Chapter 29
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Kingdom's Representative (1)
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[Let's have a proper go at it.]
'He was just talking big.'
That didn't mean I could settle for a half-hearted scrap.
[Even so, isn't that too few for someone who bragged about beating them all?]
'These are the cream of the crop, handpicked. Eight should be plenty, no?'
[You sneaky bastard.]
'Thanks for the compliment.'
Ignoring Gransesia's effusive praise laced with fancy words, I slowly made my way to the center of the training grounds.
"So, who wants to come up first and cross swords with me?"
I spoke while gripping a training sword with no edge. The challengers eyed me warily, tension etched on their faces.
"Then, as we discussed, I'll go first."
The burliest man among the eight stepped forward.
He was an heir of the Viol Marquis family and a fairly renowned knight.
His frame towered two heads above me, exuding an odd pressure just by standing there.
"Count, as we agreed beforehand—no mana, just pure swordsmanship, correct?"
"That's right. If the goal is to test each other's skills, we don't need mana for that."
"Heh, exactly. Don't regret it later."
Thud, thud.
Sir Viol turned and backed away to create some distance.
"Facing Sir Viol without mana? That's dangerous."
Whispers rippled through the nobles.
Without mana, raw physical prowess had the clear edge.
By all appearances, I didn't stand a chance against Sir Viol.
Of course, that was the nobles' take. Gransesia saw it differently.
[...Did you ban mana too?]
'Using mana in a spar could get someone hurt.'
'Bullshit on the danger—how can someone be this cowardly?'
'I got his consent fair and square. He agreed because he thought it'd favor him, so it's fair play.'
'Is it? No! He has no idea about your secrets!'
'That's for him to figure out on his own.'
My pure physical strength might lag behind Sir Viol's.
But what we were testing wasn't bodies—it was swordsmanship.
"Good heavens..."
A stunned voice reached my ears.
No surprise there. The match between Sir Viol and me ended in a flash.
"Next."
I pointed curtly to the next opponent.
The outcome came so swiftly that even the challengers looked flustered.
"What was that sword technique just now?"
"Never seen it before... Does the Banheart family even have something like that?"
The murmuring nobles speculated wildly about the technique I'd used.
Naturally, no one knew what it was.
'No way they could. It's a sword art that doesn't exist in this world.'
When I added a setting, all knowledge of it etched itself into my body.
But what if I added a skill I already knew?
Simple: it supplemented, rather than overwriting from a blank slate.
No issue layering new settings onto existing skills.
'I never imagined Dosu Famous Sword could be used like this.'
Dosu Famous Sword (Path Repair Inscribed Sword).
A style rooted in fundamentals, honed to perfection.
No overwhelming specialties, but effective against any swordsmanship—that was its strength.
Yet, upon adding the full setting and grasping everything, I unlocked its true potential.
[Pretty solid. Not bad at all.]
The technique I'd just used wasn't Silver Star Sword or Dosu Famous Sword.
It was Dosu Famous Sword as the base, infused with Silver Star Sword's essence.
That was the secret.
'Still falls short of the original Silver Star Sword... but plenty of room to refine it.'
Silver Star Sword split into first and second halves, each with stark traits. Blended right, they shone.
In other words, glaring strengths—and glaring flaws.
Adding the Dosu Famous Sword setting sparked the idea.
What if I grafted just Silver Star Sword's strengths onto the colorless Dosu Famous Sword?
It wasn't hard, given Dosu Famous Sword's lack of rigid form.
'Of course, impossible without the added knowledge.'
The challengers fell like dominoes, unable to counter the unfamiliar style.
"So the rumors were true."
"No way that's just a sword user's level."
Knights of some caliber nodded after a few exchanges, gauging my skill.
Yet even they couldn't quite wrap their heads around it.
"D-Damn it! What trick did you pull?!"
Only Nior Bellun remained among the challengers.
He hadn't expected me to dispatch them so easily—his face was ashen.
"How can a mere sword user from days ago beat Sword Experts?!"
"Nior Bellun."
I fixed him with a cold stare and slowly raised my sword.
"Are you planning to fight with words? And as I've said, work on your manners. I'm no longer some untitled noble brat like you."
"Y-You son of a—!"
He trembled with rage but didn't charge. None of the knights I'd faced had lasted ten bouts.
Some were mid-tier Sword Experts, better than him.
"Wasting a sword on you would be a shame."
Shing.
I sheathed my blade and tossed it to the edge of the grounds.
The onlookers buzzed in confusion at my actions.
