Ch.5117. It Wasn’t About Meaningless Swordsmanship (2)

“…….”

Even so.

I’m not sure if I can use this sword as it’s meant to be used.

I know better than anyone that this world before my eyes isn’t reality.

But that knowledge doesn’t guarantee my survival.

Fortunately, in that sense.

The sword I received from Elhermina remained secured at my waist.

What should I do?

…Let’s think rationally.

After loosely fastening the straight sword to my waist,

I drew Elhermina’s sword.

In the distance.

Through the ranks of those who stood in formation,

Several barbarian warriors were walking toward me.

As the distance between us shortened, I realized anew.

Each one was massive and heavy, treating even a strong man like a child in comparison.

Even the tendons visible between their bulging arm muscles writhed menacingly.

Like those of a well-developed giant beast, everything about them was thick and solid.

Before the Kingdom of Berk, there was a great empire.

It went by many names.

Bel. Bera. Ber. Belo.

The Kingdom of Berk was born claiming to be a successor state to that empire.

The great empire, known as a military power that conquered continents and beyond, relied not on individual prowess but on military discipline and law, creating a systematized and strengthened military force.

Through tactics, strategy, and military prowess, they defeated, subjugated, and slaughtered countless enemies.

They continuously forced submission.

Yet even that great empire eventually fell due to the uprising of barbarian tribes.

With the emperor deposed by the great chieftain of the barbarians and the imperial throne usurped,

Everything collapsed.

And these people are the distant descendants of those who initiated the fall of the great empire.

While the extreme west, southwest, and northwest continents, including Berk, developed techniques to harmoniously handle weapons by refining skills and cultivating mana,

Those who roam the east and various other places believe solely in physical strength.

Each approach has its strengths and weaknesses, of course.

Random charges.

Hand-to-hand combat.

Chaotic battles.

In all these aspects, they were always ahead.

To compensate, the development of ranged weapons, the advancement of weapon forging techniques, armor, defensive gear, and protective equipment to gain advantage in close combat became a natural progression.

The growth of magical tool manufacturing technology, the emphasis on exchange and diplomacy with other races,

And the eventual subtle acceptance of magic despite initial rejection…

From acknowledging that weakness came the foundation for the current Berk Empire’s harmony and free-spirited system.

But from the perspective of that time, it was merely the desperate resistance of the weak.

Nothing more than frantic struggling.

Because they couldn’t even properly face a few hundred, sometimes even just dozens of invaders.

Like frightened children, they implemented hiding behind walls as their only defense.

“…….”

And contrary to that, those who came and went through foreign territories as if they were their own homes, those who made plunder their main industry and purpose.

For them, peace and harmony were impossible concepts.

It was natural for the weak to be robbed by the strong.

It was natural for the weak to work for and die for the strong.

So, with fear and hatred, they were called barbarians.

“…….”

And.

When you actually face such infamous beings, regardless of who they are,

Like encountering a wild bear in the middle of a forest,

When you directly face that crude bulk and see with your own eyes that the weapons they wield are almost the size of your upper body.

You naturally become dumbfounded, your courage falters,

And you helplessly lose your fighting spirit.

…Even that would be unavoidable.

Because that was the reality.

“Are you ready?”

Though there were only three of them,

A shadow fell heavily overhead as if the sky was blocked.

“…….”

However, even so.

That’s no reason to admit defeat.

And Kariel,

In the process of being repeatedly thrust into the Dark Lord’s malicious trials,

…Things larger than those?

I’ve seen plenty and experienced them firsthand.

In fact, the number of times I’ve died

Is at least twice as many.

“Let’s test if you can live up to that name!”

A massive axe rises vertically.

Though it seems dull, the force behind it was clearly extraordinary.

When squeezing muscles, it might appear slow at first glance.

But the moment it comes crashing down,

The moment that weapon strikes,

Like a predator charging at its prey,

That action will be relentless.

Like splitting animal hide and bone,

With enough force to instantly cut and split even solid wood.

BOOM!

The explosion is too tremendous to be from merely hitting soft ground.

It’s not about momentarily strengthening the entire body with mana.

For them, the use of mana is like a bomb used when hitting and pounding enemies.

If you face them without understanding this characteristic, you’ll quickly be caught in the aftermath, your body shattered by the impact, or worse, torn to pieces.

Physical strengthening is something they build up consistently from childhood through regular training.

It’s a fundamentally different approach and composition from the old Berk and the current empire’s focus on systematizing mana usage and building capacity.

“Ha-hah!”

The man on the left quickly approached, swinging a round shield.

I lowered my posture sharply to avoid it, then struck the bottom of the shield with the pommel.

“Huh!”

The massive warrior flinched slightly and stepped back.

His balance was disrupted.

Seizing that moment, I pulled away and narrowly deflected the spear shaft aiming for my back.

“Look at that! Yes! This is the technique!”

The shield warrior expressed inexplicable joy.

