Ch.161161. Two Protagonists (2)

My head feels like it’s on fire and my heart like it’s being butchered. The consecutive openings had definitely taken a toll on my body. My vision spins dizzily, and my insides are churning. To be honest, it feels familiar. Even when I steady my breathing, the pain doesn’t subside. My body is like a bomb at the end of a lit fuse. I don’t even know how much of the fuse remains.

“How…”

What matters is that the bomb won’t explode right now. And as long as that bomb doesn’t explode, I can maintain the upper hand against Aryen.

“What nonsense about being a slave to the sword.”

My strike must have hurt quite a bit, as Aryen’s brow was contorted. He remains vigilant. Landing a solid hit doesn’t mean I’ve defeated him.

“[…Thank you for saying that.]”

The Holy Sword timidly expressed gratitude. Her words gave me more confidence. Aryen, despite having memories of the original work, talks too much about being a slave to the sword when he’s never even heard the Holy Sword’s voice. I wanted to tell him that, but instead I spat out in an irritated voice:

“Mind your own sword before you talk.”

Aryen glared at me while gripping his sword in reverse. His eyes, darker than pitch-black, contain not a single speck of light.

“You—you have no idea what that sword truly is. Aren’t you afraid of the Holy Sword? Haven’t you ever thought it strange?”

Aryen spoke while shaking his head like a madman. I remained unmoved, keeping my cold gaze fixed on him.

“If you discovered something, you could have come to talk to me about it. Why did you suddenly go berserk and slaughter dozens, hundreds of people? Answer me, you goddamn bastard.”

My language was getting quite harsh. If looks could kill, I would have killed him a hundred times over since the moment I saw him.

“Why did you attack Daphne and Marianne? Why did you do that to George Gunther, your former comrade? Who the hell is behind you?”

My voice grew more intense with each question. My sword moved closer to his Adam’s apple. My aura rose and pressed down on Aryen. Emotions changed the aura, the wind. Aryen twisted the corner of his mouth while enduring my pressure and killing intent. I still couldn’t drive the Holy Sword into that neck.

“Who’s behind me? Kuhup. What bullshit. Hey, do you think I need someone’s orders to do such things? Those actions were merely done in passing. Reclaiming what was taken from me? You don’t know what that means, but it doesn’t matter.”

So butchering George and leaving Daphne and Marianne in tatters was just done “in passing.”

“To draw out the real target.”

With those words, Aryen knocked the Holy Sword aside and lunged forward. Like a bolt shooting from a loaded crossbow, his blade extended, wrapped in pitch-black aura. But it wasn’t difficult to counter. I read the trajectory with my eyes. I evaded the sharp death that coiled in like a snake by leaping over it.

“Tsk-!”

Aryen rolled to the side to avoid my attack. If he knows my attacks will never be directed toward civilian areas, evading would be a simple matter for him. Aryen, pressed against the wall, looked at me with one corner of his mouth raised. A stalemate. I couldn’t subdue Aryen by destroying civilian areas, and Aryen couldn’t defeat me with strength.

“Well, no matter how much you swing that sword, it’ll be hard to catch me. You’re soft, hero.”

“You’re mistaken about something, Aryen.”

One step. Forward. Aryen couldn’t follow my movement. My hand grasped his forearm. Aryen tried to twist and pull his arm free. A futile attempt.

“What strength—!”

I heard Aryen’s shocked voice. He couldn’t distinguish between when he could resist and when he couldn’t. Aryen was lifted and followed along. I threw him straight to the ground. Unable to properly brace for impact, the shock wasn’t dispersed and slammed directly into Aryen’s back.

“Kuhehuk-!”

Aryen coughed up blood. I kicked him up again, grabbed him, and slammed him into the ground. Blood droplets scattered. I could feel Aryen struggling and resisting. I didn’t care. Just a little more now. I slammed Aryen into the ground again. But this time, the impact felt different from before.

“You son of a bitch, now you’ve gone too far…”

Killing intent surged. Aryen wasn’t being dragged along anymore. One arm was firmly planted in the ground, stabilized by his sword. His eyes were burning, engulfed in an inexplicable pitch-black darkness. Something unknown had suddenly given Aryen strength.

“This isn’t a game.”

His voice was ominous. Aryen seemed intent on twisting my arm along with his. I didn’t let go. Our eyes met, and Aryen forcefully twisted his arm. I seized that moment and released his arm without hesitation.

“You piece of sh—”

Before he could finish saying “shit,” I grabbed Aryen and took flight. Using wings was burdensome, but I couldn’t continue fighting within the royal capital. I intended to drop Aryen outside the city walls, onto the rugged mountain ridges. Aryen, however, clutched my arm, refusing to fall.

“You can’t just grab me and then try to drop me.”

The pulling force grew stronger. The scale couldn’t achieve perfect balance, but it was gradually tilting toward Aryen. From 9 to 1, to 8 to 2, to 7 to 3. The balance couldn’t tilt further than that, but for Aryen, a 3 wasn’t an insurmountable gap.

“Taste your own medicine.”

Aryen flipped his body. An ominous feeling came from his foot as it pressed against my shoulder. This bastard plans to completely break my arm while slamming me to the ground. I can’t let go. Now Aryen was clinging to my upper arm like a leech, refusing to fall. To avoid getting hurt—

“?!”

