Chapter: 590
The reason I sought out Garad’s castle wasn’t just to show Benedict what I’ve got now—though that was part of it. I also wanted to objectively gauge how far I could go with my current skills.
Anyway, the combat style I’ve been using thus far involved overpowering my opponents with stats and information to pin them down.
If that all failed, I resorted to provoking my opponents to shake them up and disrupt their fighting.
So, I found it hard to measure how far I had reached in this state of ‘nothingness.’
Well, I think it’s decent enough to be recognized as a skill by the god of martial arts, but it doesn’t mean anything if I can’t feel it myself.
In that sense, the knights guarding Garad’s castle were excellent test subjects.
If I tested myself against these people who had received martial arts training directly from the hero Garad, I could sense where I’ve reached.
The reason I didn’t use provocation or take the shortest route to invade Garad’s castle was simply this.
“Thank you. Future hero.”
My lighthearted thoughts shifted when I heard the knight’s dying words as he crumbled to dust.
The thanks left by a knight who had lived for ages following the orders of the hero created an indescribable turbulence in my heart.
It felt like seeing the doll inherit the memories of Garad and then depart.
As my thoughts became tangled, I wondered if I could embrace those knights’ lingering regrets after I faced a few more.
The conclusion didn’t take long. I am a proxy of the god and bear the power of acceptance.
If I can absorb even the evil god’s powers, why shouldn’t I be able to take on their lingering regrets?
Having made that decision, I marched up to the castle’s main gate and challenged all the knights there to a duel.
By pitting our martial arts against each other, I wanted them to acknowledge me and to deeply feel that the hero they recognized was moving forward.
“You’re really strong! Just as expected from someone with that shield!”
This process wasn’t easy.
I was far from at my best.
Facing off against skilled knights solely with my own body and martial arts, while limiting the powers that I could wield, like provocation or divinity, was painfully difficult.
“I was fooled by your cute appearance! I’ve been had!”
“What nonsense. I fought with full power from the start and lost.”
“You’re on a path to oblivion anyway. Who’s going to say anything about your ugly excuses?”
“I say whatever I like. You pathetic companions.”
“Hah! Companions? We’re brothers! Have you forgotten?!”
“Ah, that’s right. It was like that…”
My breath was catching in my throat.
My mind urged me to move purely on instinct, forgetting even the luxury of thought.
My heart raced like a madman, protesting against the pain.
My trembling hands felt unstable, ready to drop my weapon at any moment, while my once light steps were now rooted to the ground.
“Perhaps it’s time to take a break, future hero. At this rate… Hmm. My apologies. I underestimated your resolve.”
My head insisted that I needed to rest, but my heart refused to stop.
It wouldn’t allow me to slow down now, given everything I was holding onto.
Being a human swayed more by emotions than reason, I willingly followed the dictates of my heart and raised my weapon.
Thus, I kept taking down knights—toppling one after another—until I reached the highest level of the castle, where a knight similar to me, wielding a pure white shield and greatsword, awaited.
The knight flinched upon seeing my shield but soon broke into a smile, taking up a stance.
It was undoubtedly the same stance I had once seen from Garad a few months back.
Back then, I couldn’t afford to show respect to Garad. I was too busy to spare any time for that.
To be honest, I still couldn’t call this situation comfortable, but at least I didn’t think I’d be smashed to bits like back then.
I raised my shield and stepped forward first.
During my journey, facing numerous knights, I discovered this: I can’t be the heavy shield that often appears in fantasy stories.
While I yearn to become an unshakeable wall against any attack, my size is too small for that aspiration.
Even if my power is exceptional and my shield skills are awe-inspiring, overcoming the weight brought by my small stature would be impossible.
Even if I can block fierce winds, how can I endure floating in mid-air?
Accepting this fact finally revealed a new path ahead of me.
Instead of clinging to what I can’t do, I should focus on what I can do.
Not as a warrior,
But like a damn brat.
Seeing my charge, Garad readied one foot back and pointed his sword straight.
A thrust. He likely intended to push back the force contained in my charge at a pinpoint.
If an ordinary person tried that, they’d be called insane, but Garad was different.
