Chapter 151: The Path Flows with the Traveler - 7
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 151: The Path Flows with the Traveler - 7
A beat too late, I remembered his presence. The one who had vanished so naturally, leaving no trace, that he had slipped from everyone’s mind.
General Patraxion was perched atop a container, looking down at them with an air of boredom.
“I’m on vacation, so I wasn’t planning on working. I was just curious why you’d mess with a container full of mail and Chimera bean seeds, so I was just going to watch.”
The general hopped down. Landing without a sound, he walked forward with the leisurely pace of someone out for a stroll.
He held no weapon, yet Sir Baltzroy’s eyes remained fixed on him, his entire body taut with tension.
It was as if the one armed and the one unarmed had been reversed.
“Still, you punk. A duel? Against an old man, of all people? He’ll be dead soon enough if you just leave him be.”
Sir Baltzroy gritted his teeth and shouted at the familiar face that had appeared out of nowhere.
“…Why are you here? At a time like this, when they are descending, no one should be heading this way!”
“So the intel really is leaking somewhere. The resistance knows more about operational directives that just came out than we do,” the general replied, scratching his head.
“Have you ever seen me take orders from anyone? The moment I saw that directive, I took a vacation and rushed right over. It’s insubordination if I come without taking leave, you see.”
His presence here was nothing more than the result of a whim layered upon coincidence. Realizing this, Sir Baltzroy muttered in despair.
“…Damn it. What rotten luck.”
“Rotten luck? Isn’t this a good thing?”
General Patraxion held out his empty hands and grinned.
“Look. Here I am. I have no weapon and no men to protect me. If you challenge me to a duel here and win, the Military State will falter and your reputation will soar. How about it? Much more worthwhile than blowing up a few containers, isn’t it?”
But Sir Baltzroy knew better than anyone how unrealistic that was.
Though he was now known as one of the Six Generals of the Military State, he was once a promising knight of the kingdom.
A knight who had defeated the Guardian, the strongest of his time, and brought the kingdom to ruin with his own hands.
The Knight of Treason, Sunderspear Patraxion.
He was looking down at Sir Baltzroy with eyes full of glee.
“Show me your conviction. Show me your resolve. Challenge one you cannot defeat and entrust the outcome to the glorious hands of God. Come on. Your sworn enemy, the traitor who destroyed the kingdom, is right here. Judge me honorably, through a duel!”
Sir Baltzroy faced the blowing wind and gripped his spear tightly, but contrary to the strength in his hands, despair swelled in his heart.
He steadied his trembling hands and shouted to hide his fear.
“How dare a traitor who destroyed the kingdom speak of a sacred duel…!”
“Treason? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Bang!
Just then, a resistance member on guard in the back fired his gun. At the same moment, the general casually swiped his finger to the side.
The wind stopped.
In terms of strength, the little finger cannot beat the thumb. Even if it is trained to be stronger than someone else’s thumb, it cannot overcome the strength of their legs.
You cannot reach behind your own back. Even with increased flexibility, there is a limit. The body is not designed that way.
These are simple truths. Everything, be it strength or otherwise, has its limits, and a weakness cannot overcome a strength. A fundamental truth.
However, the moment Qi Art reaches a certain mastery, there comes a point when it transcends ordinary strength. A moment when its nature shifts from one of scale to one of intensity.
A bullet was caught between the general’s fingers. It was a custom round with maximized penetration, designed to somehow pierce his Qi Deflection, but it was far from enough.
The general, exuding Qi from his entire body, had seized control of the space itself, making it impossible for a mere bullet to penetrate.
He spun the bullet between his fingers and spoke.
“What I did was not treason.”
It was a time when private duels were rampant in the name of God. A time when it was considered natural for the strong to exploit the weak and line their own pockets.
It was an era when corrupt merchants colluded with knights who wielded military power, discovering how to amass wealth unjustly and spreading that poison throughout the world.
Indiscriminate duels followed. The weak had to submit to survive. The strong sought out those weaker than themselves who had accumulated wealth, all for the sake of fortune and fame.
God blessed the victors, and the dying were condemned as evil.
“I simply challenged the kingdom to a proper duel. And I just happened to win.”
It was a story now told as legend.
