Chapter 39
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Growth
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Marcel, Shan—who'd arrived late—and I sat together and talked.
"No, lightning came out of the sword, I tell you."
"That's why I said if you're sleepy, just go to sleep?"
Marcel patted my shoulder and sighed.
"After going through something like that, it's no wonder you're tired. I said I'd spar with you, but there's tomorrow and the day after."
"No, really!"
I jumped to my feet and drew my sword.
I'd tried it several times already, but no lightning burst out like the first time.
That's why Marcel and Shan didn't believe me.
But it had definitely flashed, with lightning briefly enveloping the blade.
I swung the sword again, imagining a thunderbolt, but no lightning appeared.
"What the heck?"
Was it purely a proficiency issue?
Or was something else wrong?
First off, I had no intention of hiding it.
I'd come clean right away because I was afraid of the backlash if I hid it and it got found out later.
They already suspected me as it was—if they discovered some weird ability later, I figured they'd come at me for real.
But like this, it was hard to prove on the spot, so I shook my head.
"Forget it..."
"Sulking now?"
"I'm not sulking."
Unprovable stuff could wait. For now, let's stick to today's goal.
Starting today, I was diving into special training.
I needed to get strong enough that even if I caused trouble, I could clean it up myself.
Defining "that strong" was tricky, though...
At the very least, my current level absolutely wouldn't cut it.
"Marcel, Shan. Right now, as an adventurer, I'd rank at Bronze level, right?"
"Yeah."
"That's right."
Even I could see that my skills were beyond apprentice level.
My swordsmanship was still awful on its own, but leveraging my traits, I figured I was in the upper ranks of Bronze adventurers. For specialized requests like assassinating that goblin leader last time, I could even outperform my rank.
This wasn't arrogance—it was fact.
But it still wasn't enough.
"Could you spar with me once and point out my weak spots?"
"As much as you want... but we're both tired. I'll give you about three hours, then I'm heading back to rest."
"That's more than enough."
This help came from pure goodwill.
I couldn't take it for granted.
I knew Marcel felt a deep camaraderie toward me—we'd survived death together—but I had no intention of exploiting that.
Using someone's goodwill for my own gain felt wrong on every level.
But since he'd offered first, all I could do was gratefully accept.
Marcel and I stood, facing each other in the clearing.
We raised our swords, and at Shan's "Begin," I charged first and swung.
"...If you meet someone stronger than you, charging in first is suicide. Be more cautious—watch and gauge your opponent."
He casually deflected my one-handed iron sword with his wooden staff, then tapped my stomach with his free hand, shoving me back. Stunned, I stared at Marcel.
"You're strong."
"You're just weak."
Marcel shrugged nonchalantly and slung the staff over his shoulder.
The fact that he could act so casually with a sword-wielding opponent right in front of him meant he was looking down on me, letting his guard down.
But Marcel had every right to that leisure—he was that strong.
"And you? Your strength is way too low."
"...I know. But there's nothing I can do about it."
When I'd swung down, the blade wasn't even sharp, but it was still an iron sword.
I'd aimed to snap his wooden staff clean in two.
But I'd failed.
Partly because Marcel handled it well, but mostly because I flat-out lacked the power.
This was a flaw I already knew about.
"Can't you just eat well, sleep well, and exercise?"
"I do eat well, sleep well—well, maybe not enough sleep—and I exercise, but nothing changes."
I didn't skimp on food, I exercised despite short sleep, yet my strength hadn't changed much since I was first thrown into this world.
It was still just a hunch, but maybe it was because I was like a game character.
In most games, characters don't age or grow physically on their own—they stay as they were created.
I knew this world wasn't just some simple game, but with zero progress like this, it was easy to console myself with that thought.
"Hardgainer type, huh...?"
Marcel pondered as he swung his staff.
I barely had time to react, hastily raising my sword to block, but the impact was so strong I nearly toppled over.
"Deflect attacks—blocking like that will snap your bones."
