Chapter 228
Chapter 228
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 228
Chapter Title: The Trial of the Holy Grail (2)
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A vast plain stretched out endlessly.
Kalt tightened his grip on his sword and gazed at Kuntel, who was still yielding the first move.
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A proud swordsman.
Kuntel, known as the superhuman of the supreme sword.
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He had challenged him three times, and each time, he had suffered defeat without achieving anything noteworthy. But that didn't mean Kalt had gained nothing from it.
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Sring.
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Now, at the fourth challenge, Kalt had realized one thing. His perspective had been far too narrow.
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'I was thinking wrong.'
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He had been thinking far too simply.
To reach the swordsman before him, he needed to comprehend the situation in a 'different way.' The previous three challenges had been the foundation for that.
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The superhuman realm was distant.
A long and treacherous path.
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To reach it, he had to stake his life. He had to lay bare everything he had built. Even if this was an artificial trial imposed through the Holy Grail, the need to commit everything remained unchanged.
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'Everything.'
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Everything he had learned, internalized, and trained.
It wasn't limited to the sword alone.
Now, he had to acknowledge that fact.
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"Huu..."
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Kalt let out a long breath and closed his eyes.
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What came to mind were his innate talents. He had decent aptitude for the sword, for moving his body, and even some talent for combat sense.
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But.
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None of them were talents that could reach the first rank.
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The superhuman realm was something even those with first-rank talent might not attain after devoting their entire lives. Yet Kalt had wished for it. He had aspired to become a superhuman himself.
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That was why he had staked his life in every moment.
And dreamed of an unreachable realm.
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He had succeeded in performing near-miraculous feats time and again, managing to arrive at this point. Reflecting on the past, Kalt came to a realization.
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'My talent. My specialty.'
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Achieving his goal by discarding what was necessary.
What was even more fundamental—his true talent.
The one talent granted to him that could reach the first rank rose in his mind.
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Seeing something.
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Reading it, analyzing it, grasping it.
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And ultimately, predicting and tracking the outcome.
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"Tracker."
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The talent of a tracker.
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A talent he had never connected to battle until now, but the three challenges and failures had granted Kalt enlightenment. Recalling his talent, he opened his closed eyes.
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"......"
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In the silence, his pupils sharpened.
His pupils contracted to a single point, and his vision grew even clearer. What filled his sharpened sight was the sword's superhuman, Kuntel.
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The sense he had grasped from the three challenges.
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He now put it into practice.
Kalt read every piece of information about the superhuman standing before him. Every small movement, the habit in how he gripped his sword, the shift of his gaze and his breathing, down to the tiniest gestures—all of it.
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The things he had seen and observed merged together.
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With the combined information etched into his mind, Kalt walked forward. One step, then another. With each step, his breathing grew steadier.
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It was different from the beginning.
Because it was different, the next would be different too.
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Kalt kicked off the ground lightly and swung his sword. Once again, Kuntel watched his movements until the end before beginning to move slowly.
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Keeing.
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The trajectory of the silver-white blade enveloped Kalt's swung sword. When the trajectories intertwined, it was naturally Kalt who was pushed back. He was outmatched not just in physical ability, but in technique as well.
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The entwined blade headed toward the ground.
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The first, second, and third challenges had been just like this. In the first, his neck had been severed by the follow-up attack. In the second, he had twisted his body and sacrificed one arm. In the third, he had barely dodged by rolling on the ground.
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And now, the fourth.
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Kalt glared with wide eyes and poured strength into the hand gripping his sword. The downward trajectory shot upward toward the sky. The result of 'letting the sword flow' remained the same, but he twisted only the direction it was heading.
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A half-formed super-sense he had obtained by nearing the superhuman realm.
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The combination of this imperfect super-sense and his talent as a tracker created a sensation unlike that of true superhumans. The prediction born from this alien sense produced a result different from Kuntel's.
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Ting!
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The two swords cleaved through the air.
Thus, Kalt succeeded for the first time in parrying Kuntel's sword. His arms trembled, and his breathing was ragged, but a smile spread across Kalt's lips.
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"Here I go."
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A vision that had widened further.
Amid the countless sword paths filling his sight... Kalt took one more step forward.
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"Kuntel-nim."
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He was drawing near the superhuman realm in his own way.
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2.
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The sword's superhuman Kuntel was strong.
That was an indisputable fact.
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There was no one who could match him in the realm of technique, and he possessed martial prowess that surpassed even ordinary heroes. Some evaluated him as the reason they had overcome the era when the fires had gone out.
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A man who had not ceased his training even after ascending to superhuman.
A swordsman who had devoted his life to a single blade.
There was no swordsman unaware of the feats he had accomplished.
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'He is that kind of man.'
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And he was challenging those feats.
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Kalt regripped his trembling sword and stepped back. The moment he took one step away, Kuntel closed the distance in an instant and swung his sword.
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Kagagagak!
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He tilted the tip of his sword obliquely to deflect Kuntel's blade. However, it wasn't perfect. The moment he jerked his head back, a sharp sword aura sliced through his hair.
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If he had been even a moment slower, his head would have come off.
