Chapter 379
Chapter 379
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 379
Chapter Title: The Missing Drive
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Could you show me that greatsword just one more time?"
"No. Haven't you spent three hours staring at nothing but the sword today?"
"Just thirty more minutes."
"It's not something I should show off that often."
"...Ten minutes."
"No. I have my own schedule to keep."
"Fine, three minutes! Three minutes has to be okay, right?"
Rak had witnessed the process where three minutes turned into ten, ten into thirty, and thirty back into three hours. He shook his head and started walking.
"No."
"Come on, please...!"
Ignoring Natida, who trailed persistently behind him, Rak quickened his pace to leave the area. Ever since he'd shown her the holy sword once for healing purposes, Natida had been pestering him at every opportunity.
'The first couple times, sure...'
The sight of the saintess gaping like she was high on some drug wasn't exactly pleasant. Even Rak, who had no interest in religion, instinctively felt that the first holy sword shouldn't be used like this.
"Tch..."
Leaving Natida smacking her lips in frustration behind him, Rak pressed on. He had a lot to do today.
2.
"It's a bit early, but I'll teach you anyway."
"Everything I've taught you so far, everything you've built up—it's all for this."
The fruit of their accumulated efforts.
"Hold the flow of mana steady without letting it falter. The basics of trading, the applications of trading, the principles of spells, modifying spells—they all lead here in the end."
A deal with the stars.
Crafting a deal just for oneself.
"Keep your eyes wide open and watch closely."
"This is the spell that forms the foundation of what you call Battle Mage arts—the core of combat magic."
Rak, lost in recollection of the past, let out a short breath.
Ahead of him, an entire swath of the snowfield had been cleaved away. Exhaling the lingering heat from his body, Rak dispelled the spell cloaking him.
"Whoa, young master, you're no joke."
As remnants of mana scattered like a blizzard, a familiar voice came from behind. Rak turned to see a face he knew well.
"Oyacal?"
"Yes, young master."
Oyacal, one of the thirteen greatest warriors of the North, known as Hawk's Eye. He approached Rak, clapping enthusiastically.
"You said you needed a favor."
Oyacal shook the bottle of liquor he'd brought.
Rak grinned and perched on a nearby rock. Oyacal laid out some side dishes with the drinks, and the two men raised their glasses.
"Drinking with you feels strangely surreal, young master. Seems like just yesterday you were a little kid."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Time flies, doesn't it?"
Oyacal's forehead was starting to crease with wrinkles.
He rubbed it with a wry smile.
"I was the one who taught you how to handle weapons, but if we sparred now, I'm confident I'd be sent flying in one exchange. Have you gotten that strong?"
"Thanks to a good teacher."
"Ahem. That's an honor."
"Not you, Oyacal—Professor Lania."
"Tch. Harsh."
Rak chuckled, saying it was a joke, and tilted his glass.
As they sipped their drinks, Oyacal spoke up.
"You wanted some advice?"
"Yeah."
"Go ahead and tell me. Not sure if it'll help."
Oyacal was experienced and had a broad perspective on things. Rak often sought his counsel, and this time was no different.
"What does it take to become a superhuman?"
Rak sighed deeply as he spoke.
"Everyone says I'm close. That I have superhuman physical abilities and senses that surpass even them. But no one calls me a superhuman."
It was true.
"I feel like something's missing. But I don't know what it is. For the past few years, it feels like that's all I've been chasing."
"I see."
Oyacal tilted his glass and let out a hum.
"To be honest, young master, since I've never reached that realm myself, my advice might not be much help."
But, Oyacal continued.
"Still, if I had to advise... wouldn't it be motivation?"
"...Motivation?"
"Yes. Don't all superhumans have a strong driving force? For Sword Ghost Draka, it was revenge. For Sword's Superhuman Kun Tel, it was proving himself."
Something that must be achieved, even if it means breaking through walls.
Something to seize by pushing oneself beyond limits. History's superhumans all had such clear motivations.
"A goal to accomplish, something to prove, a conviction to protect even at the cost of your life. I've heard those romantic ideals form the foundation of superhumans."
That's why superhumans are born in chaotic times.
From desperate, wretched places, humans seize powerful motivations. With that in mind, Oyacal continued.
"Do you have something like that, young master?"
"...I do, sort of."
Rak thought of what could be called his motivations.
Repaying Professor Lania's grace.
Fulfilling the Grace family's longstanding wish.
And simply pursuing strength.
"Not very intense, right?"
Oyacal smiled wryly.
Rak had no choice but to fall silent. It was true. The strongest one was repaying his ancestors' wish against Deathblade Ganikalt... but even that.
'That's...'
Not a dream Rak held alone.
Not solely his own wish—it was one implanted in him by others. He knew it had to be done, but he hadn't fully immersed himself in it yet. It felt like grasping at clouds.
"It's unavoidable."
That's just how it is, Oyacal said.
"The world's too peaceful by far. Not that peace is bad—it's just too calm to foster intense motivation. Thanks to our one hero."
Even imagining an unbeatable foe.
Even the toughest scenarios.
Humanity had an all-too-easy answer for such crises: the hero, Lania van Trias. With her around, every problem solved itself.
