Ch.7324. If You Feel Wronged, Just Chase Me Well. (2)

I had hoped otherwise.

There are countless ways to handle mana.

There are different types of mana, and each race handles it in vastly different ways.

Humans, whose physical abilities lag behind all other races, consequently have an extremely high dependency on mana.

Even in simple running, whether one utilizes mana or not can create a gap in physical ability that far exceeds the natural difference between a child and an adult.

Therefore, for warriors, for knights, enhancing physical abilities through mana is as natural as breathing or drinking water.

This was the fundamental gap that made me an underachiever and dropout at the Academy.

In that sense.

…Although my mobility seems extraordinary, when compared to those who enhance their physical abilities tactically in actual combat.

There are still numerous shortcomings.

Yet, what does it mean that he cannot catch up to me?

‘It’s the same.’

The one chasing me, leaping over buildings on two feet, must have innate physical abilities.

But it’s probably the result of training.

And unlike me.

The way he utilizes mana and its effects are probably similar to what I’ve been demonstrating all along.

But the difference is clear.

Because I cannot properly handle mana.

But what if someone who knows how to handle mana displays the same or similar sword techniques as mine?

‘It’s a losing proposition, but.’

I have no regrets.

I’ve roughly figured out how he handles his sword while examining the warehouse.

There are limits to what I can understand from just that.

I’ll know when we face each other directly.

The location is suitable too.

An empty space in a back alley.

Judging by the pungent smell of filth, it seemed like a naturally deserted place.

So.

“Where do you think you’re going!”

After suddenly stopping my movement, suppressing my presence, and reaching the exact opposite direction from where I was being followed.

As soon as I reached my target location, I lunged at him.

It’s an ambush, but I didn’t necessarily aim for effectiveness.

And, as expected.

A sword comes flying faster than the eye can see.

As soon as I parry it in mid-air.

My whole body staggers.

‘…The difference in physical ability is.’

Overwhelming.

I disperse that force through the air and land simultaneously.

Overwhelming physical ability formed by innate characteristics and arduous training.

And the swordsmanship that follows….

“……”

Something was different.

The way he holds the sword with both hands and takes his stance is somewhat similar.

But somehow, there’s a difference in the way he connects and strikes.

Is a sword strike filled with hostility and killing intent, aimed at taking the first strike,

so inappropriate?

With my sword held in one hand, I deflect and parry his attacks.

Like flowing water.

Like being caught in a sudden gust of wind at times.

Deflecting, dispersing.

“What?!”

He seems to have noticed my intention and tries to overwhelm me with physical ability without using mana.

Swift sword strikes rain down one after another, with a momentum like that of a heavy single-edged axe.

Somewhat contradictory, but his abnormal physique forcibly makes it happen.

A movement that’s truly disastrous in close combat.

Combined with his aggressive momentum and remarkable sense, a relentlessly persistent offensive pours down.

Nevertheless.

Due to holding the sword with both hands, the movement and operation of the sword are somewhat uniform.

No, that’s just my standard.

Originally.

Having become accustomed to, and eventually able to respond to each and every one of hundreds and thousands of arrows raining down from the sky.

And only after breaking through the frontal charge of dozens to hundreds of war horses did I escape that damned training.

…It’s not just about speed.

In close combat and chaotic battles, without allies, the barrage of all kinds of invisible weapons coming from all directions.

…I somehow managed to get through it all.

It feels like a very distant memory now.

But when faced with such clear hostility and killing intent.

…It’s as if.

All my senses awaken, as if I’m opening my eyes for the first time.

For instance, what I perceived as a threat.

Before my body freezes in fear.

Before my body shrinks in tension.

Before that, rage erupts.

An unbearable anger tears through my chest, my lungs.

I.

I didn’t hone my sword and skills to endure and tolerate.

I don’t intend to swing indiscriminately.

…But it’s not like I’m a fool, an idiot, a simpleton, a moron.

To endure and endure and endure, to withstand and withstand again.

Dying dozens, hundreds, thousands of times through those damned hardships and austerities.

…That’s not what I’ve been through.

“You’re parrying well?! Despite being inferior in both strength and agility! Is it the gap in skill proficiency?! No, more than that, how can you handle it so deftly with just one hand!”

Even while speaking, there’s no mercy in his movements. Without any delay, trembling, or hesitation.

Even without any hesitation.

A moment’s carelessness would allow the snake’s head and fangs to penetrate somewhere.

Once it starts to dig in, it’s as good as over for us.

So I parry the entangling sword like in a battle of wits, create distance, close in again, and entangle in return.

Fighting with pure physical ability is a living hell.

…But didn’t I recently learn how to lead my body in such fights over the long term?

I relax my shoulders and receive everything.

Does gripping the sword handle tightly with your hand increase your sword skills or make your strikes more powerful?

No.

You just need to grip the sword handle firmly enough not to lose it, to withstand any impact.

You shouldn’t awkwardly put strength in your arm joints or shoulders.

Anyway, whether I’m tense or emotionally charged, forcibly channeling strength into my muscles won’t help.

…Rather, increasing the distance and radius of my sword swings would be more effective.

Precisely targeting the opponent’s vital points or even making shallow cuts would be more effective.

There’s no need to unnecessarily strain my back, grip my abdomen tightly.

Similarly, there’s no need to squeeze my chest or forcibly try to support my lower body.

Use even the impact transmitted through the sword as a driving force to move.

Taking a step, whether for evasion or movement, that small step, long stride, wide footfall.

Even the subtle impact, the intense dragging of feet that arises from there, use it as a driving force.

Even the small impacts, excessive loads, large and small frictions that occur as the body moves, hesitates, rotates.

I utilize them.

Even the rising and falling is part of the cycle.

It begins from sand. From dust.

From specks.

