Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Famous Eatery (4)
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Bang!
With a thunderous crash, the prince's body soared through the air. He hit the ground without even trying to land properly and tumbled across the floor several times.
"Your Highness!"
Half of the Royal Knights shouted urgently for the prince.
"Count Ballerhard! What do you think you're doing?!"
The other half drew their swords and surrounded Count Bail Ballerhard.
The count didn't answer. Instead, he looked at his nephew, whose body twitched sporadically. He recalled the conversation they'd had not long ago.
[You're asking me to observe?]
[As the commander of the Northern 3rd Legion and a Quad Chain knight, if you're there, they won't dare try anything foolish, right?]
His brazen nephew had added belatedly,
[And just in case. Hypothetically speaking.]
[In case of what?]
[If it looks like I'm about to kill my opponent, stop me. You can handle that much, Uncle.]
It had only been three months since he started training, and less than half that time since he'd properly begun learning the sword. Even then, all he'd picked up were basic training sword forms.
How absurd his nephew's ravings had sounded.
What had he replied? Bail Ballerhard wondered. Finally, he remembered.
[Don't cry after getting thrashed.]
Like a puppy that doesn't know to fear a tiger, he'd just laughed it off.
But now it had actually happened.
"Hm."
At first, he'd planned to end it by casually deflecting the attack. But instead of sliding off, his nephew's strike crawled up his blade—laden with vicious killing intent.
It was too persistent to block clumsily. To avoid repeating the same mistake two or three times, he had to cut off the assault somewhat aggressively.
Bail Ballerhard glanced at the sword in his hand. The treasured blade bestowed by His Majesty the King was humming faintly.
"Two rings."
It was the unique resonance of Mana Chain when one or more rings activated.
Grip.
He clenched the hilt hard, and the vibration finally stopped.
"Count Ballerhard! Answer us! Depending on the circumstances, we could charge you with regicide!"
By now, even more Royal Knights had surrounded them. Mana gleamed vividly along the blades they'd drawn.
"I received a request."
"What nonsense is that?! What kind of request from His Highness..."
"To block him."
The curt reply made the Royal Knights frown.
They probably couldn't understand. He couldn't either, at first.
"Stand down."
A sharp tension hung in the air, pierced by a feeble voice.
"It's what I asked for."
His nephew was looking his way, exposing his chest to the Royal Physician.
"But it is what I asked for, though."
His nephew suddenly vomited blood. Dark crimson soaked his front. The prince's face twisted as he looked down at his chest.
"I said block me, not knock me flat..."
Before he could finish, his nephew's eyes rolled back white. He passed out cold.
"Y-Your Highness!"
"He nearly suffered mana reflux, but thanks to Your Excellency the Count's intervention, we averted it. He's just fainted—once he wakes, he'll be right as rain."
The Royal Physician sweated profusely amid the knights' clamor.
"Is that enough now?"
Bail Ballerhard said quietly. The Royal Knights hesitated before sheathing their swords.
"Um..."
In the now-relaxed atmosphere, someone cautiously spoke up.
"S-So what happens to me?"
Bail Ballerhard turned. There stood the second son of House Taylheim, pale as a sheet.
The first thing I did upon waking was check my Mana Heart.
The mana that had shown signs of reflux was completely settled, and the artificial heart lay dormant as if it had never raged at all.
I looked a decade younger.
"Hah. Thought my Mana Heart was gonna shatter for real."
My uncle's sword at that final clash had been ferocious. More than enough to crack a flimsy Mana Heart like mine in one go.
Thinking about it now sent a chill down my spine.
I had asked my uncle to block me, after all.
The essence of the Dragon Slayer Sword is the sheer will to butcher a mighty dragon. At my current level, I couldn't fully rein in that murderous urge.
That's why I'd asked him.
Though that didn't mean "beat me senseless."
Still, I'd prevented needless killing with no lingering effects, so I'd achieved my goal. And on top of that...
"I won."
I pictured my opponent's face—blank stare as his sword lay shattered, fixed on me.
He hadn't even imagined losing. Even as my blade closed in on his face, he hadn't grasped the situation.
How utterly satisfying.
"What's so amusing that you're grinning like that?"
I was chuckling to myself over my petty victory when a heavy voice broke in.
"What brings you here, Uncle?"
Feeling guilty for overdoing it? My uncle didn't reply.
"What exactly did you do?"
He just glared at me with those piercing eyes, like he was peering into my soul.
"What do you mean?"
I feigned innocence.
"A guy with no real combat experience swings a sword dripping with that much killing intent."
As expected of a Quad Chain practitioner—his insight rivaled a Sword Master's. In that brief moment, my uncle had grasped the essence of the Dragon Slayer Sword.
"I never taught you a sword like that."
"Have you ever taught me anything to begin with?"
He didn't even twitch at my lame joke.
"What was that unnatural sword of yours?"
"Unnatural? I was just staying true to the sword's essence."
"And you think the sword's essence is killing intent."
My uncle fell silent after that. I'd braced for a lecture on the true meaning of the sword or some such nonsense, but this was unexpected.
So I asked.
"It's crude and unsettling, but it's one facet of the truth."
