Ch.5217. It Wasn’t About Meaningless Swordsmanship (3)

Is a shield a weapon? Or is it armor?

The answer is simple.

It depends on how you use it.

I leap over the charging shield.

Immediately after the collision.

I rotate my entire body to disperse the impact, and as if that’s not enough, I use that rebound to climb up the shield.

A straight line can be wrapped in a circle.

A point can be stained by a line.

And emptiness can be filled with points.

…I don’t know what it means.

Just something I came to understand through practice.

But still, I don’t know specifically what principle it follows, why it’s possible, or how it works.

However.

I’m not a scholar.

I don’t need to desperately try to understand it intellectually.

…If I can use it.

If I can wield it.

That’s enough.

“Huh?”

Despite ramming into that small body like a bison, why am I the one being pushed back?

Not only that, I clearly hit them—I felt the contact.

So why are they climbing up my shield so effortlessly?

That nimbleness, using my forearm as a foothold and dashing forward.

“Where do you think you’re going with that pathetic trick again!”

It’s a misunderstanding.

I have never, not once, underestimated an opponent enough to use the same technique twice.

Therefore, if he thought so, that’s clearly a misunderstanding.

However, such thinking will become a vulnerability.

Feigning a head-on approach, I suddenly twist my body at the shoulder, running along his arm and acrobatically maneuvering between his waist and legs.

Finally, I drive my hand axe into his groin area.

More a tool than a weapon, but.

It’s the same.

It all depends on how you use it.

“ARGHHHH!”

Even if one trains their entire body, training vital points and genitals is another matter entirely.

No matter how steel-like one forges their body, there will always be gaps in flesh.

Moreover.

I could use even the resistance of his body, his attempts to shake me off,

as my own driving force.

And once attached, disrupting the flow of mana to dull his senses and throw off his reactions.

None of that was a problem.

That’s why, even though I could have more easily neutralized the axe warrior from the start.

This one thing I kept hidden.

They clearly suspect that contact would cause problems.

But in urgent situations, when one strong impression gets lodged in the mind.

Unconscious prejudices form.

To better prepare against it, they become clumsier, more rigid.

Thus, instinct always seems to protect oneself, but conversely, what destroys that self is also the clumsy, ingrained instinctive responses, gestures, reactions.

Primal judgment, when examined, is often the greatest betrayer of one’s true intentions.

It blocks courageous actions, instills fear, magnifies nothing into something terrifying and causes frustration.

It even hinders challenging all those things, ultimately forcing one to kneel.

“Aagh! GAAAH!”

To conquer oneself means to suppress, conquer, and defeat even such prejudices, fixed and ingrained notions, and instincts.

…That’s what the Demon Lord enthusiastically ranted about.

Both then and now, I wonder if there could be more essential advice than that.

“Not bad! Very impressive indeed!”

“……”

Kariel rotates his sword once and settles it at his side with his right hand.

The sword’s tip is raised at an angle from the front.

Even with one hand, this is Fortes.

His left arm is pulled tight, hand positioned as if cradling his face and chin.

The bent left elbow forms a sharp angle like an arrowhead targeting its mark.

“What kind of stance is that?”

The warrior, with his spear half-tilted, asked curiously.

“……”

“Fine, you want me to find out directly, is that it?”

Then I should meet your expectations!

“HYAAAH!”

A thrusting battle cry accompanies the gleaming spear tip as it charges forward.

“—!!”

Immediately lowering his posture, almost in a sitting position, Kariel slashes using only his right hand holding the sword.

Deliberately deflecting the spear shaft that strikes and advances as if to break through the blade.

Simultaneously, he extends his left hand to grab it.

The spear shaft.

His entire body is suddenly pulled forward.

If the spear had been withdrawn just a little earlier.

The hand that grabbed the shaft would have been reduced to rags while clutching the spear blade.

I realize it’s a dangerous gamble.

But without boldness, one cannot overturn a power difference.

