Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Surpassing a Formidable Foe (1)
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After provoking Schmitz with everything I had, his face turned red one moment and purple the next as he started bellowing wildly.
"You little rookie shit, got a rag stuffed in your mouth or what? Talking like a damn whore with that flapping trap. Let's see if you can keep spouting that bullshit after I hack you in half with my blade!"
Schmitz swung his massive two-handed sword at me with full force.
The first time we'd met, the gap in our skills had been so vast that I couldn't even track his blade's movement with my eyes.
Even with my eyes wide open, it had looked like his sword vanished for an instant before reappearing.
Back then, I'd been helpless against his insane attack speed, but now I could follow almost all of his sword's movements.
Just a few days ago, his strikes had been too fast for my eyes to keep up, but realizing I could track them to some degree now made it hit home—this really was a game world.
If this were the real world, no amount of killing and gaining combat experience in a few days could have produced this kind of growth.
"You're full of maggot-crawling bullshit! Look at this mountain of a man yapping like a spoiled little girl. Your own mom would be ashamed if she saw you."
He brought his raised sword slashing down, then veered it sideways, aiming for the gap between my armor and helmet.
It was a sharp strike targeting the narrow slit on the right side of my neck—precise, yet packed with power.
I swung my sword to meet the angle of his incoming massive two-handed blade.
Aura—the powerful force wave that let humans surpass their limits and battle lions, tigers, or bears—poured from his sword, stabbing through my shoulder like an electric jolt.
I still couldn't wield Aura myself; my body had only just begun sensing its existence, so it couldn't properly absorb the impact.
His strike missed the gap in my armor, but the heavy clash of steel on steel reverberated through my plating straight to my shoulder.
Just one blow, and my arm went numb like it'd been cramped, while my gripping hand and wrist throbbed as if hammered by a smith's mallet.
"Ugh... fuck. Feels like I've been electrocuted—numb and burning."
Schmitz stared at me with a look of disbelief, like 'This punk's still alive after that?', while the Tristan soldiers around us started jeering.
"Who the hell does this rookie trash think he is, mouthing off to our Schmitz bro?!"
"Look at this cocky little shit talking big—serves you right! Become a headless ghost already!"
"This retard yaps like a pro, but one solid hit from our bro and he's down. What a sight, you fuck!"
The worthless Tristan scum around me began hurling insults, but I tuned them out.
The moment my focus slipped, that pig in front of me would notice and whip his sword like lightning, severing my head from my shoulders in an instant.
So I ignored the noise and locked my eyes on the human wild boar standing before me.
My skill level was still too low to pick up on every little detail like his breathing or the twitch of his muscles, as the game described.
But I could sense the Aura-like energy coursing through his entire body, and every one of his subtle movements stood out crystal clear.
"First time I saw you, I figured you were just some smug knight brat with no real skills, all bluster. But you're holding up better than I thought!"
"Don't let the looks fool you—this old man's a lunatic who ditched a lifetime as a lowly country knight to start from the bottom as a merc and climb big."
Schmitz smirked at my words, then raised his sword high and swung again.
"Don't make me laugh, you bastard! Even your bullshit has to make sense! Who the fuck quits being a knight to scrape by as a bottom-rung merc? Keep talking crap—I'll reward you by lopping off that filthy neck!"
With a whoosh slicing through the air, his blade came arcing toward my left waist.
His Aura couldn't cut through my armor...
Probably aiming to stun me with the impact and finish me off.
A fine attack, worthy of a merc who'd risen from grunt to Platoon Leader while wielding Aura, however crudely.
Looks like a hillbilly boar, but strikes like a hawk.
"If you were gonna face Martin here, you should've at least washed that dirty neck first, you mannerless boar pup! Filthy beast who doesn't know courtesy. Now I'm worried that stinky boar reek'll stick to my armor when I haul your head back!"
"A dead man anyway, and you're still yapping like a pro! Is that all your mom taught you—how to flap your gums like a bitch?"
This time, I gripped my sword tight, steeling myself to block for sure.
The texture of the deer leather wrapped around the hilt pressed firmly into my clenched fist. I angled the blade diagonally.
As Schmitz's heavy strike hurtled in, a sharp tingle shot through my hands.
"Ngh."
A small grunt escaped me involuntarily, but I squeezed every muscle from arms to waist, legs, and feet, channeling all my strength.
'I'm killing this bastard today. Last time, I lacked the power and suffered the humiliation of failing to take him down. But not this time. I'll end him.'
I pictured the future: slaying him, then getting praise from Squad Leader Pior and the others, maybe even growing closer to Karin over this.
"This fucking Schmitz prick! Goddamn, the only thing you've got going in life is that boar-sized gut, huh?!"
The first block had shaken me to my core despite bracing fully, but this time, pouring every ounce of strength into it made it... bearable?
That realization hit, and my heart pounded faster, thundering wildly.
Awe at my combat prowess surging, confidence that I could really do this, the thrill of victory—all swirling into a boiling rush.
As we traded blows, the depleted strength didn't just recover; it felt amplified.
They say marathon runners hitting their limit can push through on willpower alone, stabilizing breath, stamina, and pulse in a 'runner's high'...
But we'd only been fighting minutes, and I'd endured just two heavy hits, so no way that was it...
'Looks like my body finally awakened to Aura.'
Proving it, I raised my sword and cleanly blocked his next strike, brimming with even greater power and speed.
"You boar-dicked millstone-faced fuck, what? Calling me a kid? Fuck off with that baguette-fart noise."
If I'd reached full parity, I'd have counterattacked right after the block, but I wasn't quite there yet.
Schmitz looked shocked that I'd taken his strike head-on, glaring with far less composure than before.
"Heh, the squishy punk's grown some? I usually hold back against rookies, but now I gotta go hard. You little shit."
I flipped him the middle finger in mockery.
"What bullshit—you're just making excuses 'cause you're scared of losing? Weak-ass trash?"
He seemed fine mocking others, but couldn't take it in return.
He came at me faster, with a fiercer aura.
If he'd hit me at this speed back when we first crossed blades, I'd have died on the spot.
'But this body's awakened Aura now, you fat-rolled orc-looking boar fuck.'
Gripping my sword, I recalled fantasy novels from my past life.
Imagining my heart pumping blood through my body, I visualized sending the Aura I'd sensed inside me surging everywhere.
Following the Aura cultivation Martin had learned, I breathed slowly but deeply.
Mana from the air flowed into me.
Until moments ago, deflecting at an angle had been my limit; now, I was sure I could block head-on.
As expected, I handled his amped-up strike with ease.
Not stopping there, I stepped forward to settle it, mimicking his recent swing in the same arc.
"Die, you bastard—avenger of Platoon Leader Max!"
My bastard sword—light enough for one or two hands—clashed against Schmitz's massive two-hander.
Clang!
Steel met steel with a ring, sparks flying.
Our blades rebounded from the force, opposite their paths.
But with murderous intent burning, we shook off the strain and swung again.