He acknowledged the sword's essence instead.
No long-winded ramblings about paths to perfection or whatever. A refreshingly straightforward attitude, unlike those stuffy types.
"Some might think that way. But not me."
I'm a soldier, not a knight—I'll take the path to victory over the righteous one. I was a little impressed by his words.
"But your sword goes too far."
He voiced deep concern that excessive killing intent in a blade blinds it to friend or foe.
"That's why I'm stirring up this mess—to fix it."
Pure truth, no lies this time.
I had to rein in the rampaging Dragon Slayer Sword. Uncontrolled power would only destroy me in the end.
There was only one way.
Trial and error until it worked.
Lived centuries, and my conclusion's this brute-force method? Even I found it ridiculous.
But what could I do?
My mind was Sword Master material, but my body was still that fat slob of a Sword Learner.
"I'll watch. Whether the heart demon consumes you or not."
With that curt remark, my uncle stood.
"Rest up. I'm off."
"Here for something like bedside vigil?"
"Your mother's deeply worried."
He answered with something irrelevant.
"Just came from her."
Apparently, she'd thrown a huge fit about him hurting her son, saying he'd lost all his gentle nature while staying at the palace. My uncle rattled off unasked details.
Looked like he'd come out of guilt for going overboard.
"Just say you're sorry honestly and..."
Bang.
The door slammed shut.
Embarrassed? Strong pride? Who knew with my uncle.
"Whatever. He's not important."
What use knowing that gloomy old man's inner thoughts? I wiped him from my mind.
Training resumes tomorrow.
Long road to fully claim this temperamental wild colt called Dragon Slayer Sword. At least one consolation:
"Let's see. Who's next?"
Opponents galore.
"What? Thought you left, but you're still here?"
I dusted myself off and headed to the training grounds. There was the second son of House Taylheim from yesterday.
"His Highness said nothing, so..."
Apparently, the Royal Knights had detained him on their own after I passed out without a word.
"Punish us if we misunderstood His Highness's intent."
"Nah. You did good."
The second son of House Taylheim flinched.
"Thanks to you, I can kill time nicely till the next one arrives."
I grinned at him.
"Taylor, right?"
After two more days of torment under me, the second son of House Taylheim was a completely different man from when he'd first entered the palace.
The barely concealed resentment and grudge were gone. So was the fiery resolve to crush me and make his name.
All that remained was pitiful frog-before-snake helplessness.
"Good work these three days."
Taylor barely managed a weak nod, lacking even the energy to reply.
Watching him stirred a twinge of conscience.
After the first day, I'd kept unleashing the Dragon Slayer Sword. Each strike lunged murderously at his throat, forcing Taylor to block with all he had. When his strength flagged, my uncle stepped in.
Thanks(?) to my uncle's measured restraint, there were no more unsightly blackouts like day one.
Luck for me, misfortune for Taylor.
"But man, must sting, huh?"
"Sting how, Your Highness?"
"Couldn't even land a kick on my ass."
"Well..."
Taylor's face drained of color as he reflexively responded.
Country bumpkin—couldn't hide emotions to save his life.
I raised my hand.
"Eek!"
Three days had turned Taylor into a total scaredy-cat. Seeing his overreaction to my gesture, I told the handmaiden,
"Give it to him."
The handmaiden handed me a box. I took it and held it out to Taylor.
"Y-Your Highness?"
"I heard I did some unforgivable crap in the past?"
I'd already learned the petty misdeeds of my prodigal past through the handmaidens.
"Dunno if this'll soothe things, but pass it to Baron Taylheim."
No obligation to clean up the old wastrel's messes. But when you task someone, you pay up.
My payment to Taylor for three days' toil: some gold and "justification."
Couldn't avenge his house with a kick to the prince's rear, but at least it wasn't a wasted trip.
"Letter's inside too. Deliver it."
"Even a handwritten letter..."
The simpleton second son of a rural noble house gazed at me in感動.
The handmaidens wrote it, actually.
I didn't bother saying so.
"Off you go. Good work. Safe travels."
I waved him away. Overcome with emotion, Taylor shouted honors at meeting me and anticipation for next time.
"Really?"
When I acted like calling him back, he bolted.
"That's it for today, then."
Taylor gone, next arrives tomorrow.
I ended training.
"See you tomorrow."
I bid my uncle farewell. But he just stared silently, lost in thought.
Staring with those eyes again.
I left the training grounds, ignoring my uncle's heavy gaze.
A few more sparring partners showed up after that. Every single one burned to kick my ass.
Unfortunately, none succeeded.
"How..."
A man stared at me in dazed despair.
Seventh one?
His face mixed self-disgust at losing to an idiot and shock at the sword he'd just witnessed.
"Rushed in thinking it was an easy meal on a platter, huh? But y'know."
The man didn't reply. Just glared resentfully.
"Famous eateries are always overhyped—no real substance."
Even in his fury, he nitpicked.
"They say famous banquets..."
"Shut it. If I say so, it is."
The Dragon Slayer's will stirred within me.
"Get up."
Kiririring. That will declared,
"You need a bit more beating."