Ch.17156. Do Not Rest Easy, Warrior. (2)

Kariel had devised his own countermeasure to face that opponent.

It was different from when he held a shield.

Now was actually more dangerous.

But he realized that just holding a shield wouldn’t work anymore.

It was a judgment that considered the possibility that the warrior might not engage him and head elsewhere.

In that case, Kariel would have to chase after him or dive in, abandoning the advantage of focusing on defense.

The method for dealing with a shield is quite simple.

Just don’t attack it, that’s all.

Kariel instinctively understood this and instead revealed an opening to his opponent.

By showing that he was armed.

I will face you.

Will you still look elsewhere?

Will you shamefully turn your back on me?

For victory, one must persistently exploit the enemy’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

Being underhanded or petty isn’t a problem at all.

But.

The warrior answered the dark one’s question with action.

If that’s the case.

I’ll just deal with you first, then proceed.

Also.

Even if I don’t step in, they will be wiped out because of us.

So, isn’t it you who should be anxious?

You’re going to face me in that condition?

How absurd!

Their silent conversation manifested in the form of a duel.

Yet Kariel, unlike before, didn’t take a single step back.

Rather, he seemed ready to advance at the slightest opening.

At first, half a step.

Even that was taken back.

One can retreat momentarily.

But that’s a half-step back to advance further.

In the end, one must move forward to intercept the opponent.

Merely grazing or cutting the skin isn’t enough.

To carve a fatal wound into that steel-like, solid body.

I.

You.

…must always be prepared to die.

That is what it means to be a warrior.

Death is beside us at every moment.

Whether it comes for you or for me.

Don’t be the one forced to accept it.

Be the one who chooses it.

That is precisely.

“Yet, your limit approaches.”

The incarnation, war god, and battle deity.

The glorious golden sword would never fade, bringing the warrior infinite glory of victory.

On the other hand.

The darkness facing him was extremely precarious.

It seemed like it could collapse and crumble at any moment.

Yet it endured.

In a little while.

It seemed certain that soon… it would fall.

Why… doesn’t it fall?

“……”

He was confident of victory.

The certainty in the golden boy’s eyes remained unchanged.

But ever so slightly, doubt was rising.

Victory would come.

But if my victory doesn’t mean the opponent’s defeat.

How should I interpret that?

‘The protector. His duty is to be a savior, wasn’t it?’

That person must be a hero.

Or a champion.

Then he too would not yield.

And at the end, even if broken, it was clear he would never fall by his own will.

But something, something was different.

Heroes and champions.

In the end, they are defeated by stronger heroes and champions.

That is their fate, that is their destiny.

Therefore, those who become heroes, those who become champions.

Even those who ascend to divinity and reach godhood.

Before that golden sword, all of that becomes useless.

From the beginning, that glorious sword was aimed at such beings, and ultimately severed their eternal lives.

It was the victorious blade that caused their bloodshed and retreat.

It doesn’t matter if they’re heroes.

It doesn’t matter if they’re unparalleled villains or demons.

But.

…that one doesn’t fit either category.

“So that’s why I can’t get a read on him.”

The boy muttered.

It’s nonsensical, but.

The Demon King somewhat agreed.

After all, she had been watching knowing this would happen.

She had always assumed the worst in everything.

And that was the most basic mindset she had instilled in Kariel, even before making a contract with him.

Never, ever, ever, ever think you have the upper hand.

If you have the upper hand, win decisively and desperately.

Always accept that things are unfavorable and unreasonable.

Only then.

With the mindset to face the world.

…finally.

Can one fight.

Against this cursed world.

Never make excuses to yourself.

Never make excuses to others.

Forget about the process.

What we need is only the result we want.

Clang!

His spear-handling skills became more adept.

Meanwhile, he was growing even more.

As pain was consuming all his senses.

He had to desperately attune to everything swirling around him.

A state of hyper-focus with life as the stake.

This isn’t training or asceticism in a false dream.

Even if made to feel real, it’s still fake in the end.

Perhaps.

Everything happening here might also be false, a dream.

But.

…that’s just thinking as one pleases.

Reality always imposes absurdity on us.

As long as one doesn’t forget that lesson.

Complacency is a luxury.

By switching between four stances and changing the up-down, left-right positioning.

Movements multiply from a few to dozens.

Pulling back the right foot.

Or extending the right foot.

Moving and stretching the foot to the right, to the left.

Even with just that, postures continuously multiply.

Turning the waist, extending and pulling back the shoulder.

The angle of the wrist, the angle of the arm.

Also movement.

Just by sweeping widely or reducing the scale.

