Chapter 130: Reasonable Anger

“…Is this even a human fight?”

The scene before us was so extraordinary that I understood why the accompanying knight had involuntarily uttered those words.

Every time the sword and fist clashed, the sky shook and clouds were torn apart in a brutal display.

Not only the visual spectacle, but even the noise conveyed the intensity of this battle. The sounds were loud and violent.

The thunderous booms that reverberated through the air were far rougher and more savage than any explosion I’d heard during a high-level wizard’s demonstration.

This wasn’t a human fight. It was a clash between beings that had transcended humanity.

“Should we…”

I was about to ask, ‘Was there any point in us coming?’ but I noticed the same question on everyone’s faces and closed my mouth.

Even though he’d said to leave it to him, it didn’t feel right to entrust everything to an outsider. So we’d headed to the castle, albeit belatedly, to lend our support.

We’d arrived at the castle with high spirits, but the sight that greeted us before we even entered stopped us in our tracks.

Now that we were here, should we really go in? It didn’t seem like we could be of any help in a battle of this scale.

If anything, we might end up as hostages and become a hindrance if things went wrong.

“…Let’s go inside.”

It seemed I wasn’t the only one with these thoughts, but my brother and the knights were already heading towards the castle.

“Brother… I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t think we’d be much help…”

“I know.”

“Then why…”

“I just… want to see this fight up close.”

“…What?”

I reflexively questioned him, but as a fellow warrior, I understood his feelings.

These two were clearly strong fighters who had climbed to heights far beyond where we stood.

Even if it might mean losing our lives in vain, I could understand the desire to witness this battle up close.

However… my brother was not just a warrior, but the heir to the von Grund family.

He shouldn’t recklessly go to a place where he might lose his life at any moment, yet none of the knights present tried to stop him.

…They wanted to see it too. The duel between two people who had clearly risen to the upper echelons of Swordmasters.

Even if I tried to stop them, I probably couldn’t change my brother’s and the knights’ minds.

If that was the case, I decided to go with them, and we entered the castle together.

Passing through corridors filled with blood and corpses, we came across Hori, who was using a fallen body as a shield.

Though trembling with fear from the fight, she refused to leave her post, using the corpse as cover. Her determination bordered on madness.

Hori, who had been peeking out from behind the corpse with a grin, spotted me and immediately abandoned her cover to run over.

“Oh, you came?! I thought I was going to die of fear all alone!!”

“Yes… It just turned out this way. How long have they been fighting like that?”

“It’s been about 5 minutes since the fight started… They’re not birds, but they haven’t come down from the sky at all.”

Wondering what she meant, I looked at the two combatants. They were indeed continuing their fierce exchange in mid-air, kicking off the very air itself to stay aloft.

If they were using spires or rooftops as footholds to climb back up, I could understand, but this defied common sense to such a degree that I couldn’t close my mouth.

However, this inefficient method of fighting in the air seemed to take its toll, as both of them landed on the ground not long after.

“Phew…”

The two faced each other across the fallen corpses between them, focusing solely on each other as if we weren’t even there.

“…”

After glaring at each other silently for a while, they slowly began to close the distance.

As they drew closer, it felt like something invisible was clashing between them, putting everyone on edge.

Finally, when they were close enough, their sword and fist began to clash again.

Or rather, they appeared to clash. Just before impact, like a well-choreographed demonstration, both fighters withdrew their attacks almost simultaneously.

This strange exchange continued, with them seemingly attacking, then instantly pulling back to their original positions, only to attack again.

Puzzled by this behavior, I tilted my head. My brother, standing beside me, explained:

“They’re… minimizing wasted attacks.”

“…Wasted attacks?”

“I heard from Father once. When Swordmasters fight, they can predict each other’s moves. The one who predicts more accurately and conserves more energy wins.”

Blocking an attack consumes energy, so they pull back before impact. Similarly, if an attack is dodged, it exposes a weak point, so they retreat again.

This peculiar exchange had formed as they both tried to eliminate even the slightest possibility of defeat.

“You fucking traitor!! Don’t you feel any shame towards your ancestors for selling out the country to Japan?!”

“Shut up!! My grandfather’s house has a police uniform and medals, so he’s probably proud of me in heaven!!”

