Chapter 168
Chapter 168
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP. 40 – Knights' Spring (2)
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Lark de Durron hardened his expression.
'...This ruffian has definitely grown since the old days.'
About half a year ago, when they'd first clashed, the guy's body had already been freakishly tough.
Even then, Lark had poured every ounce of his energy into it just to keep up, and in the end, he hadn't gained the upper hand—he'd even resorted to his signature techniques.
But now? He wasn't confident he could match this ruffian even with his techniques.
No, at the very least...
'Fighting barehanded is a disadvantage now.'
Back then, it had just been "tough." Now, it was "solid."
Like high-quality steel forged and tempered hundreds of times in intense heat.
He never thought he'd feel that impression from a person.
In other words...
'This ruffian isn't human.'
He'd thought the guy was weird from the start, but he'd evolved into something even stranger.
Lark reminded himself that he needed to avoid barehanded duels.
...Of course, if the situation forced him into one, he had no intention of backing down.
"Man, your glare is seriously murderous."
"...You're one to talk."
Lark furrowed his brow and lowered his spear.
Normally, he wouldn't pull back so easily, but unfortunately, today the one he needed to aim at wasn't the ruffian.
The targets were those insolent mages who didn't know their place, and to eliminate them...
"You still see me as dead weight, huh."
─The ruffian's cooperation was essential.
The ruffian shrugged.
"I've never called you dead weight. What nonsense is this?"
"You said, 'I'll handle it alone, so wait here, right?' and that wasn't looking down on me?"
"...I just meant it'd be easier solo?"
"That's looking down on me, you ruffian!"
Lark ground his teeth.
The anger still hadn't subsided.
But what irritated him even more was...
'Without this ruffian's help, I can't climb the mage tower.'
Just like how the guy had flicked the spear away with his forehead moments ago, he had all sorts of bizarre tricks up his sleeve.
Techniques that made flowers bloom from a sword, or propelled the body like an arrow.
And also...
'The technique to walk on air...'
He had a rough idea of the principle, but it was far too delicate a skill for someone trained in Fighting Techniques.
'Precisely expelling force to create footholds, probably.'
But for a knight who channeled explosive power from within, it was incredibly difficult.
Knights' basic combat style relied on bursting out that inner force, after all. Such finesse was exceedingly hard to pull off.
Therefore...
"Take me with you, ruffian."
"...Your begging attitude is way too arrogant."
"......"
"Whatever. Don't just beg—show me more. Prove you're worth dragging along."
"......Don't regret it."
Whoosh!
Lark thrust his spear again.
The spear came thrusting relentlessly, seeming like a simple straight line but producing countless variations.
No matter which way you dodged, it felt like it would chase you down relentlessly.
And sure enough...
Clang!
'-Again?'
Lee Han got hit by the spear again.
The first time hadn't been intentional either.
He'd dodged, but it still connected.
A spearplay so hard to evade, even for Lee Han with his exceptional senses and quick movements.
'It's more precise than any machine.'
Lee Han thought he knew why he couldn't dodge it.
It wasn't some mystic art or Fighting Technique.
It was simply the spearman's craftsmanship and skill reaching a master's pinnacle that no amateur could imitate.
'It's not just thrusting. It's all calculated.'
Not a mere thrust, but a strike launched using every joint—hands, elbows, shoulders, back—in unison, making it impossible to evade even if you tried.
While Lee Han prioritized the body's "functions" over techniques, this guy seemed to have invested everything in "technique."
The complete opposite type, with perfection beyond imitation.
But even more impressive than the technique's polish was...
'Reading moves.'
The guy was smart.
Common knights like Lee Han were "instinct types"—relying on superior physicality, senses, and experience. This one was clearly a "strategic type."
The kind who treated combat like chess or Go.
And strategic types were a nightmare for instinct fighters like him—especially since move-reading became crucial in duels between equals.
And...
'This guy's at least Grand Master level.'
The spearman's read was grandmaster-chess-player caliber.
Lee Han couldn't respond, taking hits helplessly.
But even so, one thing didn't make sense...
'Can you really read my moves this completely?'
He got the superior read.
But as the spear tip chased him the instant he dodged, Lee Han half-narrowed his eyes.
Predicting where he'd move? Sure.
But...
'This feels like precognition, not prediction.'
Future sight.
The spear stabbed exactly where he'd head next, evoking that thought.
Feeling it, Lee Han was convinced.
The spearman had something special.
Like Maximus, the northern champion, with his Heavenly Martial Physique—this bloodthirsty spearman had some similar "ability."
Recalling the spearman's feats over four days and a half piercing the Red Mountains, Lee Han had a good guess what it was.
"...Your 'eyes' are insanely good."
"......"
"Not a [Mystic], right? Some special Galahad secret technique?"
"...You're sharper than you look."
"Quit harping on my looks. You sound discriminatory..."
"......Hm, you're right. That's on me."
"Didn't expect an apology?"
