Ch.28594. The Weariness of Being Alive (2)
by fnovelpia
If the speed of light is not just a metaphor,
We could never stand against it.
Even for a bird to travel across continents takes ages,
Yet light could repeat that hundreds of times, and to us, it would still be instantaneous.
So, I was told there’s no need to strive to be as fast as light.
It’s impossible anyway.
In the end, it’s enough to take one more step, go one stage further, reach it a bit faster than your opponent.
After all, we live in a world of relative concepts.
Whiiing!
Before the sound could even echo, the white light had already reached my eyes.
If I had tried to see it and react, my head would have already been severed.
But my body had already responded.
A body and mind diligently honed over time.
The delicate senses embedded and imprinted within would never allow such a thing to pass by unnoticed.
As white light and pitch darkness collide, light flickers, absorbs, diffuses, and stagnates once more.
“!!”
The reflections in each other’s golden gleaming eyes are the forms of white light and pitch darkness that we wield against one another.
‘This is…’
Breathtaking.
As if not allowing even a trace of stray thought.
It takes all my concentration just to meet the oncoming offensive with full force.
There would have been no answer anyway.
But right now, he must be in his optimal, supreme condition like never before.
…While how am I in comparison?
Swish!
The white light seems to slice through the air, then twists to thrust at my sideburns as if to cut them.
A movement that cuts and thrusts simultaneously.
Rather than blocking, I must deflect and block to ensure a proper response.
In essence, it’s a rapid succession of strikes.
Without needing large preliminary movements to swing the sword, without retreating or making wide side movements.
It might seem lacking in conviction from some perspectives.
At this point, it would be more accurate to say he’s not wielding physical force but supernatural ability.
Just a touch makes the air ripple, causing space itself to flutter.
If just a slight touch makes fabric melt and evaporate like burning, what would happen if it touched bare skin, flesh, muscle, or bone?
‘If I had countered with an inferior weapon, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.’
Even this feels like destiny.
If it had been an ordinary sword instead of ‘Elbat.’
Or even if it had been a great sword… could it have remained intact after colliding with that?
Without at least a holy sword or comparable armament, there truly seemed to be no answer.
So, this weapon I’m freely wielding right now must be the only one that can match that thing on equal terms.
‘Moreover…’
A means to protect my body intact from that offensive.
Even though it’s limited to defensive movements, the Grandeus sword style with its four linked movements including the Kisu form…
Surprisingly, it held clear value and meaning in this moment.
‘Close combat.’
Furthermore, ultra-close combat.
Above all, for responding in ultra-close proximity where sword meets sword, body meets sword, I felt nothing was better than this.
If I were to raise one issue, the crisis management capability when wearing armor versus not wearing it would be vastly different.
But in the current situation, armor is essentially useless.
I began to understand why Father himself preferred uniforms and active wear over armor.
‘Was it all meaningless?’
Even he himself seemed to have no need to rely on defensive power.
Looking at how he handles his body, the focus is on evasion and tailored responses to an extreme degree.
In other words, even this sword I’m wielding can surely be analyzed by his standards.
‘……’
However, he cannot break it down.
From the beginning, this is a sword technique, a sword form that leaves no room for breakdown.
Rather, because it’s too simple.
Unless the opponent is extremely stupid, dull in perception, or unskilled.
…This is a simple sword technique far removed from one that prioritizes ingenuity and unpredictability.
Compared to the warrior’s or knight’s technique development method of using mana to strengthen the body, enhance weapons, or reinforce specific actions.
This has none of that.
Septentrion.
The swordsmanship Corin perfected is, strictly speaking, inferior even to Uzah’s sword as complemented by Grandeus.
But Corin himself was in the optimal physical condition and circumstances to wield it.
Especially his protagonist’s will.
That was essentially his greatest and strongest weapon.
Septentrion was a tool, a means to wield that.
In a world where only he is the master, the assertion, the main effect.
I who stand here am the master of the world, the master of my fate.
Therefore, as the protagonist, he does not fall. He does not crumble. He does not break.
As long as that will is not bent or faded.
Somehow, he can only win and win again.
And the blessing comparable to that, the blessing of the once victory-governing incarnation of victory, is possessed by the being before me.
As Corin said.
The blessing of ten thousand victories without defeat.
