shed blood recklessly.

Soon, the battle reached a lull. The groans of the wounded and the rough sounds of breathing were audible, but Phillip paid them no mind. Most of the veteran mercenary corp and upper-level porters had survived.

“Who are you over there?”

Pulling the embedded dagger from his body, the leader of the opposing mercenary corps asked. Phillip didn’t answer his question but extended his vacant left hand toward him.

“A contract.”

“What… a contract?”

“If you don’t want to be hung on the gallows with one arm and one leg severed, then quietly hand over the contract. Surely, you didn’t come all the way here to kill people without a contract. And if you really did, from now on, you’re not mercenaries anymore, you’re bandits, and you’ll all die right here.”

“Damn it. What’s he saying?”

The leader clenched the handle of his mace while swearing. The Bottom’s mercenaries had almost lost their combat strength, while his own mercenaries still had a considerable force left.

While it was evident that the young man, Phillip, had trained in swordsmanship as a noble, it didn’t seem likely he could take on a whole group of battle-hardened mercenaries alone.

Even if he could wield aura, facing ten opponents was a daunting task. The leader decided to put on a show of bravado and spoke up.

“Do you realize that asking mercenaries to hand over their contract is like asking them to give up their lives?”

Phillip tilted his head, amused by the leader’s words, and focused his attention. The blade shimmered with blue aura, and Neria woke up from her slumber.

‘Ugh… Master?’

“Are you saying to kill you all and take it away? It’s not my preferred approach, but if I have to, I will. Your commitment to your profession is quite commendable.”

Phillip admired the appropriate professionalism and slowly approached the leader, his sword poised. The leader’s face turned pale as if he had faced a grim reaper.

“T-This is my way of sincerely surrendering. Here’s the contract.”

The sword infused with aura was the very thing that could slice through solid plate armor like butter. The leader wasn’t bold enough to challenge someone with such extraordinary skill.

The leader retrieved the contract from his bosom and offered it to Phillip. After sheathing his sword, Phillip unfolded the contract. He appeared completely defenseless, but the leader had no intention of testing his luck.

“Damn… you’re alive.”

Battered and bruised all over their bodies from the intense fighting, Foundation Mercenaries let out a relieved sigh and slumped down in their places.

Bottom immediately rushed towards Masha, who had been injured, and confronted her with an exasperated tone, “Oh my, you crazy woman. What kind of a mess is this? If you had untied the rope, you should have concealed your body. Why did you throw a dagger? Did I teach you that?”

Masha sniffled as she retorted, “Why are you complaining even though I’m helping? But Captain, I can’t feel my arm. It was really painful a while ago… Will it heal?”

Bottom immediately inspected her injury. The shoulder blade and kneecap had been shattered to pieces, and recovery seemed nearly impossible.

If they could afford to spend a fortune to find a high-ranking priest or a healing magician from the White Tower, the situation might be different, but that was a difficult task even for most nobles.

“I guess you will have to make do with what human appearance you have left. You’ll have to live like cripples for a while.”

Masha let out a sigh of relief as Bottom, who couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth, spoke in that manner.

Meanwhile, Phillip examined the contract, and narrowed his eyes as he stared at the opposing leader.

“The content of the contract is about subduing bandits, is that correct?”

“Uh… well, that’s… um.”

The leader wiped cold sweat off his forehead and pressed his wound from the dagger with his hand.

“These people didn’t exactly look like bandits, and you must have known they were fellow mercenaries. It’s questionable why you attacked. Well, since the reason is obvious, I won’t ask separately.”

It was as if Delruan Josef’s influence was at play here. They probably intended to abduct one or two of these mercenaries or porters, torture them, and then provide evidence suggesting they were trying to capture Elf slaves.

Of course, even the noble judges wouldn’t be fooled, but if evidence had come forth, an investigation would have been necessary.

In other words, this was a ploy to buy time for their next move.

‘To do that, someone would have to manipulate this scene.’

As Phillip pondered up to that point, he suddenly felt a presence. Not far from there, someone relatively strong seemed to be hiding, observing the situation from a distance.

Phillip extended his hand towards the leader again. The leader, who couldn’t grasp its meaning, cautiously asked, “W-What… do you mean by this time?”

Without a word, Phillip pointed at the mace hanging from his waist. The leader, uncertain of its significance, gingerly held it with both hands.

After swinging it a few times, Phillip exerted all his strength and hurled the mace towards a nearby broadleaf tree, about ten meters away to the northwest.

