Chapter 66
Chapter 66
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Preparation
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Finding Panhima within the academy grounds wasn't all that difficult.
Early in the morning, if you climbed the largest hill nearby, you could usually find her there.
And every time, the pose she struck was almost exactly the same.
Drenched in sweat from sword practice that had started at dawn, she would be sprawled out on the ground.
"Has the earth passed along any messages?"
"⋯⋯."
At his words, Panhima flinched and turned to look at him.
"⋯⋯How did you know?"
"Pardon?"
"That I was 'talking' to the earth. I don't recall ever telling you."
"It looked like you were."
"⋯⋯You should break that habit of brushing things off vaguely without any explanation."
To anyone else, it might look like some Far Eastern religious rite and raise eyebrows, but Carlyle knew this was a deeply personal ritual.
He remembered asking her about it once after seeing her repeat it every morning before dawn.
-I'm passing a message to the earth.
-What?
-Tell my sibling that I'm coming to find them now.
⋯⋯Because she couldn't deliver it herself.
She asked the earth to relay the news on her behalf.
That's what the prayer was for, she said.
It was a game they played as kids together—trying to send messages to each other through the ground.
She had done it every morning without fail for over a decade.
Even when the entire continent became a sea of fire from the hellish invasion.
Even when the survivors dwindled to a handful, and her sibling's identity remained unknown, making it almost certain they'd died somewhere.
As if this were the only reason she kept living.
As if her family was the sole barrier between her and death.
-The time I said I'd come is when the sun rises.
No matter when or where you are.
If you need me, I'll come running.
Even if I'm a little late, I'll never give up.
I'll come to you at dawn.
That's the promise she made.
The path she was told to take was named "Dawn," which must be tied to that promise.
And the reason Carlyle was here now was precisely because of it.
"Letty finished repairing it, so I brought your sword back."
With those words, Carlyle held out the sword to Panhima.
The katana she'd told him to take before. Dawn, was it?
"Thanks."
Panhima's eyes widened as she took the sword from him.
After a moment of silence, she hesitantly spoke up.
"⋯⋯My kin, you shall receive recompense for your goodwill."
"I didn't do it expecting any reward."
"No. Even if you don't seek it, it will come to you."
Panhima shook her head and continued.
"Those who accumulate virtue move even the will of heaven. All goodwill will surely return to you as reward."
Whether by coincidence or rightful payment from someone.
It would definitely be of help, Panhima asserted.
"⋯⋯I hope so."
This was the final loop. Any such boons would be more than welcome.
As Carlyle nodded in agreement, Panhima smiled and nodded back.
"Well then, shall we take a look?"
As she lightly drew the sword, something sparked—flash!
Panhima flinched and turned to him.
"What is this?"
"I heard she added some interesting features. You'll definitely feel it when you draw the blade."
"⋯⋯Why add something like that to the draw? I can't make sense of it."
"⋯⋯She said real Far Eastern swordsmen use iaijutsu."
"⋯⋯⋯⋯."
Letty had said it with such sparkling eyes that he hadn't been able to argue and just agreed.
A newly discovered fact.
Letty Ingram was an incorrigible romantic.
'She gets the romance, at least.'
Iaijutsu does look cool.
But the actual native Far Eastern swordswoman, Panhima, looked utterly baffled.
"⋯⋯Drawing and slashing at the same time is a technique for assassinations."
"But it looks cool, so why not go with it?"
Panhima acquiesced.
Not because she approved of Letty's design intent, but because of the pouch of gold Letty had sent along with a request for her feedback later.
"Iaijutsu gets my approval."
"⋯⋯."
"Might as well demonstrate it in front of Leader Letty while we're at it."
"⋯⋯."
Anyway.
With her weapon returned, this woman was now fully battle-ready.
As far as Carlyle remembered, Panhima with her sword and without were worlds apart in combat prowess.
And not just anyone—she needed to deliver a performance strong enough to break the hero's stubbornness.
It was time to fully awaken the potential that had earned her the title of Sword Saint. Her opponent would be none other than the catastrophe-level beast, the Black Whale⋯⋯
'Huh.'
Now that he thought about it.
He'd heard that crossing from the Far East to here was an epic journey in itself.
Recalling their conversation from a previous loop.
-I crossed the great ocean on a single ferry.
-⋯⋯.
-The fear of three straight days of fishing with nothing biting was worse than any fierce enemy I faced.
⋯⋯It painted her as quite the madwoman, but one question did come to mind.
That route was where the Black Whale lurked, so how had she crossed unscathed?
Territorial beasts were notoriously aggressive toward intruders in their domain.
He'd never asked her directly, so out of curiosity, he did now.
And he got a rather intriguing answer.
"In the Divine Kingdom, legends of the Sea Kings who guard the sea routes between continents are widespread. Thanks to them, I could avoid it easily."
"Sea Kings?"
"Yeah. They're called spirits of the sea."
⋯⋯This was news to him.
Hadn't she implied that the Far East had detailed records on the Black Whale?
