Chapter 66: I Have a Bad Feeling. A Very Bad Feeling (4)
Chapter 66: I Have a Bad Feeling. A Very Bad Feeling (4)
“What? What’s gotten into him all of a sudden?”
“What’s going on?”
Sanson had completely come back to life.
From the 80th opponent onward, Sanson’s sword grew increasingly sharper, and he began to overwhelm the soldiers with dominant skill.
Watching the scene, Patrick spoke up.
“Next, Nate! Start immediately!”
“Huh? Ye-yes, sir!”
At the same time the command was given, Sanson lunged forward first. It was as if he were finally releasing something he had been holding back.
Victory followed victory.
After the 80th man, Sanson continued to defeat every opponent who stepped up.
As his wins piled up, Sanson finally…
“Hah!”
“Ugh….”
He sent the 99th opponent’s wooden sword flying and brought his own blade to the man’s throat.
Then, he shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Next!”
There was no longer any sign of exhaustion. Instead, he was brimming with vitality, looking as if he couldn't sit still because his body was itching for more.
I can do it. If it’s the current me, I can take on anyone.
Drunk on confidence, Sanson felt invincible at this moment. And then…
“I’ll be your 100th opponent.”
“Anyone is fine… Huh?”
Sanson’s expression shifted subtly.
He had felt confident he could take on anyone. He really did, but…
“Surely not this?”
“What do you mean, ‘not this’?”
Standing before Sanson on the training ground was Patrick, holding a wooden sword in each hand.
Patrick spoke with a chilling expression.
“We start now.”
“Sta— Ack!”
Clack!
In an instant, Patrick’s body became a blur.
Sanson reflexively raised both swords into a defensive stance. He managed to block Patrick’s strike, but…
“Balance with your lower body and relax your upper body. The natural stance you worked so hard to build is crumbling.”
“What… Ugh…!”
He was being pushed back by the sheer pressure of the clashing swords.
Patrick was still smaller in stature compared to Sanson, yet Sanson was being easily overwhelmed in terms of strength.
After disrupting Sanson’s balance with a shove of his blades, Patrick’s wooden swords flew toward Sanson’s entire body.
Clack! Crack! Thud! Snap!
He blocked some, but others he had to take with his body.
If these had been real swords, he would have died several times over.
“Keep your wits about you. This isn't about spacing out; it’s about concentrating.”
“What are you talking about?!”
“If you can’t realize it…”
Patrick, having burrowed into Sanson’s guard, continued coldly.
“…you die.”
With those words, Patrick’s swords seemed to split into dozens, flying toward every vital point on Sanson’s body.
“Aaaaaah!”
Sanson swung his wooden swords rapidly to counter.
In an instant, the space between them was filled with the blur of wooden swords as they exchanged blows.
Slashing, stabbing, pulling, pushing.
How many exchanges were happening in that tiny sliver of space and time?
The soldiers could only watch with their mouths agape.
In this place, April was the only one who truly understood the meaning of that exchange.
Is he leading him?
It was clear to April’s eyes. Patrick was pushing Sanson to his absolute limit, controlling the pace by a hair’s breadth.
No, those strikes weren't just demanding his limit; they were demanding something beyond it. Patrick’s killing intent made it clear: if Sanson couldn't keep up, he might actually die.
A little more. A little more, a little more…
To Patrick’s swords, which relentlessly demanded more than his limit, Sanson responded by squeezing out his very soul. However…
CLACK!
Even if one tries to squeeze water from sand.
Even if one burns their soul to transcend their limits.
Eventually, the end must come.
Patrick’s upward strike sent Sanson’s arms flying high into the air.
And toward his perfectly exposed torso, Patrick’s next attack was prepared.
“It’s over.”
It was a brief moment, but Sanson heard it clearly. Patrick’s voice, whispering chillingly in his ear, was undoubtedly sincere.
I’m going to die.
Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles.
Third Form.
Flash Dragon Strike.
There was no Aura, and it was only a wooden sword.
But that didn't matter. The momentum and killing intent loaded into that strike were more than enough to kill Sanson.
At the very moment Patrick’s twin swords were about to turn into a flash of light…
“Aaaaaaaaah!”
Sanson’s two swords, which had been raised above his head, became rays of light a beat faster. And then…
Clack!
“Uh… Uh-buh-buh…”
“Wh-what…”
“Whoa….”
