Ch.182Match (3)

After the superior warrior, that transcendent being I was meeting for the first time, drew a short sword barely 30cm long, a formless storm erupted—a torrent of power swirling around the superior warrior wielding that short blade.

“….!!”

Hannah, Droop, and I—all three of us who had finished our respective battles and were surveying the situation—froze in place. The overwhelming presence made it difficult to even breathe properly.

The figure wore a hooded robe with tattered ends covering their entire body, with metal boots and gauntlets concealing any exposed hands or feet, leaving absolutely no skin visible.

Their height was roughly 180-185cm. Despite being covered by the robe, those distinctively broad shoulders displayed their physique, and above all, the aura that only skilled practitioners could detect—the unique current of a powerful warrior—poured out intensely.

‘….So this is a superior!’

I physically felt why the descriptions of superior warriors in books weren’t exaggerations about them being “strategic” weapons. If not for my “Sword Demon’s” fighting spirit and “Ultra Instinct’s” survival instinct both running wild, I might not have maintained my sanity.

And seeing this, I finally understood.

Why in this world, those called “superiors” are considered strategic weapons, and why their mere existence serves as a deterrent force in the world.

The unit of power is different. The strength churning inside their body is overwhelmingly powerful to the point of being on another dimension.

The gap is like that between an ant and an elephant. Indeed, it’s such an overwhelming difference that I wonder if I could even graze them after swinging my sword a hundred times—no wonder I couldn’t move carelessly.

Meanwhile, as the atmosphere suggested that someone would have to die for this to end completely…

I somehow sensed that the hostility this superior harbored wasn’t particularly strong.

No, to be precise, it would be more correct to say they harbored almost no killing intent or hostility from the beginning.

“….”

Come to think of it, if they had intended to harm us, they wouldn’t have approached in such an uncomfortable manner from the start.

With the standing of a superior, they could take certain risks without any repercussions. They could ignore my identity and push through from the front, easily smoothing things over with their authority as a superior.

Moreover, even the lowest level of superior’s power would make my chances of winning extremely slim on my own, so with minimal effort, they could easily assassinate me without anyone knowing who did it.

The very fact that they appeared openly in such a public place indicates they likely have no ill intentions. There’s no outward hostility, and… crucially, the fact that they revealed themselves suggests a low possibility of malice.

Rather, carefully guessing from the current situation and circumstances, the reason they appeared before us might be…

‘….New blood?’

Yes, new blood. To see if there’s potential in a promising warrior who might rise to the superior rank—fresh and full of future prospects, worth fighting… it’s a bit embarrassing to put it this way, but perhaps they came to see if there’s potential in the most promising warrior?

“Are you… satisfied, sir?”

After I cautiously voiced that guess, the unidentified superior warrior, instead of speaking, pointed their short sword toward me and remained silent.

It was like a reproach suggesting warriors don’t speak with their mouths, along with an intention to give me a chance. Confused by this abnormal skill of conveying meaning through weapon movements and flow, I only regained my composure after reading that intention.

Right, since when did exemplary warriors become cowards who flap their tongues while fighting?

Conversation comes later. What I need to do now is not miss this rare opportunity to clash with this overwhelmingly powerful opponent by wielding my weapon.

Following that logic, after briefly making eye contact and sharing the same understanding, the three of us—without hesitation—advanced forward in unison.

※ ※ ※

The power classification system of this world—the three-tier system of superior, intermediate, and inferior—has incomparable gaps between each level.

If inferiors are like the superhuman action noir film characters or super soldiers, intermediates are like superheroes who single-handedly demonstrate tank-level firepower and presence. And superiors? They’re like characters from shonen manga.

If that’s hard to understand, just think of inferiors as low-power, superiors as high-power, and intermediates as somewhere in between—like fantasy web novels.

Not only are their power levels all different to the extent that they seem like different genres, but my rough mental conversion to understand them is something like this:

Inferiors are like regular infantry in a world close to ordinary low-power settings; intermediates possess the strength of tanks or fighter jets, like human weapons; and superiors, who can only be faced by other superiors, are like large warships (aircraft carriers) or nuclear weapons.

I’ve been living thinking this matched up well so far, but at the same time, until just now, I hadn’t faced a superior, so I didn’t really feel it.

To be frank, saying that a swordsman is equivalent to a strategic weapon rivaling nuclear weapons makes the remnants of my modern human self question whether this is really true.

However, that doesn’t mean I perceive this as something from a completely incomprehensible separate world.

After all, I’ve had chance encounters with the essence of supernatural power and possessors of transcendent power in various forms, and furthermore, I’ve witnessed with my own eyes what kind of unreasonable feats they can perform.

While I can certainly have a vague recognition that they’re strong, I haven’t yet confirmed their combat power in more detail.

Therefore, before the battle, I decided to summon the Shadow of Basilisk to gauge the power of this “superior.”

[■■■■─!!!]

Judging by the skill and presence I sensed, the superior before me was likely a technique-type warrior, making the Shadow of Basilisk, an awkward power type, its natural enemy among natural enemies.

To be honest, once I became labeled a monster, I strategically used it as a disposable meat shield, so I didn’t hesitate even slightly to throw it out to gauge the opponent’s skill…

-Slash!

The Shadow of Basilisk, which I threw out as both a discard and a test, was split in half and began to be unsummoned before I could even react.

Even with my eyes enhanced by various factors, I could barely see something flash by before the Shadow of Basilisk was instantly cut to pieces. The others probably couldn’t see anything at all.

Moreover, the distance between the Basilisk and the sword was at least 3 meters. Since it wasn’t a physical slash attack requiring close approach, there’s a high probability that this attack originated from some kind of range extension.

‘How do I counter that…?’

In other words, this is essentially a superior version of my technique that specializes in extending slashes.

‘…Huh?!!’

Even Droop, who could react three times faster than others, couldn’t respond at all, meaning the speed of that pure ranged attack is something that intermediate-level power simply cannot react to.

Therefore, if we had to somehow face that, we actually have no options available.

‘—Here it comes!!’

No sooner had my signal dropped than dozens of slashes poured like rain from the tip of his sword.

Of course, seeing and reacting to them was impossible.

“Is that… a mystery?”

The speed of this ranged attack, presumably manifested by a mystery that “launches slashes,” was faster than sound and overwhelmingly powerful, comparable to bullets.

-Slash—Thud!!

My two companions, instantly sliced up by the slashes, collapsed to the ground. Their defeat was pitifully swift, but I wasn’t in a position to pay attention to them.

Because—I didn’t block these slashes by seeing them either; I merely minimized the damage by relying solely on my ultra-instinct.

‘….It stings a bit.’

The fortunate thing was that my specially made liquid metal armor and my thick giant muscles and ogre skin minimized the slash damage.

Although as a consequence, my armor was severely damaged and lost most of its effects until it regenerates over the next few hours, one thing is certain in the current situation—

‘—Draw!’

-Slash!

That is, if I strain my eyes and use all my strength, I can somehow defend against the incoming slashes.

Using the Unicorn Longsword and blade shields I had drawn at some point, I block the attacks.

Cutting, cutting, and cutting through the seemingly endless barrage of slashes, auras, and storms, the “next” one immediately follows.

From the opponent’s perspective, these might be casual ranged normal attacks, but when the difference in level is this great, just receiving them becomes a problem.

And then, after focusing on defense for quite some time—

“That’s a decent sword, little one.”

“….?!!”

As a heavy voice that sounded almost elderly came from behind me, I finally had to cross swords directly with the old swordsman.