"Of course records exist. To merchants living by the coast, it's a very famous tale."
Carlyle let out a hollow laugh.
'Good grief.'
This was always so fascinating.
Even after so many loops, there were always facts he didn't know hidden in the corners.
Trivial but potentially vital details.
"The wise and ruthless Sea Kings⋯⋯ As long as you don't touch their young, they pose no threat to travelers crossing the ocean. It's a well-known story in the Far East."
"⋯⋯Their young?"
"It's only natural for a mother to turn ferocious when protecting her offspring. The legend of the eldest black Sea King being the Great Mother of the Blue Sea has been passed down for ages."
Carlyle's mind flashed.
The instincts of a regressor who'd survived countless crises kicked in.
Suddenly.
It hit him.
'⋯⋯"Goodwill returns as reward."'
Panhima's parting words just now.
They didn't feel like empty talk.
If he hadn't shown her kindness.
If he hadn't asked this by pure chance.
He never would have heard this information.
"Panhima."
"Yeah?"
"Please tell me more about that story."
The Far Eastern legend.
His gut told him it was key to subduing the Black Whale.
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To break Gray's stubbornness in the Black Whale subjugation, Carlyle couldn't rely entirely on her like before. He desperately needed to improve his own combat abilities.
Fortunately, he had someone nearby who could assess that for him.
-!
Sparks flew as their sword strikes clashed in midair.
Lately, he'd focused more on raising Gray than fighting himself, but the miscellaneous skills Carlyle had accumulated over countless loops were far from insignificant.
They shone through even in direct weapon combat.
At least enough to hold his own against Dean Shea to some degree.
"-Good. That's enough."
Shea raised a hand with a grin, not a drop of sweat on him.
In contrast, Carlyle—drenched in sweat—sighed and nodded.
'What a monster.'
He didn't exude the overwhelming presence of a fully grown Gray, but he was no less a bottomless freak.
Carlyle had pulled every trick he could—excluding the hero's ultimate synchronized technique—and the gap was still this wide.
"You're a real weirdo, huh? No wonder the Gray Cardinal has her eye on you."
"⋯⋯Weirdo?"
"You're mediocre, Carlyle Bellfast. Heck, call it below average. It takes you forever to absorb new info—slower than a normal student."
"⋯⋯."
Suddenly insulting me.
Wanna fight?
As those thoughts crossed his mind, Shea stroked his chin and continued.
"But look at the results, and it doesn't seem that way at all."
"What do you mean?"
"Your talent's mediocre, but the sword you swing is in a deranged realm no lifelong swordsman could match. A height you'd never reach no matter how hard you trained your whole life."
"⋯⋯."
"You seem like you'd never lose in any situation."
You might not win.
But you'd never lose.
A combat style specialized in 'endurance.'
And the reason it worked.
"There's a reliable 'someone' to finish things off, so this style feels tailor-made to support them. Just stall, and victory's guaranteed."
"⋯⋯."
"And in that field, you're beyond master level—at the peak. No matter the opponent, you can always go at least half and half."
He could tell that just from crossing swords briefly?
Heroes were all monsters, huh.
"Your style's already complete. Doesn't seem like I can add anything. What exactly do you want me to check?"
"⋯⋯This time, just enduring won't cut it."
He needed to impress Gray deeply.
For that, he required something very lofty—something he'd never attempted in any loop.
'She scoffed at copying a future hero's single strike, after all⋯⋯'
He needed something even greater.
When he neatly laid out those requirements.
"⋯⋯Hmm. What means do you have available right now?"
"Means?"
"You fight by enhancing yourself with other things. Spill all your enhancement methods. We can combine them into something good."
"⋯⋯."
How to put it.
The consulting was so straightforward it left him flustered instead.
Was he always this capable?
[⋯⋯I told you. Excluding me, this guy's the strongest right now.]
'I never doubted it, but now I have no choice but to believe.'
With that thought, he listed every ability at his disposal.
Of them, the one that caught the dean's interest was singular.
"Hold on. You can manifest a body?"
"Yes?"
"You said you can create a body for the friend inside the Holy Sword. Right?"
"⋯⋯Yeah?"
He'd tried it once before.
Attempting to give Gray inside the Holy Sword a body.
But even with the Tear of the Star providing near-infinite mana short-term, it only materialized a single hand.
When he explained that to Shea, the dean blinked blankly at him.
"⋯⋯That should do it."
"Yes?"
"No⋯⋯"
Shea stroked his chin, alternating glances between the Holy Sword and Carlyle.
"You said you can sync consciousness with the one inside there?"
"Yeah⋯⋯? But only for 3 seconds."
"Right. That's perfect."
Shea grinned as he spoke.
He looked quite pleased with the idea he'd come up with.
"You could probably make even Junior freak out for those 3 seconds. I've got the method."
"⋯⋯Really?"
"As long as you're prepared for the backlash that might kill you if you mess it up."
"⋯⋯."
⋯⋯This old man?
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