Ch.14046. I Have Never Longed For It (2)

When taking a stance, be like a rock and a tree. When flowing through movements, be like water and wind. Burrow in like flames devouring kindling, and cut through like the cold that freezes lakes and rivers.

When I first heard this nonsense about “mind techniques” from that guy, I thought it was complete gibberish.

But thinking it over carefully, there were some things worth considering.

One thing was certain, though.

What he learned and what I learned, while similar in essence, differed in process as deeply as the sky from the sea, the earth from mountain ranges.

Land and sky may appear as one when viewed without distinction, but they are never the same.

Everything rising from a continent might be unified by the common trait of being continental.

But one cannot define all living beings upon it as a single entity.

So if one were to place what he and I learned on the same level…

…the fact that it originated from Grandeus.

That alone might be the only common ground.

When swords clash, one must control the flow of power, preventing it from being wasted or misdirected, even controlling momentum and recoil.

If power deviates even slightly, if the body leans even a little, if balance shifts even marginally, the outcome is painfully obvious.

“Tch!”

Fighting normally would make a fair match impossible.

This remains true even if the opponent reveals their true skill.

So what exactly am I supposed to do?

What else?

I must employ equally abnormal power.

Simply overpowering him through physical combat or wearing him down through attrition is no longer feasible.

Besides, he’s not the same awkward fellow with an unstable body from before.

Even without drawing Elbat,

Just holding a sword, he has cultivated skills far surpassing those of his earlier days.

If he was incomplete before, now he’s approaching perfection.

Clang!

As our swords meet, he deflects mine, and I counter by parrying and striking back.

This process continues, swift yet weighty.

But apart from our first exchange, I haven’t felt the impact that travels through the blade to the grip, striking the wrist and shaking the entire body.

Yet preparing blindly for such impacts when he swings broadly or strikes forcefully would be foolish.

Among our special techniques is one where we can deliver physical shock and momentum directly to the opponent’s body through their sword and armor, as if striking from a distance while swords are locked.

However, I refrain from using that technique simply because it’s inefficient.

There are plenty of other ways to neutralize an opponent without resorting to that.

Disarming them, knocking them down, striking vital points.

Or even inducing them to collapse on their own.

The development of mana-handling techniques rendered ordinary armor and protective gear obsolete, but later advancements in mana formulas and composition formulas enhanced heavy armor combat techniques and related tactics.

Initially, barbarians claimed armor was proof of weakness.

But as time passed, knights became the embodiment of all combat disciplines.

Heavy armor alone makes one impervious to common attacks, preventing accidents from stray arrows or spears.

And in knight versus knight combat, the focus shifts to defensive capability and combat sustainability rather than offensive power.

After all, this is an era where the density and volume of mana channeled into a sword, and the ability to maintain it, determine actual combat power.

When projected against regular troops, it becomes a tactical weapon in its own right.

So suppressing it, or conversely projecting it, is the modern way of warfare.

If not that, then magic.

If not magic, then war machines.

In such an age, for civilians without technique, talent, ability, knowledge, or foundation to defeat and overwhelm those with power is virtually impossible.

Unlike ancient times, the number of civil unrest, rebellions, and riots has exponentially decreased for this very reason.

So, are nobles truly noble because they’re noble?

No.

They possess power.

And they perpetuate that power, passing it down through generations, protecting their authority, vested interests, and privileges—greedy bastards maintaining their power through the ages.

And then there are those who pledge loyalty to them like hunting dogs or house dogs.

Clinging to them for scraps and leftovers.

Like flies appearing everywhere, they persistently entangle themselves, calmly flattering and bowing their heads, offering words of praise and admiration.

All to secure decent scraps and leftovers.

Even this competition is fierce in this world.

Yet how pitiful is their position, always at risk of death, injury, or ruin at their master’s whim or caprice.

Nevertheless, even the rare few who rise from humble origins must follow the same procedures, with no other breakthrough possible in this unfair and unjust world.

“Do you have the luxury to be distracted?”

As our swords entangled, Cariel’s shoulder struck my chest.

“Ugh!”

Being able to speak in such a situation itself implies considerable composure.

Like in myths and fairy tales, having a conversation while crossing swords?

You’d be lucky not to get hit while trying.

Speaking is also part of action.

Opening lips and moving the tongue—isn’t that an action? A movement?

If you convert that into body movement, weight shift, attack, defense, or positioning…

Wouldn’t that be far more efficient?

To those without awareness of such openings or the capacity to consider them, this might sound like nonsense…

‘So what?!’

But we’re not like them!

So I resist, question, and refute, even if only internally.

