Chapter 216
Chapter 216
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 216
Chapter Title: Clash with the Heavy Sword
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“......”
Molvius shut his mouth.
At the same time, even the sneer on his face vanished, and his aura completely transformed.
Truth be told, things had gone this far—further talk was pointless.
As Molvius and I measured the distance between us... no starting signal this time either; the duel simply began on its own.
Should I take the initiative, or hold back for now?
In that brief moment of hesitation, Molvius made the first move.
Thud.
The instant I saw his first footfall, I knew he wouldn’t be relying on swift swordplay.
The mana packed into that step—its grounded force carried a profound heaviness.
‘So he might have the edge in spars over real combat.’
Still not entirely sure, I met Molvius head-on as he rushed right up to me.
In a flash, the wooden sword shot straight out, aiming for my forehead.
Better than a Bednicker using a live blade even in practice, I suppose.
‘Mana infusion makes a wooden sword and steel blade about equal in power anyway...’
I reached out with my hand.
My plan was to snatch it barehanded using Capturing Hand techniques.
Not exactly textbook execution, but at my current level, it wouldn’t be an issue.
Yet this guy wasn’t a total dimwit—the wooden sword hurtling toward me halted dead in midair.
At the same moment, a faint chill grazed past my left side.
‘Leg?’
No. The knee.
Ruthless bastard.
A knight’s knee strike with protective gear could rupture organs and kill without even channeling mana.
‘Might as well play along.’
Grinning, I pulled back my extended arm and countered with my right knee.
Creeeeak...!
The moment our knees collided, Molvius shuddered.
Obviously, my knee was bare while his boot extended up to protect his own.
Under normal circumstances, my knee should’ve been pulverized...
Crack-.
But cracks spiderwebbed across his metal guard instead.
“What in the...”
“A mere metal guard can’t possibly be tougher than a honed warrior’s knee.”
I unleashed a palm strike toward the dumbfounded Molvius. Just before my flame-wreathed palm slammed into his gut... he yanked the wooden sword back tight to block.
Crack!
The sound from the wooden sword was far from reassuring.
Practice blades prioritize durability, but a sloppy wielder breaks them fast.
“Focus. It’ll snap.”
In matches like this, a shattered wooden sword typically spells instant defeat.
I hadn’t drilled etiquette, chivalry, or common sense into him yet, so this counted as precious guidance on my part.
Tragically, though, types like Molvius rarely take advice at face value.
The young knight’s face flushed red.
He’d regained his composure before the duel, but given his age, he hadn’t reached the realm of a mirror-still mind.
Not fully immune to taunts, in other words.
Taking my words as an insult, it seemed, Molvius suddenly poured mana into his blade.
Ruuuuumble...!
The wooden sword took on a bluish hue, and the atmosphere shifted once more.
Oppressive pressure.
In an instant, my waist felt three times heavier, as if my own body weight had tripled.
Right after, Molvius’s sword rocketed upward in a straight line before slowly descending toward me...
Only then did I grasp the sword style he was channeling.
‘Heavy Sword.’
Straight translation: heavy sword.
As I’d suspected, a style tough to maximize in actual battle.
It shines in duels or mock fights—and all the more in tight quarters.
‘Hector would have a tough time against this.’
The afterimage sword his guy mainly uses could be classified as an illusory blade...
Tricky, variation-heavy styles ironically struggle against the stubborn straightforwardness of a heavy sword.
If their skills were even, maybe, but sparring showed this one was at least two notches above Hector in raw level.
‘Hmm.’
Taking a heavy sword head-on is usually suicidal...
But for some reason, I felt like experiencing Molvius’s technique with my own body.
Pop. The wooden sword crashed down onto the center of my crossed arms.
Boom!
It hit like an I-beam dropped from above.
I immediately bent my knees and waist to absorb as much impact as possible.
The residual shockwave reached my feet, and the ground buckled beneath us with a jolt.
The moment a dull ache spread through my frame, Molvius smirked. His face already screamed assured victory.
‘So that’s how it works.’
Whether the first blow lands is everything.
Unlike an assassin’s one-strike kill shot, though, the feel was worlds apart.
This heavy sword didn’t need to hit a vital spot. It’d work fine through armor or a shield.
Make contact, then crush with sheer weight while stacking blunt trauma on the opponent’s flesh.
Even seasoned experts would struggle to shake off that pressure—and that meant once forced defensive, countering became a nightmare.
Of course, I wasn’t some run-of-the-mill expert.
Fwoooosh...!
Circulating the Flame Arts of the Greatest, I started channeling power into my thighs...
‘...Hold on.’
This pressure felt surprisingly useful for external hardening training.
Weights like this were rare even in real combat.
If I could, I wanted to fine-tune my internal energy flow to tax my muscles even harder.
