chapter 45: The Realization: From Weakness to Strength

“Yo, Cephas? Simon? Doesn’t matter what you call me, right?”

“…What’s with the different vibe?”

Simon narrowed his yellow eyes, studying me.

Honestly, such disrespect from an Apostle towards a god…

“Just…had a realization.”

I slowly rose to my feet.

As I moved my weary body, I noticed my blood-soaked hands and torn clothes.

I looked fine on the outside, but the throbbing pain lingered. Ugh…it f*cking hurts. Really.

Simon, noticing me clutching my stomach, looked surprised.

“Did you run away from Valentina?”

He asked.

“No, she ran away from me.”

Simon quietly observed me, a strange mix of relief and concern in his expression.

No, wait, is that suspicion? I made her run away.

“So, is it over?”

“It’s not over. It’s just the beginning.”

I stood there, replaying the battle in my mind, the scene, her final expression.

What Valentina saw wasn’t simply an enemy, but her own past.

She was terrified, as if her very existence would bring about another tragedy.

Unable to face it, she turned away.

“Do you know where she went?”

“No. But she’ll definitely be back.”

I sheathed my dagger and brushed off my blood-stained clothes.

I couldn’t help but sigh. To be this battered after a single fight… was I that weak? No, it wasn’t simply a matter of strength.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

Simon asked, crossing his arms.

I chuckled, looking at him.

“Train. I need to get stronger. I barely survived this time, but there’s no guarantee I will next time.”

“Sigh…here we go again.”

Simon sighed, scratching his head.

“I’ve only ever fought with cheats. This time, I have to become truly strong.”

Simon looked at me for a moment, then chuckled.

“Alright. Then I’ll help you. Just don’t kill the Apostle, you pathetic god.”

Oh, is he provoking me?

I suppressed my rising anger and muttered,

“Haha, of course. You pathetic priest.”

You’re dead.

I’ll spar with you until you’re on the verge of death…!

 

***

 

Without using magic or physical enhancement,

a purely physical, technical spar began between Simon and me.

Whoosh!!!

“Dodge this!”

The wind howled as

a massive spear lunged, cleaving through the air.

Simon’s spear technique was straightforward, yet flawless.

Not a simple thrust, but a series of sharp, precise attacks from all angles.

I gripped my dagger and ducked low.

The spearhead grazed my hair, tearing through the air.

I’d been mistaken to think it was a simple thrust. With a single swing, he’d already cut off my escape route.

He’s really f*cking strong.

While Simon primarily used a spear, his martial art wasn’t just spear technique.

He combined it with techniques to corner his opponent and control the space around him.

A single mistake would be fatal.

“Already out of breath? We’ve only just begun.”

Simon sneered.

Quite disrespectful for an Apostle speaking to his god.

Instead of answering, I raised my dagger.

‘Breathe. Calm your heart.’

Spear versus dagger. The difference in reach was stark. But I could overcome that. Planting my feet firmly, I exploded forward.

I narrowly avoided Simon’s spear thrust and circled to his side, aiming a quick slash at the shaft of his spear.

Clang!

But Simon effortlessly rotated the shaft, deflecting my attack.

He then swung it towards my arm, the speed and force enough to sever it.

Thud!

I twisted my body, narrowly avoiding the blow. But Simon’s movements were relentless, his spear a constant, fluid threat, probing for weaknesses.

‘He’s fcking fast.’*

As I frantically dodged and weaved, Simon chuckled,

“You’re fast, but your spear defense is lacking.”

The next moment, his spear thrust towards my eyes.

My hand moved instinctively.

I parried the thrust with an upward swing of my dagger.

Simultaneously, I sensed a shift in his weight and attempted a counterattack.

My dagger lunged towards Simon’s neck.

But Simon didn’t flinch. He ducked and used the shaft of his spear to wrap around my arm.

Bang!

I was slammed to the ground.

“…Ugh.”

It happened so fast. A perfect takedown.

Simon pressed the tip of his spear against my throat and sneered,

“Try again if you don’t want to die. A little more seriously this time.”

I chuckled.

“You… you’re really going to die today.”

I pushed myself up and gripped my dagger tighter.

And the battle resumed.

Simon attacked with his massive spear.

His spear technique remained sharp and powerful, a perfect blend of impenetrable defense and devastating offense, denying me any approach.

But I moved differently this time.

My dagger technique, a hybrid of Krav Maga and Silat, countered his long reach.

Every time Simon lunged, I ducked low, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I weaved and dodged his attacks with quick steps and short, sharp movements, closing the distance.

“What the… what kind of movements are those?”

Simon muttered in surprise, but it was too late. As his spear spun and thrust downwards, I twisted my waist and countered.

“Gah!”

My dagger grazed his spear, and with a flick of my wrist, I slashed at his hand.

Simon recoiled, but I pressed my attack, aiming a second strike at his side.

My swordsmanship, a fusion of Krav Maga’s brutal efficiency and Silat’s fluid movements, overwhelmed him.

“Damn it!”

Simon retreated, spinning his spear, but I was already in his blind spot.

My dagger flashed, leaving a shallow cut on his shoulder.

But it was more than just an attack. I was disrupting his rhythm.

