Chapter 125: Screw This! You Bastards! (1)
Chapter 125: Screw This! You Bastards! (1)
“This won’t do. Neil can’t win.”
Antorius, the strongest figure in the Holy Kingdom, frowned as he watched the match.
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Yeah. Neil is still holding on, isn’t he?”
“You never know until the end. If it turns into a battle of attrition, Neil might turn the tables.”
Hearing his comrades' hopeful observations, Antorius’s frown deepened.
“You can say that after seeing that?”
Antorius pointed toward the arena. There, Neil was curled up in a ball, taking a one-sided beating.
No matter how much Divine Power he unleashed to push his enemy back, the opponent didn't budge an inch. Even when he pushed the durability of his armor and his body’s recovery rate to their limits, it only served to increase the number of times he got hit.
“I don’t know why, but Divine Power isn't working on his opponent.”
“Divine Power isn't working?”
“What do you mean by that…?”
“I don’t know the reason. It’s just a fact.”
“Mmm…”
“If Divine Power doesn't work, then it comes down to basic skill.”
Antorius clicked his tongue as he watched the fight.
“It’s a shame, but the gap is too wide. Is this the difference between a knight who has trained purely in the sword and us Paladins who train in both the sword and Divine Power?”
A Paladin’s Divine Power was formidable. It possessed strong resistance against magic and curses and could smite evil. Furthermore, it enhanced one’s defense, recovery, and stamina.
Conversely, if one looked purely at swordsmanship while excluding Divine Power, it was true that a Paladin’s skill tended to be slightly lower than that of a regular knight.
Of course, as a representative of Arcana, Neil was a knight who had reached the 4-Star Level, but his opponent was clearly beyond that.
The match was one-sided; Neil was barely managing to endure.
“Impressive. If it weren't for this specific tournament, he has the skill to easily aim for the championship.”
Antorius was genuinely impressed by Patrick’s skill. His comrades chimed in.
“Is that brat from the Atronia Kingdom really that strong?”
“Aside from me, none of us would stand a chance.”
“That’s… To think such a monster came out of a weak nation like the Atronia Kingdom.”
“It’s remarkable.”
Antorius turned to his comrades.
“Cast aside your pride. Geniuses can emerge from anywhere. Watch closely, acknowledge what needs acknowledging, and learn what you can. That man is an extraordinary—”
While Antorius was speaking, Neil’s defense finally crumbled, and he collapsed.
The moment Neil fell, Patrick didn't give him a second to breathe and began to pummel him in earnest.
“Die! Die, you bastard! Die!”
“Gah… Wait—just a second…”
“I’m already in a bad mood, and you have the nerve to blast that ‘Evil-Purging’ energy at me?!”
“Cough! Gwaaaah!”
“What? Were you curious if it would work on me like those bald bastards?”
“Bald bastards? What are you… Argh!”
“You don’t know? If you don’t know, your life is over!”
“Wait… Just a moment… Urgh!”
“Who says ‘just a moment’ in a fight?!”
Witnessing the scene of horrific violence, Antorius looked at his comrades.
“…Let’s just acknowledge his skill. Only his skill.”
“……”
“……”
Patrick Schneider cleared the third round.
His opponent was a promising talent even within the Holy Kingdom, but against Patrick, he stood no chance.
“Is he even human?”
“I mean, it’s the third round…”
“What were we even expecting in the first place?”
“A monster. A literal monster.”
His companions watched Patrick’s performance with weary expressions. They had expected him to win, but this exceeded their expectations. He had simply beaten the man to a pulp until it was over.
Isabella, who had personally experienced the pressure of a Paladin’s Divine Power, looked particularly troubled. She had found it difficult even to move under the weight of that immense power, yet Patrick had acted as if it were nothing.
How is that possible?
Unable to contain her curiosity as a fellow swordsman, she spoke to Patrick in a subtle voice.
“Hey, Patrick…”
“What?”
“How did you do that earlier when you were fighting the Paladin?”
“I beat him up.”
“No, not that… You weren't pushed back by the pressure of the Divine Power at all. You moved normally.”
“Ahhh… That?”
“Yeah, that. Is there some kind of secret?”
“Of course there is.”
When Patrick readily admitted there was a secret, Isabella’s expression brightened. The others also pricked up their ears, listening intently to what Patrick had to say.
“You curious?”
“Yes. Will you tell me?”
Isabella pleaded with Patrick, even giving him an awkward wink—something very unlike her. It was a desperate effort on her part.
In return for that effort, Patrick held out his palm.
“If you’re curious, that’ll be 5 Gold.”
“……”
Of course.
