Ch.291The Eve (4)

“…As you probably know, I’ve already mastered Dragon Slaying.”

The ultimate fighting technique in the lineage following Dragon Dropping, the pinnacle of combat arts possessed by the Dragon King.

Llewellyn had mastered it and completely integrated it into his body.

And from Llewellyn’s experience using it, Dragon Slaying was a fighting technique so superior that most other martial arts couldn’t even compare.

Kicks reminiscent of a giant’s sword slash, punches like thrusts from massive spears, and elbow strikes.

Add to that the aerial mobility capabilities and all the defensive and offensive advantages provided to the user.

It could truly be called the perfect fighting technique. No wonder the Dragon King claimed the title of king.

Of course, now he had become a beautiful woman with large breasts, but that was neither here nor there.

‘…Well, maybe it’s not entirely irrelevant.’

Llewellyn inwardly groaned as he looked at the monastery head, wondering if he knew what had happened to his friend.

He didn’t seem to know. There was no need to tell him, and it probably meant he trusted Llewellyn and the Pantheon that much.

Considering that Netel was behind that trust, there shouldn’t be any problems.

‘I can trust Netel. Or more precisely… I trust his power.’

Just as Llewellyn’s thoughts were deepening…

Poke. A finger jabbed Llewellyn’s cheek. When both Llewellyn and the monastery head rolled their eyes, they saw Eshatherna with a subtle smirk.

“…What is it?”

“I’m bored.”

“Just wait a bit. We’re in the middle of a serious conversation.”

“Fine.”

Despite her words, Eshatherna suddenly embraced Llewellyn from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist.

It was an absurd sight for the monastery head, who was essentially her foster father.

It wasn’t just because Eshatherna, who was like his daughter, was boldly showing affection to someone.

Rather, the fact that Eshatherna was doing this at all seemed to deliver quite a shock. The monastery head blinked his large eyes.

“Are you and Esha lovers…?”

That question carried several implicit meanings.

For instance, a mix of “Why Eshatherna when there are so many decent women?” along with the astonishment of “How did you manage to win over Eshatherna?”

Knowing this, Llewellyn shook his head.

“Not lovers, it’s more like, how should I put it?”

He lowered his head slightly to meet Eshatherna’s eyes, and the elf with unusually lightless pupils shrugged.

“Something like a beast and its master?”

“…What?”

“It’s just how it is. It’s fastest to just accept it.”

The monastery head looked puzzled but ultimately took Llewellyn’s advice.

“Of course, Dragon Dropping and Dragon Slaying are martial arts that can claim supremacy.”

As if nothing had happened, he continued his explanation.

Llewellyn nodded, following his lead.

“But the martial art we’ve developed and grown isn’t just an ordinary fighting technique.”

“I’m sure it isn’t. It must be a martial art with at least thousands of years of history.”

Elven martial arts are famous. Isn’t it one of the main techniques Lucilla uses?

Even the elven assassin Eshatherna, who was now wrapping her arms around Llewellyn’s waist and playfully tickling him, used this technique, and half of the renowned fighters on the continent employed it.

Though called elven martial arts, in reality, it wasn’t exclusive to elves.

And all practitioners of the southern elven monastery’s martial arts had one obligation:

To contribute any improvement, no matter how small, to the elven martial arts.

This principle had remained unchanged since ancient times, making elven martial arts less purely elven and more a culmination of human martial prowess built over a long time.

Before learning Dragon Dropping, Llewellyn might have been tempted, but now he wondered if he really needed to learn it.

Dragon Dropping and Dragon Slaying were already very powerful, and beyond that, he had the swordsmanship of the Star Warriors and the Sword Saint.

The monastery head smiled gently at Llewellyn’s words.

“I know. The master of the Pantheon…”

“Just call me Llewellyn.”

“Llewellyn, you possess supreme fighting techniques. Your swordsmanship, your weapons, and even in pure contests of strength, you could overwhelm most fighters.”

That was true. Moreover, Llewellyn was now level 19.

He could attack four times in succession and possessed precision honed to mastery.

And that wasn’t all. Llewellyn had now acquired the core function of the Mourner, granting him counterattacks whenever he was attacked.

The gradually increasing mourning and the temporary health proportional to it were bonuses. Although the sacred blood had disappeared, as long as Orthemilia was creating a substitute, he would soon recover it.

This time with something proportional to temporary health.

Llewellyn knew he could dominate most fighters in the world without using even half of what he possessed.

So a new fighting technique?