Just by accelerating and decelerating the motion.

Diverse movements flow from group dance to a single dance step.

Or like a bird’s wing flap, they continue minutely and clearly like flowing water.

“!!”

There’s no time to even groan.

He doesn’t even bite his lips tightly.

There was no room to allocate strength in that direction.

He couldn’t allow his body to stiffen or his shoulders to become rigid.

Nor could his breath be cut off, causing his movements to break or become unnatural.

Without excessive movement restricting combinations.

Without his posture collapsing or breaking due to external impacts and malice.

Now, just.

Give the best of the best of the best.

Only add more.

Clang!

Tung!

Ting!

Kirik!

They meet only briefly.

The golden sword doesn’t emit lightning like before.

The warrior knows too.

That would actually indirectly help Kariel.

So he drives and pushes with pure physical capability.

But the tiny darkness doesn’t yield.

It doesn’t get driven back.

It endures.

It strikes back.

It’s certainly not steadfast.

Sometimes it feels a bit clumsy.

But that exquisiteness sends shivers down the spine at times.

The warrior also throws his all into it with blazing eyes.

In that moment, a thought flashes through his mind.

‘Like this.’

How many have faced me so fiercely?

When was the last time I had such a fair exchange of blows with someone?

Clang!

It’s been so long.

The air makes a crying sound.

Tung!

A scream from the golden sword.

Twoong!

A shout from the pitch-black spear.

Swoosh!

The wind blows.

It bursts forth from the space between them like a gust.

At that moment.

Pitch-black darkness suddenly engulfed his body.

The flow of fervor that had been consuming both of them was momentarily broken.

“!!”

Behind again?

Or above?

That strange teleportation technique, I experienced it earlier.

If it’s not visible, the location is obvious.

Instinct would detect it, but.

It’s not there.

“?”

Just in case, he turned his gaze toward the giants… but there too…

No.

There’s still one place left.

Immediately turning his gaze downward.

There he was.

“!!!”

He.

Was crouching tightly under his massive frame.

While distracted by the spear and its flashy movements.

Somehow he had overlooked it.

Like that.

Though there was nothing in his hands now.

He sensed it.

That small, that tiny darkness swirling in his grasp.

It was the most powerful weapon he possessed.

As he finally aimed his hand at the warrior’s thigh—

“Excellent.”

The boy who had suddenly appeared grabbed Kariel’s wrist.

But strangely.

As if he had been waiting for it, the boy’s body was pulled in reverse and instantly collapsed.

Simultaneously, Kariel mounted him and immediately pointed a reversed blade at his neck.

The pitch-black sword evoked something beyond ominous, something overwhelmingly awe-inspiring.

The tiny darkness, instantly recreated as a sword.

Well, it’s even more impressive up close.

The white-haired boy admired in return.

“You truly have no room for carelessness.”

The boy sincerely admired, as if he might even clap his hands while lying down.

To think that even while clashing with the warrior, he wouldn’t allow a single moment, a back attack or exceptional approach.

Is he prepared for everything?

What kind of life, what sort of life has he lived to be capable of such preparation?

Even in the midst of a bloody melee, this is not easy.

It can’t be explained by good instincts or exceptional intuition.

He truly—.

“You have the spirit of a hero. Truly, the embodiment of a true champion.”

“……”

At those words, Kariel frowned as if having a seizure, rebelling.

“I am not a hero or anything like that. I never was.”

…I never wanted to be one, either.

“Is that so.”

The boy neither questioned nor denied it.

“So, how is it? Have you achieved victory?”

“……”

“Or are you worried about this? That once all our incarnations descend upon this land, there will be no countermeasure left? Is that why you targeted me, who is considered the main body?”

“……”

After remaining silent, Kariel shook his head at the boy’s confident face.

“If you could mobilize them, you would have done so already.”

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t you capable of that?”

A despicable being who needlessly torments the weak, mocks them, and enjoys displaying his strength.

A common plunderer who considers even wasting time as entertainment. A lawless one.

“But you’re not such an ugly being.”

“Even in this desperate situation, you can coldly discern reality? Impressive!”

Kariel’s body was hit by a strong wind and bounced back.

But it was just enough to make him step back, not an attack.

It couldn’t be called an attack.

“Barakhran.”

The warrior responded to the boy’s call.

“……”

After keeping both the boy and Kariel in his sight for a moment, the warrior eventually nodded slightly.

“Give me your sword.”

“……”

The steel warrior threw the massive golden sword to the boy.

Surprisingly, as soon as the massive sword was caught in the boy’s hand, it transformed into a curved blade that could be held with one hand.

