Chapter 51: It Was No Ordinary Swordsmanship

“…….”

Even so.

I don’t know if I can use this sword as it is.

I know better than anyone that this world before my eyes is not reality.

But that intuition alone will not guarantee survival.

In that sense, fortunately.

The sword I received from Elhermina remained right there at my waist.

What should I do?

…Let’s judge this rationally.

I loosely tucked the straight sword into my belt and drew Elhermina’s sword.

In the distance.

From among those who had stopped in formation.

A few barbarian warriors were walking toward me.

As the distance between us closed, I felt it anew.

Each one of them was so massive and heavy that they could treat an average grown man like a child.

Even the tendons visible between their bursting arm muscles writhed menacingly.

Like a well-developed giant beast, everything about them was thick and sturdy.

Before the Berg Kingdom, there was the Great Empire.

The names varied.

Bel. Bera. Berg. Belo.

The Berg Kingdom, if you think about it, was a kingdom born claiming to be a successor state of such a Great Empire.

The Great Empire, which had conquered continents and even lands beyond, was a military powerhouse that relied not on individual skill, but on military discipline and military law—through which they built a systematized and robust military force.

Using military tactics and war tactics, they defeated, brought to their knees, and slaughtered countless enemies.

They had consistently forced submission.

The reason such a Great Empire eventually collapsed was due to the uprising of the barbarian tribes.

Starting from the point where the Emperor was deposed and the throne was usurped by the Great Chieftain of the barbarians.

Everything crumbled.

And those men were the ones who heralded the beginning of that Great Empire’s fall.

And these were their distant descendants.

In the far west, southwest, and northwest continents, including Berg, they had developed the art of handling weaponry by honing technique and training mana to use them in harmony.

But those who wandered everywhere, including the Eastern Region, believed only in a sturdy physical body.

Of course, each had its pros and cons.

Random charges.

Melee combat.

Brawls.

In all of these, they were always ahead.

To compensate for that, the development of long-range weapons, and the obsession with weapon forging, plate armor, and the optimization of protective gear to gain an advantage in close combat, was a natural process in a way.

The growth of magic tool manufacturing technology, the effort put into exchange and diplomacy with other races.

The way they eventually began to implicitly accept magic after once rejecting it.

…That attitude of acknowledging their own weakness became the catalyst for achieving the harmony and free-spirited system of the current Berg Empire.

But from the perspective of that time, it was nothing more than the desperate resistance of the weak.

Nothing more than a frantic struggle.

Because they could not fully withstand even a few hundred, or sometimes just a few dozen, intruders.

There were times when their only defense was to huddle inside the city walls like frightened children.

“…….”

Conversely, those who traversed the territories of other nations as if entering their own homes were people whose primary industry and purpose was looting.

For instance, peace and harmony were impossible for them.

It was natural for the weak to be robbed by the strong.

It was natural for the weak to devote their lives to working for the strong, and even to die for them.

That is why, while fearing them, people called them barbarians with hatred.

“…….”

And.

No matter who it is, when you think about the fact that such a being, renowned for such rumors and infamy, is right before your eyes.

It is like facing a wild bear in the middle of a forest.

Facing that crude, massive frame, seeing with your own eyes that the weapon they hold is as large as your own upper body.

It is only natural to be dazed, for the courage you tried to muster to wither away.

To helplessly lose the will to fight.

…Even that would be unavoidable.

Because that was the reality.

“Are you ready?”

Even though there were only three of them.

A deep shadow fell over my head, as if the sky itself were blocked.

“…….”

However, even so.

That is no reason to admit defeat.

And Kariel.

In the process of being repeatedly pushed to the limit by the Demon King’s malicious trials.

…Things far larger than these.

He had seen plenty of them, and had experienced them firsthand.

In fact, the number of times he had died was more than twice that.

“I shall test if you can handle that name!”

A massive axe soared vertically.

It seemed blunt, yet the momentum behind it was clearly extraordinary.