Dropping into an awkward horse stance with my thighs and hips, then rising—repeating that would give my lower body a solid workout.
‘But... audience with the emperor.’
No time for casual training right now.
Clicking my tongue inwardly, I smashed a fist into the wrist of Molvius’s sword arm as it came down.
Smack-!
“......!”
“No... way...!”
Shouts of shock erupted from the onlookers.
“Who shrugs off Molvius’s Heavy Peak Sword that easily?”
“Did you sense the mana flow? It erupted like a volcano in an instant, flushing out the pressure that had seeped into every muscle...”
“Unbelievably dense mana, with control beyond that.”
“So the rumors were true—Ruan the Gold Elf isn’t just Spirit Guide level...”
I glanced at Molvius.
As befitting a Royal Knight, this guy possessed skill leagues above your average.
He hadn’t fully blossomed yet, though.
‘Young Blood level at best.’
Young Bloods were the term for standout youths across the empire...
At present, at least, none of them seemed a match for me?
The empire was vast, so one or two wouldn’t be surprising...
“With a heavy sword, the wooden blade won’t snap easily.”
I closed the gap with Molvius.
We’d already been close, but now I’d pierced his sword domain to invade my own fist domain.
Molvius backpedaled in startled surprise, too late...
Heavy swords had one glaring flaw.
Lose the flow to your opponent, and regaining it is a nightmare.
The Achilles’ heel for all heavy or blunt styles, strike after ponderous strike.
And compared to other martial disciplines, fists, palms, and kicks had one supreme advantage: lightning-fast offense-to-defense transitions.
Not even the nimblest weapon—a dagger—could outpace bare hands.
In a word, this matchup was hell for him.
Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!
I struck eight vitals simultaneously in a blink, but the blistering speed produced only four sounds.
“Guh...”
I kindly grabbed the head of Molvius as he reeled backward.
He was built big, so I had no choice but to leap...
Midair, I yanked his face into position and drove my knee home.
Smack!
“Hm...?”
Tougher than expected—I was surprised.
I’d aimed to shatter his nose bridge, but it only cracked slightly.
He’d wrapped it in a mana barrier like a shield. Not sword aura-rigid, but way tougher than any helmet.
He could block once, maybe. Not twice, thrice, four times.
Crack! Crack!
The mana barrier fractured.
Like pounding a nail with a hammer.
“W-Wait a...”
As Molvius’s face drained white, a final crack—mission accomplished.
“Cough...?!”
While he clutched his face, I pressed on.
“When I say ‘concept,’ you say ‘installed.’ Got it?”
“Wha...t?”
“Concept.”
Smack!
No reply even after the face slap. Molvius just dazedly sprayed blood.
My kind offer ignored, but I wasn’t offended.
In situations like this, intellect aside, people just can’t process words.
Fortunately, I knew the fix.
Beat them senseless.
The beaten start listening real good.
No one knows that better than me.
“Concept.”
“Guhk?!”
“Concept.”
“Gulk...!”
“Concept.”
“K-Khk!”
“Concept.”
His eyes rolled wildly before he desperately blurted it out.
“Ins-Installed!”
“Oho.”
I’m not stingy with praise.
Smiling, I patted his head.
“Good job.”
“Hahk... hahk...”
Smashed nose making breathing hard? He panted raggedly through his mouth, then bit his lip.
“...This duel—I lost—”
“Whoa there.”
I jammed a fist into Molvius’s mouth on reflex. I held back—no need to shatter teeth.
“......?!”
Molvius stared at me in bewilderment, fist stuffed in his trap.
Still smiling, I said it plain.
“Not yet.”
“......?”
“Concepts don’t install easy. Be a man—crisp, clean...”
I withdrew my fist and wiped the spit off on Molvius’s clothes.
“Exactly ten more.”
“P-Pardon?”
His reflexive question earned another knee to the face.
* * *
Violence is bad.
Ruan Bednicker, owner of a normal mindset, knew this full well.
But the world had its share of folks common sense bounced right off.
My past self. Molvius right now.
“Sh-Shouldn’t we stop this?”
“Mm... Not at my best today.”
“Got some lingering chills myself. Head’s all achy...”
That’s okay.
I changed. This fool can too.
Smack!
“Concept?”
“...In-installed...”
“Good. So... just one more?”
“U-Uhuh...?”
Molvius frantically shook his head.
“What?”
“Al-already... done...”
“Done already?”
This time he nodded side-to-side real quick.
“Doesn’t feel like it... Still one left, right?”
“N-No sir...”
“Yeah? Alright then.”
I nodded along, and Molvius let out a relieved sigh.
“But ten’s a solid number—here’s a freebie extra.”
“E-Ehhh...?”
“All for your own good. Relax now. Bones’ll snap.”
The moment terror twisted Molvius’s face.
“Stop!”
A sharp voice cut in.
