The Mesugaki Can't Rest (2)
Watching Grandpa laugh with such triumphant gusto, I could feel cold sweat trickling down my back.
Why is Grandpa here?
Practice Mode is a place where I test out skills all by myself. It's not supposed to be somewhere any other character can just walk into!
Wondering if I was so exhausted I was hallucinating, I pinched my cheek. The soft flesh stretched out — and then the pain arrived at the end of it.
Ow. Why isn't this a dream? If it were a dream, at least it'd be a damn good one.
"It seems that because your soul and his are connected, this phenomenon has occurred."
'His soul... connected to mine?'
"Some old fart smelling of mothballs and me? Ew. Gross. Disgusting."
The words coming out through the Mesugaki Skill apparently offended him, because Grandpa's brow creased slightly as he stepped toward me, raised his fist, and delivered a knuckle rap right to my head.
I clearly saw him raise his fist. I clearly saw him swing it. And yet I couldn't dodge it at all.
By the time I came to my senses, his fist was already planted on my skull, and the pain — like the bone of my crown was about to crack — forced me to clutch my head with both hands.
What?! I don't understand. Why couldn't I resist even a little?! My Iron Wall skill didn't even react to Grandpa's fist!
What even is this.
"Now, now, child. Mind your tongue."
'You think that's something I can control?!'
"Shut up! Why should I have to listen to some grandpa who sounds like he's about to lose his dentures! Absolutely disgusting! Total boomer!"
The moment I got going, Grandpa raised his fist again. The pain from moments ago was still fresh in my body, so I instinctively wrapped my arms around my head.
Noooooo!
This is so unfair!
He of all people should know better than anyone that I'm the one suffering most from the Mesugaki Skill — so why is he doing this to me?!
What have I ever done to deserve this?!
Okay, sure, I tune out most of his nagging!
And sometimes when I get mad, I send him on tours of the toilet or the garbage bin!
And I may have once taunted him with 'you're all bark anyway, you can't even do anything'!
But still, I've been pretty good to Grandpa...
Hm. Looking at it all laid out like that, it kind of does seem like bad karma.
Either way, I'm innocent! Innocent, I say!
I screamed internally and braced for the pain to come — but mercifully, it never arrived.
Grandpa had only been faking the swing, and at my cringing, terrified figure, he was wearing a mischievous grin.
"The one who glared down death itself cowers like this over a little tap. What a fearful creature you are."
...So you're telling me you just pranked me.
Grandpaaaaa! Is bullying a poor little girl who's basically your own granddaughter that fun for you?!
Oh right, you're the crappy Chief God's paladin, so your tastes must run in the family, huh? HUH?!
Just you wait! In Practice Mode you might have a body, but in the real world you're nothing but a mace that can't do anything without me!
"Haha. My apologies. Forgive this old man. If all your many transgressions can be brushed off with just that much, you're hardly a bad grandchild."
Well, he's not wrong.
Hmmm.
Sigh. Fine, Grandpa. You've done things for me, and I've done things wrong, so I'll let it slide at this.
There are more important questions I need to ask right now, anyway.
I get that Grandpa's soul is linked to mine, and that our mental worlds are shared because of it. But then what exactly is happening to my body in the real world?
If this is my mental world, then — just like in the game — reality shouldn't be frozen while I'm here.
'Grandpa...'
"Grandpa. Do you know what's happening to my body out in the real world?"
"You're asleep. The moment you set foot in the entrance, you collapsed as if you'd fainted. Do you have any idea how badly you frightened me?"
Oh. So that's why the message said I could only enter Practice Mode while inside my dormitory. If I'd slipped into Practice Mode out in the open, I'd have collapsed flat on the pavement.
For a crappy Chief God, that's surprisingly thoughtful.
So have I checked everything I came here to check?
Even at a glance, this place looks no different from the game, so I doubt I'll ever need to visit again.
I brought up the window and selected Exit Practice Mode — but all that appeared was a message:
Not all members have consented.
And with that, I found myself unable to escape Practice Mode.
What the hell! I'm the owner of this place! I'm saying I want to leave — why won't you let me out?! WHY?!
I need to get out of here fast! Otherwise the evil spirit that escaped the mace is going to come capture me!
"Now, child. Where are you rushing off to in such a hurry?"
Grandpa's voice from behind me made my shoulders jolt as I hammered away at the exit button.
'U-um. That's...'
"Grandpa. The crappy swordswoman and the airhead young lady must be waiting for you. Has old age addled your brain so badly you can't even remember the basics?"
"No matter. When I left, I told them that if I was gone too long, they should simply carry on without me. They'll sort things out on their own."
That may be true, but you might be needed at some point, you know?
See? Sparring with Frey, or giving Joy advice on her magic training, or— or— and also—
"Enough. Such things are not for you to worry about. Something far more important stands before you right now."
I had a pretty good idea what was waiting in front of me, but I desperately turned my face away from it.
No matter how I turned it over in my head, the only outcome at the end of that road was me crawling on the ground like a dog. I did not want to look.
"As the founder of Divine Pugilism, I shall pass down everything I know to you."
Even I could see the enormous, blazing ambition carved into Grandpa's benevolent smile.
I'm retracting my earlier statement about him probably being similar to Forsell.
Yes, Forsell worked me half to death, but he still respected the bottom line because I was, nominally, a lady of the house. At the very least he gave me time to catch my breath.
But Grandpa is different.
He doesn't need to spare anyone's feelings. The only thing that concerns him is how to drill his techniques into me, every last one.
