Chapter 126: Cut the Crap! You Bastards! (2)
Chapter 126: Cut the Crap! You Bastards! (2)
Petrick let out a deep sigh as he looked at his upperclassmen, who were so dejected they couldn't even meet his eyes. Then, he spoke.
"You know those restaurants in front of the Academy? The one that serves set meals and the one that specializes in steak?"
"Huh? Why bring that up all of a sudden? Uh... yeah, I know them. They're there."
"Right, they are."
"The food's good there."
"Cheap, too. And the portions are huge."
His companions, who were about to question him, answered hurriedly the moment Petrick’s hand moved toward the hilt of the sword on his back.
Petrick continued.
"If you wanted to eat steak, which of the two would you go to?"
"The steakhouse, obviously."
"Why?"
"Well, isn't it obvious that a specialty shop would be better? They don't make anything else; they just grill steaks all day long."
"So you do get it."
Petrick pointed a finger toward Prince Sierion.
"That prince did exactly what the chef at that steakhouse does. He didn't get distracted by other dishes; he devoted every single day to grilling the perfect steak, no matter what."
"..."
"As a result, he might not know how to cook anything else, but he can grill a damn good steak."
"Ah..."
"So that's how it is."
"It makes sense when you put it that way."
At least they can understand this much, Petrick thought, exhaling another sigh.
If they hadn't understood even this, he would have felt the urge to crack their skulls open just to check if there was actually a brain inside.
Well, the Path of Strength and the Heavy Sword are paths that knights of this world already pursue, so they must have some intuition for it.
What Prince Sierion pursued was the same destination sought by the heavy armored knights of this world. That was why even these seniors, who lacked a deep understanding of martial studies, could grasp the principle behind his strength.
Then, Gerard spoke up.
"But Petrick."
"What? What are you curious about now?"
"If he trained with a focus on power and destructive force like you said, then why did I and that imperial swordsman lose?"
"Because you were overwhelmed by his power."
"No, I know that. But before that happened..."
"..."
"Both I and that man, Nelson, clearly tried to close the distance and settle the match with speed before he could use his strength, right?"
"..."
"But we lost without even being able to get close. Isn't that being overwhelmed by speed, not power?"
"Ooh... Senior Gerard."
"What?"
"You actually had a brain?"
"..."
This little brat.
If he weren't a better fighter than me, I'd...
Receiving Gerard’s murderous glare, Petrick chuckled and said, "That was a good point. It’s true that you were actually outclassed in speed."
"Then what is it? Are you saying he trained for speed while focusing on power and destruction? Then how is he any different from us?"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. It’s different. Very different."
Petrick wagged his finger back and forth.
"It’s true that his speed is faster than yours, but that’s not because he trained specifically for speed. It’s a side effect derived from his constant training to handle that immense power and weight."
"A side effect?"
"To aim for the extreme of one thing means putting in every effort to refine that one thing to its limit. To swing that heavy greatsword, you build physical strength. As you do, speed naturally follows to match it. To maintain that speed, you repeat the motion until you build stamina. And with power and stamina backing you up, precision is added to the mix."
"..."
"That’s what it means to forge one thing to its limit. It’s not just that one attribute that goes up; every other ability required to maintain that one attribute naturally rises along with it."
Jincheon, the Radiant Dragon Hero of his past life, was exactly like that.
Jincheon pursued only the extreme of speed. He believed that if he could become faster than the wind, a single ray of light that could pierce the enemy, he would be invincible.
So, as he repeated his training in that direction, other things naturally followed. Power was naturally added to speed; precision was added to handle that power accurately; and as precision was added, his technique improved.
"When one principle connects all and one continues to devote oneself, eventually, all rivers return to the sea. The principles of martial arts, once they reach the pinnacle, are all connected as one."
"..."
"Therefore, for one walking the Way of the Sword, it is important to first set a clear goal and push forward toward that goal without wavering. There are no shortcuts."