“So you’re from a long line of pro-Japanese collaborators!! And heaven my ass, anyone can see someone like you is headed straight for hell!!”

“You uneducated bastard, insulting my family?!!”

While their actions made sense, I couldn’t understand what they were talking about.

Selling out the country? Pro-Japanese collaborators? Was this some kind of code used among Swordmasters that we didn’t know about?

I looked at my brother questioningly, but he shook his head, indicating he didn’t understand either.

As we watched their seemingly endless battle with bated breath, suddenly, an enormous presence that rivaled or perhaps even surpassed the two fighters bore down on us from behind.

“Ugh…!!”

The mysterious pressure from above forced me to one knee.

Hori was completely flattened against the ground like a frog stepped on by a cow, shedding pitiful tears.

“Waaaaaah…!!”

“Urgh…!!!”

Struggling against this unexpected assault, I managed to raise my head and look back…

“I’ll kill you!! I’ll kill you with my own hands, no matter what!!”

A greatly enraged black something was bearing down on the two fighters.

——

I was born in the shadows of this country.

If the Knight Order and magicians were the swords of light, we were the swords of darkness.

In times of war, my home was an organization that served the country through dishonorable, dirty methods, sparing no means.

Born as a mere assassin in an organization so secretive it was called “Nameless,” I grew up under harsh brainwashing.

We were forced to internalize the nonsense that our honor lay in disappearing without leaving any trace, remembered by no one, not even in history.

If I hadn’t had the ninja as a spiritual pillar in my heart, I might have grown up to be a puppet repeating the same words like my peers.

Rejecting a life that considered meaningless deaths honorable and unable to reveal the power of ninja, I devoured the organization as soon as I’d gathered enough strength.

No, perhaps it’s more accurate to say I dismantled and rebuilt it.

Everyone from top to bottom had been brainwashed, so except for the children who had just learned to walk, they were all like puppet dolls. I had no choice but to kill them all.

After destroying the organization and declaring separation from the kingdom, I established a ninja village in a hidden land unknown to anyone.

Over the next few decades, I raised those babies into excellent ninjas that could be proudly presented anywhere. Then, I set out to prove that ninjas were the strongest.

With the power of ninja techniques, I feared neither the kingdom, nor the Sword Saint, nor the empire.

I stepped out into the world, dreaming of crushing everyone with the power I’d honed my entire life and proving ninjas were the strongest, but that dream didn’t last long.

‘Ugh… urgh!!’

‘…Even in that state, the aura hasn’t left your eyes. You still seem useful.’

That power, which could split the sea and divide the land with a single swing of a great sword, was truly worthy of being called transcendent.

He clearly possessed the strength to justify his condescending attitude.

I had somewhat expected this might happen, but I wasn’t the only one who had reincarnated into this world.

Faced with this sudden, cataclysmic situation, I temporarily set aside my dream. While gathering strength in preparation for the day I’d fight him again, I also collected information about other possessed individuals like myself.

For hundreds of years, I gathered strength thinking of the day I’d face him again, and during that time, I came to understand his thinking a little.

He was waiting. Waiting for the reincarnator who would be born 400 years later, the setting of the original story, surpassing us.

He had been hiding behind the scenes of history for hundreds years, not dying, waiting for that one person – to defeat the one who could be said to have been chosen by the author himself and prove his own beliefs correct.

It seemed like madness, even foolishness when you thought about it, but I understood his feelings.

Defeating an existence the author deemed necessary for the original story would be proving to the author that I was right.

At some point, my goal had changed from conquering the world to prove the greatness of ninjas to defeating the reincarnator who would be born 400 years later.

A ninja endures and perseveres.

Bearing that name on my back, I endured what seemed like an eternal 400 years.

And this is the result of enduring those 400 years?

[Right now, I’m not Ian Barthow, but the Josenjing Slayer here to exterminate a Josenjing. Remember that.]

The reincarnator chosen over us is this idiot spouting nonsense about being a “Josenjing Slayer”?

Am I supposed to accept that those hellish 400 years were wasted waiting for someone like him?

I can’t accept it. I’d rather tear this body apart with my own hands than acknowledge that.

…I can’t forgive that bastard.

I’ll kill him.

Even if it costs me my life, I’ll definitely kill him with my own hands!!!

To receive even a little compensation for the past 400 years, I must, with these hands of mine…!!!