With overwhelming strength, techniques, skills, strategies, and tactics

might all be completely useless.

But without overwhelming strength.

One must resort to tactics.

Being dragged along mindlessly would be like throwing oneself onto the battlefield.

He climbs up the spear shaft like a snake.

“Huh?!”

Watching the bewildered expression, he observes the warrior’s gaze and demeanor.

Faster than the look in his eyes, faster than the change in expression.

The optimized instinctive movement following familiar motions.

At the muscle movement stage.

By anticipating the fluidity of mana coursing through the entire body.

Beyond the level of mind and senses.

Responding to his own optimized instinctive warnings.

…He penetrates.

With that, he quickly throws his sword.

“Wha—!”

The sword rushes toward the face.

Simultaneously.

He climbs up the warrior’s spear shaft and hand.

Takes out his hand axe.

CRACK!

“Guh!”

The warrior’s massive hand.

Between the gaps of his fingers and nails.

He swings down the hand axe.

It sinks in well.

A single-point attack using the force accumulated while climbing against the spear shaft.

But this can’t be the decisive blow.

“Petty—!”

Grabbing the fingers further.

Throwing his entire body in a rotating motion.

He breaks them.

CRACK!

“tricks— ARGHH!”

Even with crushed fingers, that alone wouldn’t cause him to flip over.

But depending on the direction of the break, if he doesn’t roll his body, it won’t end with just a broken line.

Such instinct leads even that massive frame to voluntarily lower itself.

If it had been the wrist, the attempt would have been impossible.

A large build makes this kind of attack possible.

If his physique had been slightly more awkward, or even larger.

It would have been a meaningless attempt.

There was no certainty, but there was no other way.

THUD!

Even rolling on the ground, even if I mount him, I don’t have the advantage.

How could a child gain the upper hand by climbing on an adult?

But.

“You little rat! Where do you think—!”

The sword dropped to the ground.

As he rolls on the ground, and I roll with him.

I’ve already snatched it up.

Simultaneously climbing up his arm, I grip his head between my knees.

I point the sword tip right in front of his eyes.

“Wha—?”

He must have sensed it.

Before he could react.

I strike down and immediately withdraw.

“ARGHHHH!”

If I had hesitated even slightly, I would have been caught by those hands and finished.

In a way I wouldn’t have welcomed at all.

Having created significant distance, Kariel picked up his sword again.

Saint Kariel’s straight sword.

The sight of him struggling to stand, unable to pull out Elhermina’s sword lodged in his eye, might seem pitiful at a glance.

But to me, it was a chilling spectacle.

“You crazy bastard! A pipsqueak with such audacity! Where did you leave your liver?! Even recklessness has its limits!”

He rises, trying hard to endure the pain.

Was I too shallow?

The sensation of piercing through the eyeball and into the socket was clear, but perhaps.

Due to quickly withdrawing my hand, I couldn’t finish him off.

But at that moment, I had no choice.

No reason to regret or feel disappointed.

Though it might not have been the best outcome, that’s no reason to despair.

This won’t be the last opportunity.

“Grrrr!”

They say a wounded beast is more dangerous?

Then.

Is an unharmed predator not frightening?

It’s all the same.

It depends on how you perceive it.

If I become scared and fearful, I’ll be at a disadvantage.

But what if I think the opposite?

The number of opportunities increases.

“Ha, hahaha! Yes! I acknowledge it! You’re a strange little one, completely different from Kariel! But at least in terms of the courage and valor to face us! You seem worthy of inheriting that name!”

“……”

“Good. Then I’ll take it you’re ready! Let’s recreate that battle as you wish! Let’s overturn the miserable past and recreate it as a glorious battle!”

What? Ready?

“?!”

Suddenly.

My mind became hazy.

“……”

My body went limp, consciousness blurred, throat burning, and no matter how I tried to breathe, there was an endless shortage of air, making it impossible to stabilize my breathing.