"My liege said a true lord must admit faults if he doesn't want to seem uneducated."
Tap.
The guy set his spear down.
And then...
"Ever heard of the [Heavenly Vision] mystic?"
"Huh? Uh, rings a bell..."
The spearman's out-of-left-field question caught him off guard, but seeing no hostility, Lee Han pondered and nodded.
"Something about seeing a thousand miles ahead..."
"244 miles, to be precise."
"......"
"What's that look?"
"...Please, for the love of god, use kilometers."
"?"
Lee Han felt his blood pressure rising.
The world held all sorts of [Mystics].
Though few possessed them, their varieties were as numerous as stars.
Many existed, and countless were drawn to their power—like Greg, whom Lee Han had captured, who'd devoted his life to stealing them. That alone showed their value.
But while some stooped to vile means, others uprightly researched mystics, pondering: "What if we technically replicate them?"
For example...
"Galahad has always been serious about elevating mystics into techniques. The process was grueling, and even successes were limited to a tiny few."
"So some did master them?"
"Yes. Especially Galahad's knight commanders—it's basic training."
"Standards are sky-high, huh?"
"You think someone unworthy could lead Galahad's knights? Of course it's mandatory."
"......"
...No wonder Galahad's knights were strong.
'They only take kids who can handle that nonsense. Makes sense they're elite.'
Compared to the White Silver Lion Knights...
'Ugh, hopeless.'
The gap was too vast to compare. As Lee Han sighed over his workplace, Lark continued.
"Galahad mastered 31 mystics into techniques. No one knows all, but even one or two properly is impressive."
"How many'd you get?"
"Seven."
"...Now it sounds like bragging."
"You asked first, ruffian!"
"Fine, I get you've got fancy tricks."
"...Pot calling the kettle black."
To him, the ruffian still unscathed despite his spear hits was more wondrous.
No killing intent, sure—but zero scratches was humiliating.
Suppressing his frustration, Lark pressed on.
"...And of my seven, most focus on the eyes. All five arts housed there."
"Hm, figures."
Lee Han had his reasons for thinking the eyes special.
Never lost once en route to the center.
Fog, quakes, shifting terrain—no confusion. He knew the means now.
'Thousand-Mile Vision mixed with extras.'
Hm...
"Eyes don't turn red with curved jade around the pupils?"
"...What nonsense?"
"......Happens sometimes."
Obvious type.
Boosted insight, move prediction, environmental scan, insane dynamic vision.
Copy foe techniques, vent frustration—perfect.
'...Northern guy's got it too. Why so many cheat keys?'
One's a born Hercules, another's talent-forged ultimate eyes?
Jeez...
"Life's rough without talent. Must suck being talentless."
"......"
"Why stare like that?"
"......"
Whoosh!
Krunch!
"Picking a fight again?"
"...You blocked it."
"Gotta, right?"
"...Hah."
The spearman thrust again; Lee Han just frowned, wondering what set him off.
...Lark was convinced.
'This ruffian's a beast.'
He'd read every move and reaction.
His eyes—named the "[Third Eye]" by Prince Blake himself—missed nothing. He was confident of that.
Yet...
'Reacting faster than my eyes can track?'
Not human speed.
The ruffian had adapted to his pace after a few tussles.
In a real fight, responses would quicken, eventually countering.
And this guy whining about talent? Lark was livid.
'Ridiculous!'
He was sure.
The ruffian was...
'Seen instinct knights, but a beast-type? First time...'
A knight type he'd never encountered.
Lark scowled, never imagining he'd admire someone like this.
......Unwilling to admit the admiration.
There'd been some scuffles, but time was running short.
Not just the vacation ending soon.
'Staying here's asking for trouble.'
Empire was crumbling, Red Turbans could strike anytime—but it was still the Empire.
Crazy bastards holding the continent's "Empire" title for a millennium.
Population powerhouse of 500 million.
With numbers like that, if they got serious, Pendragon affiliates like them would be found.
And that wasn't what Lee Han wanted.
So...
'Raid the mage tower quick and bail.'
For that...
"Guess I gotta carry you up there..."
"......Horrifying."
"Speak for yourself, punk."
Hated to admit it, but the guy's skill was exceptional.
Bringing him would save time.
"We smash the tower before dawn."
Twitch!
"......"
"Hey, kid. Fainting's fine, but keep it up and your jaw'll lock."
"......"
"Eh, we're off anyway. Sorry for the rough show."
Lee Han wasn't the direct attacker but felt bad as the culprit, so he apologized sincerely and planned to leave.
Their presence would just make the kid uncomfortable.
As Lee Han turned to go—
"-I-if you're heading to the mage tower, flying there isn't a good idea..."
"...?"
"Th-the front has powerful defensive magic. N-non-mages can't break through, s-so to enter..."
"......"
"...Th-the rest costs money..."
"...This kid."
This young one—
"Any discount? Not much cash on me..."
Knows how to haggle.