151. The Siblings' Dream
151. The Siblings' Dream
I helped Ashtar up after she'd landed on her backside and just kept sitting there with a blank look on her face.
Even after getting to her feet, Ashtar stayed dazed for a while. Then, as if she'd worked something out on her own, she nodded and bowed her head to me.
"Junior, I'm sorry."
Earlier she'd apologized on Hudd's behalf, so what was it this time? Ashtar seemed to have an awful lot to be sorry about.
"What are you sorry for this time?"
"The reason I asked you to spar was actually to teach you a lesson."
"Teach me a lesson? Me? Why?"
When I asked that, Eurasia, standing off to the side, looked at me with an expression that said, "My lady, are you seriously asking because you don't know?"
Ashtar, who had lifted her head slightly, also had a wavering look in her eyes.
I didn't know about Ashtar, but if Eurasia was looking at me like that, it meant I'd been out of line.
I fidgeted with my fingers and sank into thought.
...Was it because of the harsh words I'd said to Hudd?
That seemed to be it.
Sure enough... inside the academy, Hudd was my senior, so saying something like that could be a bit of a problem.
I scratched my cheek awkwardly and averted my gaze.
"Ah... yes. What I said to that Hudd... senior earlier, that was wrong. I'll apologize to Senior Hudd for that. But if you want to teach me a lesson, shouldn't you be trying a little harder?"
Eurasia's mouth fell open.
She looked like she was screaming, "You can't say that right now!" Naturally, I paid her no mind.
"A second-year Student Council member beaten up by a delinquent first-year... that's quite the, well... story that should never exist, isn't it?"
A grand duke's daughter beaten up by a mercenary-born Hero.
Such rumors had circulated four hundred years ago too.
Except back then, there had been a few extra words mixed in.
A grand duke's daughter who got beaten by a mercenary-born Hero who "loves beating women," struck "even in places that should never be hit," until she "turned lewd."
All of it was slander.
It wasn't that I loved beating women. I just beat—no, "educated"—everyone regardless of age or gender.
Places that should never be hit? Fine. If the grand duke's daughter's face counted as a place that should never be hit, then that part was true. I never once hit anywhere other than her face.
As for her turning lewd... that was slander. I am innocent.
Would I have cursed her to become like that? Or would I have deliberately held back my strength?
I simply educated her diligently.
That woman broke on her own. It wasn't because of me.
Anyway, I was innocent.
But no matter how innocent I was... the person tangled up in my rumors could still end up in a difficult spot, couldn't they?
Of course, right now there were no prying eyes, so as long as the three of us kept our mouths shut, no rumors would spread.
But I hated the very idea of that kind of story existing. And with a descendant of House van Chaser, no less?
Horrifying.
"So shouldn't you land a clean hit on me too, Senior? In the academy... no, in the entire empire, the only people who can treat me however they please are the imperial family and the grand ducal houses, so I'm looking forward to it."
"Listening to you talk... it sounds like you're saying you'll definitely win this spar. Is that just my imagination?"
"Depends on how you take it."
"You seem good at fighting, Junior, but you seem really good at talking too."
"It's only because no one who stands in front of me ever draws a weapon, so my tongue's gotten flexible."
Ashtar's eyes went round, and she giggled.
"Now I understand why Hudd looked up to you so much. You really do have a similar air to the Ronan in the stories, Junior."
Not similar—identical.
"I don't know what stories about Ronan exist in the grand ducal house, but I'll take that as a compliment."
"They're all good stories, so it's high praise."
Ashtar smiled brightly and widened the distance.
"Still, since you seem so easygoing, I don't think I need to hold back either."
"I don't hold grudges. I'm not the type to resent someone just because I got hit during a spar, Senior."
"Good thing the training hall is stocked with Potions."
After that, there was no more conversation.
The reason was the change in Ashtar's demeanor.
A murderous killing intent settled thickly over the training hall.
A chill ran down my spine, raising goosebumps. My back went cold, and it felt as if countless blades were pressed right against the nape of my neck.
Inside my clenched fist, cold sweat soaked into the bandages, and my mouth went dry.
Eurasia must have felt the atmosphere too. She swallowed hard and looked at me.
I smiled brightly to reassure her.
It's purer than I expected.
There was nothing else mixed into her Intent. It was pure to an astonishing degree. I wondered what form that pure Intent would take.
Hilde van Chaser. Her Intent had been simple, but symbolic and beautiful.
A shield protecting the empire—a great wall like a colossal snow mountain, befitting the northern House van Chaser.
White-Snow Heavenly Wall Fortress.
But Ashtar seemed to be the exact opposite of her.
"You can go all out too, Junior."
"All out? Are you sure? This time I won't catch you if you land on your backside."
"Your hand will probably... touch me once at best, if I'm being generous."
"Once is enough."
Ashtar smiled faintly.
That was the signal.
I kicked off the spot immediately.
At the same time, a hazy smoke rose behind Ashtar's back. The smoke took shape before I could even take my second step.
Seven weapons in total.
Sword, sword-whip, axe, hammer, mace, shield, bow.
"Hah..."
They rose behind Ashtar's back.
Just as I took my third step and was about to thrust a fist at Ashtar, they moved.
The shield blocked Ashtar's body. The sword-whip tore through the air as it swung. The sword, raised to the sky's end, fell like a guillotine blade.
The axe surged toward my legs as if splitting wood, and the hammer pounded the earth as if striking a corner.