I pulled my arm and reached out. The leg trying to dislocate my shoulder—my elbow rested above his knee. A technique? I’m no fool either. Just as Aryen learned and returned from the original work, I’ve grown too. I can roughly read his intentions and thoughts.

“Why do you look so surprised?”

A bind. If you break my arm, I’ll turn your leg into a useless lump of meat attached to your body. The negotiation terms are equal. And the ground isn’t far now.

“You damn—!”

KWAAANG-!!

An explosion sent trees and ground flying. An enormous amount of soil shot up into the sky before raining down on all sides. The collision between Aryen and me had completely destroyed one ridge. My arm. I checked the condition of my left arm. It was throbbing and tingling, but nothing was broken. Aryen? Well, if I’m fine, he must be too.

“Ptui.”

Aryen spat rudely. A clump of blood and dirt fell from his mouth onto the ground with a thud.

“Fine. I understand now.”

In technique, it was a close 4 to 6. Of course, I was the 4. In strength, 7 to 3. That was the gap between Aryen and me. If Aryen could use his 3 as a foothold to overcome the strength difference, I could use my strength advantage to overcome my technical disadvantage.

“So you’re not such an idiot after all. You fight using your brain, is that it? I thought you only knew how to overpower with brute strength.”

Overpower with brute strength? What a ridiculous statement. In all the battles I’ve fought so far, I’ve never had the advantage—neither in strength nor technique. Even in my very first battle with that spider he mentioned, I had to be prepared to die. I’ve always been the weaker one.

Has he forgotten that fact, or is he just…

Someone merely pretending to be Aryen?

“[You seem to have calmed down a bit.]”

Only then did I hear the Holy Sword’s voice again. Had she not been speaking to me, or had she been talking all along and I just couldn’t hear her?

“[I wasn’t speaking. It would have only distracted your concentration.]”

The Holy Sword answered my question with a voice tinged with a sigh.

“[That person isn’t normal right now. He seems to be in some mixed state. He’s become something completely different from the original mercenary.]”

“So Aryen didn’t see something that changed him like this?”

“[That’s right. It seems there’s more than one spiritual entity in that body.]”

A strange sense of relief mixed with disgust surged within me. If that’s the case, what’s inside that body, and what are those memories it possesses? Why does it act as if it has memories of the original work—

“[It would be better not to think too deeply about that entity right now, Ilroy.]”

Right, first defeat him, then think about it. Aryen was glaring at me while catching his breath. How to kill me—that seemed to be the only thing filling Aryen’s mind right now. The concerns about life and direction he once had—there’s none of that.

“I think I know how to deal with you now.”

Aryen said, taking his stance. He wasn’t originally someone with such overflowing magical power; he must be receiving assistance from that unknown entity. In fact, although I call it unknown, I could make a guess about its identity. Remnants of an evil god. No, this has already surpassed the level of mere remnants.

“There won’t be a next time, hero.”

“Of all the people who talked big like that, very few actually won.”

JENG-!! The blades clashed. The sparks weren’t red. Black and white magical power scattered like flower seeds. The magical energies collided and split into thousands of fragments.

Aryen’s body was gradually, steadily growing stronger. Each time his sword touched the Holy Sword, the feeling changed. He’s getting stronger. I stared at Aryen, whose eyes were streaming with light, and thought. The black light beams grew more intense. That strength wasn’t without cost.

KAANG-!!

A sharp metallic sound. For the first time, I was pushed back slightly. Aryen didn’t rejoice. He adjusted his tactics moment by moment, weighing the constantly shifting balance of power. The changes came suddenly, and sometimes they didn’t come at all. Even the absence of change was a form of change.

“…”

I read it. Instead of forcing a counterattack, I matched my sword’s path to his speed and read his blade. I read the meaning of that blade and applied it to my own. It’s fine. That sword still can’t penetrate me. As much as Aryen catches up to my strength, I’ll catch up to his technique.

KWANG-!! KWANG-!!

A sound that could only be described as cannon fire echoed through the forest. Monsters that approached out of curiosity were shredded to pieces, and what had been mountains were carved away with each collision, turning into hills, mounds, and finally flat ground. Rocks flew, disintegrated, exploded, and scattered.

I wasn’t impatient. Aryen’s expression showed impatience. His eyes seemed to ask why. The speed at which I was catching up to Aryen’s skill was much faster than the rate at which his strength was increasing. With the third opening, my eyes had awakened. The sword, the movements, the flow of magic—I can see and read it all now.

“[You’ve grown.]”

I’m still doing it in real-time.

KWANG-!!

Aryen gasped for breath. The fight was approaching an even match. That clearly wasn’t what Aryen had wanted. His dissatisfied expression proved it. Without time to hide it, Aryen and I clashed again. Both of us were pushed back the same distance before clashing again.

One strike.

I swung my sword with gleaming eyes. For the first time, Aryen missed my movement. My sword grazed Aryen at an angle. In an equal battle, a graze means much more. I infused the wind with magical power. And the wind raised by the sword became a sword wind—a sword strike.

“Not enough to cut a star, but.”

As I muttered,

PUHWAK-!

A gale erupted.