Unlike the protagonist’s will that does not lose, this blessing ensures that its beneficiary somehow wins and does not lose.
Therefore, even if defeated, it becomes the foundation and stepping stone for victory.
Excluding such cases, it’s a blessing that symbolizes the status and position of a god who does not lose under any circumstances.
One who continuously wins will eventually become a king, surpassing a hegemon to become an emperor.
Later, they would ascend to something even greater.
Regardless of themselves.
Victory itself inspires faith.
That’s why since ancient times, gods of victory have often reigned as the masters of the world.
“……”
So.
A confrontation cannot be established by ordinary methods.
…But.
For me, who has been liberated from fate and destiny, this no longer applies.
“?!”
I intertwine our swords, going beyond that to push my body halfway in, pressing my pelvis and thighs against him.
Thud!
I twist my pelvis and push my thigh, shoving his inner groin and thigh area almost like a strike.
With our swords still locked, I swing and stir, thrusting and cutting at his face and arm area with the double-edged pitch-black blade.
Continuously, successively.
Just as the best defense is offense, I aim to seize the initiative in battle by executing a dense offensive with agility, without giving any respite.
“—!!”
A muted battle cry.
The white light deflects the pitch darkness.
Five exchanges have passed between us, and like a snake trying to escape from between a bird’s talons, he fiercely creates distance while deflecting my black sword.
As I was about to pursue with momentum, I restrained my action upon seeing him regain his posture as if stepping on air.
Half of half a step.
If I had approached just that much more.
No, if I had just extended my upper body a little more, he would have immediately kicked off the air and charged at me again.
One of the abilities of the holy relic he possesses.
The ability to step on areas that cannot be stepped on at any time.
Even without wings, with just that, he could maneuver at full power unconditionally, whether on the ground or in the air.
In fact, it’s a far more terrifying sacred item than giving wings to a fine steed.
“That sword technique is indeed…”
He looks at me with eyes that have sunk beyond gloom. On my part, I transition to Fortes again, holding my sword diagonally to respond.
“Judging by just the recent engagement, you are far…”
“Isn’t that something we already know?”
Is there any need for unnecessary words?
“…Indeed.”
Besides, this recent clash has left me just as chilled to the core.
Usually, even the sword techniques of the Salvation Knight Order would mostly collapse on their own without being able to respond.
But now, despite my best efforts, he didn’t retreat an inch or allow himself to be manipulated as I intended.
It seems he didn’t simply bury the past in the recesses of his memory.
‘Rather…’
I was almost counter-exploited.
It’s fortunate that I’m seasoned in this kind of close combat; it was quite dangerous.
“……”
The reason why he hasn’t been trying to overwhelm me with powerful techniques from the start has also become clear.
He might be wary of me counterattacking with Black Light Star or neutralizing it.
Perhaps he’s even considering something beyond that.
His continued offensive, which thoroughly utilizes basic skills and abilities to their maximum, almost like hand-to-hand combat…
It means he’s not making complacent judgments or intoxicated by overflowing power.
Rather, like now, to the point where my hair stands on end, where I feel my breath might stop if I let my guard down even slightly.
This figure, pouring out and driving a formidable aura, a combative energy like a waterfall, more powerful than any enemy I’ve ever seen…
“You’re battle-hardened, but it seems you still can’t completely conceal your intentions.”
Or.
“…Have you been longing so much for this moment to face me?”
That statement immediately struck a chord.
‘Was I expecting him to display something grand, as if showing off?’
That would be the greatest weapon, the dagger that would lead to his downfall.
Was the problem that I had become too accustomed to it?
No, usually there’s no time to even think about such things… they’re too busy pouring everything out.
‘…That would be the norm.’
Father, if you hadn’t been severely injured by Grandeus once.
After a few exchanges, you would have immediately showcased your most powerful technique.
Exchanging swords like this in such a time-sensitive situation?
If it could immediately crush the opponent, that would be understandable, but…
Otherwise, wouldn’t it just be a waste of time?
‘…In other words.’
Whether I intend it or not, simply enduring means my victory.
But that…
“……”
After regulating my breath once.
I shifted my stance, resting the sword on my shoulder.
Grate.
“Is there a reason for you to abandon your advantage like this?”
Father just informed me.
