Chapter 119: If You're Frustrated Enough to Cry, Get Stronger (2)
Chapter 119: If You're Frustrated Enough to Cry, Get Stronger (2)
“Ha… Haha…”
A hollow laugh escaped Alex’s lips.
After swinging his sword with all his might to create some distance, he struggled to steady his ragged breathing.
“Are you… playing with me?”
To Alex’s question, his opponent replied calmly.
“No. How could I commit such an act of disrespect in a sacred duel?”
“Then what the hell do you think you’re doing right now?”
“I simply find it a pity.”
“…What?”
“From what I can see, you possess great talent. It is a talent so brilliant that it’s a waste for you to remain in a weak nation in the Eastern Region.”
“…….”
“When one sees such shining potential, isn't it only natural to want to help polish it?”
“…You? Help me? Here?”
Garcia nodded and spoke.
“Even if we belong to different nations, are we not comrades who hone the same path of the sword? And as a predecessor walking the path ahead, is it not only right to offer guidance to those following behind?”
“…….”
“There is no need to feel ashamed. Your talent is more than sufficient. It is simply that I am currently a few steps ahead of you.”
“…….”
“The one in front pulls the one behind, and together they sharpen one another. Has the sword not evolved through such mutual aid since ancient times?”
“…….”
Alex stared at the man with an expression of utter disbelief.
He had been listening patiently, but this was…
At first, he wondered what kind of novel mockery this was.
Was this some new form of provocation trending in the Empire?
But looking into those clear, earnest eyes, he realized the truth.
Wow, this bastard is serious.
The man was sincere.
He was genuinely holding back and matching Alex’s pace to "bestow" a lesson upon him.
As if it were his natural duty.
Garcia gave Alex a warm, encouraging smile.
“There is no need for thanks. It is only natural—”
“Hey.”
For the first time, Alex cut Garcia off.
It was as if he couldn't stand to listen to another word of that nonsense.
“Is something the matter?”
“Regarding your… guidance… I have a little something I’d like to give you in return.”
“And what might that be?”
Alex slammed his sword into the ground, then brought his left hand to the crook of his right elbow. Simultaneously, he raised his right forearm, back of the hand facing outward, and snapped his middle finger up with a sharp flick.
Then, he spat out a single sentence.
“You’re a real piece of work. You know that? You son of a bitch.”
“…….”
Ah, what a tragic turn of events.
A fine young man, once seen as the paragon of the Atronia Kingdom’s Academy Knight Department, had been so magnificently corrupted.
To perform such a gesture on this glorious stage, in a match watched by the entire continent?
The spectators’ jaws dropped in unison.
“Kuhuhu… He’s all grown up. All grown up.”
Well, there was at least one devil watching who felt immensely proud.
This was why one had to be careful about the company they kept.
“Ahem… Cough.”
Garcia was profoundly flustered.
It wasn't so much anger as it was genuine bewilderment.
He had never experienced anything like this in his life, so he had no idea how to respond.
The grandson of the Sword Saint.
The heir to an Imperial Dukedom.
A genius who had grown up amidst the expectations and admiration of everyone.
When and where would such a man have ever been treated like this?
As Garcia struggled with how to react, Alex spat out his next words.
“Go ahead! Keep ‘teaching’ me!”
With that, Alex charged forward.
Garcia calmly took his stance. He didn't know why his opponent was so angry, but for now, he had to focus on the match—
“Huh?”
Garcia’s eyes widened in surprise.
His opponent had just done something completely outside the realm of common sense.
“Take this!”
Alex had hurled his kite shield straight at him.
“Tsk.”
Watching the spinning shield fly toward him, Garcia clicked his tongue. He swung his bastard sword and batted the shield aside.
“Such petty tricks… Hm?!”
“Shut up!”
Something else was flying at him.
This time, it was the sword.
I can’t believe this…
Alex had thrown the shield to distract him, only to follow up by throwing his weapon. In terms of catching an opponent off guard, it might have a chance of success, but it was far too unorthodox.
“It’s useless.”
Garcia calmly swung his blade and knocked the incoming sword away as well.
Now that his opponent had lost all his weapons, he was neutralized—
“Haaaaah!”
“What?”
This time, Garcia was truly shocked.
Alex, now empty-handed after throwing his sword and shield, had closed the distance in an instant and was throwing a punch.
Whoosh!
Garcia tilted his head to dodge the strike, but the fist that grazed past his face felt remarkably heavy.
“Cheh, you dodged that too…”
“Do you know hand-to-hand combat as well?”
“I told you to shut up!”
Alex continued his assault.
Having discarded all his weapons to rush in bare-handed, Alex swung his fists with everything he had.
And then, Garcia realized.
Ah… he doesn't know anything at all.
His opponent didn't know the first thing about martial arts.
He was just throwing punches; there was no system or technique to his movements.
This was a desperate struggle.
To put it kindly, it was a brawl. It was not the behavior expected of a talent representing a nation on the glorious stage of Arcana.
Is this not too unsightly?
Garcia spoke while dodging Alex’s strikes.
“Calm yourself. Think of a knight’s honor… Hm?”
“I told you to shut up, didn't I?”
Before he knew it, Alex’s hands had latched onto Garcia’s shoulders.
Because the movement was so completely outside the standard forms, Garcia hadn't anticipated it at all.
Alex’s torso snapped back with immense force, and then he lunged forward, delivering a brutal headbutt.
CRACK!
“Urgh…”
It was a decisive blow. However…
“I suppose I can’t play along anymore.”