And I move my body accordingly.

I pull my sword down to prevent entanglement, shifting my legs to change direction.

Transforming a sword strike using only shoulder and waist strength is quite burdensome, and such burden significantly impacts subsequent movements and responses.

So I regulate my strength to keep my shoulders loose, move my relatively free lower body to change stance, and readjust.

This must be done simultaneously during offense and defense to avoid being caught off guard.

It must be executed based on systematized instinct rather than conscious thought.

Using legs as leverage when swinging a sword certainly provides stability and power.

But it delays defensive preparation.

Fully committing power means shifting and tilting your center of gravity.

If that can definitively finish your opponent, fine.

But if not?

It’s simply exposing a fatal opening to your opponent.

Unless you’re desperate to die or deliberately exposing an opening with the intention of trading flesh for bone…

This is just stupidity.

Save that nonsense for ranged combat, not close quarters.

Once an arrow is fired, there’s no adjusting or controlling it, so if you want to fight that way, pick up a bow, a crossbow, or cast ranged magic.

But in close combat, everything must be controlled.

Don’t rejoice if your opponent can’t do this.

Someday you’ll meet an adversary who can, and you’ll surely die or be defeated.

Defeat is fine. Death might even be better.

But what about becoming disabled?

What about being captured, tortured, enslaved, or executed?

Defeat is a greater sin than death.

Therefore, if you wish to avoid mistakes, you must control your capabilities and power without exception.

Beginners and unskilled practitioners often lose balance or stumble when swinging because they cannot control their own strength.

Even with minimal strength, one must not be controlled by the weight of their weapon.

Otherwise, what’s the difference between wielding a weapon and being wielded by it?

‘If it can kill the enemy, that’s all that matters.’

But that’s just luck.

And luck lasts only a moment.

However,

I can’t rely on such luck against the guy before me.

He is not someone who can be defeated by mere chance.

“I doubt you’re planning to win with swordsmanship alone.”

With a one-sided question requiring no answer,

Cariel pressed Venus with a series of movements suitable for dueling, connecting techniques he had learned.

Para, Grate, Fortes, Vetita.

Though none of his movements were aimed at striking or thrusting for attack,

The close-quarters crossing of sword stances created a terrifying combination more dreadful than any offensive.

When swords entangle, it’s as if being drawn in.

Yet Venus skillfully extracts himself, evidently experienced in such matters.

But it’s not over.

There is no end, in fact.

How could there be when the opponent hasn’t fallen or declared defeat?

Without hesitation, Cariel approaches steadily, pressing close, leaving Venus no room to evade his tactical positioning.

As Venus barely avoids an elbow aimed at his solar plexus,

Cariel grips his sword with one hand and seizes Venus’s wrist with the other.

Just as Venus manages to shake free and retreat, his foot catches and his movement falters.

‘Damn.’

Half a step and a full step.

Connecting them as if into a single stride, Cariel pursues the stumbling Venus closely, boldly placing his left foot behind Venus’s front leg, even adding his knee to push it in deeply.

Simultaneously, he pulls his left-handed sword into Fortes position at his waist, ready to thrust at any moment.

With just this, Venus’s right hand holding his sword becomes entangled with Cariel’s sword and guard.

With his legs, he trips the lower body to knock him down, while with his sword hand, he holds the opponent’s body in place.

With this, control of balance shifts completely to Cariel.

In that instant, Cariel slightly shakes off Venus’s sword entangled with his guard, causing Venus to stumble again before he can regain his balance.

Having disrupted and seized control of the weight distribution in Venus’s right limbs, then releasing it suddenly…

Venus finds half his body essentially defenseless.

“Ugh!”

Nevertheless,

Squeezing and gripping the muscles and joints of his left side,

He forcibly maintains his overall bodily balance, if only momentarily.

Lowering his body as it begins to fall, he lifts his right foot high as it threatens to step backward precariously, extending it straight back like a horse kicking.

He pulls back his right hand with the sword as it flies outward from his body.

And brings it down.

Grrrk!

As blade meets blade, they emit a deep metallic cry like a beast’s howl.

Like predators sinking teeth into each other’s bodies, their blades press against each other, striving to cut and pierce, howling again in their struggle.

“This won’t decide the match.”

Indeed.

Had Cariel committed to an all-out offensive at that point, it would have been over.

If Venus hadn’t known this, he might have struggled desperately, rationalizing and resisting stubbornly as usual.

…But his petty pride wouldn’t allow such self-deception.

He couldn’t fool himself about this, if nothing else.

A fact known both to Venus himself and to Cariel before him.