The mace blocked my path, and the bow had already retreated far behind, aiming at me.
What Ashtar held in her hand—the wooden sword had already become a spear. Overwhelmingly long. One jang, five cheok... about three meters, maybe.
The tip looked horrifying. It was a saw blade that, once it pierced, would burrow into flesh and tear out chunks of meat when it came back out.
It wasn't the first time I'd seen it. If anything, it was familiar.
It was the same shape as the blades made in the north for handling tough Monsters.
So how do I break through this?
In that instant, countless calculations raced through my mind.
Would the forms change? They weren't being swung by human hands. There were thousands upon thousands of possible paths. I shouldn't predict. I had to see and react.
Is it hard? It's not hard.
Seven—no, eight of them.
I won't say "a whopping" anything.
Each of the weapons with form had high density, but breaking through them wasn't all that difficult.
Four hundred years ago, there had been a person with the epithet Thousand Swords. They didn't wield a thousand swords as the name suggested, but they wielded at least three hundred.
How had I beaten that bastard again?
My head might not remember, but my body did.
Maybe it was even easier now since we were both barehanded. No, it was easy.
When my third step landed and my fourth step fell, the sword closed in right in front of me.
But I didn't keep my eyes on the sword.
What I needed to watch was the sword-whip.
It started slow but sped up toward the end.
And the section where it sped up—
Thud. That was now, the moment my fourth step landed.
I reached out with a hand wrapped in Aura and grabbed the sword-whip's handle, twisting it outward. I felt fierce resistance. My left arm, gripping the handle, went numb. But it couldn't stop my movement. I hurled the sword-whip, its direction now diverted.
After the sword-whip came the sword.
As if it hadn't reacted to the movement I'd just shown, it fell again in an honest, straightforward line.
It still hadn't broken free of the limits of Tier 6.
I filed away the critique in my head and extended my right arm.
Snatch—the sword hilt came easily into my grip. I grabbed it and leaped into the air.
A massive axe swept through the spot where I'd been standing. Beside it, the hammer that had been pounding the earth shot upward.
As a rule, a wingless human cannot change direction in midair. Ashtar seemed to be aiming for that. But if there's a foothold, you can change direction.
A foothold? The hammer.
I focused Mana into my legs. After relaxing them to the limit to absorb the impact, I lightly—thud—stepped on the hammer and changed direction.
Ashtar's eyes flew wide open. Behind me, I heard the sword-whip tearing through the air. I hurled the sword in my right hand toward the sword-whip. Clang—with a chilling sound, the sword-whip's direction shifted once more.
What was the next attack? Arrow and spear.
Both were keeping me in check. Thud—my foot touched the ground earlier than planned, and I moved it quickly.
Ashtar, flustered by my movement, quickly collected herself and reset her stance.
The spear tip aimed at me. Creak—I heard the bowstring being drawn. Both were feints.
The real one wasn't the bow or the spear—it was the axe.
It wasn't being swung by a person. Therefore, there was no recoil or preparation. Intent moved as a person thought and wished.
So I couldn't calculate based on ordinary common sense.
Naturally, I'd kept that in mind.
Fifth step, sixth step, seventh step.
The axe reached my ankle. At that instant—flash—cherry-blossom-colored Mana raged. My left foot, which had clearly been planted on the ground, was now raised in the air.
The omission of process using Deceptive Body.
Ashtar didn't even perceive it. At that moment, I added spring to my right foot. My waist twisted, my shoulders turned, and Mana surged through my wide-open acupoints.
The instant it condensed in my left leg, I roughly extended the bent leg.
Roundhouse Kick.
Based on what Arisa had left behind, I unleashed a Roundhouse Kick remade to my own taste. BOOOOM—! With a roar that felt like it would tear my eardrums, the axe slammed into Ashtar's shield.
"...Huh?"
A hollow sigh burst from Ashtar's lips. At the same time, the shield shattered into pieces.
No shield. All that remained was offense. As if thinking that, Ashtar's momentum sharpened further. Tendons bulged in the hand gripping the spear. The bow, drawn to its limit, let out a taut, twanging sound.
The arrow was loosed. The spear? It came at me, aiming for my right shoulder.
Except for the axe buried in the floor, the sword, sword-whip, and hammer also rushed at me like mad.
But I had already—
Thud.
—reached Ashtar, who had lost her shield, right before her eyes.
My fingertips aimed at Ashtar's navel.
The face... Hilde came to mind, so I was reluctant to hit it.
The chest... well, it was too big, so... yeah.
The solar plexus could kill if I hit it wrong.
The limbs couldn't be finished in one blow.
If I delayed any longer, I might lose.
So the abdomen—the place I could finish in one hit.
The navel. I placed my fingertips near it.
Both legs were planted firmly on the ground. My waist was properly relaxed. I put strength into my shoulders, fixed my wrist, and withdrew my Aura.
Aura was too much for a spar.
Ashtar had used Intent, but against a junior so far below me... a descendant, I shouldn't do that.
Light Mana would be enough.
"Huh...?"
I snickered at Ashtar, who let out a dumb sound.
"I said once would be enough, didn't I?"
My open hand became a fist and fired.
Unlike before, this was now a completed One-Inch Force.
No—something further developed. The Internal Heavy-Hand Method, created to compensate for my weakness of lacking decisive power.
Falling Blossom.
Thwoong—
Like a falling flower, Ashtar's body sank gently to the ground.