It was a continuous series of such moments.
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'It's grueling. My arms are shaking. My fingers feel like they'll snap. My eyes feel like they'll burst.'
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Every single strike was heavy.
With every swing of Kuntel's sword, Kalt had to stake his life. He had to squeeze out everything he had to meet each blow.
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Even if he could predict it.
Even if he could see the trajectory the sword traced, his opponent had not weakened. The foe was still the strongest swordsman, a figure who had reached a distant realm.
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"...Kuh!"
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Kang, kaang.
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The blades clashed repeatedly.
Even proper breathing was difficult. Kalt retreated while Kuntel advanced. Their footprints tangled in disarray.
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'I see it.'
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Blood vessels stood out in Kalt's eyes.
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'See it, predict it, and move first.'
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Countless pieces of information surfaced in his mind, organized themselves, and predicted the next move. Moving one step ahead was the only method granted to him.
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Kagak.
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He deflected Kuntel's thrusting sword with the flat of his blade at an angle and pressed forward. Kuntel countered by swinging his extended sword to the side.
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He had read that motion.
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Because he had read it, Kalt immediately swung his sword. Kang, kakang! Sparks flew as Kalt's sword veered upward. Kuntel's blade, entangled with it, also pointed to the sky.
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Skeung!
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Kuntel's sword cleaved the empty air.
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Tak.
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Kalt took one more step forward.
He sought to keep closing the distance. But things didn't go as he wished. His opponent was the sword's superhuman Kuntel, who showed no hesitation even if his movements were read.
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'Ah.'
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Kalt saw it.
The sword aura gathered at the tip of Kuntel's blade, which had been pointing skyward.
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'It's coming.'
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A strike he couldn't block or deflect was incoming.
The trajectory it would trace was fully visible in Kalt's eyes. As was the future it would create.
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'I have to dodge...'
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The tip that had pointed to the sky now fell toward the ground.
Like a guillotine.
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Kalt threw his body to the side. Focusing solely on escaping the sword's sweeping range, he rolled awkwardly across the grass.
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Skeung.
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A chilling sound lingered in his ears.
Kalt rolled to his feet and looked at the spot where he had just been. A long horizontal line had been carved into the plain.
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"Ugh!"
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There was no time for astonishment.
The moment he stood, he barely managed to raise his sword to block Kuntel's swung blade.
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Puduk.
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A loud crack rang out as the fingers gripping his sword broke. And yet, the impact wasn't fully offset. Kalt's body was pushed backward.
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The distance he had painstakingly closed opened up again.
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Kalt gritted his teeth. No clear path to reaching him came to mind. He was strong. Incredibly strong.
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'It's coming again.'
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The widened distance.
His opponent had the means to close it in an instant. There was no reason not to use it. However, Kuntel's action differed from Kalt's prediction.
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Sreung.
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Kuntel regripped his sword. Rather than pursuing immediately, he assumed a stance and prepared to swing.
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Kik, kigeek.
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A crushing sound emanated centered on Kuntel's sword. Kalt predicted the phenomenon it would cause. From the perspective of the one facing it, what would happen the moment that sword swung was utterly horrific.
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'Severance.'
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Kalt knew about Kuntel's technique.
If the Sword Ghost Draka's technique focused on dominating space with a net of sword aura... Kuntel's sword concentrated on the act of 'cutting.'
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Cutting the uncuttable.
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Kuntel was a swordsman who had become a superhuman to cut the sword of death. Thus, he had always honed his techniques to slice what could not be sliced.
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The name of the technique born from that was Severance.
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Having focused solely on the act of cutting, its power went without saying. Pursuing the extreme of the concept of cutting, the form of the sword aura it reached resembled a single blade.
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It was coming.
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Kuntel's arm moved.
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——Skeung.
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The sword he held swung. The sword aura condensed at its tip was released. The released aura was not flashy. From the horizontally swung tip, it burst forth appearing merely as a single line.
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Tik, tiditik.
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Everything that touched the line was severed.
It wasn't called Severance for nothing. Faced with the line that cut through all, Kalt curled his lips.
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'Finally.'
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He had been waiting for this very moment.
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'Finally, you're using your technique.'
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Feeling joy at being properly engaged, Kalt also felt a sense of familiarity. It wasn't the first time he had faced sword aura that severed everything it touched.
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「I'll ask. Are you a swordsman?」
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What surfaced was the memory of facing the sword of death.
Kalt recalled the monster's razor-sharp sword aura. The movements he had made back then drew themselves in his mind.
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'Discard what must be discarded.'
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But.
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'Not to buy time, but to reach.'
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It was different from then.
The situation was the same, but the goal was different.
To achieve it, Kalt calculated relentlessly.
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Pishuk.
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Blood vessels burst in his glaring eyes. Through his reddened vision, Kalt saw the direction he needed to head.
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'Found it.'
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The answer was visible.
Kalt moved toward where the answer pointed. His body accelerated in that instant. For that one goal, his flesh accelerated again and again.
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Tak.
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He took a light step forward.
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Sreung.