“It was the same back then! For some reason, when touched, it was hard to use strength! Even when I applied force, well! It didn’t fall over either!”

“Didn’t you say you learned the same swordsmanship! Of course!”

“Are you here to play?! Can’t you do it properly?!”

I remain vigilant.

Because this was the opportunity they had so desperately wanted, they wouldn’t carelessly let this moment pass.

Nevertheless, unable to contain their excitement,

Shouts of joy, exclamations like screams, and laughter like death throes erupted.

All of it, booming, tearing through the air.

“…….”

What’s certain is,

It’s much more difficult than expected.

If I clumsily clash weapons, I’ll be the first to fall from their strength.

I just confirmed that I can disrupt the flow of mana inside the opponent’s body, but.

It’s not easy.

Like trying to forcibly hold back a flood of water after a dam breaks,

It was truly overwhelming.

Like a rock and like a tree, no matter how much I try to imagine and recall and memorize,

It feels like it will break.

It feels like it will snap.

‘Not yet.’

Because I’m not complete.

Because I’m neither prepared nor ready.

The disconnect between body and consciousness persists.

The body is still immature, and consciousness and mind are scattered endlessly.

Yet what forcibly binds these two together is the power of will.

But no matter how sincere the will or desperation,

That doesn’t mean it’s omnipotent.

Everything is relative.

And now, because I’m facing an overwhelmingly formidable opponent,

Also because I’m facing those who are inherently unfavorable matchups,

And with numerical disadvantage on top of that,

…Being pushed back is only natural.

Therefore.

Accepting the inevitable,

Having to forge a path where none exists,

That too is part of the resolution.

“How long will you keep running away!”

“Like a squirrel, this one!”

“The name Kariel would weep! He never took even a single step back from us!”

He and I are different.

Even the reality and situation we face are different.

It’s not about who’s right or wrong.

It’s not about who’s better or worse.

We’re just completely different people.

Even the swordsmanship I learned from Grandeus is actually completely different.

What Grandeus taught him was basic, but it was how to wield.

As for me?

Rather, taking a stance, swinging, cutting, and thrusting… these were secondary and supplementary.

I still haven’t perfectly mastered swordsmanship.

I may have grasped some principles, but even that’s just barely beyond taking the first step.

More than that, my body doesn’t follow my will.

Even if I understand it intellectually, even if I understand it intuitively,

My body can’t execute it.

It’s a matter of time.

Training requires the tempering of time.

Even the most excellent blacksmith,

Without sufficient time, no matter how good the materials or tools,

Cannot fully complete anything.

“Hahi-hah!”

With an inexplicable cry, a warrior charges forward, shaking the ground.

-?!!!

Blocking wasn’t enough.

My body was propelled into the air by the weight and momentum.

This much only because I responded properly.

If I had taken that force head-on, beyond the concept of physical damage, some part of my body, whether the whole or a specific part, would have shattered.

That would mean the end at that point.

“―!!”

The ground approaches.

Just before touching the ground, I adjust my posture as much as possible to allow my body to roll smoothly.

Also, to prevent accidents like being stabbed or cut by my own weapon,

I manage the fall to mitigate the impact, paying attention even to placement.

Despite my efforts to maintain posture, my body still skids across the ground, dragged by momentum.

“…….”

It’s an absurd situation.

I haven’t even properly begun to resist yet.

And already I’m in this state.

I’ve seen Saint Kariel’s memories.

But how he fought against barbarian warriors,

That I couldn’t see.

Because I returned to reality just before that.

But would anything have changed if I had seen it?

“Yes! This is normal! This should be normal!”

The barbarian warrior who had sent me flying shouted vigorously, encouraging himself.

“But back then it wasn’t like this! Back then it was completely different!”

“You are not worthy to speak that name!”

“For all your boasting, look! See how weak you are, struggling against just us!”

…It was all true, so there wasn’t much to say.

Excuses, if they won’t work, only make one look pathetic.

By the time you’re making excuses, it’s already too late.

“…….”

Yet somehow, the sword didn’t break or bend.

The sword held up not because I was great, but because the sword was excellent.

For instance, I am weak.

Even if I were holding my father’s holy sword,

I would probably be no different than I am now.

Even if I had sacred relics,

Whether it was a great magical tool or whatever else,

Because the roots and foundation were lacking,

I worry about breaking and snapping,

…And now, I fear being uprooted.

“…….”

I walk forward.

Not expecting anyone to push me from behind,

Not dreaming that someone will stand in front of me to protect me.

I don’t hope, dream, or expect that I, in my weakness, will somehow exert miraculous strength.

The point is that the reality given to me is a problem to be solved with the results I’ve built up so far.

If I can’t accomplish it here and now,

There is no next time.

There is no later.

Clinging to what doesn’t work?

Challenging the impossible?

Who decided what’s impossible, and who proclaimed that it can’t be done?

It’s all me.

My weakness, my fear, my complacency.

…That’s probably why I thought and accepted it that way.

“Still haven’t come to your senses?!”

“Come on then! Come!”