Holding it, he twirled it around, spinning it around his right wrist and elbow as if performing a trick, then threw the curved blade again and quickly caught it.

He spoke in a bold voice.

“When a military commander must wield weapons directly on the frontline, it means the battle has already turned defensive.”

But there are situations where stepping forward guarantees and confirms victory.

And there are battlefields where not stepping forward ensures collapse and defeat.

“But how can one who has never roamed the battlefield without holding a blade, who has never charged into enemy lines with a banner spear, lead an army bravely?”

If one doesn’t do it, that’s fine.

But if one can’t do it, that’s a different story.

“When the king falls, the country falls. When the general falls, the army splits, the battle disintegrates, morale breaks, and even the will to fight scatters. An army without purpose will become a mob, will become bandits.”

If a king is one who holds both heaven’s mandate and human destiny.

Then one who, as his proxy, legitimately exercises violence to crush threats and contributes to peace and prosperity.

“That is who we are.”

By now, even the incarnations who had been driving the giants had paused their battle and were focusing on this side.

“If I can be convinced here, I’ll overlook it just this once.”

Pointing the golden curved blade at Kariel, lowering his stance slightly, and aiming his left arm at his right elbow, he said.

“What do you say? Are you willing to accept the proposal?”

“……”

That stance.

I remember it.

Strangely, though it wasn’t much.

Truly strangely, it came back vividly.

====

“Becoming one with the sword? That’s obvious.”

One day.

In the front yard outside our home, I stood with my father, holding a sword.

My father, who handled swords freely without adhering to Imperial swordsmanship or any fixed style.

Yet he could skillfully wield not only Imperial swords but other styles.

And countless sword techniques he might have learned and acquired from somewhere…

A master of the sword.

A superhuman beyond mastery.

He had several stances he always took, like a signature.

“The sword, myself, and the world. These three must become one.”

“What does that mean?”

“You should roughly know, right? When you were young, you understood everything I explained.”

“Is now the same as then?”

Ah…

In my memory, I am still young.

I’m still young now, but… how to put it.

Awkward, clumsy… weak and fragile, but.

The color of being alive and breathing was vivid.

It was from my childhood.

From my youth.

When I was still… undamaged.

“So keep it in mind while you practice hard.”

The sword and I.

And the world.

When these three become one.

You too can reach the realm where I am.

……

……….

“Really.”

It’s such a characteristically half-hearted explanation from you that even now as I recall it, I feel irritated.

Or was that truly your best effort?

“Haa.”

A sigh escapes without me realizing.

Is it a complaint, or despair?

Or just… a habitual behavior?

It doesn’t matter.

I transformed the pitch-black one-handed sword.

Into a sword that could be held with both hands, the most familiar form.

I firmly grip the extended handle with both hands.

It’s absurd, but this cross-shaped sword.

This damn sword that has caused me so much irritation in many ways.

In the end, this knight’s sword…

Was also the fundamental reason why I learned the Grandeus swordsmanship.

I didn’t have to use a sword.

But in the end, I wanted to defeat my father with a sword and voluntarily chose this.

But I’m not practicing swordsmanship.

It seems like such a long time ago.

What did the Demon King say when I first learned this?

Right. A tool. It was a tool.

But while a tool can’t show depth.

Stance is different.

I learned stances and used them, and learned various principles and applications derived from them, not pure swordsmanship.

So that’s how I got this far.

I still don’t know swordsmanship well.

But it’s not a problem.

“Anytime.”

From para to grate.

I’m captivated by the familiar sensation of the sword’s weight on my shoulder.

My body trembles with unknown pain.

But my mind is clear.

Naturally, right foot one and a half steps forward.

Left foot with the toe pointing 45 degrees outward.

“Hoo.”

I refine my breathing.

Even breathing differs according to stance and movement.

But this isn’t conscious; it naturally combines and allocates accordingly.

Don’t try to do everything with your head.

Distinguish between areas where the head should and shouldn’t exercise control.

If the head tries to do what the lungs should do, what the heart should do, even what the hands and feet should do.

Everything will end up in a jumbled mess.

So what remains is optimization.

…Holed up in a cave, stripping away flesh and muscle, even reassembling and reconstructing bones as if rebuilding the body.

It was work for this purpose.

“Show me!”

After the long yet brief stance preparation.

The boy approaches.

Stepping with his sandals, leather inlaid with gold, revealing his feet clearly.

The boy’s entire body shoots forward like a gale.

Meanwhile, the golden curved blade approaches between my head and chin like a gentle breeze.

But its essence is like an arrow being shot.

Or like lightning falling from the sky, it was directly aiming for my windpipe.