The soldiers saw it. They saw Patrick’s wooden swords being blocked by Sanson’s.
An ordinary soldier might have looked at it indifferently, wondering what the big deal was.
But the soldiers of the Schneider Territory were all swordsmen who had reached at least the 3-Star level.
Therefore, they understood exactly what was happening.
“The Young Master was definitely first, right?”
“The Flash Dragon Strike was faster, wasn't it?”
“Did he just block that? No, did he stop it?”
There wasn't a single soldier who didn't know Patrick’s Flash Dragon Strike.
Why? Because they had all been thrashed by it.
It was a technique where something just flashed and sent them flying. Though he had named the technique ‘Flash,’ Patrick used it so often that the soldiers had just started calling it the Flash Dragon Strike.
Regardless, no one among the Schneider soldiers had ever blocked or dodged it.
But Sanson had blocked it. He had stopped it perfectly just before it could fully manifest.
“Strike Second to Win, I see.”
“Huh?”
“If you can do this, I suppose I can acknowledge you now.”
“What do you mean?”
Patrick gave a smirk and said to Sanson, “Draw out your Aura.”
“Pardon?”
“I said do it. You want a piece of me?”
“Yes, yes! Understood!”
He didn't understand the situation at all, but he figured it was best to do as he was told.
Sanson grumbled as he drew Aura into his wooden sword. Then…
“Huh?”
Sanson, having drawn his Aura, was the most surprised of all.
An Aura of much higher density than before was flickering on his sword.
As Sanson stood dazed by the clearly different dimension of Aura quantity, Patrick spoke.
“From now on, if anyone asks your realm, tell them you’re a 5-Star.”
The moment he heard those words, goosebumps erupted all over Sanson’s body.
“Young Master. Then, really…”
“Yeah. That’s how it is.”
“Wooooooooh!”
Sanson let out a roar like an Orc warrior who had just won a battle.
He couldn't contain the hot passion rising in his chest.
The 5-Star realm.
Inwardly, he had thought he would reach it someday, but he had been growing anxious because that ‘someday’ never seemed to come.
Setting Patrick aside as a freak of nature, even April had surpassed him and easily reached that realm within a year of picking up a sword, while it had remained just out of his reach.
And now, at this very moment, he had ascended to the 5-Star realm.
“Young Master, then today’s sparring was…”
“I thought it would take too long if I left you to your own devices, so I used a somewhat radical method.”
“Young Master….”
Sanson looked at Patrick with teary eyes.
“So that was your intention.”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Young Master….”
This was truly moving. To be honest, when Patrick forced him into the radical 1-vs-100 spar, he had thought: This man is finally trying to kill me. Is this why I followed him?
“I was thinking that if I were born again, I wouldn't even associate with this bastard.”
“Hooo, is that so?”
“…Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah.”
“…….”
Seeing Sanson break into a cold sweat, Patrick said coldly, “Well, since there’s still something left to do, I’ll postpone killing you for a bit.”
He definitely didn't say he wasn't going to kill him.
But what was this ‘something left’?
As Sanson wondered, a man walked toward them.
“Lord Baron.”
“Huh? Why is the Lord at the training ground?”
It was Baron Jacob Schneider.
The Baron, who rarely visited the training ground, had appeared. Moreover, he was dressed in full formal attire.
Beside him, Butler Lawrence stood with a long sword in his hands.
Stepping onto the training ground, Baron Schneider spoke with a solemn expression.
“Soldier Sanson, kneel.”
“…….”
Sanson stood there with a dazed expression.
It wasn't because he didn't know what was happening. It was because he guessed what was happening and hesitated.
Me? Is it really okay? Can I really do this?
Patrick gave Sanson a nudge in the back.
“What are you doing? Get on with it.”
“Young Master.”
“Stop with the ‘Young Master’ and just kneel. Don't you want to be knighted?”
“…….”
Sanson suppressed his tears and walked toward Baron Schneider.
One step, two steps, three steps… Arriving before the Baron, Sanson reverently knelt on one knee and bowed his head.
Baron Schneider took the sword from Butler Lawrence, held it before him, and spoke.
“Sanson of the Schneider Territory, listen.”
“Yes.”
Then, the Knight’s Oath flowed from the Baron’s lips.
“Be brave. Be upright. Be honorable. Be courteous. Be pious. Be humble. Protect the weak.”
