Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 76
>Chapter Title: The Common Sense of the Academy Festival (6)
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*
All so-called "trained" agents imbue even their most trivial actions with numerous intentions. Like an enraged Ivan calling Pavel down from the statue.
To dare speak of the Royal Guard's history as meaningless in front of the late king's statue, daring to look down on him from the dais—it was an unforgivable offense.
But at the same time, he had to lock his opponent's gaze on himself to eliminate any variables. When the opponent's objective and their prepared 'move' were unknown, the fewest variables would yield the greatest results.
And that meant.
'He has an accomplice.'
It meant the same was true for his opponent. Pavel was also a 'trained' agent.
The very act of persuading Ivan, or fanning the flames of his anger, was intended to keep him rooted in this spot.
Furthermore, confronting Ivan head-on implied the existence of an accomplice. Pavel would know that he couldn't fight Ivan and carry out a terrorist attack simultaneously.
"..."
Ivan kept his gaze fixed as he scanned his surroundings, searching for a sense of incongruity that stood out among the festival-goers, the crowd that enveloped him. To be precise...
'A gaze.'
This wasn't a sensation that could be called a sixth sense. Most people are sensitive to the stares of others. It's a fundamental sense everyone is born with, a basic instinct possessed by all manner of prey, or social animals.
And humans are a species exceptional at technologically developing the senses chosen by nature.
'Three.'
However, simply feeling a gaze wasn't enough to deduce the opponent's location and direction.
But humans are not inanimate objects. Even when perceived as standing still, they are always moving subtly with their breath, emotions, and the surrounding situation.
With sufficient training, even such characteristics could be technologically developed.
It was a technique to analyze the background using only peripheral vision, naturally letting even the slightest changes in viewing angle flow past, all while keeping one's gaze fixed on the opponent as if nailed in place.
The number of potential suspects calculated this way was three in total.
Now, there was only one way to be certain of their identities.
*-Click.*
A hand moved behind his back, gripping the handle of a pistol. With the cold sound of metal grinding against metal,
Pavel, who had also perceived the sound, followed Ivan’s hand with his eyes and lowered his stance.
0.1 seconds. A reaction in a fraction of a second. The battles of superhumans begin in such brief moments, with only their eyes and reactions.
*-BANG—!!*
The moment he confirmed that what had been drawn from Ivan's sleeve was a pistol, a look of bewilderment crossed Pavel's face.
A mere pistol couldn't harm a superhuman. On top of that, he had turned the muzzle toward the sky—
'The sky...?'
Pavel's expression hardened. He moved almost simultaneously with the pistol in Ivan's hand spitting fire.
The belt around his waist came undone.
*-Clink, clink, clink.*
With the sound of a chain uncoiling, the belt in Pavel's hand took on an elongated form and solidified. A product of magical engineering.
[Dragonstrike Spear, Olov's Needle]
By the time Pavel had charged to within arm's reach of Ivan, a single spear was already fully formed in his grasp.
*-Whoosh—.*
This was before the surrounding crowd could even react. In a moment of slowed time, where even the flutter of a passerby's sleeve was visible in detail. In that frozen time.
The spearhead shot forward. Faster than sound,
Ivan's eyes followed the movement of the spear shaft from beginning to end.
A single black-painted dagger, an ordinary military knife, spun in his hand and was gripped tightly.
*-SCREEECH!!*
The clash of superhumans had begun.
Between one moment and the next. In the gap where an instant stopped and a fraction of a second froze.
With gazes, with mana, with senses, and with fury.
*
The battles of superhumans are not mythical. They are not fantastical fights intertwined with grand gestures and strange, esoteric arts.
Rather, their true nature is far more desperate. It's a struggle within the intervals, the moments, the fragments of time, to land even a single touch on each other's bodies.
It's due to relative time. Even if they are grouped under the same category of superhuman, the skills of individuals inevitably differ.
There is a clear limit to neural acceleration through mana. The time one can perceive cannot exceed physical limits.
However, even for superhumans, shortening a record by 0.1 seconds, by 0.01 seconds, with a human body is an act of grinding away at one's own limits with every passing moment.
Therefore, there is a hierarchy in the intervals of superhumans. Not everyone can live within the same flow of time. Some can move faster, more precisely, and more meticulously than others.
*-CLANG!!*
The spear flew like a hail of blades, aiming for Ivan's neck.
Ivan drew his dagger, twisted the spear shaft to deflect it, and turned his gaze.
Pavel's eyes were filled with bewilderment and anger. Roughly translated, their meaning was this:
'Why? And how dare you?'
Different emotions, but the same cause. He was enraged by the fact that Ivan had wasted his first strike.
In a battle of superhumans, the first strike holds a different meaning. It is a kind of strategic surprise attack, unleashed before the intervals of time can be properly arranged.
This was evident just by looking at how Ivan had been forced to devote all his energy to defense since missing that initial opportunity. For a long while after their battle began, Ivan had been unable to easily break free from his defensive posture.
*-CLANG!*
Facing a long spear with a dagger was, in itself, an act of acrobatics. Pavel had to admit it. Ivan's skill was far beyond that of the rookie he remembered from his youth.
And that's why he was angry.