Sunderspear stood on the outskirts of the capital and, facing the distant royal palace, declared the words of a duel.
The challenger was himself. The challenged was the kingdom itself.
The most brilliant knight became the Knight of Treason.
The twilight of the knights, and the first morning star to rise.
The man who changed history spoke, his shoulders slumping in slight disappointment.
“I did it, but you can’t even challenge me, just one man, to a duel? A so-called knight without even that much courage?”
“Is that a taunt?!”
Without warning, Sir Baltzroy’s spear flashed. Even as the general’s Qi held the wind captive, he thrust his spear, shaking it free with his own Qi. A fierce stab aimed at breaking through a single point, with no thought for conserving energy.
The general casually parried the spear with the bullet between his fingers. The tip of the spear and the tip of the bullet met precisely, stopping in a delicate balance.
The general muttered.
“Your fundamentals are decent, but it’s a bit half-baked. You’ve been slacking on your training lately, haven’t you? Then again, with no duels, I guess there’s no need to practice.”
“You bastard!”
Blocked, Sir Baltzroy spun his spear, intending to shake the bullet off with the rotation.
But his spear didn’t move. Sir Baltzroy grunted, twisting his arms. He tried pulling and turning it, then focusing his strength into a sudden push.
The bullet, however, didn’t budge. The general was absorbing the force with its short, blunt end as if performing a trick.
All the knight could do was retreat.
“Try a little harder. Put your back into it. Use both hands.”
The general playfully moved the bullet, following Sir Baltzroy’s spear.
This strange standoff continued for a moment.
Then, for a split second, the general’s guard opened. Sir Baltzroy’s expression filled with elation.
“You let your guard down, Sunderspear!”
Click. Sir Baltzroy pulled something attached to the tip of his spear. Immediately, acrid smoke billowed out and the entire spear glowed red. The shaft sucked in the surrounding air.
Sensing something was wrong, the general muttered.
“Huh? Did I?”
Baltzroy’s weapon was a spear, but also not a spear. Its hollow shaft housed a mechanism, making it a disposable cannon capable of firing a single shot.
By the time he realized it, the explosion had already occurred.
“Whoa.”
With that single word, a deafening roar erupted. The spear shaft expelled the air it had drawn in, firing a shell from within.
Its accuracy was terrible and its durability abysmal, but for one single time—just once—it could deliver a blow more powerful than anything else. The tip of the spear glowed red-hot as it spewed forth a ferocious flame.
It was the hidden trump card of a knight renowned for his personal martial prowess.
“What’s this? You use a gun too?”
Even that was rendered powerless before a master of the art.
The general had no spear in his hand, but that hardly mattered. He could use even the tiny bullet held between his fingers as if it were a spear.
A peerless technique unfolded in his hand.
Though it was only a finger-sized bullet, the general wielded and threw it like a spear. The shortest spear in the world flew up the length of the cannon barrel.
The bullet, flicked from his fingers, pierced through the very center of the explosion, carrying with it a tremendous torrent of power.
Guns and cannons were nothing more than steel barrels that contained an explosion and directed its force in one direction.
Simply put, if one’s Qi was stronger than steel, then guns and cannons could be overcome with ease.
The general’s Qi was stronger than the cannon barrel. Blocked by the storm the bullet carried, the explosion within the spear shaft scattered in all directions like a disorganized mob.
Ultimately, unable to withstand the force, the spear shaft exploded from within. His trump card nullified, Sir Baltzroy stared blankly at the broken spear in his hands.
“So even knights couldn’t overcome the tide of the times. Tossing aside the spear for a gun… But since my spear won, doesn’t that mean the spear is better than the gun after all?”
He seemed to have no awareness that what he had just thrown was a bullet, not a spear. Stumbling back, Sir Baltzroy stood with his back to a container.
‘…He’s on a different level. I can’t win. I can’t even escape. Damn it.’
Realizing the gap between them, Sir Baltzroy glared at General Patraxion, his heart filled not with the shame or anger of a loser, but with pure, bitter resentment.
He cried out.
“Damn it all! Why? You could have lived like a king in the kingdom. No, you could have reigned like a god! Why! Why did you betray the kingdom?!”
At the cry of a man ousted from his privilege, General Patraxion simply picked his ear nonchalantly.
