Chapter 45
Chapter 45
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 045
Chapter Title: Fierce Training, Graveyard of the Beacon Keeper (5)
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10.
A rest for mental fatigue.
I lay there in a daze.
The sight of clouds tinged with twilight crossing the sky stirred something deep inside me.
What was it? Why had he suddenly become so strict?
I had nearly died on the first day too.
But he'd helped me at the end. And he'd been so kind when teaching me footwork.
「What are you thinking about?」
A familiar voice from somewhere.
When I lifted my head... there she was, the woman with pure white hair, crouched by my head.
「Are you thinking about the training?」
“…….”
「Then first, try combining the skills you have. That's the most important foundation.」
It was her from when I awakened my humanity.
Seeing her with my full vision intact, she was truly an astonishing beauty.
“Hey…….”
Any man might fall for her at first sight, but knowing what she really was, I shook my head firmly.
“I meant to say this last time too. Dressing as a woman... it's a terrible hobby.”
She finally replied after a long pause.
「……Cross-dressing?」
Rough beatings in male form. Gentle advice in female form... Honestly, it felt like a creepy carrot-and-stick routine.
“I'm not an idiot. I know everything.”
「……Are you saying that the 100th generation is cross-dressing?」
She asked back like that.
“Isn't that it? You were strict at first, then suddenly soft and comforting, so it seemed weird—might as well change your appearance.”
When I answered directly like that.
She clutched her stomach and burst into innocent laughter.
「Ahaha! You could really think that...」
I listened to her laugh in a trance. Somehow, her laughter carried the scent of moonlight.
In that moment, I realized it.
That she wasn't the same person as him. I just knew.
“You... who are you...?”
When she finally stopped laughing, she blinked her eyes as if reminiscing about something.
「Terry. My brother called me Terry.」
A foreign-sounding nickname. Must be because of the transcendent language ability.
But that was it.
She didn't give her real name or say which world she came from.
「......Please understand why he's so strict.」
Naturally, the topic turned to the [Master of the Broken Dawn].
「He's tormented by an inexpressible guilt. Especially toward you...」
I couldn't understand.
What had he done wrong? To feel guilt toward a total stranger like me?
「It's because he knows too well. What happens when you're weak in the face of reality...」
At those words, I let out a sigh.
Remembering the day we first met, how sadly he'd muttered.
“Why did he fail?”
「What exactly are you asking?」
I pointed at the graveyard with my finger and said.
“He's this strong. He can wield every weapon in that graveyard better than I can with a sword.”
I still vividly remembered it. The battle overwhelming Cha-Ratevil. I wanted to become like that too.
「He had better conditions than you. Berkensia's power was intact back then. You could say he inherited it more easily.」
I stayed silent, not understanding.
Suddenly, Terry shook her head with somewhat sorrowful eyes.
「To answer your first question... he didn't fail. He's just blaming himself.」
“......What do you mean?”
「Let me ask you one thing. Your friend or the world. If you can only save one, what would you choose?」
Friend and world?
Hong Byeong-gyu and his group. Jeong Ha-kyeong.
And the ruined world. This... was a truly difficult choice.
After agonizing for quite a while, my mouth finally opened.
“Can't I save both?”
「As expected, you're alike. His answer was to save both. He didn't even ask if it was possible. No hesitation.」
Ah... I was speechless.
Was he someone whose humanity was several times nobler than mine?
「Someday, you'll learn the truth. When you do... don't resent him.」
Resent? What truth would make me do that?
Just as I tried to ask.
Terry gently placed her hand on my forehead.
「I said someday, right?」
What...?
Then, something unbelievable happened. My mental fatigue vanished in an instant.
It didn't stop there.
Unknown vitality overflowed through my entire body.
「Now, let's solidify the basics first.」
She said softly.
「The combination of 《Dawnlight Yeomyeong Sword》 and defense. The combination of 《Holy Dawn Sword》 and offense. And the combination of 《Dawnlight Yeomyeong Sword》 and 《Holy Dawn Sword》.」
Repeating those words, I jolted in surprise.
They were all things the [Master of the Broken Dawn] had told me... Why had I completely forgotten?
「From there, get back to the core of the training. Imagining those scenarios and executing combat. Perform both perfectly at the same time... Ah, I have to go now.」
Terry stood up.
Then her body began melting into the twilight haze, and she whispered softly.
「This lesson isn't just about landing one hit on him.」
“That’s... a bit disappointing.”
At my quip, Terry laughed again. The scent of moonlight returned. A laugh as pure and carefree as the real moon.
「Learn from him. Actions, judgments, imagination, habits. Everything about combat.」
Suddenly, I wanted to grab her. Wanted to stay by her side forever. She was so warm and comforting.
「You can't come here yet.」
As if reading my thoughts, Terry waved her hand with a wistful smile.
「We're all cheering for you. The 101st generation. We smile watching your growth. And I pray like this. May the light of Geldharia always protect you.」
“Geldharia?”
What was that? Who? Where?
The word evoked a distant longing, like a lost homeland.
