[Check Out My P4treon For +50 Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!! And get chapters before publishing them here for free on my p4treon][https://p4treon.com/roooaaa]
===
Allen looked at Ghislaine, who was right in front of him, and smiled with genuine delight.
Even the lingering hostility from the earlier chase and battle was swept away in an instant.
It wasn't the blood of Boreas acting up.
No, it was because the person before him was the real deal—the Sword King of the Sword God style.
Finally, he wouldn't have to learn swordsmanship from Paul, whose sword speed couldn't even match his own.
This was a true victory.
Of course, aside from that, there was also the influence of the original story's "emotions" at play.
Allen blinked and looked at Ghislaine, who was half-submerged in the swamp, from a level perspective.
She had chocolate-colored skin, untidy gray-black hair draped over her shoulders, an eyepatch over one eye, and a pair of upright ears that gave her a lively appearance.
Even though she was drenched and looked somewhat disheveled, she still exuded a sharp, intimidating aura.
As for her attire, she wore a very revealing leather outfit—so revealing that it was identical to the one in the original anime. Yet, Allen couldn't muster even the slightest hint of inappropriate thoughts.
Her arms were almost as thick as Allen's calves, and her towering height made her feminine features beneath the revealing outfit seem completely irrelevant.
At this moment, half of her body was stuck in the swamp, yet she was able to meet Allen's gaze as he crouched nearby.
All of this pointed to one thing.
Ghislaine was an incredibly powerful Sword God-style swordsman.
Hmm.
So, Paul really was amazing.
Even though he couldn't even block Allen's "Soundless Sword Strike," it didn't diminish the fact that he was a badass.
Ghislaine silently observed Allen, whose expression kept shifting, his face a mix of emotions. Her gaze moved from his face to his body, then to his hands, which had been gripping a sword for years. A hint of admiration flashed in her eyes, and she spoke in a low, steady voice.
"Allen, you're almost exactly as I imagined."
Allen blinked.
"As you imagined?"
Ghislaine fell silent for a moment, as if she wanted to say something but ultimately decided against it. Instead, she changed the subject.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help. Shouting to attract Jude's attention was the best I could think of at the moment."
Allen looked at Ghislaine's stern, expressionless face and smiled.
"It was effective. You helped a lot."
Dust swayed before Allen's eyes.
[Immediate Mission—Philip's Intentions and the Layers of Conspirators—Completed.]
[Participation Rating: Increased!]
[You had already deduced Philip's intentions, and tonight's variables—the assassination hidden behind the fake kidnapping—were also something you had anticipated.]
[As for the additional variables you brought into play, did you really need Ghislaine to 'cover' for you?]
[Who is in the swamp right now? And who killed Nuckel Jude?]
[North God Style Promotion—Saint Rank.]
[What better proof of 'promotion' is there than killing two North God-style Sword Saints within an hour?]
[I'm sure your wild master, who holds the title of North God II and wanted to pull you out of the Water God-style dojo, won't be stingy with his praise.]
[Even if his method of granting ranks is a bit… casual.]
[Evaluation: When it comes to adaptability in battle, you're a genius. The doors of the Quibble Faction will always be open to you.]
[North God II said that, not me.]
Allen's lips twitched.
The uneven quality of North God-style swordsmen was almost entirely North God II's fault, especially since he was the one who popularized the Quibble Faction.
As long as someone had solid fundamentals and a clever "idea" for combat, even a clown covered in mirrors could be granted the title of North King. The system's evaluation standards were based on the average level of the entire rank.
Killing two Sword Saints and becoming a North God-style Sword Saint wasn't all that surprising.
After all, there were too many Sword Saints.
Hell, there were nearly forty North Kings in the world.
But there's only one Sword King.
That's pretty ridiculous.
Even Ghislaine would shed a tear.
Ghislaine didn't shed a tear, though. She simply looked at Allen's outstretched hand, placed her own hand over his, and replied with utmost sincerity, though her tone was a bit socially awkward.
"Helped a lot? No, I didn't help at all. Is Miss Eris okay?"
Allen snapped out of his tangled thoughts and blinked. He instinctively gripped Ghislaine's hand.
"They're fine. I've already dealt with the kidnappers. They're all…"
As he spoke, Allen's hand fully clasped Ghislaine's. Her hand was larger than he had expected, and her skin was rough, like a weathered stone that had endured years of wind and sun.
Yet, it also held immense strength.
Truly befitting a Sword King who had honed her skills over many years.
Hmm… immense strength…
Hmm…
Damn!! Her grip is way too strong!!
The thought barely crossed his mind when Allen instinctively tried to exert force. However, he had only laid down a few wooden planks to extend over the swamp's edge earlier, and beneath those planks was the flowing water of the swamp. There was no solid ground to anchor himself.
Sure enough.
With a sharp crack, the plank beneath Allen shattered, and he was yanked into the water by Ghislaine, whose body weight was three times his own.
Allen quickly flipped out of the muddy water, only to realize why Ghislaine couldn't move.
There was no solid footing in the swamp, and the Four-Limbed Movement technique was useless in this situation. The lubricant mixed into the red mud was far more slippery than he had imagined, rendering any counterforce meaningless. He flailed for a moment, only to find that his body wasn't moving at all.
It was then that he realized Ghislaine's ability to stay afloat was a testament to her mastery of battle aura.
Rain pelted Allen's body as he watched the shattered pieces of wood and planks floating up and down around him.
He fell silent.
Beside him, Ghislaine was equally silent.
After a long pause, she glanced at Allen, who was now covered in mud and a far cry from the heroic figure who had descended from the heavens earlier. She hesitated before speaking, her tone still serious and apologetic.
"I'm sorry."
"…No need to apologize. By the way, this rain should dilute the lubricant, right?"
"I've tried. It works. While I was trapped during the fight with Jude, I could feel some solid footing, but then he added more red mud, so it's hard to tell now. If they were still alive, we could've asked them."
Allen looked at the two heads neatly lined up on the swamp's shore and swallowed hard. For a moment, he couldn't tell if Ghislaine's deadpan response was meant to be a joke.
Ghislaine, on the other hand, was earnestly studying the two heads on the shore.
Allen swallowed again.
"Forget about them. Dead men tell no tales. By the way, do you remember how much red mud they used the first time?"
"They threw it several times. I didn't count."
"…Ah. Then, from the time you were trapped until you could feel some footing, can you estimate how long that took?"
"Hmm… let me think…"
A long silence followed.
"Sorry… I can't really figure it out."
Allen stared at the shattered planks floating in front of him, his lips moving for a while before he finally managed to utter a single word.
"Six."
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 166 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 40 power stones I will publish the next chapter.