Mutants (2)
Even though his body had far from fully healed, Ludwig had several good reasons for testing Grylls’s combat prowess.
First and foremost, an incomplete recovery did not preclude a light sparring match. Whether it was thanks to the steady intake of honey since yesterday or the hot fish porridge, he felt remarkably improved. If his condition before had been the bone-deep lethargy of a vicious flu, now it was merely a lingering faintness.
Second, he needed to adapt to his new limb. Having spent his entire life with four sound limbs, he had suddenly found himself with a prosthetic foot fashioned of living Mithril. If he was to survive in the Forest of the Four Seasons going forward, getting used to this strange metal foot was an absolute necessity.
And third, he was genuinely curious about the true strength of a man who had managed to stay alive in this place. What kind of land was the Forest of the Four Seasons? It was branded the continent’s most lethal death trap, a realm so horrifying that people shrank from even approaching its borders. Had Ludwig himself not experienced firsthand why it was called a demonic expanse? Yet Grylls had survived nearly a month in such hell. The crude tallies carved methodically into the cave wall had told that story clearly enough.
Merely possessing the ability to channel mana wouldn't have been enough.
Suppose Ludwig had retained full access to his own mana—would he have been able to survive in this forest? Honestly, he could not say for certain. Monstrous beasts of every conceivable variety crawled out from every corner of this wilderness. Had Grylls triumphed by wielding the bizarre powers Ludwig had witnessed yesterday at the perfect moments? Or had he simply crushed everything through overwhelming physical mass and brute violence? Or was there some other secret entirely? Born of pure martial curiosity, Ludwig had decided to cross blades with him.
Clang!
Ludwig’s Mithrecon sword struck Grylls’s raised shield. Even without a shred of mana behind the blow, an ear-piercing metallic ring shrieked through the cavern. Grylls prepared to launch an immediate counter, only to freeze mid-motion.
The weapon clutched in his right hand was the Heavenly Demon’s Sword. One slip, and a fatal catastrophe would follow.
Whoosh!
The realization striking him, Grylls tossed the peerless blade away as if asking for a brief timeout. Ludwig caught the intent and stepped back, his gait halting and limping in stark contrast to the blinding speed of his opening rush.
Is he seriously unable to use mana right now?
Keeping an eye on Ludwig, Grylls scooped up the Heavenly Demon’s Sword and set it safely aside. That single opening clash had been enough to give him a rough measure of the man’s terrifying caliber. Had someone in the forum not mentioned that a master martial artist’s flesh and bone were so steeped in energy that their base physiology far outstripped ordinary mortals? The Juddak’s claim that her teacher could dismantle Grylls even without mana was clearly no empty boast.
Well, it’s not like I’m using mana either.
This was a contest of pure physical skill. Even if he did circulate his internal energy, he would only use it to reinforce his body. Stashing the Heavenly Demon’s Sword in a secure nook, Grylls retrieved a Mithrecon blade. It was razor-sharp as well, but far less catastrophic than the demonic relic. I really need to carve some wooden sparring swords later, he thought.
With preparations complete, Grylls kicked stray tools and debris aside to clear an open ring. Sensing the sudden shift in the air, the shelter's unusual menagerie began gathering to watch from a safe distance.
“Over here.”
“Kyuu.”
“……”
The giraffe attempted a majestic stride toward the center of the ring, but Ggobongi promptly grabbed its reins and hauled it back. And so, man and holy knight stood facing each other once more. Grylls braced himself behind his shield, tension tightening his jaw as he waited for the knight’s strike.
He’s bracing to absorb the hit and counter, Ludwig observed, studying Grylls hunkered down behind the broad plate. It was one of the most fundamental combat doctrines for a sword-and-board warrior: rely entirely on the shield's stopping power, weather the onslaught, and exploit the rebound to launch a lethal response. It was a brutally effective strategy, the kind that made an opponent grind their teeth because they knew it was coming and still couldn't stop it.
Yet that very counter carries an inherent instability.
Had Grylls been holding a top-heavy axe, it might be different, but a sword’s delicate center of gravity made countering off a guard notoriously clumsy. Factoring that in, Ludwig closed the distance with measured, limping strides, calculating that Grylls would not dare break his defensive posture even as he approached unhurriedly.
The instant Ludwig stepped right into Grylls’s personal space, the air screamed.
Shing!
Ludwig swung the gray Mithrecon sword in a vicious arc. The second Grylls saw the motion, he snapped his shield up to block.
Wait…?
No impact came. There was no jarring shockwave, no screech of colliding steel. As confusion flashed through Grylls's mind, Ludwig’s silhouette vanished from the sightline above the shield’s rim.
A feint!
It was the fatal vulnerability of sword-and-board fighters: psychological baiting. Because their primary instinct was always to block, a clever attacker could effortlessly open massive blind spots. To Grylls, who had grown accustomed to monsters like the Chief Gorilla that simply tried to smash through the shield with monstrous force, a feint was an entirely novel and disorienting tactic.