Like water flowing downward.

And also like flowing and gathering to surge back up to the sky.

“You’re persistent!”

Though I hold the sword with one hand.

That doesn’t mean it’s half.

The empty left hand also operates according to natural principles.

When the right arm holding the sword faces forward, the left arm naturally retreats.

Conversely, when the right arm rises, the left arm falls.

Of course, that’s not all.

The movement of the legs. Posture. Height. Angle. Distribution of left and right balance. Direction of force. Strength of connection. Fluidity. Eye control. Breath control. Smooth control of the reacting body and senses.

And yet I think.

And yet I move.

I observe the enemy and contemplate myself.

Everything is organic.

Without a single point of negligence.

I move.

I circulate.

I entangle.

I overturn.

A straight line can be wrapped in a circle.

A point can be colored with a line.

And a void can be filled with points.

When colliding, I turn inward, and when turning inward, I flow again.

I flow.

Like that.

When going up, I come down, and what comes down goes up again.

As what is filled becomes empty.

As what is full wanes.

As what is emptied must be filled.

As what is filled must be emptied to the bottom.

We.

Are born to die.

Have possessed to lose.

And like this, to bid farewell.

We have met.

“Let’s stop.”

That word snapped me back to reality.

“……”

What was that?

Just now…?

“Even a ghost wouldn’t be this emotionless. It’s not like I’m fighting a moving scarecrow. What are you doing? What is that?”

No killing intent, and you parry everything I do.

“…Did you really learn the sword style of Grandeus?”

“……”

Why should I care?

As long as it’s effective, that’s all that matters.

The three things the Demon King taught me.

First is accuracy, second is efficiency, and third is sincerity.

Accuracy means being precise.

Efficiency means maximizing it.

And sincerity means utmost dedication.

Previously, the Demon King spoke about this:

[Even in the smallest of tasks. Never be negligent. Always do your best. That best must always be consistent.

That dedication must become sincerity and remain consistent to become the heart, and manifest outside the body.

Only when it manifests can it change, and only those who can change can realize dreams and ideals.

And only such individuals can resist fate.

Even this is not yet beginning to confront. It’s merely resistance.

However, even that is impossible for most.

Innate nature, habits, temperament, disposition.

Unable to overcome even talent, crushed by the given environment, just breathing until death.

Blinded by desire, rotting and burning time.

Living and dying while being swayed by such things, that’s what living beings are. Intelligent beings, mere organic matter.

Will you become one who wields the sword, or one who is swayed by the sword?

That’s what true sincerity is.

Not losing oneself at any moment.

Being aware of standing in that place. Every moment, knowing what you’re doing 1 second before and 1 second after. Knowing where you’re heading. Walking the path with both eyes wide open.

That’s how you don’t wander.

Don’t get lost.

Walking the accurate path, seeking efficiency to shorten the time to reach the destination.

Therefore, absolutely, for that reason too, you must not lose your position.

The moment you lose it, neither yourself nor the path will remain.]

“……”

Is the heart method of Grandeus, or the sword style and sword resolution the priority?

No, that’s secondary.

For me, the priority is, regardless, this.

Based on that, I advance, retreat.

…And rightfully maintain my place.

“You talk a lot.”

“Ha!”

He seemed to have a lot to say but didn’t know how to express it.

What do I care?

“Indeed, without a life-or-death battle, there’s no answer.”

“…Then come at me with that resolve.”

“Tch.”

He scans the surroundings and gives a signal.

“……”

The number of watching eyes has increased.

…But.

Are you going to pay attention to such trivial things?

In a life-or-death situation.

“The most annoying thing is. I don’t like that you’re learning something through me.”

“……”

“Rather than dying like a dog… I refuse to be eaten and used as daily bread.”

And then, as if he really lost interest, he withdraws his sword.

“We’ll meet again soon. According to that damn prophecy. Then, whether you like it or not, you’ll see the peeled shell.”

“……”

“It’s Venus. Remember it or not.”

Snorting, he turned his back and headed towards the alley.

After watching him, I too quickly escaped the place by climbing the outer wall of the building.

====

“Crazy bastard.”

Similar yet different.

Venus spat repeatedly as he faced Kariel, saying he just wasted his time.

“Was that even possible with one hand?”

What they occasionally saw was clearly what they had learned.

However, something was different.

…It wasn’t just Kariel who gained some insight.

Venus himself, in that insane battle… truly experienced a bizarre realization.

“What’s different? How can he be that…?”

Neither of them showed anything that could be called their specialty.

But that’s not something one can show just because they want to.

…It can only be shown if the opponent allows it.

Whether handling mana, hostility, killing intent, or malice.

Their secret techniques and esoteric arts could even exploit such emotions.

But what was that?

There’s nothing.

Like the bizarreness of encountering a storm in the fog.

Like the irrationality of forcibly swinging a sword while submerged in a vast lake.

Wind cannot be cut.

If one could cut it… it would require a very special and unique technique.

No, if even technique isn’t enough, something even more special might be needed.

“……”

But none of them dared to recreate it.

A dark star that cuts and swallows radiance.

A trajectory imbued with the brilliant light of darkness.

Equally swallowing space, light, phenomena, and even objects.

The Black Light Star.

“……”

The young man, the man remembers.

Despite it being from a very, very young age.

That massive trajectory of darkness that cut down the lawless ones with a single strike.

Simultaneously with the drawing of the black light stream.

The vast magic, miracles, and natural disasters that seemed to engulf the entire world.

All, all of them submerged, vanished like bubbles.

He, Venus, still hasn’t forgotten.

No, he probably can’t forget.

…He has lived solely to recreate that moment.

But why…

Why does a similar scent emanate from that guy he just met?

Why of all people.

Not me, but that damn guy!

And why, of all people!

From the child of the enemy!