Ch.95EP.24 – No Excuses for My Life (6)

Among the nations that have waged war against Pendragon, none are unfamiliar with the name Tristan.

Do they remember Tristan because of their powerful Red Blood Eagles, composed of one hundred knights?

No.

Because they are a prestigious family with a tradition spanning hundreds of years?

Not that either.

Simply because…

“Damn it! How can such terrible archers even exist?!”

The archers of Tristan.

Whenever the heads of the Tristan family, known as master archers or divine archers, sometimes called “Bullet Snipers,” took to the battlefield, they invariably accumulated military achievements that overwhelmed even the knightly orders.

Enemy commanders always died by Tristan’s arrows, and they could never escape them.

Even with magical defenses.

Even when accompanied by soldiers carrying shields.

No matter how far they fled…

Despite countless efforts, Tristan’s arrows mocked all these attempts and inevitably pierced the heads of enemy commanders with perfect accuracy.

Hence, some say:

All heads of the Tristan family must possess a “Mystery.”

They argue that no matter how much one trains in martial arts, such godlike archery skills are impossible without a Mystery.

Yet whenever the successive heads of Tristan heard such claims, they merely wore a sneer.

“A Mystery, hmm… It’s quite possible without one, you know?”

Tristan would say:

Anyone can become a master archer if they develop their senses from childhood through systematic training until they can detect even the sound of a falling leaf from afar, and if they practice shooting thousands upon thousands of arrows each day… or so they claimed.

Yes, they insisted that with “effort” and “a bit of talent,” anyone could acquire skills comparable to a “Mystery.”

However.

“It’s just that no one can actually do it even when I tell them how, so they don’t believe me.”

They would shrug their shoulders, lamenting that although they spoke only the truth, no one would believe them.

But now…

‘…How is something like that even possible?’

Was this the feeling that enemies who faced Tristan’s bow always experienced?

Jeminia blinked at the knight who had blocked her “bullet” with mysterious—no, bizarre—means, and found herself asking involuntarily:

“How did you do that?”

“With effort.”

“…I don’t think effort alone can achieve that.”

He had blocked Jeminia’s strike with his teeth, or more precisely, with the power of his mouth.

Bite force.

Jeminia was astonished to see him catch the bullet precisely with nothing but his biting power, and her opponent replied:

“It’s not that it can’t be done with effort; it’s just that you lack enough effort, that’s all.”

“……”

…Hearing from someone else the very words she usually said to others gave Jeminia complex, mixed feelings.

* * *

‘Wow, damn. I barely caught that…!’

His gums were throbbing.

Though he acted confident in front of the Marchioness, in truth, Ihan had no intention of blocking that bullet with his teeth.

He had originally planned to dodge it or block it with his hand axe, but he had missed the timing to evade or deflect it.

– Silent Arrow.

An arrow without sound, existing only in the process of being fired.

He had fortunately blocked it with his keen sense of danger detection.

If he hadn’t, he would have met a truly miserable end.

‘This is insane… Why are all the high nobles in this country monsters?’

The Grand Duke from yesterday, this Marchioness…

These high nobles were all more terrifying than knights, and one wrong move against them could be fatal.

Whew!

Ihan forcibly relaxed his tension, not even having time to cool the cold sweat soaking his back.

For good reason—if his muscles remained even slightly stiff…

Bang!

Baang!

Bung-!!

He would be hit without even having a chance to dodge.

The Marchioness’s bullets fired at him again.

“You dodged that one!”

“Stop using people as test subjects!”

That lady was excited.

She seemed so fascinated by his ability to block with his mouth that she kept drawing her bowstring without pause, and each time, a shot that couldn’t even be followed by the eye was fired at him.

They say the hand is faster than the eye?

Now he understood why that saying existed.

That lady’s firing speed was almost faster than the loading speed of a gun.

Her bow was larger than the average height of most women.

The way she handled such a massive bow like a toy made it clear that her drawing power was no less than his own.

How could such a slender body exert such strength? It seemed impossible!

Buuung!!

“!!?”

“Finally hit you. But how have you trained your body? This would normally break bones… Am I getting old?”

“…No, you’re quite accurate.”

He had barely deployed his Diamond Body.

If he hadn’t reflexively used Diamond Body, his skin would surely have been torn or his bones cracked.

What a terrifying person.

But the positive fact was:

‘I’m keeping up with her.’

He was managing to dodge, react to, and respond to her archery skills that bordered on the miraculous, if not matching mysteries or magic.

After experiencing dozens of consecutive shots, he had reached a point where he could block, dodge, or deflect them.

This meant his reaction speed was gradually increasing.

In other words, now he could counterattack the Marchioness—.

He hesitated!