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He lowered his sword tip. Facing Kuntel now, amusingly, what rose in Kalt's mind was Kuntel's swordsmanship. He recalled the sword of Kuntel he had seen in the final moment.
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A human resisting before encroaching death.
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The sight of him somehow deflecting an unstoppable sword.
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'Imitate it.'
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Something he had once tried to imitate but failed... Now, with a body nearing superhuman, he challenged it once more. Kalt's sword moved, dragging its tip low.
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Smoothly.
Not to parry, but to deflect.
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He swung the obliquely raised sword toward the approaching aura. The moment it touched, tidik, the sword began to crack. However, the future of the sword breaking was not visible in Kalt's eyes.
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He held firm conviction.
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The unshaken sword tip completed the technique.
The aura that had been invading the sword now began to flow along its flat. The trajectory of the horizontally swung aura shifted.
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Kak, kagagagak!
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The obliquely tilted aura grazed past Kalt's left shoulder. Blood and flesh were torn away. He had succeeded in deflecting the technique with minimal damage.
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However, there was no time to rejoice.
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The incoming aura wasn't just one. More sword aura kept coming. Toward the surging waves of aura, Kalt swung his sword without rest.
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With each deflection, his wounds multiplied.
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His thigh was sliced, his ankle twisted, blood erupted from his shoulder blade, and the fingers gripping his sword snapped with a loud crack. And yet, Kalt pressed on without stopping.
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Tik, tiditik.
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The sword tip cracked.
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Tukwak.
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Blood gushed wildly from the opened wounds.
However, Kalt's eyes did not waver. Carving away his own flesh, he advanced step by step. Yielding a part of his body with every step, he arrived before Kuntel.
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And then, squeezing out every last ounce of strength, he swung his sword.
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Not with his already ragged left hand, but gripping it with his right, Kalt swung.
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Seogeok.
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Naturally, it didn't connect.
Kuntel's light swing sliced through Kalt's right arm. It seemed he had no strength left to grip the sword; the moment it was severed, the blade left his hand.
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The right arm falling to the ground.
The sword floating in the air.
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And right at that moment.
Kalt's eyes widened as he swung his tattered left hand. In the path of that swing floated the sword's hilt.
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Kwak!
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The moment his swung hand seized the hilt, the stroke was complete. Though he thought his broken fingers couldn't hold the sword, his left hand was actually faster than the right.
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'The right hand was bait.'
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He had planned to discard his right arm from the start.
Thus, Kalt unleashed what would be his final strike. It was a perfect blow, even in the eyes of the sword's superhuman Kuntel.
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Seogeok.
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A quiet sound of severance echoed.
Kalt's sword had finally reached Kuntel.
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3.
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Seogeok.
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What the sword had sliced through was Kuntel's shoulder.
Blood burst from Kuntel's right shoulder. All strength drained from Kalt's body, and he dropped to his knees with a thud. No follow-up strike came for him.
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"......"
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Kuntel silently looked down at Kalt.
Kalt looked up at Kuntel.
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"It reached."
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A smile formed on Kalt's lips.
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"It reached, clearly."
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Kuntel smiled wordlessly.
A clear change appeared on Kuntel's hitherto impassive face. As if announcing the success of the trial.
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Pasak.
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And then his body began to crumble.
The trial was over, and Kuntel, who had taken the form of a wall, was destined to collapse. As he watched the crumbling figure of Kuntel... Kalt recalled words he had once heard from him.
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「All superhumans have their own goals.」
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A goal.
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「Things they must achieve. Things they must protect. Promises made to someone. For broken superhumans, those become the goals of their lives.」
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The goal of life.
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「For that one goal alone, a superhuman sharpens their life to a razor's edge. They hone and polish their existence. For that single goal.」
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The sword's superhuman, Kuntel, for the sake of reaching Kalt.
The Sword Ghost, Draka, for his daughter's vengeance.
The Madman, Kelrhalhm, to keep his oath with his disciple.
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「If you ever become a superhuman, it will mean you've found your life's goal. I hope that moment comes for you.」
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Recalling those words.
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"...Mine."
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Kalt opened his mouth.
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"Is this."
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The direction he would advance.
The reason he must sharpen his life to a point.
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"To kill you."
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Kalt said to the crumbling Kuntel.
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"To kill you—the you who can neither live nor die, trapped in that form that defiles your pride... That is my goal."
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You who took pride in being human and never deviated from the human path have fallen. You became something other than human.
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A being that can neither live nor die.
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Your existence, wielded as a disaster's familiar, has become an insult to you. Recalling the figure of Kuntel he had encountered in the city at night, Kalt ground his teeth.
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'The goal I must achieve.'
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And what I desire.
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"I swear it."
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At last, Kuntel crumbled completely.
Light enveloped Kalt's body, and the vast plain began to collapse. Kalt slowly rose to his feet and sheathed his sword.
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He closed his eyes for a moment.
And then slowly opened them.
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"You're back."
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A familiar voice reached him there.
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"Kalt."
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Kalt looked toward the one calling him. The woman with ashen hair smiled at him.
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"Looks like you succeeded."
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Kalt nodded.
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Author's Note
I packed in plenty :D
Sorry for the delay!