The Weight of Enlightenment
I let out a low groan. "Ugh..." Right now, I was suffering from the most intense muscle pain I'd ever felt. The soreness around my arms in particular was so bad I could barely hold back a scream. Yesterday, I'd suddenly been struck by some kind of epiphany, but it looked like I'd pushed my body way too hard in the process.
Did I draw on every last bit of strength? The strain on my arms is no joke.
Thankfully I wasn't actually holding a sword. If I had been, my muscles probably would've torn apart. This kind of pain wasn't about enlightenment or talent. It was purely because my body wasn't built to endure that kind of abuse.
Still, relying only on upper body strength feels like it'd lack real power.
I could compromise by focusing on upper body strength instead of channeling the full force of my entire body, including my lower half. At that level, I'd probably have an edge over swordsmen who only used their arms... but anything beyond that would dismantle me easily.
Aria came to mind as the perfect example. If she really was a regressor like I suspected, she was so overwhelmingly strong that it was a miracle I'd survived against her in my previous life.
Good thing she didn't use her main weapon...
In the original story, the Depraved Saint wielded a massive greatsword. With a single downward strike, she could turn people into chunks of meat. Her strength was so absolute she could even take on fallen ancient gods. Honestly, no matter how much I trained, I doubted I'd ever reach that level. But for the sake of survival, I decided to practice the sword as much as possible.
The problem was...
...it's not happening like yesterday?
Unlike yesterday, the image of the 'sword' refused to appear in my mind. Forget manifesting it—I could barely even imagine it. This was definitely a variable I hadn't accounted for.
After yesterday's experience, I'd briefly wondered if I might actually be a sword genius. But it seemed that had just been a lucky coincidence, a one-time flash of enlightenment.
Maybe this kind of thing is actually common?
The original story had been painfully vague about the proper 'realms' of swordsmanship. That made it impossible for me to tell whether the enlightenment I'd gained was rare or commonplace.
Well, if someone as talentless as me could achieve it, it's probably pretty common.
Judging from Philia's earlier expression and reaction, I clearly had no talent for the sword. And if even a regressor thought so, it was probably accurate.
For now, my short-term goal was to build a 'body' capable of properly wielding a sword. After that...
I need to find out where the protagonist is.
Andrew, the protagonist of Haellan Chronicles and the one who would later be called the Sword Star. If we wanted to prevent the world's destruction, the protagonist had to step up. I'd hoped until recently that Andrew might be a regressor too, but thinking it over, that seemed highly unlikely.
If he had regressed, he would've stopped Aria from falling at the last masquerade ball.
But he never showed up. That pretty much confirmed he hadn't regressed.
Still, the situation isn't that bad.
Even without regression, Andrew's talent was undeniable. If I focused on nurturing that, it should be enough to stop the apocalypse. There would be plenty of variables caused by my own regression, but at least no one could match the protagonist's raw talent.
The original story explicitly called him the greatest talent on the continent, so it should be fine.
Still, there was one question that had been nagging at me lately...
Why did Philia break off our engagement?
In the original story, the two of them were childhood friends and fiancés who genuinely cared for and loved each other. Of course, the author later derailed everything and ruined their relationship, but in the first timeline—where I had been present—something must have been done to prevent that.
What exactly had happened in that first round?
I'll have to ask Philia about it when I get the chance.
Richard family training grounds.
Even though dawn had already broken, Duke watched Andrew continue swinging his sword and decided it was time to intervene by force.
Even if Andrew resents me later, it can't be helped. If he keeps going like this, he might actually collapse from exhaustion and die.
With that thought in mind, Duke slowly approached Andrew. But just then, someone moved ahead of him.
"Andrew, that's enough."
"I'm fine, Master. I can still keep going..."
"Not your master. Your father."
Thud—
Using a gap Andrew hadn't noticed, the middle-aged man struck the back of his neck. Andrew, who had been forcing himself to stay conscious through sheer willpower, couldn't react to the sudden blow and immediately fainted.