There really was no need to learn it. It might even introduce discord into his currently solid system.

If he really wanted to use it, he could steal it with a miracle. With enough stealing, complete integration wouldn’t be difficult.

That’s why Llewellyn wasn’t attracted to the monastery head’s proposal. If anything, he was opposed to it.

“But what about defense?”

Until he heard what the monastery head said now.

“…Defense?”

“Yes, defense. Of course, I understand that attack can function as the best means of defense. Superior offensive ability and power inherently make enemies hesitate, and even if not, they can become claws that crush attacks outright. So, excellent offensive capability is no different from defense. However.”

The elven monastery head, hands behind his back, spoke confidently.

“Didn’t you feel it in your recent battle?”

Llewellyn paused. Ulrich’s face flashed through his mind.

The coffin that contained and buried him came to mind. His pupils trembled slightly.

“I believe her name was Nerilmaeus. Her offensive capabilities clearly surpassed yours. Attack frequency, precision, power, physical abilities… everything. So you couldn’t maintain the usual superiority you’ve always had. Is that correct?”

“…Yes.”

Llewellyn knew the result best. In the end, Ulrich had stepped in, and he died. Only after fighting with Ulrich’s lingering thoughts wrapped around him could he win.

It was a somber matter. As Llewellyn’s expression darkened, the first to react was Eshatherna.

She peeked out from Llewellyn’s side and glared at her foster father.

Eyes that looked ready to stab, and truly intended to.

If Llewellyn did nothing, she probably would. Knowing this, Llewellyn slightly raised his hand to restrain Eshatherna.

“So? My physical abilities and strength are better than ever before. Is there a reason I need more defensive capabilities?”

There is. Llewellyn knew that too.

But the reason he asked was obvious.

To see if the monastery head had reasons Llewellyn hadn’t thought of.

That’s what he wanted to know. Fortunately, the monastery head wasn’t a fool.

“Because there’s no guarantee there won’t be stronger enemies. Do you think the transcendents will simply watch what Netel is doing?”

The monastery head smiled gently. He subtly spread his legs and took a stance.

His feet firmly planted on the ground, his stable lowered posture stopped with one fist at his side and one in front of him.

A stance that felt somehow familiar to Llewellyn. A solid, basic stance. The main stance of those who use their fists as swords and weapons.

It was also a stance Lucilla often took. Of course, she was skilled enough not to need stances.

Yet it appeared often. The foundation of martial arts lies in stance, which is only natural.

Llewellyn recognized from that stance that the monastery head possessed a level of perfection comparable to both Lucilla and Eshatherna.

“This is something Netel has arranged. It’s your martial art, built up by humanity for what he cannot do, what he cannot prepare.”

The explanation was vague. But Llewellyn understood what it meant.

“Because even homunculi… ultimately have human structure?”

The elven monastery head smiled and nodded in affirmation.

No matter how monstrous the physical abilities and superhuman functions a homunculus possesses.

The form and foundation of that body is still human.

Humanoid.

Therefore, the martial art contained functions that Dragon Dropping and Dragon Slaying, created for dragonkin, lacked.

The culmination of martial prowess built over thousands of years based on human limbs, human body structure, human principles.

The ultimate martial art that only a homunculus could perfect. Llewellyn further discerned the true meaning hidden within.

“The integration of martial arts.”

The southern elven monastery’s fighting technique is faithful to fundamentals, refined, and pursues simplicity and clarity.

It focuses on using fists as fists, feet as feet, treating all five limbs completely faithful to their functions.

If that were all, it wouldn’t have spread its fame this far. This was why the Demon Eye Lucilla learned and mastered it, and why Eshatherna could become the premier assassin.

The true value of the elven monastery’s martial art was its broad expandability—able to harmonize with all martial arts and be applied in any way.

“I will make all your martial arts truly your own.”

Dragon Slaying and Dragon Dropping, which created discord whenever used due to incompatibility with his body structure.

Similarly, the Sword Saint’s swordsmanship, which didn’t properly integrate with his fighting techniques because he was neither a giant nor trained in the same sword style.

The elven monastery head proposed to integrate all of these.

For Llewellyn, it was an offer he couldn’t refuse. After all, the ultimate in martial arts wasn’t simply about wielding powerful means.

The ultimate in martial arts lay in appropriate application.

Using the right technique at the right time, in the right amount.

Furthermore, wielding powerful techniques as naturally as one’s own limbs and body.

Llewellyn finally nodded.

So that he wouldn’t have to lose anyone else.