"..."
Petrick had gotten caught up in the moment and shared a portion of his insights.
In truth, to those who knew or were capable of enlightenment, these insights were more precious than gold, but to these greenhorns, it was like casting pearls before swine...
"Ho ho ho. Those are fine words. Truly fine words."
In an instant, Petrick drew his twin swords and thrust them fiercely toward the source of the voice.
His twin swords became streaks of light, surging in a straight line toward the target. It was an attack sharper and more precise than anything he had shown in the arena. However...
Clang!
A single spark flew in the air.
Simultaneously, Petrick’s twin swords were knocked back.
Petrick retreated slightly to regain his balance, a look of disbelief on his face.
"Huh?"
"Hoh?"
The same went for his opponent.
Two voices expressed disbelief. One was the voice of a young man who had just had his coming-of-age ceremony, and the other was the voice of an old man who had lived a long life.
"..."
"..."
The two stared blankly at each other.
Then they looked down at the swords in their hands, then looked back up at each other.
And then...
"...Hoh..."
"Well, now..."
The two looked at each other with expressions of absurdity.
At that moment, Professor Late spoke to the old man.
"I don't know who you are, but this is the waiting room for our Atronia Kingdom."
Professor Late’s expression was more serious than ever as he placed his hand on the sword at his waist. The cold sweat trickling down his cheek and the veins bulging on the back of his hand showed just how tense he was.
The old man, who was the target of Professor Late’s gaze, scratched his head as if feeling sheepish.
"Ah, my apologies. I was just passing by when I heard an interesting conversation..."
"So you just walked in? Is that it?"
"I'm sorry. An old man’s curiosity is a troublesome thing..."
Watching the old man scratch his head and apologize, Professor Late felt goosebumps.
He hadn't sensed the old man enter at all. And he was someone who had reached the 7-Star Realm.
There weren't many people in the entire continent who could do such a thing.
"Could... Could it be..."
"Ahem, could you perhaps pretend you didn't see me? I'm asking a favor."
"Yes? Ah, yes. I understand. Of course."
Whose favor would he dare refuse?
If the old man’s identity was who Professor Late suspected, it was impossible to defy him. Regardless of national affiliation, how could anyone who held a sword and trained refuse a request from that person?
Unless they were completely insane... wait.
"Look at this old man, will you?"
"Hmm?"
"I don't know what gutter you crawled out of, but you clearly have no manners, do you?"
"...What did you say?"
"You think you can just wash your hands of this for free? Do you have any idea how big of a deal this is?"
"......What?"
There was one. Someone who wasn't just 'completely' insane, but excessively so.
Petrick looked at the old man with eyes full of annoyance and said, "You sneak into another country's waiting room and then just ask us to let it slide? What do you take this historic Arcana for?"
Are you really the one saying that? You?
Wow. So this is what true hypocrisy looks like.
His companions were dumbfounded to hear such words coming from Petrick, who had been downgrading the Arcana to a mere children's talent show until now.
However, as far as the old man was concerned, his fault was clear, and being called out on it, he cleared his throat and spoke.
"I am truly sorry about that."
"Does saying sorry fix everything?"
"...What would you like me to do?"
"Well, first, why don't you reveal your identity? Isn't that the natural order of things?"
At Petrick’s point, the old man sighed.
He thought the boy’s sword was sharp, but his tongue seemed even sharper. Eventually, he looked straight at Petrick and revealed his status.
"I am Duke Carlos Dante Reinardo of the Benator Empire."
"Oh, so you were a big shot."
"Would you mind introducing yourself as well?"
"Me? I'm Petrick Schneider of the Atronia Kingdom."
"..."
"Nice to meet ya, Lord Duke."
Petrick greeted him with every ounce of insolence he could muster.
What kind of fellow is this?
The opponent was flustered. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction even after hearing his name. Usually, when people heard his name...
"Wa... Wait a minute, if it's Duke Reinardo..."
