Chapter 168: It Would Have Been the Same. No, It Would Have Been Worse (2)
Chapter 168: It Would Have Been the Same. No, It Would Have Been Worse (2)
That particularly cold and hungry winter.
A young beggar, having been beaten mercilessly for failing to steal a dumpling, wrapped his body in tattered rags and groaned in pain.
The freezing winter wind felt as if it were hacking his body to pieces.
The agony of hunger was so great that he felt he could have chewed on human flesh if only he could get it into his mouth.
The boy was a weakling, dying amidst the cold and starvation.
People passing by simply ignored him, walking past with utter indifference.
Then.
A young girl approached him.
Wearing fine flower-embroidered shoes and beautiful silk clothes, with delicate hands, she came toward him and…
“I’ll give you this.”
Saying so, she pulled a silk pouch from her bodice and held it out to the boy.
“Use this to buy new clothes and something to eat.”
“…Ah… Ahhh…”
The boy reached out with trembling hands to take the pouch.
His fingers, stiff from the cold, wouldn't even straighten, but he tried to grasp it nonetheless. However…
“Miss, stop that.”
A woman approached, shielding the girl and lifting her up.
The silk pouch, his only hope, moved further away.
The woman frowned as she looked down at the boy and said, “Didn't I tell you not to deal with filthy beggars?”
“But Nursemaid, he’s so pitiful.”
“Our young lady is so kind-hearted. But it’s alright. Beggars are tough; he won't die.”
“Really?”
“Yes, of course.”
“…….”
“So, let’s go home. I bought those sweets you like.”
“Wow! Thank you, Nursemaid!”
The girl left, cradled in the woman’s arms.
Watching the figures grow distant, the young beggar wrapped in rags withdrew his hand.
The hope he had briefly held vanished.
In its place, a poisonous resentment began to crawl upward.
The boy spoke, his voice laced with a killing intent directed at the world.
“I’m going to get strong.”
No one listened to his vow.
But the boy made the promise with his whole heart, as if branding it into his soul.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get strong. And I’ll make tons of money. I’ll do everything I want to do. I’ll eat everything I want to eat. I’ll have everything I want to have.”
Amidst the harsh pain where even the tears flowing down his cheeks froze against his skin, the boy swore.
“I will make it happen.”
In the eyes of the boy who vowed to do anything to keep this oath, a killing intent that transcended mere malice surged. But then…
“Child.”
An old man in shabby clothes stood before the boy.
The old man, with two swords strapped to his waist, looked at the boy and spoke.
“Do not look at the world with such eyes.”
“…….”
“If you set yourself against the world, the world will set itself against you. So, cast away your hatred. Do not let your life flounder in hardship and resentment.”
“…Haa…”
He had heard this kind of talk countless times.
Passing monks or Taoists would often spout such nonsense and then look proud of themselves.
Anyone can say pretty words without actually helping.
Just like this disgusting, hypocritical old geezer.
The boy forced his head up and spoke in a cracked voice.
“Hey… you… old man.”
“…….”
“Drop… dead.”
The old man did not get angry at the boy’s curse, which was filled with hatred and malice.
Instead, he smiled benevolently and reached out his hand.
“Come with me.”
“…What?”
“Isn't the weather terribly cold?”
“…….”
“You might freeze to death if you stay like this. So, let’s go together.”
“Old man… are you… rich?”
“Hahaha. Do I look rich to you?”
“…….”
No, absolutely not.
If you ignored the two swords at his waist, this old man looked like the poorest person on the street after the boy himself.
That was how shabby the old man’s attire was. However…
“I’m not rich, but I can offer you a bowl of porridge to warm your body.”
“…….”
It was the first time in the boy’s life.
Unconditional kindness.
The boy stared blankly at the hand extended to him simply because he was young and weak.
And then, he took it.
* * *
‘If it weren't for Master back then, I would have become a person like this, wouldn't I?’
Well, nine times out of ten, he would have frozen to death.
But on the off chance he had endured that winter and survived, only to catch the eye of some Unorthodox Faction scum and start adapting to that life…
The Martial World of the Central Plains would have had to face an unprecedented calamity.
‘Even I think it’s terrifying.’
And at the same time, it was disgusting.