The knight onlookers encircling us promptly split apart...
And through the gap strode a black-haired woman in red armor.
“C-Cap...”
Molvius mumbled through his mangled mouth.
‘Her?’
I snuck a glance at the Royal Knights’ captain.
She exuded an extraordinary presence—one that transcended even her aura.
A monster at least on par with Sky-Cleaving Sword Maxim from last time.
Lately I’d been bumping into peak experts left and right... and unexpectedly, this captain stirred a faint sense of kinship.
This woman had long, pointed ears.
“...Idiot.”
The captain glared icily at Molvius.
“Infirmary first—heal up. You’re confined a month.”
“P-Pardon?”
“Want two?”
“N-No sir...”
Molvius nodded and staggered off.
The captain tsked once more, then bellowed at the surroundings.
“Show’s over? Lunch ended! Back to your posts—now!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
The knights scattered in a panic...
Leaving just me and this captain in the training grounds.
Only then did her icy gaze turn my way.
“Greetings are late, Ruan Bednicker. Lena Danverin—head of the Royal Knights.”
“I see.”
The flow seemed to call for my own introduction, but this Lena already knew my name.
Nothing to add, so I shut up. Lena eyed me with a stony face.
Black hair, but skin too pale for a dark elf...
Half-blood, probably?
Meeting my gaze, she spoke bluntly.
“I apologize on behalf of my rude subordinate. Heard about Hector Bednicker too. My failing as leader. Just came from atoning to him.”
“Hm. Appreciate it, but in this case, an apology straight from the man himself would carry more weight.”
“...I’ve ordered Molvius to do so.”
“Understood.”
I didn’t bother thanking her. Felt like the bare minimum.
Lena studied me a moment, then said.
“Never knew the Bednickers had someone like you. Where are you affiliated now?”
Sudden question about affiliation?
Bemused, I replied anyway.
“Nowhere in particular...”
“Oh? No interest in the Royal Knights, then?”
“Pardon?”
I shot her an incredulous look.
She’d just watched me thrash her subordinate like a mutt—and now this offer?
“We’re always hurting for talent. Right now, you could apprentice straight in—no need to grind Imperial Knights first... Thoughts?”
“...Grateful for the offer, but I’m not looking to sign on anywhere yet.”
“Shame. Swing by whenever opportunity strikes.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
Lena nodded curtly and promptly left the training grounds.
“What the hell.”
Felt like a storm had blown through.
I stood dazed in the center for a bit before remembering I had no time to waste.
Time for my imperial audience.
* * *
Schedule was tight—no spare time for primping.
For the first time in ages, I got the full young master treatment from a noble house: six maids fussing over me at once.
True to the palace, even the maids were no slouches.
Stunning looks, refined grace, impeccable manners—prime talent.
One downside: they never shut up.
Six of them yammered at me from every direction, pure torture.
“Young master, what’s your favorite color?”
“...Bright ones.”
“How about this outfit? Brand new this year.”
“Looks stuffy.”
“Preferred accessories or jewels?”
“Anything that sparkles.”
“Ahaha, that’s what jewels do.”
“You always this chatty?”
“What a kidder!”
Not kidding.
“Hey, how much longer? Getting dizzy here.”
“No worries! Time’s short, but we stake our imperial maids’ honor on making you dazzling!”
“Swept-back hair would suit.”
“Perfume? Wood notes a safe bet?”
“Your eyes are gorgeous.”
“Wow, can I touch your muscles?”
“No special hair routine?”
“Huh, why bloodstains on your hands...?”
“......”
Twenty minutes that sucked the life out of me.
Lucky I was late—any earlier and it would’ve been an hour of hell.
All dolled up decently enough, I finally met Charl and Seren after so long.
“You’re late...! Uh, whoa...?”
“Uh...”
Both stared at me with faint surprise.
Grinning, I slicked my hair back extra dramatically on purpose.
“What? Don’t recognize me?”
“......”
“......”
“......”
My bad—say something, damn it.
Feeling awkward, I looked away. After that, we followed the knight’s lead in silence toward the emperor.
We soon reached the audience chamber.
A red carpet embroidered with gold threads stretched out, flanked by dozens of knights arrayed in ornate armor on either side.
At the far end sat the empire’s lone throne...
Empty for now.
His exalted self wouldn’t arrive first—this was proper.
The three of us knelt on the carpet and waited.
Like this, until the emperor entered.
‘That aside...’
I glanced at Seren beside me.
She looked different after so long—her vibe a touch softer.
Her expression milder than usual, almost a bit dopey...
“......!”
Our eyes met for a split second before she bowed her head in haste.
That deja vu I’d felt once before.
‘No way this girl...’
Before I could follow the thought.
“His Imperial Majesty the Emperor enters—!”
A booming voice rang out, and at last, the emperor of the empire made his appearance.