"M-My lord...!"
Duke stared in shock at the man who had knocked Andrew out.
The head of the Richard family. The man known as the Empire's strongest and most unyielding blade.
Iron Blood Sword Emperor Richard Aslan.
He looked down at his unconscious son with eyes full of regret.
"The broken engagement must have hit him harder than I thought."
"It certainly seems that way."
"Andrew will recover his spirits soon enough. More importantly, Duke, I have a favor to ask of you."
"A favor...?"
Duke was taken aback by the sudden request from the family head.
Wasn't he here because of Andrew?
It was rare for Aslan to personally ask for anything, so Duke couldn't help but tense up.
"Spar with my daughter."
"...You mean Lady Serena?"
The Richard family had three recognized heirs: the eldest son Richard Kyle, the second son Richard Andrew, and the youngest daughter and third child, Richard Serena.
Serena had shown outstanding talent as a member of the Richard family, but she clearly fell short compared to Andrew, who possessed the greatest talent on the continent.
"My lord, forgive me, but wouldn't it be better to have her spar with the other knights first instead of me?"
Instruction was one thing, but sparring only produced results when the opponents were at a similar level. In Duke's opinion, Serena would need at least another ten years before she could cross blades with him.
"Duke. There's something you're misunderstanding."
"......?"
"The other knights of the family have already been completely defeated by Serena. You're one of the only two left, along with the knight commander."
"What...? That can't be..."
It sounded absurd. As Duke's face twisted in disbelief, Serena slowly stepped out from behind Aslan.
Though still immature, her striking beauty was undeniable. Her brilliant golden hair and ruby-like crimson eyes clearly showed she had inherited the Richard family's bloodline strongly.
Unlike a typical child, Serena spoke with calm composure and perfect manners.
"Please take good care of me in our spar."
The blood-soaked man was barely catching his breath as he glared at Orgen.
Orgen, completely unscathed, spoke to him.
"Truly a level that most gods couldn't handle."
From the outside, it looked like Orgen had completely overwhelmed the man. But...
He's dodging every fatal blow.
And as time passed, the man's reactions to Orgen's attacks were getting faster and faster. At their level, it was impossible to dodge attacks with simple reflexes alone.
That's closer to precognition... An ability impossible to obtain without crossing countless lines between life and death.
Even most gods would struggle to endure even a single exchange against Orgen's attacks. Orgen's own skill was formidable, but that was because each exchange required blocking a total of six strikes.
The resulting fatigue was enormous, but what was even more despair-inducing was that each strike came from a different weapon.
No matter how much of a genius or hero someone is, it's impossible to adapt to all of that in the middle of combat.
If it were a familiar sword or spear, maybe. But adapting on the fly to all kinds of exotic weapons you'd never encountered before was incredibly difficult. The reach, power, and techniques all differed completely.
And even if someone managed to perfectly analyze and adapt to all of it mid-battle...
It wouldn't change anything.
The only difference would be lasting a little longer. Fundamentally, it was impossible to defeat Orgen.
Originally, most of the man's enemies had tried to kill him with overwhelming power, only to be dismantled by his transcendent skill. But this opponent clearly surpassed him in both power and technique.
In this hopeless situation, the man reached into his clothes and pulled something out.
It was...
"Dual blades...? You dare insult me!"
For the first time during the fight, Orgen became visibly angry.
"A swordsman of your caliber was holding back? Did I look that weak to you, Orgen?"
Watching the furious Orgen, the man replied calmly.
"No. I'm not insulting you at all. This is my first time using dual blades too."
"...You've gone mad. Or is this arrogance?"
The man had every right to be arrogant, but this was too much. Dual blades when he'd never used them before? Did he actually think wielding one more sword would make him twice as strong?
Orgen was utterly dumbfounded by the man's arrogance.
"You'll see soon enough."
As he spoke, the man adjusted his breathing. To defeat an overwhelmingly superior opponent, extreme measures were necessary. He gripped the dual blades, his eyes gleaming.