The sight of Count Spike, who divided people into high and low based solely on the presence of power and abandoned the duties of the strong.
This wasn't right.
This was the very image Master taught him he must never become.
And it was also the image he surely would have become if he hadn't met Master.
Thinking that…
‘I really want to beat the hell out of him.’
But if he hit him any more, the man might actually die.
Furthermore, it was doubtful whether the twisted sense of superiority and base perception etched into that trash’s mind could even be fixed by a beating.
In the end, violence would only end as a way for Patrick to vent his anger.
Patrick himself would be fine with just doing that and moving on. However…
“Haa… I’m really bad at this kind of thing…”
Fixing people was something Master was good at.
Patrick didn't think he could do it well by clumsily imitating him.
But he had to do it.
Since he had been taught that he should, shouldn't he at least make a minimum effort?
Patrick glared at Count Spike and spoke.
“Count Spike.”
“…….”
“Listen carefully. From now on, I will periodically monitor the situation in Andmion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Listen until I’m finished.”
“…….”
“If I hear that you continue to neglect your people and trample them with exploitation and violence…”
Patrick spoke with a warning in his cold eyes.
“I will appear before you again.”
“Ugh…”
“And I guarantee you, that day will be the final moment of your life.”
“…….”
Count Spike grit his teeth.
How dare he threaten him?
A brat who hadn't even lived half as long as he had.
A mere noble from a weak nation without any significant title… How dare he… How dare he, how dare he…!
“You bastard…”
“…….”
Count Spike, who was about to burst into a rage-filled shout, shut his mouth.
The murderous look in Patrick’s eyes as he looked down at him prevented him from wagging his tongue any further.
Lowering his head to avoid that gaze was all he could do.
This was Count Calvin Spike, one of the nine 7-Star Knights of the Caesar Kingdom.
Above his bowed head, Patrick spoke.
“Keep that in mind.”
“…….”
“There is only one warning.”
Then, the sound of Patrick’s footsteps grew distant as he turned his back.
Only then could Count Spike finally raise his head. Biting his lip until it bled, he glared at Patrick’s back.
“Patrick Schneider…”
This humiliation and disgrace would never vanish until that man was dead.
The veins bulged on Count Spike’s hand as he gripped his Battle Axe.
* * *
The duel was over.
As Patrick returned after defeating Count Spike, Matthew and Isabella were about to welcome him warmly.
However, there were others who ran to Patrick ahead of them, greeting him with intense joy.
“Hahaha! Amazing! That was truly amazing, man!”
“You didn't just win; you absolutely crushed him!”
“And… well… anyway, thank you. Thank you so much.”
The citizens of Andmion surrounded Patrick, patting his head and shoulders in their excitement.
“It was nothing special…”
Patrick acted humble, but he was inwardly pleased.
Seeing the people so happy made the effort feel worthwhile.
They were glad Patrick had defeated Count Spike.
But more than that, they were even happier that he had scolded Count Spike.
Patrick had vented the words and resentment they could never dare to express themselves.
He had become the voice for those who wanted to scream but couldn't.
That was what truly made them happy.
And because they were so happy, they welcomed Patrick with equal intensity.
“Ow, that hurts! Stop hitting me… and why are you pulling my hair, you crazy people?!”
Patrick grumbled, but the people still held onto him, crying and laughing as they shared the joy.
Isabella and Matthew also approached Patrick, smiling warmly.
“You did well for once.”
“What do you mean ‘for once’?”
“You did well this time.”
“I always do well.”
* * *
The cheering citizens and the Double Dragon surrounded by them.
Watching that scene, some of the knights let out deep sighs.
‘They’re that happy…?’
‘Had we lost the people’s hearts to this extent?’
Andmion was a land that had resisted most fiercely until the very end in the past.
That was why resistance against the Caesar Kingdom remained strong even now.
The Caesar Kingdom had ruled such an Andmion by pressing down on it with overwhelming force.
The knights had rationalized it to themselves, saying they were merely following the will of the state. However…
The fact that the citizens' reaction was like this even ten years after the war ended was certainly a problem.
‘Things might need to change from now on. If the Count saw that sight…’
One of the knights turned his gaze toward Count Spike. But then…
“Huh!?”
What the knight saw at that moment was Count Spike pulling his Battle Axe back with all his might, aiming at Patrick’s back.