Because he was squeezing every bit of strength from his muscles, it looked slow at a glance.

But the moment that thing pounced.

The moment the weapon in his hand struck down.

Like a predator lunging at its prey.

That action would be relentless.

As if splitting the hide and bone of a beast.

With a momentum that could cleave a solid log in a single blow.

Boom!

It was an absurdly loud explosion for something that had merely hit soft ground.

It wasn’t a case of using mana to instantaneously strengthen the entire body.

For them, the use of mana was like a kind of bomb used when hitting and battering an enemy.

If one countered without understanding that nature, they would quickly be swept up in the aftermath, their body crushed by the impact, or in worst cases, shattered to pieces.

Physical strengthening was something they steadily built from childhood through constant training.

It was a method and structure distinctly different from the old Berg and the current Empire’s tenet of systematizing the operation of mana and preparing the vessel to hold it.

“Ha—hat!”

The man on the left approached quickly, swinging a circular shield.

I lowered my posture sharply to evade and struck the bottom of the shield as if scratching it with the pommel.

“Hut!”

The massive warrior flinched slightly and stepped back.

Because his center of gravity was disrupted.

Seizing that moment, I slipped away and narrowly deflected the spear shaft aiming for my back.

“Look at this! Yes! This is the technique!”

The warrior with the shield expressed an unknown joy.

“It was the same back then! For some reason, when touched, it was hard to use strength! Even when applying force, lo and behold! He wouldn’t budge!”

“Didn’t they say he learned the same swordsmanship! Of course he would!”

“Are you here to play?! Do it right!”

I did not let my guard down.

Because it was an opportunity they had wanted and craved so much, they did not let this single moment slip by carelessly.

Nevertheless, unable to contain their excitement.

Cheers like shouts, exclamations like screams, and laughter like death rattles erupted.

All of it thundered, tearing through the air.

“…….”

What was certain.

Was that it was far more difficult than expected.

If I clashed weapons clumsily, I would be the first to be blown away by that strength.

I had just confirmed that I could interfere with the flow of mana latent within the opponent’s body.

But it was not easy.

It was like trying to forcibly hold back river water pouring out from a collapsed dam.

It was truly overwhelming.

No matter how much I associated it with a rock or a tree, recalled it, or studied it.

It felt like I would break.

It felt like I would snap.

‘Not yet.’

Because I am not complete.

Because I am neither prepared nor equipped.

The discrepancy between my body and consciousness remains.

My body was still immature, and my consciousness and spirit were infinitely scattered.

Still, the only thing that could forcibly bind the two together was the power of will.

But no matter how sincere and desperate that will is.

It does not mean it is omnipotent.

For example, everything is relative.

And right now, I have met an opponent who is relatively infinitely overwhelming.

Also, I am facing those who are unreasonable in terms of compatibility.

And on top of that, I am outnumbered.

…It is only natural to be pushed back.

Therefore.

Accepting that naturalness.

And deliberately carving out a path where none exists to move forward.

That too must be part of the resolve.

“How long are you going to keep running!”

“You little squirrel-like brat!”

“The name Kariel would weep! That man did not retreat a single step before us!”

I am different from him.

Furthermore, the reality I face and the situation are different.

It is not a matter of who is right or wrong.

It is not a matter of who is better or worse.

I am simply a completely different person.

The swordsmanship I was told I learned from Grandeus is, in fact, completely different.

What Grandeus taught him was the basic way to swing.

On the other hand, for me?

Taking a stance, swinging, cutting, and stabbing… those were merely secondary and supplementary.

I still had not perfectly mastered swordsmanship.

I had realized some of the principles, but even that was barely more than stepping out of a standstill.

More than that, my body does not follow my will.

Even if I understand it with my head, even if I understand it with my intuition.

My body cannot execute it.

It is a matter of time.

Training requires the tempering of time.

No matter how great a blacksmith is.

If sufficient time is not given, no matter how good the materials and tools are.