“Geldharia—”
When I looked up.
Her figure had completely vanished.
But traces remained.
Like waking to morning sunlight, power pulsed through my body. Greater power than usual.
“......Geldharia.”
How long had I been watching the twilight?
When I came to, a tired voice came from behind.
“Alright, let's start again.”
The [Master of the Broken Dawn].
I bowed to him and replied energetically.
“Please take care of me again.”
“......?”
“......?”
“What happened?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You seem different all of a sudden.”
I think I smiled weakly.
“Felt like I just got cheers from 99 seniors.”
11.
We trained on and on.
Fiercely. Without rest. Again, again.
“Think endlessly. Not just the big picture of combat, but every single small detail.”
Even as my muscles and bones shattered, skin tore, and my body became drenched in blood, I stood again.
Yet I still couldn't win.
His combat was overwhelming. No gaps in his stance. Seamless shifts between defense and offense.
Just when I thought a gap opened, charging in—it was a feint.
“I told you! The opponent thinks too! How can you fall for it so easily?”
When I tried to fall back exhausted from defense, he pressed with delicate offense, relentlessly refusing to let go.
Long spear. Greatsword. Magic. Warhammer.
He wielded every weapon better than my swordsmanship.
“There’s a saying: A great general only fights from advantageous positions.”
He was truly amazing.
Completely different from me.
“The same goes for you. You must shape every combat situation to your advantage.”
While I'd blindly trusted combat memories and pushed with pure offense.
He focused on defense.
That defense was vast and meticulous.
Not mere blocking.
It lured the opponent into the desired position, then struck the momentary opening to collapse them utterly—the ultimate defense.
Yes.
His defense was offense, and his offense was defense.
What underpinned it?
Precise combat imagination and calculation. And overwhelming combat skill.
Me too.
I want to become like that.
For the first time since seeing my parents, I felt intense yearning for something.
Why was my sword always so frivolous?
Vaguely admiring that, around the 13th day, Terry's advice suddenly came to mind.
- Learn from him. Actions, judgments, imagination, habits. Everything about combat.
Wait. Did "learn" mean... that?
From then on.
I began to realize bit by bit.
That this lesson wasn't just about beating him.
That it was to completely deny the combat style I'd clung to.
In other words.
He was showing me. The ideal direction for my combat.
“I told you on the first day! Showing preparatory movements to the opponent is foolish.”
So I began observing and learning from him. From minor habits to key skill combinations. Everything.
First, pre-combat movements.
Gaze steadily at the opponent.
Sword tip lowered. Gauge their momentum, sketch the blueprint of slaughter.
This had huge advantages.
Seeming full of openings, but the opponent couldn't read my momentum.
I copied his combat links completely.
When to charge.
When to circle behind.
After charging or flanking, what combos to prepare.
[Spacetime Control] and [Force Concentration].
I copied how he applied those powers. Memorized when to use them.
Based on those copied techniques.
I sketched combat blueprints and executed them.
Thus, day 15. Day 20. Day 23.
At first, even clumsier than before.
But gradually, I was reborn as a cautious swordsman emphasizing defense.
The first half's results were remarkable.
My vision widened.
Naturally, my sword forms calmed, making combat imagination and execution smoother.
The second half's results were even more so.
I was rarely caught off-guard.
He started evasion maneuvers (!) against my combos. We even exchanged up to twenty-five blows.
“All sword forms must be meticulous yet loose.”
As I grew, his advice increased and deepened.
“Please explain.”
“They must look loose to the opponent's eyes, meticulous to your own. That way, they can't read your sword.”
Swing and thrust angles.
Parrying and flowing opponent offenses.
I copied every tiny detail, and he showed generously.
I came to understand.
A swordsman must be calm.
A swordsman must be prudent.
With the blade of that calm prudence, slice the enemy's frivolity.
Reaching a certain level, I was convinced.
This final training.
Wasn't about cutting his body.
But about cutting my former self.
Day by day. Day after day.
Finally, the day of reckoning.
And the final hour arrived.
“Do you understand the core of the training?”
To his question, I answered immediately.
“It was to discard myself and walk your path.”
After 26 days of training, I had changed.
Observing opponent's legs, hands, breath—everything, I imagine their prepared attacks.
Because he did.
Based on that info, I sketch primary combat blueprints.
“You always surprise me.”
“I'm the one surprised every time.”
“Good. Finally, this lesson imprints a massive amount of combat experience in your head. Do you know why?”
“Because experience becomes the foundation for imagination.”
That experience was valuable.
He deliberately used only large weapons. Probably to apply this to fights with subordinates.
For example, when he used the great scythe, it felt exactly like facing Cha-Ratevil.
“Your eyes have changed.”
He seemed to smile faintly.
“To pass the test, after all.”
He pulled a weapon from the grave.
Moonlight great scythe. The weapon from days 1 and 2.
“The first day's weapon should be fitting.”
He swung the great scythe through the air.
As the moonlight glow danced in the sky, my heart began to pound like a drum.
“Are you ready?”