“My Lord!”
He shouted with a piercing voice, but it was already too late. Count Spike threw the Battle Axe, which was imbued with an Aura Blade, and screamed.
“Die!”
The Battle Axe flew toward Patrick’s back, emitting a terrifying momentum.
* * *
“You crazy son of a bitch…”
It was dangerous.
Patrick responded immediately to Count Spike’s sneak attack.
Though it was a sudden ambush, Patrick could have easily dodged it. However…
‘I can’t.’
The citizens of Andmion were densely packed all around Patrick right now.
If he dodged, it would be a major catastrophe.
He couldn't just block it either.
The mere shockwave from the collision of Aura would be powerful enough to kill ordinary people. Therefore…
Ssssh.
The Willow Sword of the Apex.
Patrick’s sword moved fluidly.
The moment it touched the flying Battle Axe, he didn't disrupt the flow of its power but moved his sword at an angle with minimal intervention. As a result…
Whirrrrr!
The Battle Axe, which had been flying forward with terrifying power, soared up into the sky.
Perfect Softness Overcomes Hardness.
It wasn't a specialty for Patrick, whose forte was speed, but he had pulled it off.
The Battle Axe Patrick deflected soared high for a long time before losing its momentum and slowly falling back down.
Thud!
Those watching the Battle Axe bury itself deep into the ground gulped.
If Patrick Schneider hadn't stopped that…
“Ah… ahhh…”
“I… I’m alive.”
Realizing they had narrowly escaped death, people collapsed to the ground a beat late.
They had truly almost died. But Patrick Schneider had protected them with his miraculous swordsmanship.
“Th… thank y—hic!”
The man who was about to say thank you shut his mouth.
The moment he faced Patrick’s face, he couldn't speak.
There stood the face of the Radiant Dragon Hero, truly enraged.
“Calvin Spike.”
Count Spike’s name came out of Patrick’s mouth as if he were spitting it out.
Sincere killing intent surged from deep within his heart, overflowing throughout his body.
Is this what a knight does?
Is this how a noble acts?
No, Patrick had never learned such behavior from either his Master or his father.
Patrick’s cold gaze pierced through Count Spike.
For a moment, Count Spike flinched and took a step back. And then…
“K-Kill him!”
He ordered his knights.
To kill Patrick.
It was an order from a man who had lost the duel in a disastrously perfect manner and had attempted a sneak attack without regard for his own people, only to fail.
To kill Patrick Schneider.
The knights stood dazed, finding the order absurd.
Is this actually real?
As they stood frozen, Count Spike shouted again.
“What are you doing? It’s an order! Kill him. Kill that bastard!”
At the word ‘order,’ the knights and soldiers reacted.
A few moved to block Patrick, drawing their weapons. However…
“Go ahead, try it.”
Patrick’s low voice sealed them in place.
“Because I’ll kill every last one of you.”
Hearing those words, no one committed the folly of drawing a sword against Patrick.
Without being hindered by anyone, Patrick walked step by step until he reached Count Spike.
“Ugh… uuuu…”
In Count Spike’s eyes, Patrick looked like an absolute god of death. Then Patrick spoke.
An indifferent and cold, yet unwavering voice reached Count Spike’s ears.
“Since you have lost your pride as a warrior, lost your duty as a noble, and lost the basic path of a human being…”
“What kind of nonsense are you trying to spout?”
“The harm you will cause to the world by staying alive is too great.”
For a moment, Count Spike’s heart sank.
But he grit his teeth and screamed.
“So what? Do you actually dare to kill me?”
“…….”
“Do you think you’ll be safe if a brat from a small nation kills a Count of a great empire? My country will hold yours accountable and—”
Slice.
Count Spike, who was screaming violently, could no longer open his mouth.
A single flash of light passed through him.
The identity of that flash, which had split him exactly in half, was…
“Ha… hahaha…”
It couldn't be. It shouldn't be.
Surely he wouldn't go that far…
To the Count Spike who was denying reality, Patrick’s cold voice drifted.
“Farewell, scum.”
Those were the last words Count Spike heard while alive.
At the same time, his body split perfectly down the middle and collapsed onto the ground.
Count Calvin Spike.
Deceased as a result of the duel with the Double Dragon.