If I just endure, due to time constraints, he will eventually have to move according to my intentions.
This is something that can’t be helped, even if he knows or has figured it out.
…But.
“Haa.”
As if he had grasped my inner thoughts, he sighs softly.
“……”
That’s right.
I’m here to defeat you, not to make you reluctantly concede by enduring.
You might think it’s fine to win by any means.
…I understand intellectually that it’s practical and rational, but.
“……”
I don’t like it.
Who takes someone’s life hostage to make their opponent desperate, forcing them into a quagmire?
Is that all my efforts amount to in the end?
For such a pathetic ending…
After enduring countless humiliations, pain, suffering, and despair… there’s no way I’ve held on for this.
‘If that’s the only way I can win.’
Rather.
…Just die.
Just perish and disappear.
All I have left, from that time until now, is just one thing.
Broken, shattered, and cast aside.
A pitiful pride.
That pitiful pride is all I have left now.
So.
Would that cursed emotion, that resentment…
…tolerate this situation?
“……”
Septentrion.
Uzah’s sword.
But completely different from these, created and constructed with clear purpose though incomplete.
Yet another form.
It is the gambling move thrown by someone who absolutely cannot retreat, betting their entire life…
‘The gait.’
A march betting one’s life.
A march that throws away everything.
The march that the me from that other world had no choice but to undertake with the determination to save Lutesia.
That walk, that advance, which embodies that entire life.
If one were to add something to the seven movements, this would be just a gait.
…But I assigned a clear meaning to this as well.
I resolved to engrave it.
‘Lutesia.’
Whether Septentrion or Uzah’s sword.
They have strictly defined stances.
That is, while they appear to allow for posture readjustment during the march, in reality, they are methods of firmly establishing a posture, or deploying, retrieving, and applying based on what has been established.
Like an immovable fortress.
Like a fortress even when moving.
But the me from another world who had nothing to protect…
…had no choice but to march forward.
Even at the cost of throwing away one’s safety, future, life.
All of it!
“What—?”
He probably hasn’t experienced something like this before.
Given Grandeus’s character, he wasn’t the type to openly take the initiative in attacks.
So.
Not a fortress, but without even the possibility of defense.
Like opening a castle gate, throwing oneself forward with this development and stance…
…Father, you wouldn’t have predicted this at all.
At first glance, it would seem like I’m completely throwing away my advantage.
That’s not wrong.
But…
‘This is…’
Completed by me.
Shadows engulf my form, and with just one step, I compress five steps’ worth of distance.
I advance diagonally in a straight line.
Then Fortes.
Though not an attack, just the transition of sword and stance can be extremely threatening in ultra-close combat.
“—!”
And by this point, the defenselessness has already hardened like a solid fortress.
The advantage of ultra-close combat returns intact.
From Fortes, I twist my upper body and sweep, then return to the Kisu form Para, raising my arm high to force even his divine sword upward.
“Kal, you?!”
After perfectly pressing my body against his.
The moment I release the pitch-black sword into the air, I grab both his arms and trip his legs.
“Kuk!”
He barely manages to hold his ground by kicking the air as he’s about to sprawl, preventing himself from falling backward.
But by that point, I’ve already trapped his arm in a joint lock, ready to flip him over completely.
If he falls, his arm and shoulder will be damaged.
Even if he resists, his joints and wrist won’t escape unharmed.
“Wake up!”
Was that a caution or a warning?
I didn’t think I had won completely, but I thought I could at least land one hit.
Was it that momentary disturbance, or rather complacency, that led to this?
Conversely, I was almost thrown into the air, caught by his arm.
Thanks to riding the shadows to create distance, I managed to gain time to respond to the follow-up attack.
“——.”
Reflexively blocking with my sword, the white light flashing before my eyes momentarily blurred my vision.
‘This is maddening.’
Beyond simply stepping on the ground, to coordinate even situations where one might sprawl or tumble over like that?
The utility of just one holy relic is astounding.
And yet, he still has two more besides that one.
How impressive.
“I warned you before that the moment you think a technique has worked is when you’re truly vulnerable.”
“……”
Really.
Even in this situation, you’re still lecturing?
Despite knowing full well what the situation, what the circumstances are?
…You truly are something else.
“……”
How much more do you need to infuriate me before you’re satisfied?
Father.
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