Neither Cariel nor Venus was the type to dwell on titles like knight or warrior, or to engrave meaningless beliefs or pride into such identities.

Yet, there was still some common ground between them.

Was it the fate of swordsmen?

Or simply because they knew nothing but fighting to achieve their goals?

Madmen struggling to land a blow in this infuriating world filled with stubbornness, conflict, and strife.

Yes. Perhaps that’s why they were such madmen.

If they weren’t mad, they wouldn’t fight like this, couldn’t fight like this.

Look around the world.

How many fools are there who would fight like this, shed blood and sweat, and willingly walk a path others hate, despise, and avoid?

‘Natural disposition?’

Was there such a thing?

Yet, that couldn’t be denied either.

‘I was…’

Born to fight. That must be true.

Otherwise,

How could I contain this rage?

I want to burn everything in this world to nothing.

If I can’t burn it, then break it, and if I can’t break it, somehow, somehow damage it.

…I wanted to change it into a slightly more normal world.

But is that really right?

Perhaps the world’s distortion is actually natural?

…Because I couldn’t accept that.

I, I!

“…”

And,

Cariel saw it.

His eyes turning blood-red,

Even the whites becoming crimson,

And his pupils darkening to an even deeper blood color.

Trying to push him back with his sword, Cariel finds him immovable.

His physical abilities had already transcended normal bounds.

Even if ten strong men challenged him now, the current Venus would likely prevail.

‘The limit…’

I’ve heard the human brain limits physical abilities to prevent the body from being destroyed or broken.

While reconstructing his body, Cariel had reached a level of understanding these limitations.

Even without Aces explicitly explaining the technique.

Aces’s technique essentially involves forcibly drawing out unprepared bodily functions.

So one must regulate its use normally,

And the body quickly deteriorates after excessive use.

But Venus, who learned this technique from Aces, must have been born with abnormal physical abilities.

His bone and muscle structure far exceeds ordinary people’s.

His instincts are innate, and everything else about him is far from normal.

Moreover, he absorbs training abnormally well.

His temperament is tough and his mind is firm, rarely shaken.

Such a person, determined to seek power, is destined to be strong.

And that, in another sense, means he cannot live a normal life.

‘Depending on how you look at it, it’s a blessing.’

Otherwise, it would be endlessly unfortunate.

However,

It’s not Cariel’s concern to worry about that.

Though he naturally understood and empathized with others,

That didn’t mean he indiscriminately showed mercy or meddled unnecessarily.

Rather, Cariel considered himself extremely cold-hearted.

The problem was that this was a highly subjective conclusion.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Understanding someone means being able to give them what they desire more easily than anyone else.

And what he wants now is…

…A struggle without end or beginning.

Not a struggle for victory.

It is a question about the life he has walked and will continue to walk.

A struggle seeking answers to that question.

He was testing whether he was a being that breaks or bends.

And whether he breaks or bends,

There would be no satisfaction or fruition at the end.

In other words, this is self-immolation. This is burning oneself.

He was seeking answers with his life as collateral.

His beliefs and longings.

…Whether what he had ultimately desired was right or wrong, mistaken or broken, corrupted or twisted, fallen or collapsed.

He’s a clever fellow, but having lived this way all along,

He has become a man who can no longer dream of any other way.

Iron, before being forged, can become a weapon, armor, utensil, or farming tool—anything.

But once made into a sword, unless it melts down completely and returns to its original state…

It will remain a crude sword until the day it dies.

“I was just warming up. Why? Was it a bit much for you?”

Taking two steps back and readjusting his stance, Venus snorted in response to Cariel’s remark.

“…Then that’s fine.”

Cariel calmly readjusted his stance as well.

As his sword became shrouded in pitch-black darkness, Venus finally grinned and enveloped his own sword in crimson flames.

“Angels, demons, gods, evil spirits—I don’t care what they are. As long as they don’t hold me back!”

I’ll gladly give them my liver, gallbladder, heart, brain, soul, whatever!

I’ll give it all.

If only that will grant me the power I desire.

“…Yes. That’s right. You’re doing the same, so it would be abnormal for someone weaker like me not to be desperate and stake everything. That was what was abnormal.”

“…You talk too much.”

“Yes. This is right.”

He approaches.

Bearing blood-red eyes and blazing crimson flames.

“Know that if I hold back or cut corners, I’ll die.”

“…As if I would.”

Cariel slowly shook his head.

“I’m not that good at cutting corners.”

Unlike you.

Pitch-black and red flames.

They crossed paths, each tracing its own trajectory and linear path.