Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: I Told You, the Real One's Different (3)
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Bail Ballerhard furrowed his brow.
His nephew had been spouting nonsense about martial hymns and whatnot for a while now, and it was getting on his nerves. But what truly unsettled him was something else entirely.
Those eyes. That expression.
At first, he couldn't tell what kind of gaze it was. He had no clue what that twisted smirk meant.
It was a look he'd never received in his entire life—a discomforting expression he'd never faced before.
Pity.
There was no mistaking the pity on his nephew's face.
He couldn't comprehend it.
The divide between strong and weak was crystal clear. Not just the combatants, but every onlooker knew who held the power and who didn't.
If pity was to be bestowed, it should rightfully go to his nephew.
So what the hell was that look?
A gaze as if the strong were looking down on the weak, laced with pity—what was that supposed to mean?
The inexplicable emotion and attitude were utterly absurd.
"Mana Chain? That paltry technique can't reach Transcendence."
But what was truly absurd was realizing he himself was shaken.
"You all need to understand just how much you've lost."
The moment he heard that dry voice, his heart plummeted. It felt like he'd truly lost something monumental.
His chest tightened.
Kirrr.
Then came the grating sound of steel being gnawed away.
"I was wondering when you'd draw that cursed sword."
He suppressed his swirling emotions and gripped his blade.
He intended to end it with one strike—this spar, and the doubts plaguing his mind.
"No famed sword can cleave..." "Piercing dragon scales, drinking its searing blood."
⟨ Dragon Slayer Sword ⟩
That's when his nephew's voice flowed out with an eerie chant of unknown origin.
The moment he heard the humming lyrics, devoid of melody, his heart clenched tight.
Bail Ballerhard instinctively raised his sword, pouring every ounce of mana from a single ring into it.
Wooong.
His blade hummed lowly. That's when his nephew's sword lunged forward.
Kak-kak.
A nauseating noise like something being shredded. Bail Ballerhard's eyes widened.
He could see the blunt training sword devouring his mana-infused blade from the outside in. Its edge was so ferocious it stung his face like it might tear off his skin.
Kaduk.
Half the wooden sword was ground away. His hairs stood on end at its voracious hunger.
Unbeknownst to him, his rings began to rotate.
One, two, three. Then another.
Boom!
An explosion erupted.
Kwang-tang! A beat later, his nephew tumbled across the ground.
"Your Highness!"
"I'm fine! Stay back!"
The startled court knights rushed forward but retreated at his nephew's gesture.
His nephew staggered to his feet and spat.
"You said just one."
His voice dripped with venom.
"Then what the hell was that?"
He followed his nephew's gaze.
There stood a blade of light, roughly a meter long.
The destructive glow of an Aura Blade, born from weaving four rings.
Beneath the translucent light blade lay his severed wooden sword.
He'd mobilized four full rings yet failed to prevent the wooden sword from being sliced clean.
Had he not desperately unleashed the Aura Blade at the last moment, it wouldn't have been just the wooden sword getting cut.
"Hm."
He dispersed the Aura Blade.
Swoosh.
As the light faded, the clean cut on the wooden sword came into sharp focus.
It was an unbelievable sight, even seeing it with his own eyes.
Heart mana was inferior to ring mana in every way—unstable, slow to grow, and fatally vulnerable to resonance. That was common knowledge, an indisputable truth.
Yet that truth had just been shattered before his eyes. By his nephew's sword, no less—a blade wielded by someone who'd trained for less than half a year.
His expression darkened further.
He'd swung with the intent to end it, but he'd cleaved nothing—not his nephew's sword, nor the illusions in his heart.
"You've lost, Count Bail Ballerhard."
His nephew's voice cut sharp as a blade.
"Your Highness! Your Highness!"
The nephew who'd held his ground finally crumpled. Court knights rushed in, and the royal physician—summoned in advance—examined him.
Bail Ballerhard watched the scene in a daze.
**
I dreamed.
In the dream, I was a prisoner trapped within cold steel, an exploited slave. A cripple stripped of all senses save sight and hearing.
Yet the agony of my soul shredding away in chunks under the ancient dragon's breath was vividly real—real enough to make me forget it was a dream.
So when I awoke again, I was gripped by profound disorientation.
Was I the sword, or a man? My mind was a tangled mess.
"Ugh."
If not for the searing pain of muscles tearing apart, I'd have wandered that blurred line between reality and illusion for much longer.
"Damn this martial hymn."
I spat a curse.
The nightmare was the price of forcibly drawing on the martial hymn's power. The muscle agony threatening to rip me apart was the same. Headache as a bonus.
Recovery would take a while, no doubt.
I'd braced for it.