“How fascinating. Your body is clearly battered, yet you respond to my techniques with extraordinary senses and strange skills. At my age, I thought I’d seen all mysteries and techniques, but it seems I was still a novice, haha!”

“……”

…Ihan chose to retreat and catch his breath rather than counterattack.

With the certainty that if he had approached any closer, his windpipe would have been severed.

“Good instincts. Yes, one shouldn’t get excited about overcoming such minor tricks.”

“Let me ask how many of those minor tricks you have left.”

“Unfortunately, that’s all for the minor tricks. Now, let’s get a bit more serious.”

“……”

Swoosh!

A vortex—no, all surrounding flows—converged on the Marchioness.

The air and wind were sucked in as if being drawn to a single point, forming the eye of a small typhoon.

Kwaaak!

Ihan planted his feet firmly on the ground with all his might to avoid being sucked in himself, enduring the flow of the vortex emitted by the Marchioness.

‘What the hell! Is this even human?!’

Though he knew he was in no position to say this, seeing that person made him groan involuntarily.

Gravitational pull.

The Marchioness was now generating gravitational pull with that small body.

This was not a feat any ordinary human should be capable of, and the fact that this wasn’t magic or a mystery made it even more astonishing.

And he realized:

‘That lady is just one step short of becoming a superhuman!’

A superhuman—a calamity in human form, an [Aura User].

A person who had approached that realm.

Just one step short, unable to fulfill some condition to ascend, but the Marchioness was indeed someone on the verge of becoming superhuman.

Ihan couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

His body was already battered, and his stamina could reach its limit at any moment.

Even in peak condition, he wasn’t sure if he could win against such an opponent, yet he had to fight them.

It was hopeless.

Rushing at that person now would be tantamount to suicide—.

Kwang!

“……”

“Hmm, when I bring out this technique, the reaction is usually one of two: either begging for mercy out of fear, or running away.”

“They’re wise. I’d like to run away right now too.”

“Haha, yet such a person stands before me without fleeing?”

“…I’m already regretting it.”

Ihan shook off the despair seeping into him by stomping his foot, and took a stance ready to charge at any moment.

The Marchioness’s eyes gleamed.

She had seen the fighting spirit in Ihan’s eyes.

“—You may admit defeat. There’s no shame in declaring defeat when frightened before a strong opponent. Survival is what matters.”

“I know. My life’s principle is to live happily and for a long time.”

“Then why go to such lengths?”

“…Because I don’t want to make excuses.”

“……”

Perhaps it was because his physical condition was poor.

Or maybe it was because he was facing a 50-year-old monster who could easily dismiss his words.

He expressed the sincerity that had accumulated within him.

“I’ve already lived a life full of excuses. I can’t do this because of that, I can’t do that because of this. I kept giving up because that was reality. I always lived making excuses.”

Wooong!

“But then a new chance came to this pathetic person, and I promised to live without making excuses anymore. I promised to live a life without regrets!”

Yes, he was someone who wanted to quit the knightly order and retire right away.

He wanted to live a simple, peaceful life raising a cute dog and a cat.

Power, honor, even being a knight held little meaning to him.

Even if others thought him foolish, he wanted to live a good life different from his previous one.

But even so!

‘Living cowardly, making excuses—once is enough.’

He wanted to live a happy life, not a cowardly one.

If he was going to repeat his past, his previous life, what was the point of the miracle of reincarnation?

“I didn’t gain strength to bow my head to others or to stand by and watch the misfortune of my people with a heavy heart!”

Ihan shouted with all his might, reaffirming his resolve.

He would live happily.

But he would not live cowardly.

So he fought.

He fought against a mage.

He fought against a thousand-year-old troll.

And now he was fighting against a Marchioness.

And…

“I’m going to live a damn magnificent life. Without a single regret!”

Whaaak!

Flowers, plum blossoms bloomed.

Not from the single hand axe he held.

– Blood Plum Blossoms.

They were petals of plum blossoms that bloomed using his momentum, using the blood he shed as sacrifice.

Full Bloom of Plum Blossoms.

Ihan’s petals covered the sky above the Marchioness’s estate.

“…You’re strong, truly strong! It’s been so long since I’ve met someone this powerful!”

It was the first time in Jeminia’s life that she had praised another person like this.

She wasn’t praising the beautiful plum blossoms.

It was his resolve.

That resolve was more than enough to evoke admiration.

How many people truly lived each day as if it were their entire life, rather than just claiming to do their best?

Even that “Good King” didn’t live like that.

“One shot. If you can block this one shot, I’ll acknowledge my defeat.”

“……”

“I’m not dismissing you. It’s just that archers, you see…”

Always settle matters with a single shot.

Kwaaaaa!!