Unfortunately, his opponent was too much of a monster.
Garcia had raised the hilt of his bastard sword just in time to block Alex’s headbutt.
As Alex stumbled back, bleeding from the impact, Garcia spoke as if delivering a lecture.
“You possess great talent, but you still lack mental discipline. If you do not hone your spirit further—”
“What are you yapping about? You insufferable prick…”
“…I see words won't reach you.”
Garcia shook his head, as if he no longer wished to exchange words with Alex.
Then, his sword rose above his head.
“I shall end this now.”
The bastard sword descended.
A vivid, white aura gathered at the tip and slammed down right in front of Alex.
BOOOOOM!!
In an instant, the white aura struck the arena floor with devastating destructive power.
Alex didn't take the hit directly, but the mere shockwave was enough to send him flying backward.
*
“Oh…”
“What incredible power.”
“He didn't kill him, did he?”
The audience buzzed with excitement.
At first, they hadn't been sure what to make of the fight, but halfway through, they had realized it too.
Garcia was simply humoring his opponent, matching his level.
And Garcia’s newly revealed strength was exactly as expected.
For him to be this dominant against an opponent who had made it to the second round of Arcana was staggering.
“As expected of Garcia Reinardo.”
Antorius also nodded, having confirmed his rival’s skill.
He hadn't recognized him at first, but someone of that caliber was certainly worthy of being his rival.
“I look forward to fighting him myself.”
*
“Ugh… cough…”
Alex tried to force himself up after being blown away, but it was no use.
“Winner: Garcia Reinardo!”
He was already outside the ring.
Hearing the referee’s declaration, the tension left Alex’s body, and he let out a long sigh.
“So this is it.”
Alex retrieved his discarded weapons and returned to the waiting area, where his comrades met him.
“You did well, Alex.”
“That’s right. You gave it your all.”
“It was wonderful.”
In addition to their comfort, Professor Late nodded and spoke.
“The brackets weren't in your favor, but reaching the second round of Arcana is a magnificent achievement. Hold your head high as we return.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Right. He had done enough.
From the moment he learned his opponent was the Sword Saint’s grandson, he knew he had no chance of winning.
But hadn't he done everything he could?
For the first time in his life, he had let his temper flare and fought like a madman.
Yes. He had done enough.
“I’m going to rest for a bit.”
Alex said as he turned to leave the waiting room.
He wanted to be alone for a moment.
But as he tried to exit, Patrick stood in his way with a cold expression.
Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Patrick stared intently at Alex.
“What?”
“What?”
“…Didn't you have something to say?”
“Me? Or you, Senior?”
Alex bit his lower lip hard.
He really couldn't understand this guy, but to act like this even now…
“Forget it.”
Alex tried to brush past him.
But as he was halfway through the door, Patrick’s voice reached him from behind.
“Pathetic bastard…”
“…….”
“If you’re frustrated enough to cry, then get stronger.”
“I’ll do that without you telling me!”
Alex shouted back with all his might and stormed out of the room.
Once Alex was gone, Karin turned to Patrick.
“Will he be okay?”
“Who?”
“Alex… he seemed really disappointed in himself.”
Patrick let out a short, dry laugh at Karin’s concern.
“Of course he’s disappointed. He fought with everything he had and couldn't even touch a single hair on the guy’s head.”
“Well, that’s because—”
“He wasn't even recognized as an enemy. He was completely looked down upon and toyed with. If that doesn't make him frustrated, he has no right to hold a sword.”
“…….”
“It’s shameful. It’s humiliating. If I were him, I’d have drowned myself in a puddle by now.”
Just how deep did this guy’s bottomless personality go?
As Karin stared at him with a sour expression, Gerard spoke up.
“But his opponent was someone he was bound to lose to, wasn't he?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re pathetic too, Senior.”
Patrick clicked his tongue.
“Shall I teach you something very, very good? I’ll even do it for free.”
“…What is it?”
“In this world, there is no such thing as an opponent you’re ‘meant’ to lose to.”
“…….”
Patrick’s sharp gaze pierced through his comrades.
It was as if he were telling them never to forget the words he was about to say.
“The nature of force—the difference in strength—is ultimately just a process for discussing the odds. It should never, ever be the result itself.”
“…….”
“In a real fight, no matter how strong the enemy is, you must find that sliver of a chance and do your absolute best to win.”
“Hmm…”
No one could argue.
Occasionally, Patrick would say things that felt like absolute, undeniable truths.
Truths that anyone who lives by the sword should naturally keep in mind.
Truths they all knew but had somehow allowed to become worn down and eroded over time—Patrick spoke them with startling clarity.
Patrick continued.
“‘Doing your best even in defeat’? That’s bullshit. How can a bastard who fights while already accepting defeat dare to talk about ‘doing his best’? A guy like that deserves to be beaten to death.”
“…….”
“What Alex showed in that match might have looked like an ugly tantrum. Others might mock him for it. But he was doing the absolute best he could do.”
Patrick smirked and looked at the others.
“I suppose to you lot, it just looked pathetic and pitiful…”
“When did I? When did I say that?”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
“I never said such a thing.”
Seeing his comrades react defensively, Patrick chuckled.
“Fine. Then just watch.”
“…….”
“Watch and see what kind of flower a man named Alex Lowensky blooms, using that shame and humiliation as his fertilizer.”
“…….”
“You’ll see if you keep watching.”
The others fell silent, lost for words.
Unwavering belief and trust.
Perhaps, more than their own hollow words of comfort, Patrick was the one who truly cared for Alex.