[True Dragon's Ode] was a martial hymn tied to myth, after all.
I'd only fully invoked three phrases—not even a full verse—from "Piercing dragon scales."
That alone let me nearly bisect my uncle's sword.
My body was in tatters as payment, but it was worth it.
"A hundred victories are my pride, my strength."
『Enduring a thousand waves amid a hundred bouts.』
My first self-forged martial hymn.
『Even before greater waves, I shall stand tall.』
A new phrase had been added.
And that new verse became my power.
This was a martial hymn—the reason knights struggled their whole lives, the greatest glory a knight could claim.
"Wonder if it's usable now."
I couldn't rely on [True Dragon's Ode] every time; the aftermath was always a nightmare. In that sense, [Sparring Ode] was perfect for my current level.
Chicken for the chicken knife, ox for the cleaver.
The upcoming spar with that 3rd Prince punk? [Sparring Ode] would suffice.
"Your Highness?"
As I chuckled to myself, Adelia appeared.
"Ahem."
I cleared my throat and looked her over.
Her tousled hair and half-lidded eyes suggested she'd been by my side all along. Touched by her loyalty, I smiled warmly and called her name. She looked overwhelmed with gratitude.
The days of her following orders grudgingly were gone.
All that consistent imprinting of who her master was had paid off.
"S-Since you've awoken, I can finally relax."
"You weren't hoping I'd stay under?"
"Heavens no, Your Highness."
She straightened up, insisting it was thanks to me that she could properly care for her aunt and sibling.
"Just kidding. How long was I out?"
"Five days, Your Highness."
"Five days?"
The martial hymn's backlash was worse than I'd thought. Losing consciousness for five whole days prompted me to ask what had happened in the interim.
"There was quite the uproar after Your Highness suddenly collapsed. Your condition was so dire..."
Adelia recounted the events.
My arms had turned purple, muscles on the verge of necrosis, and I'd been vomiting blood nonstop. Only after the royal physician intervened did the bleeding stop and my skin return to normal—but not without major commotion.
"It was the first time I saw the Queen so furious."
The Queen, arriving late, had grabbed my uncle like he was a rat.
With Kals stepping up to confess my uncle's misdeeds—promising one ring then deploying an Aura Blade—her rage only intensified.
Imagining that stubborn old coot groveling made my chest feel lighter.
"Keep going. Dish it."
I laughed and urged her on. Adelia calmly continued.
My uncle had been dragged off by the Queen like a sack, visited a few times to check on me afterward, but never lingered like before.
"The Count's complexion was darker than ever."
"Of course it was. He promised one ring and pulled out an Aura Blade—anyone with a conscience would be ashamed."
"And he said to notify him the moment you awoke."
Adelia's face seemed to ask how to proceed.
"Don't tell him yet. I need some rest first."
I asked her to keep my awakening quiet for now.
And I really did need the break.
The aftermath of overusing a martial hymn didn't just ravage the body; I needed absolute rest to recover.
Fail to properly mend the wounded soul, and the consequences were horrific.
Reality and past memories would jumble into chaos. Then the boundary of reality would crumble entirely, trapping you in madness, endlessly reliving the same moment.
Reenacting that martial instant in a fractured world, be it nightmare or ecstasy.
No thanks—I'd just become human; getting locked back in sword memories was a hard pass.
"Your Highness, I've prepared some soup. Please, ease your hunger."
Only then did I realize I'd fasted for five days. Hit by sudden hunger, I wolfed down the soup she brought.
With my belly full, duties came to mind.
"How much of my chat with Uncle did you catch that day?"
"Up to the part about martial hymns and how knights from 400 years ago erred."
"You got most of it."
I filled Adelia in on what I'd held back.
About her ancestor. About what martial hymns truly were.
She half-doubted her forebear was such a legend but was purely fascinated by the hymns.
"I'm going to teach you a very special martial hymn. But not yet."
Sword Marquis Agnes Bayern's hymn rivaled [True Dragon's Ode] in potency. Handing it to an unprepared Adelia was a death sentence.
Hell, she might not even grasp or embody a hymn that didn't resonate without prep.
Sword aptitude S-rank or mana sensitivity A-rank wouldn't cut it. Soul rank didn't scale perfectly with physical talent.
So only one path remained.
Adelia forging her own martial hymn—like I had.
"So, what do you want to do with the sword?"
She looked troubled, admitting she hadn't thought about it. She'd only trained as ordered, no real ambitions, blushing shyly.
"Then start thinking now."
She immediately wore a pondering face.
No, I didn't mean right this second.
As I opened my mouth, she spoke first.
"If I could really become a knight..."
Adelia stared straight at me. An unusually intense gaze.
Those eyes sparkled like never before.