“Whoa!”

With a sense of urgency, the sound of a sword slicing through metal resonated loudly. Someone who had deflected the attack skillfully descended from the tree.

It was a middle-aged man whose hair had started to whiten. His face was covered in scars, and his demeanor was sharp and cold.

“Young man, you have quite the intuition. Unfortunately, luck isn’t on your side. Even if you hadn’t noticed me, I was planning to discard the ruined chess’ pieces.”

The middle-aged man exuded the aura of an expert. If one were to ask what kind of expert, one could answer that he was an expert well-acquainted with stabbing, slashing, or killing people.

From his thin-soled shoes to his not-so-thick gloves and the spaulder worn only on his left shoulder, his equipment was optimized for killing. Such things were hardly necessary when dealing with demons.

Moreover, the fact that he had deflected the mace thrown by Phillip indicated his mastery of swordsmanship.

‘He must be the one Deluan sent to eliminate evidence.’

The middle-aged man turned his gaze towards Phillip, a smirk playing on his lips.

“… Phillip Oswald, the instructor from Privia Academy, isn’t it? If you’re from that prestigious academy, you must know how to wield a sword decently. Not that it would amount to more than a gentleman’s swordplay.”

Phillip tilted his head in response.

“Do I know you?”

The middle-aged man chuckled and nodded.

“I’m not entirely sure. Investigating the identity of a man about to kill you isn’t exactly a good idea.”

At that moment, the leader of the attackers, as if recognizing the middle-aged man, grabbed his weakened leg.

“… That bitch fooled me. Sending the ‘Sword of Betrayal’ behind us? She intended to kill us all.”

The name ‘Sword of Betrayal’ seemed to be quite famous among mercenaries, and Bottom also reacted to the name.

“Is that the infamous Sword of Betrayal?”

The middle-aged man was none other than Beast, the legendary swordsman of the mercenary world known as the Serpent’s Blade or Death Blade. While Phillip regarded him as a mere extra with no influence, his name invoked fear among mercenaries.

When someone wanted to erase all traces of a commission and avoid any detection, they would employ none other than Beast, the Serpent’s Blade.

‘What is Sword of Betrayel?’

Not particularly interested in his identity, Phillip asked him.

“So, Deluan Josef sent you?”

The middle-aged man responded with a hollow laugh.

“Yeah, she did. Does it matter? You’re all going to die here anyway.”

Phillip brushed aside his words and got to the point.

“Can you testify to this in trial? If you have no intention to do so, then I have no choice but to kill you and find out for ourselves. It seems like you’ve lived long enough to be worthy of death, but you still don’t want to die, do you?”

Finally, he seemed to realize that Phillip was ignoring him. Having lived half his life as a symbol of terror, he let out a quiet chuckle and then burst into loud, manic laughter.

“Haha, hahaha! Hahahahaha!”

After a few seconds of laughter, a sudden loud explosion resonated near his feet. Dust rose, and his body disappeared briefly.

Phillip sensed a threatening intent directed at his throat and drew his sword. Responding effectively in a situation where he couldn’t see the opponent’s appearance was a challenge even for a master swordsman with a finely honed blade.

However, Phillip easily anticipated the attack aiming for his left knee.

The man’s silhouette reappeared, and his strike was accompanied by the sound of a sword cutting through air as it sliced through the empty space occupied by Phillip. He had already vanished.

“… Huh?”

A young swordsman couldn’t evade something like this so easily. It was a technique that even a well-trained knight would fall victim to if they let their guard down.

The man, astonished yet undeterred, unleashed his next move.

It appeared to be an ordinary horizontal slash, but it forced Phillip to either step back or parry the blow. It was a choice that pushed him into a corner.

With no particular reason to evade, Phillip calmly defended against the attack. In that instant, a green mist-like substance sprayed from the man’s spaulder.

Some of the mist touched Phillip’s body due to the wind, and the man was momentarily confident of his victory.

“What is this?”

Phillip smelled a strange scent, reminiscent of an unfamiliar flower fragrance. He didn’t sense anything unusual about his body.

However, the man appeared to be intoxicated in his victory, and confidently approached Phillip step by step as if he had clearly emerged victorious. Phillip decided to play along for the time being and pretended to be paralyzed to match the man’s rhythm.

“A greenhorn who knows nothing about a real fight, daring to meddle? Kah-ah~”

“No, this has crossed the line.”

Just as a dreadful liquid began to secrete in his pharynx, Phillip quickly lifted his chin and struck.

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