Right side!
Clang!
Yet despite his momentary panic, Grylls’s reaction was nothing short of remarkable. Pivoting on his heel, he whipped the shield toward the empty flank where Ludwig had reappeared and caught the true blow cleanly. Having honed his kinetic tracking through endless sparring sessions with Bbarmbo, his reflexes operated before his conscious thoughts could catch up.
Not bad at all.
Ludwig gave him full marks for dynamic vision and reaction speed. It had been a deliberate, well-angled feint, yet the youth had absorbed the panic and brought his defense to bear in a fraction of a second. Still, there was a reason why sword-and-shield practitioners were increasingly undervalued as martial realms advanced.
If you fail to block, you die.
At higher echelons of swordsmanship, passive shield durability became practically meaningless. When the battlefield was overrun by supreme masters who cleaved through tempered steel as easily as silken tofu, hiding behind a shield was tantamount to painting a bullseye on your own chest and begging to be bifurcated. While rare geniuses could wield a shield with transcendent mastery, they were freakish exceptions. Ludwig found himself wondering whether Grylls had the potential to become one of those rare exceptions.
With my current strength, I cannot break through that shield’s defense. Which means…
Ludwig resolved to dismantle the shield's advantages by attacking the rigidity of Grylls’s combat routine.
“Hraaah!”
Before Ludwig could reposition, Grylls seized the initiative. Having blocked once, he evidently concluded it was his turn on offense.
Slash! Whoosh!
Grylls cleaved with all his might. Once again, his posture was choked with excessive tension, causing him to swing the blade like a heavy iron bludgeon rather than a refined edge. What baffled Ludwig, however, was just how absurdly fast it was. Despite the dreadful form, the velocity rivaled that of an accredited knight.
It was an attack driven by terrifying, unadulterated physical mass. Ludwig almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it.
Clang!
“Hm?”
What came next was even more shocking. The moment Ludwig timed an opening to deflect the crude strike and drive a counter, Grylls snapped his shield forward to knock the incoming blade off course, as if he had predicted the riposte all along. A parry. A high-risk technique possible only when one read the enemy's trajectory in advance.
What in God’s name is this strength…?!
Parrying with a broad shield was not particularly difficult in itself. What stunned Ludwig was the monstrous kinetic shockwave Grylls channeled through the contact. Ludwig had braced his stance with substantial power, yet his arm was flung back so violently that the joint popped, sending a sickening numbness shooting straight to his shoulder.
It was sheer, unvarnished brute force. He had sensed it earlier, but the young man’s fundamental physical engine operated on an entirely different scale from normal humanity.
“Hup!”
The spar didn't pause to let him marvel. Having successfully parried the strike, Grylls brought his blade around in a diagonal cleave. Ludwig’s upper torso was blown wide open, leaving him completely exposed to the steel.
Swish—
Without the slightest hint of panic, Ludwig casually took two gliding steps backward, allowing the blade to shear through empty air inches from his chest. Flawless distance control. It was a foundational discipline that every warrior strove to master, yet virtually none could execute with such cool precision under real pressure. Ludwig’s effortless retreat laid bare decades of brutal combat experience.
Shing!
The whiffed strike surrendered initiative back to the knight. Regaining his balance in a heartbeat, Ludwig brought both hands down, driving the recoiling blade into a downward vertical strike.
Clang!
Gritting his teeth, Grylls braced beneath the shield and halted the downward crush. The sheer downward momentum forced his upper body to hunch forward—a posture that, under normal circumstances, would have completely broken his center of gravity. But Grylls had leaned into it deliberately. His eyes locked onto Ludwig’s lower half.
His preferred survival tactic had always been to cripple an adversary’s mobility. Ludwig was already limping, but that didn't matter.
A veteran like this will definitely pull another trick.
Without hesitation, Grylls swept his sword horizontally along the dirt, targeting Ludwig’s ankle with full force. At this rate, the knight would be leaving with a matching prosthetic for his other leg—
Stomp!
As if he had mapped the desperate gamble long before it started, Ludwig lifted his metal foot and brought it down hard on the flat of the sweeping blade. The decisive strike was pinned helplessly against the earth.
“Not bad,” a voice spoke above Grylls’s head.
“……”
“Few combatants think to target the legs from that position.”
A razor-sharp chill brushed against the side of Grylls’s throat. The tip of Ludwig’s Mithrecon sword rested steadily against his flesh.
“……I yield,” Grylls muttered.
“Mm.”
Though they spoke no shared language, Ludwig grasped the surrender immediately. He drew back his weapon and stepped away. Grylls straightened his back, rolling out his cramped shoulders.
He saw straight through every single move.
This was what it meant to face an actual veteran knight rather than an unthinking beast. Ggobongi had been manageable because of his dreadful eyesight, but Ludwig possessed no such exploitable flaw.
