Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 54: Getting Better with the Scythe

He experimented with a hooking motion, imagining snagging an enemy’s weapon or limb to pull them off-balance.

The blade’s inner curve caught the wooden dummy he had planted, yanking it sideways with a force that satisfied him.

But the release was awkward. If it was a real opponent, it would have left him open to a counter he wouldn’t see coming.

Yet, Percival persevered.

Hours passed under the rising sun, sweat soaking his Ironwolf armor as he failed and failed again.

A vertical chop buried the blade too deep in the ground, forcing him to wrench it free with a grunt of effort.

A spinning flourish looked impressive but spun him dizzy, nearly toppling him into the dust.

"I’m getting better but... why does it fight me?" he growled, slamming the butt into the earth.

Mercius watched, still silent.

Percival turned to him, saying nothing, then looked at the scythe.

’Just follow the rules of the scythe,’ he said to himself. ’I can’t force the weapon. Allowing myself to the rhythm of this weapon, then it can become a tool for my will.’

He nodded, wiping sweat from his brow, and pushed on.

Don’t struggle with the scythe, just follow it, become one with it.

He focused on footwork, and then swung the scythe.

Rather than forcing the weapon back to position, he allowed the flow, simply maintaining his stance.

The horizontal sweep flowed into a step back. It worked.

He tried a forward lunge with the haft’s butt as a pole vault for momentum. The scythe dragged seamlessly, his arm muscles almost infusing with the glowing runes, pulling an invisible air forward.

He spun the scythe and swung sideways. Clean. Again. Perfect. He raised it high and slashed downward.

SLINK!

The air sliced clean.

Perfect execution.

Mercius watched with more intrigue.

From then on, Percival started to grow.

The blade began to feel like an extension, its curve allowing him to deflect imaginary blows by angling the haft like a staff.

He infused ⸢Soulfire⸥ into the blade, and with each swing, he created an arc of azure flames that ruptured the air.

It was a more abstract form of his ⸢Bladewave⸥ + ⸢Soulfire⸥ combo. He didn’t have to mix Skills since the scythe was a weapon of the Necromancer.

It naturally allowed death mana to flow through and for Percival to execute Necromancer Skills.

However, with no ⸢Bladewave⸥, it only burned the target’s soul rather than tearing flesh.

Percival kept on training, executing attacks. ⸢Grave Stepping⸥ and slicing at the air.

His footwork sharpened. The shaft slid through his palms without friction, guided by the instinct he was cultivating rather than thought.

He stopped fighting the curve of the blade long ago and started using it. He integrated it into his fighting style, not by forcing it, but by learning.

But practice was one thing; battle was another.

To be certain he could hold his own in a Gate World battle, Percival summoned four of his Skeleton Soldiers.

Flames erupted from the ground and the bonemen appeared. All of the four were Skirmishers, clad in the Merman Warrior armor.

As Percival knew, they were evolved under his tutelage. Their movements were no longer rigid but refurbished with the thuggish feints and deceptive strikes he’d drilled into them.

He was expecting a challenge especially with a weapon he hadn’t fully mastered.

"Let us spar. You try your very best to harm me. But I won’t kill you."

The Skeletons looked at each other before clattering into formation.

Percival spun the War-Scythe of Black Iron, and took the wide solid stance.

Mercius watched.

Silence reigned for a second, the afternoon wind pouring over them as the sun blazed above.

"Now," Percival whispered.

With sockets glowing with azure light, the Skeleton Soldiers charged as one.

Percival gripped the scythe tightly, sweeping low to catch the lead skeleton’s legs.

The blade hooked its ankle, yanking it off-balance, but the momentum pulled Percival forward into the path of the second’s thrust.

He twisted, using the haft to block. CLANG!

He retaliated with an upward arc. It caught the second skeleton under the chin, lifting it airborne with a crack of bone.

However, the third flanked him, its blade whistling toward his exposed back.

He ⸢Grave Stepped⸥ away, reappearing behind the group, and unleashed a wide horizontal swing.

⸢Soulfire⸥ ignited along the edge and an arc of blue flame erupted, blasting the two skeletons.

