Chapter 331
Chapter 331
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 331
>Chapter Title: What is a Collection?
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At this point, it was downright absurd.
‘A fair and square... fistfight?’
Just what kind of time had he spent over the past two years?
What kind of days allowed him to spout such deranged nonsense like it was nothing?
“Lacking confidence? No answer, huh.”
Aster stared silently at the stone-faced Hickster tossing out provocations, then posed a question of his own.
“I was just wondering if I’m the crazy one or if you are.”
“Who knows. Can’t imagine why that’d matter right before a duel.”
“......”
He could tell from the look in his eyes.
This was a severe case.
‘Worse than Shine, even?’
Shine had once told the headmaster to draw his sword, but that was more sly than insane.
Hickster, though? He was straight-up mad.
“Let me ask you this. You think challenging a mage to a fistfight is fair and square?”
“I see it as equal terms.”
“Equal how?”
“If not? Mages aren’t missing hands or anything. If we set aside ether and mana and just go pure body-to-body, doesn’t seem unfair to me.”
“This guy...”
...had he ever seen a thug like this?
Personally, Aster was tempted to probe deeper into this ‘Hickster’ specimen, but he suppressed the urge.
More talk seemed pointless.
Hickster wasn’t in a state to have a real conversation.
So, what now?
He’d just have to give the man what he wanted.
“Fine. Fists it is, right?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Whew...”
Aster steadied his mind.
He’d let this rare breed of lunatic rattle him for a moment, but what he had to do hadn’t changed.
‘Beat him down first, then meet the Gale Wing captain.’
Hickster’s mental state was irrelevant in that simple process.
“You first? Me first?”
Hickster didn’t answer Aster’s question.
He just closed his eyes and regulated his breathing.
For a lunatic demanding a fair fistfight with a mage, it was a surprisingly solemn pose. Aster set aside his stray thoughts and matched him, regulating his own breath.
So, he planned to take this seriously too.
A chill wind swirled between them and passed.
Aster sank into thought.
‘Normally...’
The world is wide, and lunatics are plentiful. Most lunatics are obsessed with something.
Usually, what drives them mad is the trigger itself—and in this case, that trigger was himself.
What did that mean?
He’d influenced Hickster’s madness.
Absurdly, Aster felt a twinge of responsibility.
“...Time for some re-education.”
Mad dogs fear the stick, and his fists were the ultimate remedy among sticks.
He’d made up his mind when—
“Hup!”
Hickster kicked off the ground and lunged.
How to...
re-educate this pitiful muscle mass.
The continent’s top re-educator clenched his fists tight.
* * *
Swelling thighs. Blood rushed in, veins bulging. Muscles brimming with power contracted like coiled springs, and Hickster exploded forward.
Whoosh...!
The scenery shoved backward in an instant.
In this moment, Hickster was a beast.
And standing before that beast was...
“Aster—!”
Bam!
Aster took a direct hit from the iron-hard fist and slid back. Shallow furrows trailed his heels in the dirt.
‘Insane...’
This destructive power from pure physical strength alone?
He grimaced at the bone-rattling pain when Hickster’s voice rang in his ear.
“Over the past two years, I’ve waited for this exact moment.”
He’d thought it hundreds, thousands of times.
If he could go back to that day, how would he fight?
Countless battles in his mind.
But victory? Not once.
The piled defeats became a massive wall, a psychological barrier blocking his path.
So.
‘Further...’
He had to advance.
Crack! Clang!
Hickster’s fists hammered Aster’s crossed arms mercilessly. Blows that could shatter bone, yet neither man showed any sign of retreat.
“Not bad...”
That’s when Aster moved.
Thwack!
“Guh...!”
Hickster’s jaw snapped back from the palm strike slipping through the gap between punches, staggering him.
“Hey, be honest. I messed up, but so did you, right?”
Classic petty squabbler’s rhetoric.
I’m at fault too, but you are as well... Too proud to admit it alone, so drag in false equivalence.
Usually, it’s just denial, but Aster meant it. He truly believed Hickster shared the blame.
“Coming at a kid’s face with a fist out of nowhere... That right?”
“You bastard...”
“And I told you back then. Not just you, two guys. Now it’s one, though.”
Mocking chatter.
Enraged, Hickster swung.
Clang...!
“Urk!”
Whose groan was it?
Didn’t matter.
Aster and Hickster’s fists clashed mid-air, and without pause, they swung again.
Once more.
Clang...!
Unbelievable explosive bursts from mere bone.
Fists collided, screaming; skin tore, blood sprayed. A pointless pride duel bound to hurt, but neither would yield.
And so.
Clang...!
Fists met in the air again.
Aster spoke.