"The Empire's...?"
"The... the... the Sword Saint?"
"Hiccup."
Yes. That was the normal reaction.
Seeing the young people's eyes turn to shock and then reverence, it seemed perfectly normal. Especially that young man named Alex, who had seen him once before; he was staring at him with eyes as wide as a pigeon hit by a slingshot.
Indeed, this was the typical reaction of the youth of this era when they saw the Sword Saint, Duke Reinardo, with their own eyes. However...
"What? Why? What are you looking for?"
"No, it's nothing."
This is strangely disappointing.
He had met many young people in his life, but this was the first time he'd encountered someone like this. Both in personality and skill.
Then, Professor Late stepped forward and said, "If it is Duke Reinardo, we wouldn't dare question any fault."
"Ho ho ho. No. A mistake is a mistake. I shall apologize."
"It is an apology we cannot dare to accept. Please, take it back."
Professor Late, who had already guessed the Sword Saint’s identity, was at least somewhat composed. However, there was one person who was extremely dissatisfied with that humble and composed response...
"No, Professor. Sword Saint or whatever, if he did something wrong, he should first offer a proper apology and appropriate compensation—Mmph!"
Realizing they could no longer leave Petrick’s big mouth unattended, his companions hurriedly swarmed him.
"Block him!"
"Where's the gag? The gag!"
"Here!"
They tackled him simultaneously, binding his limbs tight and stuffing a pre-prepared gag into Petrick’s mouth. Meanwhile, they smiled desperately at the Sword Saint and made excuses.
"Hahaha! It's nothing. Please don't mind him."
"He's just... not in his right mind right now..."
"You can just ignore him."
"As a member of the royalty, I apologize."
"Mmph! Mmm-mmph!"
Petrick shouted something desperately, but his companions ignored him completely. Professors Late and Baroque also did their best to pretend Petrick wasn't there.
However, the Sword Saint gazed intently at Petrick and spoke.
"Did you say your name was Petrick Schneider?"
"Mmph! Mmm-mmph!"
"Um, could you perhaps remove the gag?"
At the Sword Saint’s word, Alex let out a sigh mixed with despair and removed the gag. And the moment Petrick’s mouth was free, he shouted irritably.
"You guys, I've been patient, but whose side are you on? Huh?"
"Well, definitely not yours."
"Why would you look for your side here?"
"Go back to the Demon World and find it there."
"I doubt he has any there either."
Petrick sighed at himself for ever considering these people his companions.
Regardless, the Sword Saint took on a very serious expression and said to Petrick, "How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"What does your father do?"
"He's just a rural baron."
"...Is that so?"
The conditions were perfect. His nationality was different, but since he wasn't from a particularly grand family, his sense of belonging to the state would be low, and he hadn't made a big name for himself on the continent yet.
Having made up his mind, the Sword Saint spoke to Petrick.
"Young man. Would you like to become my disciple?"
The surroundings were struck with shock at those words.
The Sword Saint’s disciple?
What an unprecedented offer.
The Sword Saint was a being who stood at the pinnacle of knights, someone to whom all knights offered respect regardless of nationality. Even if they met on a battlefield during a war, an enemy knight would show the Sword Saint the minimum level of courtesy and respect.
To become the disciple of such a man?
For the son of a rural baron from a weak nation on the eastern edge of the continent, it was a rise in status beyond words.
For a moment, Professor Late thought he should stop this for the sake of the kingdom, but considering Petrick’s own position, he couldn't bring himself to speak. When someone is offered the greatest opportunity of their life, is it right to stop a young man with a bright future by bringing up patriotism?
While he was hesitating in his indecision, Petrick opened his mouth.
"Hey, old man."
"Ahem, I do have the title of Duke Reinardo."
"Ah, right. Lord Duke. Can I ask you one thing?"
"Go ahead."
"Have you perhaps gone senile?"
Once again, the group’s mouths fell wide open.
Though for a slightly different reason than before.