"I knew that, but..."
"If you know it in your head but can't dodge or deflect, your reaction speed's too slow."
My wrist throbbed.
"Let's go a few more rounds. Block properly."
Marcel pressed me with light one-handed swings of his staff.
Half the time I blocked, half I took hits.
I couldn't dodge at all and broke out in cold sweat.
Even though Marcel was half-assing it, chatting casually, no path to victory came to mind.
Marcel shrugged, lowered his stance, and suddenly thrust the staff at me.
Aimed right at my head.
It was a strike that felt like it'd explode my skull on impact. I couldn't block or dodge—I just squeezed my eyes shut.
I braced for the pain, but it never came. Peeking, I saw his wooden staff grazing past my head.
Tok-
Marcel lightly tapped my head with the staff and muttered.
"Even if I'm going easy, what am I supposed to do if you close your eyes?"
"...Sorry."
"No need to apologize. I think I see the problem, though."
"What is it?"
"You're overthinking."
"Overthinking...?"
"At a certain point, you need to move on instinct, but you keep thinking, searching for the optimal action. The end result might be fine, but your body freezes while your brain catches up. That's why you know what you should've done, but your body doesn't react."
"B-but don't you have to think during a fight?"
"Who said not to think? Of course you think. But you're thinking about how to respond to every single enemy attack, so your body lags behind."
"Then..."
"You need to distinguish between attacks that require thought to counter and ones you can instinctively block."
"...That's tough."
"Fights are tough by nature."
Marcel pulled a water bottle from his belt, took a few gulps, and tossed it to me.
I caught it awkwardly and sipped while glancing around.
It wasn't cold—lukewarm, really—but enough to quench my thirst.
"Listen up while you drink. Sure, some Silver-rankers fight purely on calculation, but they can calculate every move and move their bodies. You can't."
I nodded.
Yeah, I lacked power and my movements were sluggish.
Sparring with Marcel had made my shortcomings crystal clear—no room for argument.
"Once you grow and reach their level, it'll be fine. For now, cut down on the thinking."
"...How?"
"If you had some weird habit, it'd be hard to fix, but since it's just overthinking, it's easy to correct."
"Ooh..."
As expected of a Silver adventurer.
He knew his stuff.
Our first meeting had been awful, but now he felt more reliable than even Shan.
He clearly cared about me as a comrade.
"Run."
"...Pardon?"
"Run laps until the stray thoughts stop. Then spar again. Repeat. Your body might take a beating, but it's the surest way."
"...You'll run with me?"
"Nah? I'm good."
"...Huh?"
"Go on. I can tell if you're slacking or not, so don't try faking it."
Marcel yawned lazily, then sprawled out under a tree in the corner of the clearing.
"...Okay."
Guess I had to do as told.
Run? Where?
As those questions swirled in my head, Shan—who'd been quiet till now—stepped up beside me.
"Three laps around the outer wall should wear you out just right for your stamina. Go."
Shan shoved my back, and I started running.
But it wasn't normal running.
"Your form's breaking. Straighten your back. Wider strides, eyes forward—not at the ground."
"...Ughhh!"
Shan ran alongside, correcting my form every time it slipped.
It was twice as hard as just running normally. Hours later, back at the clearing, I gulped water and immediately had to raise my sword again.
"Oh, you're back..."
Marcel had slept soundly, wiped the gunk from his eyes, grabbed his staff, and we sparred again.
Those days repeated for two months. With two Silver adventurers helping, results came quick.
"Finally succeeded in ditching some of those thoughts, huh."
"Yeah... thanks to you."
I collapsed onto the ground. Marcel plopped down in front of me with a smirk, saying his help was done.
"I've rested plenty now, so time to hunt my next request. You did well these past months."
"...Don't die."
"Your odds of dropping dead from exhaustion are way higher than mine."
"Still."
"Yeah, yeah."
Marcel patted my head.
I felt annoyed yet worried for him—and grateful.