“Hey, shouldn’t you be grateful to me? In a way, I stopped the Doranpega-Blandoga feud, right?”
“Bullshit!”
“Bullshit? Think about it. That day, Damian still helped you out, didn’t he? And I clearly said let’s not. Right?”
“Y-You...!”
The devil’s silver tongue.
He shouldn’t listen.
Hickster vowed as much, but Aster’s mouth didn’t stop.
“Hey, is this really fair and square? Wanna duel math then? Pure brain vs. brain. Fair, right?”
Body favors knights, just like math favors mages. Not a perfect match, but close enough.
So, no, not fair.
“Shut up!”
Aster retracted his punch against Hickster’s fiercer swing and sighed.
“Ha...”
This one—he couldn’t meet head-on.
Dodging was inevitable, and Hickster’s footwork was impressive.
How did that bulky frame keep such perfect balance...?
Swoosh!
Slash!
If he hadn’t ducked quick, it wouldn’t have been hair sliced off his elbow—his eyelid would’ve gone.
Rare for someone like Hickster.
Big knights usually leveraged mass for power over speed.
Not him. Every strike powerful, every motion lightning-quick.
If ether got added to that...
“Tch!”
Aster blocked a torso kick with crossed arms and refocused.
And sure enough...
‘...He’s speeding up?’
Hickster’s movements gaining momentum.
Swoosh!
Each fist sliced air with sharp whooshes. Spinning elbows tore the wind. Incoming kicks were heavy clubs themselves.
Riding the flow?
Hands, feet, every joint linked fluid as water—far from ordinary.
So...
‘...Enlightenment?’
Even gaining enlightenment as a lunatic was unique? Baffling context.
Suddenly, Aster pondered.
‘How to... handle this?’
Sucker punch?
One solid headshot would shatter the trance.
Sure, no real reason to interrupt enlightenment, but really, Hickster provoked this impulse.
Human exploration.
He was curious.
When enlightenment’s haze fades from this already-mad man, how much madder could he get?
But.
“Tch...”
Aster blocked the incoming fist, threw a light counter, and changed his mind.
‘Fine.’
If he’d teach even his enemy Sallie, what was helping non-enemy Hickster’s enlightenment?
“This is what school ties mean. Consider yourself lucky.”
That should cover payment for arranging the Gale Wing captain meet.
And so.
‘Whew...’
Guiding enlightenment without breaking it—regardless of the opponent’s realm—demanded peak focus.
Aster’s eyes sharpened.
* * *
In the realm of no-self.
Hickster felt like he was dancing.
Extending fist, shifting weight. When the punch fully extended, weight on the pivot foot tipped forward, unbalancing. But even that was part of the flow.
Before balance fully broke, shoulder moved, waist twisted with it. Waist twist led to footwork.
收回 punch power into rotation. Body spun back, briefly turning from foe, retracted fist pulling elbow into an arc slicing air.
Elbow hit a point, arm naturally extended, striking opponent.
Thud.
Drum-like satisfying impact, weight center shifted anew.
Strength.
Overwhelming, shattering all...
Flow.
Soft as water.
Hickster’s motions were rough, bold lines in motion.
No hitches from start to end, fluid, yet each packed brute force.
Strikes formed small flows.
Small flows built battle’s rhythm.
Ingrained forms forgotten.
No—not forgotten.
Merged into the path of combat.
Rules existed, unbound by them; infinitely free, yet never straying from rules.
Embracing that freedom...
Bam!
Hickster smashed the wall blocking him.
Bam!
Fist, backhand, elbow, shoulder, knee, shin, instep, head... every body part sword and hammer.
And so...
Bam!
Strike.
Bam!
Strike.
Bam!
Strike.
The wall was solid.
Unmoved.
But Hickster kept striking relentlessly.
How much time passed?
Hickster wondered.
‘Me...’
What am I even hitting?
A wall.
But this wall...
‘...Does it even exist?’
The doubt arose.
Crack—
Fissures split the steadfast wall.
And he realized.
- Damn, you’re tough.
Flashing memories in his mind. Hundreds, thousands of replays chewed over. All of it amounted to...
‘...Nothing.’
Only he himself had blocked his path.
And so.
Bam!
Fist met wall.
Crunch!
Hickster knew.
The wall barring him for two years was gone.
“......”
In newfound freedom he’d never felt, Hickster stood dazed, panting. Beast-like muscles twitched with breaths, radiating presence.
Gaze dropped to his hands.
“...I’ve crossed it.”
Hickster knew he’d entered a new realm.
Night had fallen unnoticed.
Under pouring starlight, Hickster broke free of himself.
Watching him, Aster thought.
‘...You’re definitely going in my collection.’
What was this collection?
A gathering of those who’d made him the perpetrator.