They will not be able to complete a single thing perfectly.

“Hahi—hat!”

With an incomprehensible shriek, a warrior charged, shaking the earth axis.

-?!!!

Simply blocking was not enough.

Pushed by the weight and inertia, my body soared into the air.

It was only this much because I had responded properly.

If I had taken that force head-on, beyond the concept of the body being damaged, my entire body or a specific part would have been crushed in some way.

That would mean the end at that moment.

“—!!”

The ground approached.

Just before hitting the floor, I corrected my posture as much as possible so my body could roll smoothly.

Also, to prevent the misfortune of being stabbed or cut by the weapon I was holding.

Paying attention to the placement, I continued the breakfall to neutralize the impact.

Despite my efforts to regain my posture, I was still dragged across the ground by the inertia.

“…….”

It was an absurd situation.

I hadn’t even properly begun to resist.

And yet, I’m already in this state.

I had seen the memories of Saint Kariel.

However, I couldn’t see how she fought the barbarian warriors.

Because I had returned to reality just before that.

But even if I had seen it, what would have changed?

“Yes! This is normal! This is how it should be!”

The barbarian warrior who had sent me flying shouted loudly, emboldening himself.

“But it wasn’t like this back then! Back then, it was completely different!”

“You are not worthy of uttering that name!”

“Look at you, after all that boasting! Look at how weak you are, struggling against just us!”

……Since it was all true, I didn’t have much to say.

Excuses are only ugly if they don’t work.

By the time one discusses excuses, it is already far too late.

“…….”

Still, miraculously, the sword did not break or bend.

The sword held out because the sword was excellent, not because I was great.

For example, I am weak.

Even if what I am holding is the Holy Sword my father used.

I would probably be no different from now.

Even if I had a Holy Relic.

Whether it became a great magic tool or whatever.

Because the root and foundation were lacking.

I would be worrying about breaking and snapping.

…And right now, I am afraid of being uprooted.

“…….”

I walk forward.

I do not expect anyone to push my back.

I do not dream of someone blocking the way for me.

I do not even hold a vague belief that the weak me will exert a miracle-like power.

I do not hope, I do not dream, and I do not expect.

The point is that the reality given to me is a problem to be solved with the fruits I have accumulated so far.

If I cannot do it here and now.

There is no next time.

There is no later.

Clinging to something that doesn’t work?

Challenging the impossible?

Who decided what is impossible, and who shouted the conviction that it cannot be done?

It was all me.

My weakness, my fear, my complacency.

…It was because I thought and accepted it that way.

“Have you still not come to your senses?!”

“Are you coming! Come on!”

“Little human! Show us your potential! Do you think we’ll be satisfied with this?! This isn’t even fit as an offering to God! Therefore, I shall kill you! And I shall kill the rest as well! Glory to the Chief God!”

The axe sliced through the air and flew in lethally.

“?!”

While moving forward, I immediately corrected my posture and forcibly gripped the sword with both hands, barely batting it away.

Kwang!

A sound that seemed like a siege engine hitting a city wall struck my eardrums.

The impact sent both my arms flying into the air.

In an instant, the shock traveled from the sword to my arms, past my shoulders.

And reached my ankles.

Because I couldn’t even deflect this properly, my posture collapsed.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

“Euhehehe!”

The warrior rushed in, striking the earth axis.

Like a bear charging at full speed.

No, it charged in a far more sinister form.

“Uaaa—at!”

A dagger pulled out from somewhere.

Even that was considerable in size from my perspective.

I barely blocked the vertical strike.

And deflected it.

At the same time, I dove deep inside, shifting the sword I had been holding with both hands to my left hand.

I slashed his forearm as if striking it with the sword.

Tuung!

It didn’t cut.

As if I had hit steel.

“Where do you think—!”

The warrior snorted and swung his arm as if I were pathetic.

However, it didn’t reach.

As his forearm exquisitely grazed my face.