Nior was no different. He scowled at my now bare hands.
"What the hell? You chickening out?"
"Not at all. Just..."
I clenched my fist tight and assumed a familiar stance.
"...I figure I can take you barehanded."
"......!"
His eyes bloodshot with fury at my sincere taunt, Nior's sword hand shook.
Mana rippled along his blade.
"Clay Banheart!"
"S-Sir Bellun! No mana!"
"Stop him, Sir Bellun!"
Blinded by rage, he broke the no-mana rule and lunged.
The watching knights shouted too late—he was already upon me.
'This one's getting crushed.'
His anger mirrored mine. I hadn't forgotten how he'd targeted Mone at the banquet yesterday.
"Huuu."
I inhaled deeply, stomped forward with a quaking foot.
Then swung my clenched fist horizontally, twisting my waist.
Gransesia's fist art held absolute power against demons, but it was far from harmless to others.
Boom!
"Arghhh!"
Unlike him, I used no mana.
That worked in my favor—my body wasn't ready for Holy Heaven Martial Extreme's mana flow yet.
Unlike added skills, this was mine, honed personally.
Crude and lacking, but enough to send Nior flying.
[You went for Heavenly Lord? Too much power.]
As I stared at Nior sailing away screaming, Gransesia critiqued immediately.
She clearly wasn't thrilled with my form.
[Keep that up, and you'll never reach Holy Heaven Martial Extreme's plausibility.]
'Plausibility, huh...'
I let out a hollow chuckle.
Holy Heaven Martial Extreme stood apart from other skills.
Its plausibility requirements were the same—daunting, near impossible to grasp.
==
[Holy Heaven Martial Extreme]
Required Plausibility
1. No-Self Mastery
2. Five Skandhas Mastery
3. Yusik Mastery
==
Even revisiting it, no clue how to tackle them.
Gransesia said mastering those three would naturally unlock it.
'...Someday, maybe.'
For now, that was all I could think.
I flexed my fist and approached the twitching Nior.
A clear fist mark marred his chest.
"......"
Silence blanketed the grounds.
No one imagined I'd flatten a mana-using Nior with one punch.
Some knights had rushed out, now frozen mid-stride.
"Do you know what time it is?"
I turned to one knight.
Startled by my sudden question, he stammered.
"I-It’s almost 3 o’clock."
"Damn, plenty of time left."
I'd planned leisurely bouts with breaks, but my tricks made short work of them, per Gransesia.
'Should've allowed mana after all.'
[You'd have won anyway.]
I brushed off her incredulous mutter.
"Time to spare, so let's take more challengers. Anyone unconvinced by me as the Imperial Martial Tournament rep, step up."
Predictably, none did.
* * *
During the victory banquet period that followed, no one dared挑衅 Mone or me.
They avoided us outright, barely managing greetings.
At first, their reactions puzzled me, but Gelvin explained after the banquets ended.
"Count Clay! I heard the rumors! Routing challengers with one punch! As expected of you!"
Gelvin Ribina had grown close post-war; one of few I called by name, as he did me.
But his words nagged me.
"They’re calling you the 'Invincible Iron Fist' among knights. Truly admirable."
Invincible Iron Fist?
Me? That corny nickname?
"I used my sword more than my fist."
"Oh? But the punch stories dominate."
Gelvin tilted his head from his seat. Seemed sword talk was scarce.
'Sword from skills, fist self-taught—feels off that the unfinished fist art steals the show.'
Though sword polish was superior.
Minus the corny moniker.
'I'll stick to sword for a while.'
Until that nonsense faded.
"So, what's up?"
I was staying in the capital mansion granted by His Majesty Leogart.
Planned to return to the fief right after banquets, but Duke Gail requested I stay.
Couldn't leave Banheart lands unattended, so I asked him to send helpers first, with Dorian.
"Ah, a letter arrived from the Asktalin Empire."
"Letter? What's that got to do with me?"
Hard to link an imperial letter to Gelvin's visit.
Probably Founding Festival stuff.
"Don't be shocked! Your name was on the Asktalin Empire letter!"
"...What?"
"A royal directly requested you! Inviting Count Clay to the Founding Festival!"
I'd already committed to attending, unknown to them.
Hence the preemptive invite.
'But why?'
A fresh count from a minor kingdom getting personal invites from imperial royalty? Unheard of.
[I told you.]
Gransesia chimed in with a amused lilt.
[Dragons are awfully greedy.]
For the first time, I understood what a blank mind felt like.