"Do not worry, child. This is the mental world, is it not? There is no need to concern yourself with physical fatigue."
True enough. No matter how hard I get thrown around, my real body is resting back there, so even the most brutal training won't damage the flesh.
But what about my mind, huh? Does mental fatigue simply not concern you at all?!
I have Unbreakable Will, so I probably won't break — but this is still a pretty important issue!
"...First, I suppose I ought to explain what Divine Pugilism actually is."
This guy just conveniently skipped right over the part where he was on the losing side of the argument!
"It is a martial art utilizing divinity, one I created in ages past. It steps outside the category of divine magic, allowing divinity itself to directly intervene in reality.
Paladin orders had passed fragments of it down in whispers for generations, but it was I who first systematized it and established it as a true martial discipline."
With that, Grandpa gathered divinity into his fist.
It was nothing like the sunlight-warm divinity I knew. This was a divinity that burned shadows away, fierce enough to scour them from the face of the world entirely.
"If the church folk heard this, they'd call it blasphemy and strip me of my robes — but in the end, divinity is simply a kind of energy, no different from mana or qi. What you can accomplish with it differs, yes, but at its root, they are much the same."
Then, drawing his divinity-laden fist all the way back—
"Which means that, just as a knight coats his blade in sword aura, we too can coat our attacks in divinity."
—he hurled it at the training dummy.
The motion was close to a textbook straight punch. The result it produced was anything but.
Grandpa's fist half-destroyed the training grounds.
The dummy that had been standing there moments before lost all shape entirely; the bricks paving the ground shattered, baring the bare earth beneath; a hole tore through the wall, revealing a sprawling vista of white beyond it.
...That dummy could be blown up?!
No, wait — before that, this training ground was capable of breaking like this?!
As I gaped at a scene so far outside my common sense, Grandpa puffed up his shoulders smugly — as if the feat he'd just pulled off were nothing at all.
"That strike just now amplified its power by channeling mana and divinity simultaneously. It is the core principle of the Divine Pugilism I created — and it is what I shall begin teaching you now."
Ha. Haha. Grandpa, the Divine Pugilism I saw in the game was not some absurd technique like that.
It was just a passive skill that bumped damage up by a few percent. That's it. That's all it was.
"Have no fear. I won't start you on anything beyond your reach from the very beginning. I once taught countless souls back when the paladins were in their heyday. By the end of this training, you will surely grow strong."
It didn't matter what I said — Grandpa was going to grind me into the dirt regardless.
I could tell, because the passion in his eyes wasn't just refusing to die down — it flared hotter every time he spoke.
If resistance is pointless anyway...
Hah. What can I do? Time to roll with it.
Getting stronger never hurt anyone, right?
I still don't know exactly what role the crappy Chief God wants from me. But somehow, I can guess.
That guy probably wants me to walk the same path the game's protagonist walked. Maybe he even wants me to become the hero who saves the world.
As I am now, I'm not enough to follow that wish all the way to the story's end. I need to get far, far stronger than this.
Sure, my current growth rate could stand comparison with any of the characters I raised in the game — but us veterans aren't a breed of people who are satisfied by speed alone.
What people like us pursue, always, is the absolute best efficiency.
'Fine. I'll give it my all.'
"A grandpa obsessing over a young girl? Talk about cringe. Pfft. But whatever. Fine. I'll do it."
"That's more like it."
Apparently satisfied with my answer, Grandpa chuckled and ruffled my hair.
His touch was different from Benedict's. Benedict's stroking carried affection and careful tenderness; Grandpa's hand carried faith and fearlessness.
Before long, the training ground restored itself to its original state.
So even when it breaks, it comes back. Well, it is a mental world — nothing that happens here would be strange, really.
"The first thing you'll do is practice controlling divinity. You've already gained some proficiency learning to use divine magic, but Pugilism differs from casting divine magic in many ways."
With that, Grandpa clenched divinity into his fist once more.
This time it wasn't the impossibly condensed divinity that I wouldn't even know how to begin imitating. That said, it was no less awe-inspiring for it.
"Let us set this much power as your first target."
Saying so, Grandpa flicked a light punch toward the dummy — and its head snapped off and went rolling across the ground.
Hmmm. Couldn't I manage at least that much?
I haven't trained in fist techniques specifically, but in the end, that's just divinity channeled into a punch and thrown. Right?
Considering my physical capabilities, a hit like that shouldn't be anything special.
"Care to try?"
Taking my place where Grandpa had stepped aside, I channeled divinity into my fist, picturing what he'd just shown me.
Okay. Good. Thanks to the skill's assistance, moving the divinity is far easier now. Now I layer this over my fist, then hurl it at the dummy with everything I've got, and at the very least, its head should—!
"Ow!"
What shattered was my own hand.
The blow I'd thrown with every ounce of sincerity came right back at me, delivering a private lecture on one of the fundamental laws of physics.
What the hell! Why is that dummy SO solid?!
That was enough force to pulverize a decent-sized boulder! Seriously!
As I hopped around clutching my aching fist, Grandpa's voice drifted over from behind me, laced with laughter.
"Come now. None of your theatrics."
Theatrics?! It actually hurts right now! I'm pretty sure my bones just exploded!
He couldn't even comfort me — instead he writes off my pain as an act! Grandpa! You are REALLY—!
"Again."
I'd turned my head to lodge a protest, but one look at Grandpa's stern eyes had me turning back toward the dummy.
...I never should have tested that Practice Mode thing out.