“Little human! Show us your true strength! Do you think we’ll be satisfied with this?! This isn’t even worthy as an offering to the gods! So we will kill you! And kill everyone else too! Glory be to the divine lord!”

An axe cuts through the air, flying at me savagely.

“?!”

Quickly adjusting my stance from my advancing posture, I forcibly grip the sword with both hands and barely manage to deflect it.

CRASH!

A sound that should only be heard when siege weapons strike castle walls assaulted my eardrums.

The shock sent both my arms flying upward.

Instantly, the impact raced from the sword to my arms, shoulders,

And down to my ankles.

Because I couldn’t properly deflect even this, my posture completely collapsed.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

“Hehehe!”

The warrior rushes in, pounding the ground.

Like a bear charging at full speed.

No, in a much more ferocious form, it charged.

“Uaaah!”

A dagger pulled from somewhere.

Even that was of considerable size from my perspective.

I barely manage to block as it comes down vertically.

I deflect it.

Simultaneously diving deep inside, I shift the sword from both hands to my left hand.

I swing the sword down as if cutting his forearm.

TWANG!

It doesn’t cut.

As if hitting steel.

“Where do you think!”

The warrior snorts and swings his arm at me contemptuously.

But it doesn’t connect.

As his forearm barely grazes my face,

“Huh?!”

The warrior’s steps become entangled.

From the beginning,

I knew it wouldn’t cut.

My sword strikes without borrowing another’s power,

If there’s anyone who can handle even a little mana,

Even to a child, it’s not threatening.

This was something constantly and terribly pointed out during my academy days.

The body I carry, then and now, remains the same.

What’s changed is just the acquisition of some tricks and techniques, skills learned out of necessity,

And the forcible cramming of related knowledge.

And more fundamentally,

The changed will and mindset.

…However, such things don’t blindly bring miracles,

I can’t simply hold such a pitiful hope.

I don’t expect it.

Therefore, merely desiring and wishing isn’t enough.

Making it happen ultimately requires cold reason and its realization.

In other words, results.

“Huh?!”

Climbing up his staggering body, I grab his hair, which was tied without being cut, as if hanging onto it.

I seize his back.

My raised left hand.

The sword gripped in it.

Adjusting my grip to hold it in reverse,

I thrust it straight into his eye socket,

Aiming for the eyelid,

Stabbing down.

SQUELCH!

“AAAAARGH!”

It’s not over until it’s over.

Hanging onto the sword I’m gripping, I use even that recoil to swing the sword and launch my body.

The warrior screams.

I narrowly avoid his wildly swinging arm and sprawl on the ground.

“*cough*”

Clearing my tangled breath with a light cough, I immediately create distance and observe the opponent.

The warrior, spewing blood from his eye socket and flailing,

Eventually,

THUD!

…Only continues to writhe on the ground.

“…….”

Just one down.

And even that was a counterattack exploiting half-hearted vigilance.

Probably, having witnessed this, a different approach will be needed next time.

Does it matter?

When I can’t even handle the opponent in front of me, should I hide my best moves for the future?

Of course, that’s also a necessary process,

But in other words, that’s a story for after overcoming the barrier right in front of me.

“…….”

I walk past the sprawled, writhing not-quite-corpse.

“Not bad!”

“You really handled it like a squirrel! Bold one!”

I don’t waver.

Death is merely a process of proving courage.

“…….”

Silently, with my sword lowered,

I steady my breathing.

My arm muscles feel like they’re about to tear from the excessive force.

Did I twist my ankle slightly? It’s even stinging.

My fingers must have been strained when I readjusted my grip on the sword; that part is also stinging.

The impact from being thrown earlier remains.

If I lose focus even a little, my vision wavers as if the world is about to tilt.

Though nothing clearly touched me,

Seeing the blood flowing from my nose, even simple evasion might not have been enough.

“Indeed, facing three of you is challenging.”

But now.

“Two of you, is it?”

“Don’t get cocky, boy.”

“Look at this, getting all high and mighty after taking down just one idiot. You’ll die that way, you bastard.”

“You talk a lot.”

In the end, I have no choice but to use this too.

I draw the straight sword that I had half-forcibly attached to my waist.

“How about this?”

In each hand,

I hold one sword.

Perhaps I’ve done this many times just for play, for fun, for show.

But I’ve never seriously thought about entering actual combat in this state.

One is already burdensome, and I’m handling two?

Unless one has exceptional dexterity and sense, it’s fundamentally impossible.

Even with consistent practice, without innate aptitude,

Without extraordinary talent in handling swords,

…This would be nothing more than a suicidal act of pure vanity.

“Is this guy crazy?”

“I’ll make you regret this.”

So I shift my thinking.

Now as before, I’m not handling swords.

These are merely,

…tools.

After slowly walking to minimize the distance,

I throw the newly drawn sword at the warrior on the right.

My body moves in the opposite direction, to the left.

The shield, as if it had been waiting, comes crashing down like a wall.