If this is how fast he is with crippled mobility, just how absurdly strong was he at his peak?
Grylls watched as Ludwig pulled out a notepad and began scribbling notes. The forum users had constantly sung the praises of the knight's legendary prowess, and this brief exchange had made the truth crystal clear. Even a monster like this struggles to survive in this forest without mana, probably because he can't use his advanced sword arts.
Just as Grylls was reflecting on the indispensable value of mana, Ludwig was entertaining an entirely contradictory thought.
In the savage wild, refined technique means nothing; raw mass reigns supreme. There is a reason the elephant rules the savanna unchallenged.
Grylls had managed to survive the harrowing horrors of the Forest of the Four Seasons despite countless crises for one singular reason: his overwhelming physical engine. His sword forms and theoretical techniques were a complete trainwreck, but they were backed by horrifying biological power and an aura so monstrously dense it defied common sense. Would refined martial forms have drastically improved his chances? Ludwig honestly doubted it.
Raising him as a sword-and-shield vanguard is indeed the correct path. Weight class over finesse.
That wasn't to say Grylls lacked talent. His instinctive battle sense was exceptional. This was not a matter of teaching a human the tricks to outmaneuver a gorilla; it was about teaching a gorilla the martial arts of mankind to forge an unstoppable monstrosity. Treating a regular human like a wild beast might sound excessively harsh, but in Ludwig’s eyes, the young man was fundamentally no different from the great white ape standing nearby. To strip away his raw mass in pursuit of delicate technical swordsmanship would be the height of folly.
His improvisation is remarkable. His dynamic vision and instinct for tracking an opponent's center of mass are sharp. Had we met back in civilization, molding him would have been a pleasure.
Grylls did not possess the transcendent, heaven-bestowed genius of the Hero, Asella. Instead, he possessed the kind of grounded aptitude that an instructor relished nurturing. Show Asella one principle, and she would intuitively extrapolate ten, twenty, or a hundred variations on her own. Grylls was different: show him one principle, and he would grind it into his muscle memory, finding a dozen brutal, pragmatic ways to apply that single trick. More than anything, his physical constitution was an outrageous gift. Whatever his technical aptitude, his potential for raw physical scaling was off the charts. Some men could gorge themselves endlessly and never break sixty kilograms, while others swelled past a hundred on mere rations. Ludwig would need more observation to confirm, but Grylls undeniably belonged to the latter category.
First, I must teach him the proper mechanics of cleaving with an edge. If he proves utterly hopeless with a sword, I’ll hand him a battleaxe instead.
Ludwig almost hoped Grylls would turn out to have zero talent for swordsmanship. For capitalizing on that freakish build, nothing suited a man better than a massive war axe. Yet discarding the groundwork he had already laid seemed wasteful—and above all, abandoning the Heavenly Demon’s Sword was out of the question. Even Ludwig knew that sublime weapon was a masterpiece among masterpieces.
“Here.”
“Thank you.”
Ludwig handed over a folded evaluation sheet, filled with dense, meticulous handwriting. The moment Grylls received the assessment, he immediately uploaded it to the Gallery. Much as he would have preferred consulting the Juddak directly, he knew better than to pester someone who was already buried in urgent continent-shaking crises.
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
While Grylls was interacting with the interface, Ggobongi, who had been silently observing the entire match, ambled over to Ludwig. The paladin looked up with a quizzical brow at the hulking primate.
“You. Fight. Me.”
“Pardon?”
“Swish-swish. Fight. Once.”
Ggobongi gestured clumsily with his massive paws, clearly itching for a brawl after watching the two men cross steel. Ludwig stared at him blankly, his mind struggling to process the visual.
……I don't think I will ever get used to this.
A gorilla covered in snow-white fur was strange enough, but this one wore spectacles perched on its broad snout and an electrified mana inhibitor collar designed for high-security convicts clasped tightly around its throat. Though Grylls had offered a rough explanation, it defied every ounce of common sense Ludwig possessed.
Are there only freaks of nature in this place?
The thought lingered for only a second before Ludwig inclined his head. “Very well. I shall prepare at once.”
“Thank you. One lesson.”
Upon receiving Ludwig’s consent, Ggobongi raised his massive paws and executed a formal Central Plains fist-and-palm salute. It was the quintessential etiquette of a martial artist honoring a peer—an utterly surreal sight on an ape. Watching the exchange unfold, Grylls nearly choked on his own tongue.
“Hey! How come you’ve never bowed to me like that?!”
“You are beast. Worse than beast.”
“Why, you little punk—?!”
“……”
Watching the man and the beast banter with perfect mutual comprehension, Ludwig could only shake his head in quiet disbelief.
I truly wonder how long it will take me to adjust to this madness.
Indeed, in this godforsaken forest, having three eyes seemed to be the only way to be considered normal.