Their health dropped massively; Since Skeleton Soldiers didn’t have souls but were rather reanimated by soul energy, attacking them with ⸢Soulfire⸥ was like destroying their life force.

Rather than disrupting flow of mana or mental energy, it actually reduced their HP exponentially.

Percival held back from Necromancer Skills and focused on only physical attacks.

The second and third attacked together. One high. One flanking.

Rather than swinging, Percival spun.

The scythe traced a wide, horizontal circle around him, the shaft sliding through his palms.

The weapon turned the space into a killing zone, and the Skeletons were too fast in their attack to retreat now.

The blade caught one’s ribs, hooked, and dragged it straight into the path of the second attacker.

Together, they slammed against the wall, collapsing.

Percival spun the scythe and angled it in front of him, a victorious smile on his face.

The AoE of such a weapon was so vast that he could stop attacks before they neared him, therefore avoiding taking damage of any sort.

He could already think of the type of beasts that this would be perfect against.

However, triumph was short-lived; the fourth skeleton, ever the deceiver, tried to get its Master from behind.

Percival’s perception caught the sneak attack and he leaped high into the air, turning around and blocking the strike with scythe at the same time.

CLANG!

Their weapons sang a sharp tune as Mercius and the defeated Skeletons watched.

When Percival landed on his feet, the Skeleton fearlessly hurried into attack. And Percival read its movement.

But... as he feared, his teachings were used against him.

It feinted high then went low, its sword grazing his thigh as he overcommitted to the follow-through.

The scythe’s length betrayed him again, the recovery lag leaving him vulnerable.

Percival stumbled. But he quickly regained himself, planting a foot to stop his fall, and stopping the Skeleton’s stab attack with the blade’s curve.

He spun the scythe, and the Water Sword flew off the Skeletons hand, landing far. Percival swung the weapon in a low arc, swooping the summon off its feet and letting it crash to the floor.

Silence.

He stood there, breathing hard with his Skeleton Soldier looking up at him like it was pleading for its life.

’I didn’t even want to do this,’ it must have thought.

"Get up," Percival said. "Pick your sword and let us go again."

The Skeletons obeyed.

The spar intensified, turning into a dance of clashing bone and steel.

Percival adapted mid-fight, using the scythe’s reach to keep distance, sweeping in broad crescents that forced the skeletons to scatter.

He learnt how to use Aspect. He didn’t master it, but he was doing better.

To slow down an enemy, he needed to execute five chain attacks

Two side swings, two angled swings and an upper swing.

But because of the low HP of his Skeletons, he had to limit his output and in the end, stop the training.

There were no corpses around for him to use to revitalize them.

Nevertheless, by the end of the training, Percival understood a few things.

As a ranged tool, the scythe let him command the battlefield like a conductor. His undead would absorb aggro while he reaped from afar.

This was a good strategy for various types of battles.

But the main disadvantage was without ⸢Grave Step⸥, there was barely any element of surprise with using this weapon.

All of its attacks were predictable, and it would give a smart enemy the time to dodge or counter.

The only way he could maintain creativity and deception in battle was if he could freaking merge both sword and scythe into one.

’...’

Percival paused. ’Can I do something like that?’

He thought about it for a moment, wondering how a merged weapon like that would even work. It seemed like an outrageous idea, but it was still an idea.

One that could solve this incessant issue.

He paused the thought for now, planning on exploring it later.

After sending the drained Skeletons back into their Summon Spaces, he returned the scythe in his weaponhold.

It was a good training session.

Percival wasn’t perfect; his strikes still broadcasted his intent, and against faster foes like Demonspawns, the telegraphing could be fatal.

But progress was undeniable.

The War-Scythe of Black Iron felt less like a burden and more like a partner. Only a few hours and he had grown this much.

Yes, his fast growth was assisted by his high Intelligence and Dexterity, but Percival wasn’t going to let anything taint his pride.

He did it. He had learnt the scythe

Soon enough, he shall master it.

He turned to Mercius whose expression was the same as it had been when he started training.

"I have to pay a visit to the Highbards" he told the sullen Knight.