Chapter 165
Chapter 165
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 165
Chapter Title: Ranking (4)
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Seeing Gunter arrive clad head to toe in full plate armor, Yuri got ridiculously excited in an instant.
The reason was simple.
‘Whoa, that thing looks perfect to bash!’
Just as you get the urge to use a shiny new toy when it falls into your hands, Yuri wanted to test out his newly completed demon sword in a spar.
But it wasn’t that easy.
He could only maintain the demon sword for about three seconds.
The problem was that once those three seconds were up, Yuri couldn’t do a damn thing.
That’s why ranged attackers like Arin or speed demons like Theresia bolted the moment they sensed him about to unleash it.
They knew full well there was no surviving a hit from the demon sword.
Thus, the only time Yuri had gotten to use it was against Poppi.
Well, “spar” was putting it nicely—it was more like Yuri just whomping Poppi’s shield with the demon sword.
Even that had been fine.
The satisfying *thwack* against the shield had that perfect chewy rebound, leaving Yuri thrilled.
The issue was...
[I’m hungry!]
[Yuri, this kid’s calling it quits?]
...Poppi, after taking a few hits, clutched his swollen arm and went on strike.
For Poppi—who’d already been battered and bounced around by Greta’s holy punches in the past—Yuri’s demon sword had triggered some serious trauma.
With even Poppi refusing to take hits from his demon sword anymore, Yuri had no practice dummies left.
Then, right in front of him appeared Gunter, wrapped head to toe in full plate armor.
It looked insanely sturdy.
And this guy had no clue Yuri could use the demon sword—or that it only lasted three seconds.
In short, a perfect punching bag for experimenting.
‘With that much armor, he won’t drop dead from one hit, right?’
Still, better safe than sorry.
So Yuri figured he’d dial back the power to conserve mana.
But...
‘Ah... that was a bit strong?’
He’d planned to manifest the demon sword just for a split second on impact.
Like a super light tap, just *poke*.
But his control slipped, and way more power went in than intended.
Judging by the third of his mana that vanished, it must’ve lasted about a second.
And the result?
*Whoosh-!*
Gunter rocketed off at insane speed, kicking up a gale, and slammed face-first into the circular arena wall.
Followed by the explosion.
*BOOOOM-!*
*Whoooosh...*
The arena wall crumbled, sending up a cloud of pale dust.
* * *
Shivering.
“I-I’m hungry...”
“Th-there there, it’s okay, our Poppi, don’t shake. That didn’t hurt. It wasn’t you who got hit, right?”
Poppi shuddered, tormented by trauma from what happened in the arena.
Arin patted him while munching on some rations she’d pulled out of nowhere.
That was a reaction only possible for the two who’d at least caught a glimpse of what went down inside.
The rest of the 50th Cohort—over 150 strong—could only gape dumbly.
Some were even drooling.
“Huh...?”
“...Ah?”
“Eh?”
“...What?”
Gunter flew into the wall, and a beat later, various noises erupted from the stands.
They’d been shocked visually once by what happened right in front of them.
Then their brains took a second hit analyzing it, so the groans came late.
One thought filled their heads.
‘What the... how did that happen?’
They hadn’t really seen anything.
The match started, Gunter charged.
And before they could even blink, he bounced right back.
But that alone was enough to short-circuit the spectators’ brains.
“So Gunter... that Gunter Iron... got knocked out in one hit? Uh... was Gunter weaker than we thought? No, Gunter’s not weak? Wait, but seeing that, maybe he is? Ah... no?”
Someone muttered in a daze, and an incredulous voice cut in from the side.
“...Gunter’s weak?”
It was Clarice Van.
His face was rigid as he spoke.
“A knight’s charge in full plate is stronger than most warhorses.”
This was testimony from Clarice himself, who wore the same gear.
“And Gunter’s charge just now... was flawless. It’d shred lines of meat shields like you into mincemeat! Probably only a handful of us could even handle it.”
Clarice gritted his teeth.
“And you’re calling that Gunter weak? Did we really watch the same thing? Anyone spouting that insane crap has no right to sit here. Pack your shit and fuck off home!”
The guy who’d suggested Gunter might be weak protested indignantly.
“Th-then what the hell was that? How else do you explain it?”
“It’s because Yuri Holland is... ridiculously... overpowered.”
Clarice’s voice trembled faintly as he answered.
“I... misjudged. That’s not something a guy like me could handle. That thing is...”
“......”
“...a monster.”
Clarice’s eyes reflected Yuri rolling his shoulders casually.
It wasn’t just Clarice’s thought.
Everyone came to the same conclusion.
‘Beat... that?’
‘That... monster?’
A few squadmates who’d been wiped out by Yuri in the armband theft quest had called him a “monster bastard.”
Most had brushed it off.
They figured the losers were just slapping an exaggerated label on him to cover their own weakness.
The stronger Yuri seemed, the better those guys would look for getting wiped by one person.
But no.
Or rather, they were right... but wrong.
Yuri Holland wasn’t some “monster bastard”—he was the real deal.
And so, from that day, that moment onward.
Yuri, who’d at least gotten some human treatment from his cohort, was etched into everyone’s minds as a monster.
* * *
*Whoooosh...*
The dust and gravel settled.
*Twitch-*
Amid the rubble of the collapsed arena wall, Gunter’s finger—sprawled out like he was knocked out—twitched slightly.
“Cough, *hack-!”