“If you want to play god, go find a well and be a god to the frogs. Why bother crawling out? If you’re going to fight, fight someone strong. Isn’t that the true pleasure of a duel?”
His words carried a clear subtext: You’re nothing but a frog in a well.
Insulted, Sir Baltzroy gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath.
“…Everyone.”
The resistance members, who had been cowering inside the containers sensing the ominous atmosphere, awaited Sir Baltzroy’s command.
Having called to them, Sir Baltzroy’s eyes glinted menacingly as he whispered.
“Scatter. Run! Take a hostage, make a break for it! Just survive!”
In that instant, the resistance members burst out in all directions like a swarm of rats from a hole. As the general’s gaze shifted toward them for a moment, Sir Baltzroy also kicked off the ground.
‘A hostage! I need a hostage!’
Searching for the only way to survive, Sir Baltzroy’s eyes landed on the mother clutching her son. He swung his spear wildly in all directions and immediately moved toward them.
But he didn’t get far.
“I expected as much.”
General Patraxion’s disciple, Colonel Gand, blocked his path. A standard-issue spear of simple design easily deflected Sir Baltzroy’s.
Blocked once more, Sir Baltzroy’s eyes widened as he saw the colonel’s spear.
“How dare a whelp like you use a spear before me!”
He could accept losing to Sunderspear, but not to a mere subordinate.
Driven half by pride and half by cold calculation, Sir Baltzroy extended his broken spear shaft. The shortened spear cut through the air, repeatedly striking at Colonel Gand’s vitals.
But Colonel Gand evaded and deflected Sir Baltzroy’s attacks by a paper-thin margin.
“After the knights went extinct, I always regretted not being able to cross spears with one.”
Clang.
Gand knocked Sir Baltzroy back with a long sweep of his standard-issue spear and muttered indifferently.
“But now that I’ve finally fought one, I’m disappointed. Is this all you have?”
“To speak of the spear before a knight! You will pay for that arrogance with your life…!”
Enraged, Sir Baltzroy drew up the Qi from his entire body. Making his whole being into a single spear, he lowered his stance and thrust upward from below at an angle. A will-o’-the-wisp flickered to life at the tip of his spear, which was now imbued with Qi.
His ultimate, all-out technique: the Goblin Spear. A skill with the embarrassing moniker that it claimed a life with every flicker of its ghostly flame.
Seeing the spear rushing toward his chin, Gand thrust his own in response. The spear shafts crossed, their blades ignoring defense to aim for each other’s lives.
Screech. The shafts scraped against each other. Droplets of blood dripped down the blades. The contest was decided by someone’s death.
Colonel Gand muttered coolly.
“You’re the one who should know better. Who do you think my master is, that you dare challenge me with a spear?”
“Gack…!”
A voice comes from the throat. Therefore, one cannot speak if a spearhead is lodged in it.
And so, Sir Baltzroy could only gurgle on bloody foam before collapsing limply. Gand retrieved his spear and gave it a twirl.
General Patraxion strode toward Gand.
“Hey. You’ve gotten better. Maybe it’s time you got a star?”
“Is a star something you just get for the asking? You need achievements for that.”
“A guy with your experience doesn’t need achievements. If you want achievements, go out on your own sometimes. You keep hanging around me, and it’s eating into your credit.”
“How can I go alone when I haven’t even learned your peerless techniques, Master?”
“What, did you leave something with me? Why are you looking for your techniques from me?”
Colonel Gand glanced around for the other resistance members, but soon realized it was pointless.
The resistance members who had scattered in all directions were already corpses.
The only ones left were me, the captain, and the old engineer. Oh, and the mother and son who had nearly become hostages.
Amidst the scene of slaughter, the general shrugged and announced loudly.
“Well now. Surprised? I’m actually Captain Patraxion, on vacation. I had some personal business to attend to, so I hid my identity for a bit. Anyone got a problem with that?”
Naturally, no one dared to object. The captain and I shook our heads. Our reaction was mild compared to the old engineer, who looked so awestruck at meeting a legend of the Military State that he could barely breathe.
The general turned to me and grinned.
“Hey, Little Brother. Let me ask you again. Which is better, the spear or the gun?”
I answered readily.
“Without a doubt, the spear.”