“Eh?!”

The warrior’s steps became entangled.

In the first place.

I already knew it wouldn’t cut.

A sword strike of mine that doesn’t borrow the power of others.

If there is anyone who can handle even a little bit of mana.

The fact that it wouldn’t be threatening even to a child.

That was a part that had been terribly and constantly pointed out during my time at the Academy.

Then and now, the body I carry remained the same.

The only things that changed were a few tricks and techniques, learning skills according to necessity.

And the fact that related knowledge was forcibly crammed in.

And more centrally.

The changed will and mindset.

…But there’s no way I would simply hold onto the pathetic hope that such things would blindly bring a miracle.

I don’t even expect it.

Therefore, longing and wishing alone are not enough.

Making it happen is, in the end, cold reason and the realization based on it.

For example, the fruit.

“Eh?!”

Climbing up his staggering body, I grabbed a handful of hair—not cutting it, but just following the knot—as if clinging to it.

I grabbed him from behind.

My raised left hand.

The sword gripped in it.

I readjusted my grip once to hold it in a reverse hand.

And then, exactly as it was, into the opponent’s eye.

Toward the eyelid.

I stabbed it in, as if driving it down.

Kwajik!

“Kuaaaak—!”

It’s not over until it’s over.

Clinging to the sword I held, using even that recoil to slash the sword and throw my body away.

The warrior screamed.

I barely avoided the arm swinging recklessly and sprawled on the ground.

“Cough!”

I cleared my twisted breath with a light cough and immediately widened the distance, observing the opponent.

The warrior, who had been struggling while blood poured from his eye socket.

Eventually.

Boom!

……Only repeated twitching as he lay fallen.

“…….”

Just one.

Even that was a counterattack that half-relied on carelessness.

Probably, since they witnessed this, a different approach would be needed next time.

But why should I care?

I can’t even handle the opponent in front of me, and I’m supposed to hide my best move while promising a next time?

Of course, that too is a necessary process.

But in other words, that’s a story for after I overcome the barrier in front of me.

“…….”

Passing by the twitching non-corpse, I walked forward.

“Not bad!”

“You really handled him noisily like a squirrel! Bold brat!”

I did not waver.

Death is merely a process of proving courage.

“…….”

Silently letting the sword hang.

I steadied my breathing.

Because I had applied force excessively, it felt like my arm muscles were about to snap.

Did I sprain my ankle slightly? It even felt stinging.

Perhaps there was strain on my fingers when I readjusted the sword; that part also stung.

The shock from being blown away earlier remained.

If I let my guard down for a moment, my vision swayed as if the world were tilting.

It was clear I hadn’t been hit.

But seeing blood flow from my nose, it might have been too early to be relieved even by a simple evasion.

“It is certainly burdensome when three of you attack.”

But now.

“There are two, right?”

“Don’t be arrogant, brat.”

“Look at this, he’s getting ahead of himself just because he took down one idiot. You’ll die like that, you bastard.”

“You talk too much.”

In the end, I have to use this too.

I pulled out the straight sword that was half-forcibly hanging from my waist.

“How about this?”

In each hand.

I tried holding a sword in each.

Perhaps I had done this many times before, just for play, for fun, or for style.

But I had never seriously thought I could enter actual combat in this state.

One is burdensome enough, but handling two?

Unless one’s dexterity and sense are exceptionally outstanding, it is naturally impossible.

Even if one trains consistently, if the innate aptitude does not follow.

Unless one’s skill with a sword was exceptionally superb.

…This would be nothing more than a suicidal act, driven by mere vanity.

“This lunatic?”

“I’ll make you regret this.”

So, I shift my perspective.

Then as now, I am not wielding a sword.

This is merely.

…A tool.

After walking slowly to close the distance as much as possible.

I hurled the sword I had just drawn toward the warrior on the right.

My body moved in the opposite direction, to the left.

As if it had been waiting, the shield crashed down over me like a City Wall.