A cough burst out.
With it, Gunter’s consciousness slowly returned. He’d really been out.
‘What... how...?’
A constant ringing buzzed in his ears.
Pain throbbed everywhere, stabbing at his brain.
But it sharpened his mind instead.
And with it came realization.
‘I got... taken out? In one blow?!”
The spectators were stunned, but no one more than Gunter himself.
One strike.
Knocked flat by a single attack.
The one with the strongest faith in himself took the hardest hit.
‘What... what hit me?’
But his breath caught, thoughts derailed.
*Hack-*
Blood mixed with the cough splattered his visor.
The thick metallic stench filling his helmet made breathing hard, so Gunter flipped up the faceguard.
*Clank-*
“Hah, *gasp*!”
Fresh air hit, and he finally felt alive.
Gunter wiped his bloody lips and looked down.
From his chest to abdomen, a long diagonal gash across the full plate.
Brand new armor, sliced open.
Seeing it snapped him alert, finishing his earlier thought.
‘What... the hell was that?’
He’d glimpsed it.
For a split second, the golden energy that engulfed him.
If instinct hadn’t raised his sword instead.
If he hadn’t shifted to defense and backpedaled, it wouldn’t be the armor sliced—but his flesh.
Gunter lay in the rubble, staring blankly at the sky.
‘Even deflecting the impact... and I’m this messed up?’
A hollow laugh escaped him.
“...A monster.”
He’d expected Yuri to be strong.
Yuri’s showing in the Cradle’s aptitude test.
In the Hundred Steps ritual.
The aura he exuded clashing with Gunter.
All that pointed to rapid growth—probably beyond what Gunter imagined.
But...
‘There’s a thing called “moderation”!’
A boy who, a year and four months ago, could barely swing a sword without staggering.
Sending flying a man who’d trained his whole life.
What kind of absurd talent was this?
If God existed, He wouldn’t grant one person such bullshit.
Only the devil would.
*Crunch-*
Gunter pushed off the rubble, hauling his upper body up.
‘Paid the price... for my stupidity.’
He’d been certain that as long as Yuri didn’t use that black monster, the Incarnation, he had a shot.
Someday Yuri’s growth would overtake him, but for now, Gunter held the edge.
‘Thought this was my first and last chance to crush Yuri Holland...’
All a stupid miscalculation.
A self-mocking smile formed, but it shocked him—realizing his inner truth.
‘Ah... I’ve been a petty loser all along.’
The “honest” desire to beat Yuri before he grew more.
It meant he’d already accepted defeat.
So he’d thrown ethics out to seize victory now.
How was that different from coping?
And yet he’d asked Huey Mormon to yield the first shot, thinking a win over tired Yuri would tarnish his glory.
‘Worried beating exhausted Yuri Holland would cheapen my win? You idiot!’
Gunter burned with shame at his actions.
‘What’s my conviction? What’s right?!’
He reached out, groping around.
*Rattle-*
His fingers caught the sword hilt.
Luckily—or not—his sword was intact amid the mess.
Gunter grabbed it.
“Urgh!”
He stabbed it into the ground and dragged himself up.
Agony wracked his body.
His flesh quivered like aspen leaves.
He looked ready to collapse again, but Gunter refused to quit.
Through gritted teeth and effort, he stood.
Then he glared fiercely ahead.
Far off, in the arena’s center, Yuri stood blankly. Gunter raised his sword again.
‘I have no right... to judge if Yuri Holland is twisted or not.’
He wasn’t upright enough to critique others’ flaws or immorality.
So Gunter accepted it all as is.
He discarded moral judgments of right and wrong.
Instead, he set a new standard.
One perfectly suited to the Cradle.
‘Right and wrong don’t matter. If I believe my way is truly right, that’s my answer.’
He had his answer.
Yuri had his.
Countless others had theirs.
But not all answers were correct.
To make your answer the sole truth?
You needed power.
And for Gunter, the measure of that power was...
‘To enforce my will, my answer... I’ll prove my strength!’
The one standing far off, gazing at him arrogantly: Yuri.
‘I’ll surpass you, Yuri Holland!’
Thus, Gunter—who’d only tentatively dipped a toe into the Sword Lord’s era, the board the Sword Lord created—planted both feet fully.
His vision went white.
* * *
Yuri figured Gunter wouldn’t get up after he’d overdone it a bit.
So when Gunter rose from the rubble, Yuri was mildly impressed.
“Oh? Managed to deflect some of the impact even then?”
This guy was no average scrub.
Sensing danger in that split second and flowing with the attack.
That alone proved Gunter’s talent.
But even mitigated, it’d been near-fatal—downgraded to severe injury.
Yuri knew best, as the hitter.
Standing up in that state showed insane willpower.
Yuri eyed Gunter’s raised sword, pondering seriously.
‘...Hit him once more?’
He’s holding up surprisingly well?
With that grit, maybe one more?
‘If he dies... eh, that’s his fate.’
Why struggle up when he could’ve just lain there?
Anyone could see he was begging for another.
As Yuri carefully weighed whomping the barely-surviving guy again...
*Shiiiine-*
A soft glow emanated from Gunter with his raised sword.
Yuri knew exactly what that was.
“...Dawn?”
He looked left, right.
No matter the angle, it was unmistakably Dawn state.
“......”
After staring blankly for a while, an irritated curse slipped from Yuri.
“Fuck, again?!”