Seeing Isabella’s expression sour, Patrick remarked, “What’s with that look? The one that says, ‘I was the fool for having a moment of hope in this bastard’?”
“That is exactly what this look means.”
“You’re not even denying it.”
“Are you really not going to tell me?”
Patrick let out a deep sigh. It would be troublesome if she started crying again.
I can’t even hit her because she’s a princess.
Eventually, a calm explanation came out of Patrick’s mouth.
“That Divine Power is ultimately an energy created for the purpose of repelling evil.”
“Well, yes. It’s the power of a god.”
“To put it another way, it doesn't harm beings that aren't evil, or beings of its own kind.”
“Huh? Wait… Is that possible?”
“I just showed you, didn't I?”
Patrick smirked.
“An energy with such a clear intent and purpose has an incredibly obvious direction. If you don’t resist it and instead assimilate with it, you won’t feel any pressure at all. Anyone can do it if they keep their energy under the control of their Intent.”
“So you’re saying you used Divine Power?”
“No, that’s not it…”
These people… I give them ten, and they can’t even digest one.
Patrick patiently continued his explanation.
“I made the nature of my Qi—I mean, my Aura—conform to the opponent’s without resisting…”
“That makes no sense. How do you change the nature of your Aura?”
“Listen carefully. A human’s will affects their own body on a small scale, and further out, it intervenes in the energy of all things. Going even further than that—”
“Wait, wait. So… let me ask again from the beginning. First…”
“Just listen. Listen first, and then—”
* * *
About 15 minutes later.
“Screw all of this! You bastards! Just go back to living your lives by showing off your muscles like you always do!”
This is what happens when a person tries to do something they don't normally do.
“Ignorant fools. Bird-brains. Ugh, how frustrating. Frustrating! I’d have better luck teaching the Plum Blossom Sword Art to an ogre than explaining Intent to you lot.”
At Patrick’s scolding, his companions pouted, their faces full of discontent.
I mean, he should say something that makes sense.
Spouting all that weird nonsense philosophy…
If he didn't want to teach us, he should have just said so from the start.
Scammer.
In truth, this was only natural. Even the masters of prestigious Orthodox Factions, who had refined martial arts over generations, found it nearly impossible to convey the enlightenment of Martial Studies through words alone.
That was why, by the time they became Supreme Elders, they would retire from the front lines to organize their martial arts into Secret Manuals. Even then, most of those manuals looked like airy nonsense to outsiders.
Still, it was a vital task. As long as the records remained, some brilliant or lucky descendant in the future would eventually realize the True Essence behind the words and carry on the legacy.
That was how difficult the transmission of martial arts was.
And yet, this crazy guy thought he could just explain it? Even in a world where the understanding and direction of martial arts were completely different? It was an impossible task from the start.
“Ugh… How can the ‘talents’ hand-picked by the kingdom be no different from those green-green bastards?”
“Green-green?”
“Never mind. There are some guys back in our territory who are probably busy going ‘Uwoooo’ right about now.”
“……?”
“If they’ve been slacking on their training just because I’m gone, I’m going to hang them upside down and burn them at the stake while breaking their legs when I get back.”
Whoever they were, it was now certain they were pitiful beings.
Just then, Patrick looked toward the arena.
“You’d be better off paying attention to him. From your perspective, there’s more to learn from him than from me.”
“Oh? Really?”
“That man?”
Following Patrick’s words, his companions focused on the arena. They saw a man with fiery red hair stepping onto the stage: Sierion Vaisus Yuzef.
His opponent was a representative of the Benator Empire.
“I am Nelson Jairo.”
“Sierion Vaisus Yuzef.”
After the introductions, the referee signaled the start of the match.
“Begin!”
As if he had been waiting for the signal, the Benator representative, Nelson, was the first to charge. He moved quickly, attempting to close the distance with Sierion.
The weapon his opponent wielded was a freakishly large Two-Handed Sword. In that case, closing the gap was the correct tactical choice.
However, in actual combat, the ‘correct’ answer doesn't always work.
“Hup!”
With a short breath, Sierion’s Two-Handed Sword cut through the air in a horizontal sweep. Even though he swung it with the flat of the blade rather than the edge, the attack flew with terrifying speed and struck the enemy.
BOOM!
At that moment, Gerard’s eyes twitched. He was someone who had personally experienced just how monstrously powerful that attack was.
However, this opponent was of a significantly higher caliber than Gerard.
“Ho…”
Sierion sounded impressed. The opponent, who should have been sent flying, had blocked the attack and held his ground. He hadn't done anything particularly special; he had simply activated his 5-Star Aura to its maximum and blocked the strike with pure strength.