How dare he yield the first strike to the Captain of the Guard. Firing into the sky? Even if a mere pistol couldn't do much, still.
It was arrogant. And now, Ivan was paying the price.
*-CLANG! CLANG! SCRRRAPE!!*
A flurry of spear strikes—swinging, cutting, and thrusting—aimed almost simultaneously for his neck, both shoulders, heart, solar plexus, abdomen, and both thighs.
It was the pinnacle of technique, the very essence of what a person could achieve with a single weapon.
But at the same time, Ivan's eyes tracked the path of every single blow.
*-Scrape! Wheeeen!*
Pavel admitted it. Ivan's mana reinforcement of his nerves was superior to his own.
At times, Ivan was fully tracking and responding to every attack, even strikes that Pavel himself, the spear wielder, couldn't follow with his own dynamic visual acuity. He had monstrous nerves.
However, the disparity in their prepared armaments nullified all of that. With a long spear in hand after seizing the first strike, and with his opponent's weapon being nothing more than a single dagger.
Even if his opponent were the Hero Maximilian himself, he could argue his chances of victory…!
*-CLANG!!*
The dagger, having parried the spearhead, shook violently.
It wasn't a matter of reach. It was a matter of power.
The reason a long weapon could generate more force wasn't because the wielder's physical strength was superior.
In the process of concentrating strength at the tip, a long weapon could fully utilize centrifugal force and thrust. For someone with a certain level of technique, the potential a dagger could draw out was trivial in comparison.
The very fact that Ivan was blocking a spear with a single dagger right now was something that should be called a miracle.
*-Scrape, crack.*
With a cold sound, the dagger's crossguard snapped and fell.
Freed from the superhuman flow of time, the broken piece tumbled toward the ground in a slow trajectory.
"It's over, Ivan...!"
Unlike a standard-issue dagger, the Dragonstrike Spear was a family heirloom of House Olov. The quality of its craftsmanship was on another level. In other words, Ivan's defeat was determined the moment the battle began...
*-Click.*
At the tip of the incoming spearhead, the muzzle of a pistol was lightly raised.
"Now I have seen everything, Pavel."
Ivan took his eyes off the spearhead and stared directly into Pavel's eyes.
Seen? What?
Pavel's eyes wavered. Of course, Ivan's gaze had been tracking the spearhead since the start of the fight... and while that was certainly impressive visual acuity...
*-BANG—!!*
A spark flew from the muzzle resting on the spearhead.
The spearhead, struck by the bullet, trembled, its trajectory twisting.
It grazed Ivan's cheek and struck empty air before stopping.
All the while, Ivan stood motionless, looking into Pavel's eyes. As if he knew for certain that the blow would miss.
Even though he was within 'range,' where a single sideways flick of the wrist could have blown his entire head off.
With chillingly blue eyes, he gazed deeply at Pavel.
"In accordance with the laws of the Royal Guard, I, Ivan Petrovich, will exact the price of betrayal from the former Captain of the Guard, Pavel Sergeyevich Olov."
*Click.* With the grating sound of metal, Ivan raised the pistol, gripped it firmly, and glared at Pavel.
"I hereby strip Pavel Sergeyevich Olov of his position as Captain of the Guard."
*-BANG—!!*
*
Enrique had often explained the Hero's Party of that era to her disciple, Lucia.
The one who walked at the very front, Maximilian.
>The one who stood the straightest, Gilles Vert.
>The most ferocious one, Einar.
>The most annoying bastard, Veolgrin.
>A slightly creepy woman, Patricia.
>The world's most beautiful assassin, Enrique. (Her own claim.)
And,
"The one with the best eyes."
>"The best eyes?"
>"Yes. He was like that even when he was inexperienced. You know how it's human instinct to close your eyes when you're in danger."
That's why, from the basic stages, they train reflexive responses to become desensitized to blades or fists. To not look away from a blade rushing toward your face.
Ivan was a guy who never needed that from the start.
"Even when all his other skills were unremarkable, he was a natural when it came to the art of seeing."
Because he was good at seeing, he was also a quick learner. Be it survival skills or combat techniques, he never needed to be shown twice.
His other talents weren't as prominent. He wasn't particularly strong, nor was he particularly fast.
But his 'vision' alone was truly transcendent.
He was a guy who could pull his own weight just by seeing.
"That's why we all thought of him as part of the same party."
The Hero's Party had seven members. Including Ivan, the scout. Because that's what they had believed.
They had been scared out of their wits more than once by the absence of a scout when they actually arrived at the Demon King's castle.
It was all just a memory now.
"But Master. That, 'seeing' thing...?"
>"He learns it once he sees it. That guy."
It wasn't about learning. Nor was it about being able to perfectly imitate. If he had that kind of talent, he would have been the Hero.
So, Ivan's talent was closer to the meaning of never forgetting what he has seen once. From the moment he has truly 'seen' it, he is never caught by the same attack or the same trick again.
He sometimes used strange terms like 'pattern recognition,' but whatever the case.
"And you know what he said after all that? 'A trained agent is never fooled by the same trick twice.' Can you believe it!"
What kind of agent in the world receives that kind of training! And so,
Enrique had cackled with laughter.
*