Sanson replied to the Baron’s words with the utmost sincerity.
“I will.”
“I appoint you as a knight and bestow upon you the surname Kainel.”
The Baron’s sword lightly tapped both of Sanson’s shoulders.
It was the moment Knight Sanson Kainel was born.
*
“Brother, let’s drink! We have to drink ourselves to death today!”
“Brother? You should call him Sir Kainel now.”
“Oh, my mistake. Sir Kainel.”
“It’s embarrassing. Outside of duty hours, just call me Brother.”
“Aigo, how could a lowly commoner like me call a knight…”
“Just do it, you brat.”
“Hehehe. If you say so.”
Sanson mindlessly accepted the flood of congratulatory drinks.
He wasn't usually a heavy drinker, but today was an exception. He was drinking every drop offered by his subordinates, who had rented out the entire tavern.
“Congratulations. In the end, you were the first, Brother.”
“You mean becoming a knight? Or reaching the 5-Star realm?”
“Both.”
“Kuuu. I wonder if we can do it someday too?”
“I’m next. I’m next.”
“I’ll be next before you, you bastard.”
“Oh? With those skills?”
“You want to die?”
“Wanna go?”
“Let’s go!”
The tavern turned into a chaotic mess, but no one cared as they were too busy eating and drinking. The soldiers drank and ate until the tavern was half-destroyed.
And a short while later, after some Orc warriors caught the scent of alcohol and joined in, they drank until the tavern ran out of booze.
The next day.
“Young Master, thank you.”
“Huh? For what?”
Patrick spoke indifferently to Sanson, who had prostrated himself in gratitude.
Sanson thought for a moment, then spoke in a voice still thick with emotion.
“…For everything.”
“Your eloquence has improved.”
“Thank you for teaching me the sword and for making me a knight. And thank you for pulling me up when I was blocked by the wall of my realm.”
Sanson knew now. He knew the meaning of yesterday’s spar.
Patrick had pushed him to his limit to break through the wall blocking his path.
Through the spar with the soldiers, he had reached the edge of the realm, but when it seemed he wouldn't be able to cross it, Patrick had stepped in personally, radiating killing intent to force him past his limits.
A wall that might have taken Sanson years of struggle to overcome on his own was one Patrick had forcibly dragged him over by the scruff of his neck.
And there was a reason Patrick had done this.
“As you know, I won’t be here for a while.”
“Congratulations on your admission to the Academy.”
“It’s not exactly something to congratulate… whatever. Anyway, I won’t be here, and April is expected to be gone as well.”
“…….”
“That means protecting the territory and leading the soldiers is up to you.”
“…….”
“To be honest, I think the title of knight is a bit premature, but I gave it to you because I thought it was necessary for you to be a clear beacon for the soldiers. Your skills are still far from enough.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
It was a casual conversation, but anyone else listening would have been horrified.
Usually, reaching the 2-Star or 3-Star level was enough to be called a knight. A 4-Star was a powerhouse rarely seen in the countryside, and a 5-Star was a realm that commanded respect in any kingdom.
Yet, Patrick casually called that 5-Star realm ‘insufficient.’
Patrick’s standards were high enough to be considered cruel by others. But because of that…
“Well, even so, someone of your current level should be able to lead the soldiers. You’ve worked hard.”
Because Patrick’s standards were so high, a single word of praise from his lips carried a different weight.
Sanson spoke, his body trembling slightly with emotion.
“I will do my absolute best to fulfill the role you’ve entrusted to me.”
Looking at Sanson, Patrick was seized by a strange sensation.
Back then, the disciples of the Twin Dragon Sect were objects of protection for Patrick, not comrades he could entrust with a task.
They were so weak that if he entrusted them with something, they might die—so what could he possibly give them?
The reason he had led his junior brothers into war personally was to keep them within his sight and protect them.
If only there had been even one person like this back then…
If there had been even one person he could trust and rely on, even if they weren't as strong as him…
I researched and developed martial arts like that just to raise people like him…
In the end, those preparations never bore fruit in the Martial World.
But now, across worlds on this Pangemonia Continent, Patrick had obtained what he so desired and could say the words he had always wanted to say.
“Sanson.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Patrick gripped Sanson’s shoulder firmly and spoke.
“I trust you.”
“…Yes.”
Leaving that single sentence behind, Patrick headed for the Academy.