"Young master."
Oyacal poured another drink as he spoke.
"Why do you want to become a superhuman?"
Rak couldn't answer immediately.
Countless phrases came to mind, but none felt certain. Nothing he could say with conviction. In the end, Rak stayed silent.
"Can't answer right away, huh."
Oyacal smiled wryly.
"Maybe you need to clarify that a bit more. A solid motivation. A firm mindset. No matter how talented... "
He said calmly.
"The superhuman realm isn't achieved by talent alone, right? You're still young, so take more time to think it over."
"...Yeah, you're right."
Rak let out a sigh.
"Hoo..."
The seed in his heart.
The place it needed to connect with his given mission.
Lost in those, he'd overlooked the most crucial motivation.
"Thanks, Oyacal. That helped."
"Glad to hear it."
Oyacal chewed on some jerky and sighed deeply.
"I've got my own worries piling up lately."
"Worries?"
"Yeah, my boy's turning five this year. Wants to be a warrior like me... but he's so frail-looking, it worries me."
The son's story had come up.
Sensing a long tale ahead, Rak shrugged while chewing jerky. As expected, Oyacal went on about his son for a while, and Rak listened with appropriate nods.
3.
A few days passed since his talk with Oyacal.
In that time, Rak sat on the snowfield he guarded, mulling over their conversation. Oyacal had said what he lacked was motivation and conviction.
Motivation, motivation.
What he was missing.
A firm purpose, an intense desire. Still elusive, Rak sighed deeply. Probably similar to the 'trigger' Professor Lania had mentioned.
"If you desire it fiercely."
"If you encounter the trigger."
"'That thing' in your heart will bloom. It'll take you further."
The thing rooted in his heart.
Feeling its faint resonance, Rak exhaled long. As he watched his white breath dissipate, lost in thought—
Guuung.
The air trembled.
Rak glanced at his right hand absentmindedly. The subspace linked to it. The first hero's holy sword stored there was vibrating faintly.
As if reacting to something.
And then.
Jjijirrr.
A red signal flare shot into the sky.
Rak looked up. The flare had launched from the opposite end of the snowfield he guarded. A red signal meant a call for aid.
A formidable enemy appeared.
Requesting support.
Feeling a chill, Rak dashed toward the flare. His instincts were screaming a warning. Something was there.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ What was missing.
What would quench this thirst.
What would make him human again.
'Desire, purpose, conviction.'
Beautiful yet viscous.
Wandering in search of it, the beast walked. Emerging from the forest, a vast white snowfield stretched out. The moment its foot touched the snow, the beast knew. This place.
"My name is Ganikalt van Galatrick."
The radiant human.
"I ask you."
My once overwhelmingly powerful rival.
"Are you a beast, or do you wish to be human?"
The beast had answered that question.
With conviction: 'I am human.' Back then, it had pride and resolve. But reborn, the beast had lost it all.
"Is that so."
No longer like before.
"Then take up the sword."
"Prove your pride."
Unable to face him as a true swordsman.
The beast groaned at the fact.
To reclaim what was lost, the beast trudged endlessly across the snowfield. Retracing memories with each step. How long had it walked?
"......"
A human blocked its path.
A puny figure compared to the beast.
Just an ordinary human, lacking the talent to even reach the beast like those on the front lines. The beast looked down at him. The human's eyes trembled.
He'd flee in terror.
Thinking so, the beast raised its arm—but
Chachang!
The human's action defied expectations. He fired something into the sky, then drew his weapon from his waist. The sound of blade scraping sheath narrowed the beast's gaze.
Despite his terror.
Trembling in fear.
The human raised his sword toward the beast.
In that sight, the beast recalled the past. Memories of the humans it had cherished.
Jjeok.
The beast's maw split wide in a grin. It laughed. Its eyes flashed blue. Overjoyed, the beast roared from its throat.
"I, ask."
The beast laughed.
"What, is your name?"
The human answered.
"Oyacal."
Declaring his identity with his name.
"A warrior."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Rak halted his steps.
Flowing blood reached his toes. Rak looked ahead. First, he saw the broken sword. A treasure warriors cherished like half their soul. A weapon forged with a smith's very spirit.
Oyacal's sword lay snapped in two on the ground. Looking further, it wasn't just Oyacal's blade.
Countless warriors' weapons littered the snow, broken and abandoned. Rak gazed at the lonely blades stabbed into the snowfield without owners. He looked and looked again. Finally, he reached the end of the lined-up weapons.
Eujeok.
There stood the beast.
Standing on two legs, it chewed and swallowed something with its maw stretched wide. Blood and flesh sprayed with each heave of its body.
And then.
Rak saw the human corpses strewn at the beast's feet. Faces he knew all too well. Warriors who had taught him, brothers-in-arms, lay limp, missing body parts.
Eujeok.
The beast tore off a chunk and flung it to the ground with a thwack. Rak stared at the rolling corpse. The dead man's eyes were pitch black. Even in death, the dull gaze held no trace of the spirit he'd carried in life.
"......"
Just days ago.
Sharing drinks and advice like a mentor and brother. It was Oyacal's body. The moment he saw it, Rak felt it.
Drop.
Something snapped in his mind.