“Yes! That’s exactly the physical state he was in when he faced us! Not at his best! Yet how! How were we so helpless against him?!”

The warrior’s shout was almost a scream.

“……”

It’s hard to even keep my eyes open.

Sound evaporates, vision wavers.

This feeling, this sensation of all senses closing off.

‘Right.’

Even after returning, he wasn’t even given a sip of water.

He couldn’t even eat properly.

Even at that moment, all he did was comfort the anxious village youth.

And then.

Toward the group approaching the village from far away.

He advanced.

…There was no hesitation in those steps.

Only desperate prayer and longing.

“……”

But.

How am I supposed to fight in this condition?

Just holding the sword is a trial.

Let alone standing on two legs, which itself was an ordeal.

“……”

But I have nothing to say.

When has the world ever turned according to my wishes?

Unfairness is natural.

No one wants to list circumstances unfavorable to themselves.

Even in selecting a battlefield, whether brave or weak, everyone desires to overwhelm and have the advantage.

In that respect, there’s not much difference.

If one desires an unfavorable battlefield, it’s due to the audacity of wanting to write their own glory.

That they, like heroes who dominated the era, can sweep through the battlefield.

That they can control the battlefield with mysterious military tactics.

Such imagination. Delusion. Misunderstanding.

…Would intoxicate them and drive them into a cold, dark pit.

It could be a grave, or a cruel processing site where piles of corpses are buried and burned.

“Now! It begins! Will sitting down help you?!”

“……”

I don’t even have the energy to speak.

My throat is cracked, and my mouth completely dry.

But.

I struggle to stand up.

“Now, show us your limits. If you’ve inherited the same name as Kariel. If you’ve inherited his strength and skills!”

Defeat us if you can!

“Show that the legend hasn’t ended! That our struggle wasn’t meaningless!”

The ground shakes.

All those watching begin to approach.

Their meaningless march, trampling the ground and leaving footprints across the plain, might seem like a fleeting illusion.

But to me now, it felt truly devastating.

“…Let’s do it.”

More like a breath escaping than a voice, a weak sound of wind.

But what does it matter?

I straighten my back.

If my posture collapses, I won’t be able to use anything I’ve learned.

With a powerless body, even motivation fades like a dying ember.

What remains is just instinct.

The enemy is before me, and I must defeat them to survive.

It’s truly simple.

Everything becomes monotonous and simple.

“……”

They approach.

Several, perhaps dozens.

I can’t even count properly.

My mind isn’t working.

Even though I’m looking, I can’t recognize properly.

I momentarily lost consciousness.

Almost dozed off.

The tension is firm, but my body won’t cooperate.

‘There’s no answer.’

I am different from him.

Saint Kariel consistently trained himself, went through actual battles, and afterward continued to…

‘No.’

There’s no need to make excuses.

Much less self-justification.

Unnecessary thoughts.

Allocating consciousness and thinking power to that is truly a waste.

I eliminate negative emotions.

I cut them away.

Didn’t I assert that I had no emotions, that I was dead, collapsed, broken?

‘Was even that just a part of vanity?’

I can’t even sigh.

I lower my posture.

First, what should I do?

‘I don’t know.’

Defend? Counter? Evade? Attack first?

I don’t know.

Truly now, nothing comes to mind.

Nothing is visible.

Perhaps that’s why.

“…?”

When I saw that vision.

I wondered if what I was seeing was reality.

Unconsciously, my gaze was drawn to it.

Compared to the size of the barbarian warriors before me.

His back seemed infinitely small.

His faintly visible eyes and lips part slightly.

‘……’

Follow me.

Soon the warriors rushed in.

That momentum and pressure.

Like the dream battlefield manifested by the Demon Lord’s malice.

Like the heavy cavalry in that virtual space that repeatedly crushed and rammed into me.

They throw their bodies forward with all their might to sweep me away.

And in that wave.

I unconsciously took a step.

All I recalled just before was simply.

Following his back.