“This f*cking…”

Simon gritted his teeth and raised his spear, but my dagger darted towards his wrist.

With the fluidity of Silat, I stabbed his wrist, then, using a Krav Maga disarm, I twisted his elbow.

Bang!

Simon crashed to the ground. I pinned him, pressing my dagger against his throat.

His breath hitched.

“Damn it… your movements suddenly changed…”

I grinned, removing the dagger from his throat.

“Just realized? I never learned how to fight fair.”

I sheathed my dagger and offered him a hand. Simon, gritting his teeth, took it and stood.

“…This is unbelievable. To think you’re the same person as the past you…”

I shrugged, a smirk playing on my lips.

“So, prepare to die from now on, pathetic priest.”

Simon sighed and shook his head.

“Sigh…I regret offering to help you.”

I drew my dagger again, grinning.

“Come on, let’s have another round. I haven’t warmed up yet.”

We still have plenty of time.

Anyway, I wonder how Arthur is doing…?

 

***

 

“Hold the Holy Sword properly. Swinging it like that will exhaust you before you even graze your opponent.”

Revan said to Arthur, lightly swinging the Holy Sword.

Silver sword energy flowed from his fingertips, the air around them crackling with power.

Arthur wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his stance.

“Yes! But the Holy Sword is so heavy… it’s hard to wield it as effortlessly as you do, Senior.”

Revan chuckled and slung the Holy Sword over his shoulder.

“It’s not the sword that’s heavy, you just don’t know how to wield it yet. Don’t rely on brute force, read the flow of the sword.”

He approached Arthur and adjusted his grip.

Arthur was once again awestruck by the immense power emanating from Revan’s touch.

His hands weren’t calloused, but hard as stone.

“Like this. Put your weight into it, rotate, and strike. A sword isn’t simply swung, it’s wielded like a dance.”

As Revan demonstrated, the Holy Sword of White Flame traced a beautiful arc of light.

The mere wind from its trajectory rustled the fallen leaves.

Arthur’s eyes shone as he tried to imitate Revan, but his movements were still clumsy.

Revan sighed and lowered his sword.

“Sigh… when will you be able to show me proper swordsmanship? Again. This time, relax your grip.”

Arthur raised the Holy Sword once more, trying to feel it as an extension of himself, moving with it, not against it.

And in that moment, the sword began to respond to his intentions.

Swish!

A leaf split cleanly in two.

Revan smiled.

“Yes, like that. Now, this is a real spar. Come at me with the intention of defeating me, junior.”

Arthur’s eyes shone with determination, though a hint of nervousness remained.

He tightened his grip on the Holy Sword.

“Here I come, Revan!”

Revan wielded the blazing Holy Sword of White Flame, while Arthur held the radiant Holy Sword of White Light.

Both swords hummed, as if alive, radiating killing intent.

“Ready, Arthur?”

Revan grinned, lightly swinging his sword.

White flames erupted from the Holy Sword, slicing through the air.

Arthur, his hands slick with sweat, gripped his sword tighter.

“Yes, Senior. Whenever you are.”

But despite his confident reply, his movements were still clumsy.

He tried to close the distance quickly, maximizing the Holy Sword’s output.

He kicked off the ground, sending dirt flying, his sword creating a whirlwind.

But Revan didn’t move. His eyes accurately tracked his opponent’s every move.

“Too predictable.”

Revan effortlessly sidestepped Arthur’s attack.

The Holy Sword of White Light sliced through the air, and Arthur, losing his balance, stumbled forward.

“Oh no…!”

But Revan had already anticipated his next move.

His Holy Sword of White Flame countered, striking Arthur’s sword with precision.

Sparks flew, a deafening clang echoing through the air as the blades collided.

Arthur staggered backward, his hands numb.

“Ugh…!”

Revan effortlessly spun his sword.

His swordsmanship was overwhelming. Arthur’s strength was undeniable.

The Holy Sword of White Light’s power was astonishing, capable of cleaving a mountain in two with a single strike.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Strength without technique is meaningless, junior.”

Revan taunted. Arthur gritted his teeth.

He charged again, the Holy Sword’s light blazing even brighter.

He rained down blows, but Revan parried every attack without yielding an inch.

His movements were efficient and precise, while Arthur’s were brute force, straightforward.

Whack!

Revan’s sword deflected Arthur’s, disrupting his stance. He then swiftly extended his leg, kicking Arthur in the gut.

“Ugh!”

Arthur stumbled back, gasping for air.

“The Holy Sword of White Light is powerful, but you rely too much on its power. That’s not true swordsmanship.”

Revan twirled his sword, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What’s the use of all that power if you can’t land a hit?”

Arthur clenched his fists.

He felt the sting of his inadequacy.

Obtaining the Holy Sword hadn’t made him stronger.

Revan hadn’t even used its full power in this spar.

But Arthur? He relied solely on brute force, mistakenly believing that strength alone was enough.

“Come again. I’ll play with you a bit more this time.”

Revan raised his sword, a relaxed smile still on his face. But behind that smile lay immense power.

‘…This is…playing around?’

Arthur’s heart pounded.

This time, he had to learn true swordsmanship.

Otherwise, he’d never surpass Revan.