The knight, who could shape mountains from mere earth, was surely aiming to pierce through the force of my charge and achieve his desire.
I didn’t doubt that.
Having faced him, I was confident.
That’s why I wouldn’t retreat.
I watched as his sword came flying toward me.
I slightly slowed my pace, teasingly shifting my shield to the side to distract him while keeping an eye on the sword tip approaching me and timing my moment.
This was no result gleaned from research across monitors. Nor was it derived from the help of other solid-like skills. It was a result obtained from my own thinking and judgment.
The timing for parrying.
A light, clear ring.
I felt no pain in my arm as the sword ricocheted away into the distance.
This was my conclusion.
Why should I accept the full force the opponent unleashed?
That’s a method suitable for noble knights or muscle-brained warriors.
It isn’t a method a cheeky brat would choose!
A brat who wants to see their opponent flounder and struggle wouldn’t go that route.
Driven by a heightened sense of excitement over the opponent’s bewilderment, I swung my mace.
Naturally, Garad prepared to intercept my attack with his shield.
After all, the purpose of a shield is to block an opponent’s attack.
Boom! As the heavy sound of impact echoed, I grinned at his slightly dented shield.
Looks like a fake shield can’t compare to the real deal.
Slowly.
One move at a time.
I would break Garad and the knight who imitated him.
Tearing through the shield, smashing the shoulder armor, snapping the wrist holding the weapon, crippling the legs attempting to grapple, and finally pointing my mace at the knight’s head lying on the ground.
Despite living through this harsh world, I’ve never taken any life.
I felt an automatic sense of repulsion at such actions, but somehow, I could sense that my opponent desired this conclusion. So I swung down my mace with all my might.
The last remaining knight crumbled to dust.
[Ha! Looks like you lost to the same opponent twice, Garad!]
‘This doesn’t mean I defeated Garad himself. That guy is way stronger than this, isn’t he?’
[Then what’s the big deal? That’s his strength. It’s not the strength of his nothingness. From the moment you challenged here as an unarmed opponent, this was a battle between his martial arts and yours! And you won! You were the one I taught and you won!]
‘Ah, so you want to say that grandpa won in the end?’
[Exactly!]
Observing the overly enthusiastic grandpa-child combo, I found no inclination to tease them. Anyway, I figured he’d soon start asking me to take it easy, so I thought it best to let him enjoy it for now.
“Ugh.”
As I stretched and eased my tired body, I suddenly heard crying from behind me.
Benedict was sobbing, his enormous giant-like face stained with tears.
“Wonderful. Huwaah. You did it, Lucy!”
I ducked to avoid his reaching arms, but he was way too fast.
Seriously! Isn’t it supposed to be that fantasy big guys are slow? Why is this guy both strong and fast!?
Though I was on the verge of being smothered by Benedict’s dirty face, a clumsy fox intervened, stepping in my way.
“You! How dare you taint Lucy’s beauty with that hideous liquid!”
“Please step aside! I must convey my feelings to Lucy!”
“Shut it! You troll! Does your daughter really want that stuff!?”
“…Uh?”
Only then did Benedict regain his senses and glared at me, pretending to gag, causing his colossal frame to crumple down.
Ignoring the sobbing Benedict’s apologies, I moved forward to reach out for Garad’s legacy.
His sword, unlike the shield he gifted to his friend, was different.
The blade wielded by the knight Garad during the mythological era.
A stark red sword, unlike the pure white shield that couldn’t even be touched by dust.
Viewing the ominous sword, which seemed to carry the essence of his bloodline, I froze.
I could use this sword as it is. It’s considered a near-finale-grade artifact among countless swords in Soul Academy.
In a sense, this is better than some finale. The word ‘finale’ conceals the idea of inefficiency.
Yet for some reason, I felt that I shouldn’t use this sword like this.
Just like the feeling I got hearing the knight’s dying words, the sensation I felt while facing the knights of this castle, and the same feeling I had when preparing to finish off the last knight.
Somehow, it felt like an ominous premonition.
I easily realized what this premonition was.
Maybe this is what you call divine power.
Alright. To those knights who lived in the mythological era.
It’s time to pass on your lingering feelings to me, and now it’s time for you to rest.
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