For a knight, it was the most straightforward of straightforward methods.
In that position, Nelson spoke.
“It’s no use. Not against a simple, brutish attack like this.”
He then thrust his longsword upward, parrying Sierion’s Two-Handed Sword. He surged forward, aiming to lunge into the opening he had created.
Or rather, he tried to surge forward.
CRASH!
“Urgh…!”
The Two-Handed Sword he had clearly parried with all his might came crashing down on his head again. It was still the flat of the blade, but its power had increased significantly compared to before.
Along with the blue light of the Aura gathered on the sword, the force pressing down on him was far more powerful than before.
And just like that, Sierion began to crush his opponent.
Creeeak! Crunch!
“Guh…!”
The ground beneath Nelson’s feet began to crack. The pressure was immense. It was a force that would crush a person like a cockroach if they weren't a 5-Star swordsman.
Looking at Nelson, who was desperately holding on, Sierion spoke.
“What’s wrong? Didn't you say a simple, brutish attack wouldn't work?”
“Kh… You… Just what is your realm…?”
Nelson realized it. This wasn't just a difference in strength gained from the advantage of a weapon. This was a gap that could only be shown when the opponent’s realm was significantly higher than one’s own.
His own realm was a seasoned 5-Star. In any other Arcana tournament in history, he would have been a contender for the championship. To be toyed with like this meant…
“Could it be… 6-Star?”
Sierion smirked at Nelson, who was staring at him with an expression of disbelief.
“Think what you want.”
With that answer—neither a confirmation nor a denial—Sierion put even more strength into his Two-Handed Sword.
“Wait… Just a secoooond!”
CRUNCH!
The sound of a promising young swordsman of the Benator Empire being flattened echoed through the arena.
“Win… Winner, Sierion Vaisus Yuzef!”
As Sierion withdrew his sword at the referee’s call, his opponent was revealed, literally crumpled into the ground. He wasn't dead, as Sierion had shown some mercy, but dozens of his bones must have been broken.
Sierion gave the figure a cold, fleeting glance before turning his back and walking away.
* * *
“Well? Do you feel anything?”
After Sierion’s match ended, Patrick asked his seniors for their impressions. The answers he got were…
“He’s strong.”
“His Aura realm seems high, too.”
“I think there’s an advantage to his weapon. Swinging that much weight at high speed—how could it not be powerful?”
“So, in the end, the core of it is that he’s strong, right?”
Patrick smiled and nodded at his comrades' answers.
“Yeah. You saw correctly.”
For a moment, the seniors' faces were filled with bewilderment.
“Huh? What did you say?”
“…Really?”
“You’re not going to curse at us? You’re not going to treat us like pathetic losers?”
“You’re not going to insult us like we’re the biggest idiots on the planet?”
Patrick replied, looking offended.
“Why are you making me out to be the bad guy? If someone heard you, they’d think I’m some villain who just looks for excuses to bully my seniors.”
Weren't you?
Weren't you?
The four of them wanted to cry.
Patrick clicked his tongue and continued.
“You guys saw the core of it. That guy Sierion’s—”
“He’s a prince.”
“Ahem, the core of the Prince’s strength is nothing else. It’s physical strength trained to the limit, the choice of a weapon to utilize that strength, and the execution of appropriate techniques. That’s all.”
“Is that so impressive?”
“Well, for a brat his age, it is impressive. At least he solidified his direction and put in the effort to match it.”
Uncharacteristically, Patrick’s expression as he looked toward Sierion held a hint of admiration and pride.
“Heavy and Strong. He must have focused his training on weight and destructive power. He was clear about the goal he pursued and put in the effort to match it.”
Despite Patrick’s explanation, the others still looked puzzled. Unable to contain his doubt, Karin spoke up.
“Is that really so impressive?”
“Why? Doesn't it look impressive?”
“I mean… No, it’s just that based on what you’re saying, he just worked hard without getting distracted. Isn't that what everyone does?”
“Oh, is that so? Is that what you did?”
Patrick’s expression soured. He began to speak, mockingly imitating someone.
“‘Wow, Patrick. That’s amazing! Divine Power doesn't work? How do you do that? Wow. What was that just now? How do you do it? Teach me too. What was that? You know, that thing you did to me? Teach me that too!’”
“……”
“……”
The seniors' faces collectively turned beet red.
Patrick looked at them as if they were the most pathetic people in the world.
“You didn't get distracted? You worked hard?”
“……”
“Good grief, you shameless people. Are you aspiring knights? Or aspiring scammers?”
“……”
It was miserable.
It was sad.
Why did this bastard always pick the words that stung their consciences the most when he bullied them?