With a sound like the air being torn apart, the Marchioness released her bowstring.

Crack!

“Urgh!”

Ihan swallowed a groan at the Marchioness’s strike that threatened to tear his body apart.

An enormous pressure that devoured even wind and sound came crashing down.

The profusely blooming plum blossoms were barely holding it back, but they would soon be penetrated.

Before this unstoppable massive flow, Ihan felt like an insect being crushed by a giant.

Just being touched meant death.

His stamina was long gone after manifesting the plum blossoms.

His vision was blurry, and he felt like he might lose consciousness at any moment.

‘…Am I dying?’

Ihan contemplated his death.

Is this death?

Is this the moment when one realizes their limits?

─Not yet.

‘It’s not over yet!’

He had made a promise.

He promised to return without delay.

If so, he had to return alive.

Because that innocent maid would surely wait for him in that spot forever until he returned!

Therefore.

‘I must return!’

Chwak!

…Thud.

Ihan reflexively moved his body.

The most natural movement his body remembered.

Swish.

He clenched his fist.

Then he bent his waist slightly and stepped forward with his left foot.

Hundred Step Divine Fist?

No, that wasn’t it.

The principle was similar, but if he had to find an example for the martial art he was about to use now.

– How do you do that?

– Anyone can do it easily by reading the flow of the wind. Those spellcasters liked to use it.

– …I didn’t know you could use magic without incantations.

– In the world of martial arts, there are no limits. With enough effort, you can easily master the techniques of spellcasters.

– You’re talking nonsense.

Ah…

He remembered.

Before being appointed as an instructor, which didn’t suit him at all, when he sparred with that man.

He demonstrated the remarkable skill of seeing the flow of wind and cutting through it.

At the time, he wondered how it was done…

‘That didn’t require much strength, did it?’

It didn’t require much strength.

That man wielded his sword with very light hand movements, and easily deflected even his full-power body tackles.

And now, Ihan was attempting the technique he had seen then.

‘Was it like this?’

In his current state, with virtually no stamina left and his body in tatters, he felt he could imitate it.

Whak!

This light yet heavy, heavy yet free and solemn.

Yes, like the compassionate fist of Buddha.

‘Arahan…’

Divine Fist of Arahan.

He thought such a name would suit it well.

Paaaat-!

*

*

*

─The maid was still dozing off, leaning against the tree.

Though she could have gone inside to sleep, the maid seemed unwilling to leave her post, silently keeping her vigil.

Squirrels and sparrows gathered around her.

Deer and wolves appeared too, and despite the food chain relationships, strangely, they neither fled nor tried to eat each other.

They simply protected the dozing maid.

It was a mystical scene.

Like something out of a fairy tale.

But unlike a fairy tale, the maid protected by animals wasn’t waiting for a prince who would dress her in luxurious gowns or crown her.

What the maid, Leira Winter, was waiting for was…

Ears perking up!

“…You’re late.”

“…Hehe, you’re back.”

A rough but warm man who knew how to keep his promises.

As if she hadn’t been dozing off at all, Leira Winter greeted the man with a bright smile.

His appearance was a mess, with bandages hastily wrapped around various parts of his body as he returned home.

To this man who had truly given his all today, Leira simply said:

“Good work.”

“……”

As always, she just hugged him with a smile.

“…I’m dirty.”

“We can wash up.”

“…Geez.”

The man smiled bitterly, and Leira’s eyes crinkled with her smile.

As if she was happy that he had kept his promise.

* * *

Wheeee.

“…What a personality.”

At dawn as the light began to break, Jeminia shook her head while looking up at the dim sky.

“…He should have at least received proper treatment before leaving.”

She felt regretful.

She had wanted to have a cup of tea and chat with him, but he had left so heartlessly.

Jeminia stared at the spot where the man had departed, savoring her regret.

And then.

“…Lord Baltar found an interesting fellow, haha.”

That final strike.

That strike was definitely his.

But it wasn’t completely similar.

It had an innocent flavor, as if he had made it his own after being hit.

‘He still doesn’t take disciples, but he doesn’t stop others from learning on their own. Peculiar men have met each other.’

Soon she laughed joyfully, like a pure child.

She had thought that, like herself, he had lost all motivation after the Good King’s death, but now it seemed…

“He’s been having fun all by himself.”

She touched her abdomen.

It wasn’t painful, and there wasn’t a single wound.

But nevertheless…

“It feels heavy.”

A heavy energy, a “will” remained in her abdomen.

“Ahahaha!!”

She laughed heartily, saying it had been a long time since she felt such a refreshing sensation.

And she thought:

More refreshing than the cool dawn air, clearing not just her mind but invigorating her spirit…

Truly a fulfilling “defeat” indeed.