Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: Duel with Bronteus
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"Gee, it's something, isn't it."
Saladin muttered as he sat astride the blade that had emerged from Mimi's spine, propping his chin on his hand.
"Urgh... What do you mean?"
The Cyclops, pinned beneath the sword after being subdued by Saladin, asked back with tears streaming from his eyes.
For the record, those tears weren't from pain—they were from temporary vision loss caused by the gas spewing from Nene's mouth.
"What else? It's just amazing how everything's unfolding exactly as that guy planned. Oh, right—you can't see a thing, can you?"
Our Nene's poison sure packs a punch, haha. Saladin chuckled in satisfaction.
"So, what's the next scene in your drawing? Let's see it."
Saladin gazed at Jerome, who was locked in battle with a particularly ferocious Cyclops, his eyes brimming with anticipation.
Being around that kid always felt like it might rip his ass apart from the stress.
But man, it was never boring.
"Raaargh!"
Bronteus's sword came slashing down with enough force to cleave his body in two in a single stroke.
He smoothly deflected it with footwork.
The arm thicker than a full-grown tree redirected the sword's momentum.
Bwoom!
With a burst of air, the blade's trajectory shifted at blinding speed.
He leaped high, landing atop the flat of the sword that had just mercilessly carved through where he'd stood moments before.
Tat-tat-tat-tat!
Using the sword face meant to bisect him as a springboard, he charged straight at the Cyclops's face.
Channeling Iron Body into his right foot, he unleashed a powerful kick at the monster's mug.
Bam!
It sounded like an air sack exploding.
A normal Cyclops would've dropped flat from that alone, no question.
But this vanguard he'd drawn wasn't normal by any stretch.
Without a hint of panic at the human sprinting up his blade, it raised its opposite arm, blocking the kick with a forearm like a boulder.
And even then, its single eye darted about, hunting for any opening.
The Cyclops's eye was a divine sight that pinpointed weaknesses.
Even as the battle turned against it, the beast showed no haste.
Or rather, to put it precisely...
"...I see. Human, you're the strongest among them."
It had judged that impatience wouldn't let it win against him.
"My name is Bronteus. Human, what is yours?"
"Jerome. Jerome von Carviot."
"Jerome... Jerome, huh..."
It lowered the sword, which had been swinging with the sole intent of carving him up as fast as possible, and slowly assumed a proper stance.
True to their moniker as blacksmith monsters, most Cyclopes had bulging bellies like dwarves.
But Bronteus, gripping his sword and settling into form before him, boasted the lean, flawless physique of a perfect warrior, without an ounce of excess fat.
"From now on, I'll treat you as a foe greater than that orc king."
Bronteus crossed his twin blades and tucked them under his armpits, lowering his stance.
Groooow...
A colossal force emanated from muscles compressed, compressed again, and compressed yet more.
Aura began rippling atop the savage blade that barely qualified as a sword.
The ferocious energy was so murderous it halted the battles of nearby orcs and Cyclopes alike.
From someone not even a lord, it surpassed the might of Argus—the one actually called lord.
"...For our lord. I will stop you all right here."
Whether to steel himself or to show his resolve, Bronteus spat the unclear words and regulated his breathing.
"Here I come."
The instant Bronteus uttered "Here I come," Jerome bent at the waist.
No surprise there—just one second later, and he'd have been bisected.
Without pause, he clapped his arms together and shot upward toward Bronteus's chin like a whirlwind.
Soaring Dragon Strike.
One of Pankration's killing blows, a full-body ram.
With Iron Body active, his version was no different from a massive sword.
"Petty tricks!"
Bronteus instantly retracted his slashing sword, crossing them to block the Soaring Dragon Strike.
Kiiiiing!
Sparks flew like steel clashing steel.
"Ngh!"
Boom!
The crossed blades failed to absorb the impact and bounced upward.
But Jerome had expended his force too.
Halting the Soaring Dragon Strike, he planted his feet on the beast's thigh mid-fall and sprang again.
Kwoooom!
Like a coiled dragon, he amplified the rebound with a punch.
Bronteus thrust his sword straight at Jerome's body in kind.
Its blade was so enormous it wasn't piercing a body part—it was driving to split him in half.
Against that giant sword, his frame looked pitiful, like a mantis facing a carriage.
Clang!
A small sound rang out as steel met steel.
Jerome flipped backward through the air, propelled by the sword strike, and landed on the ground.
Bronteus froze mid-thrust, like a broken machine.
Then he glared down at Jerome with his massive eye.
"You...!"
Crack.
A fracture spiderwebbed across Bronteus's extended blade.
Cra-cra-crack!
Soon, one sword shattered completely and crumbled away.
"That's one down."
"Insolent cur!"
Discarding the broken sword, Bronteus switched his remaining left-hand blade to his right and took stance.
He drew it back over his shoulder, wedging the blade between his left thumb and forefinger.
"Huuu..."
Bronteus closed his huge eye and steadied his breath.
The savage aura blazing atop his wildly swinging sword subsided into stillness.
The surrounding orc and Cyclops battles raged on.
Yet in the center of the right flank battlefield, the air grew still, as if only Bronteus and Jerome existed.
But that stillness was like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
Jerome could see it.
The flow of Bronteus's aura.
The aura throughout its body is converging on the tip of its blade.
Whether his ultimate technique or instinct born from their clashes, Bronteus had abandoned wide-area sweeps for a single-point thrust, focusing all power on one spot.
That power exceeded Hatan's, the Cyclops lord's, even Argus's.
Then I should show something fun in return.
The aura he'd cultivated via Earth, the unidentified aura within him, and his Heterogenous Power Steel—at stage 3's cusp—began blending inside.
Fusing into one force, it soon leaked golden light from his entire body.
A brilliant, captivating glow that stole the sight.
This light was what had let him outshine all others in his past life, lead the Stigma Mercenary Corps, and battle the empire's army including Viscount Wendinel.
Adamantine Might.
The technique embodying his realization that no fancy tricks mattered before overwhelming force.
"Is that your final technique?"
Sensing the unnatural aura from Jerome's body, Bronteus—his blade tip condensed to a pea-sized orb—asked warily.
"Yeah, pretty much. Up till now."
He had a technique researched for stage 4, but he'd never mastered it even in his past life, so Adamantine Might was his pinnacle.
"Up till now, huh... A true monster among humans. Who'd have thought one like you existed in the southern mountains."
To Cyclopes fixated on the northern imperial border, Jerome's existence was a shock.
"Fine by me. That explains why that orc king didn't flinch at our movements. But..."
Refined and refined again, the aura at his blade's tip looked deceptively calm—not a hint of savagery—in marble size.
Tiny even by human standards, to Cyclops eyes it was less than a booger.
Yet inside that speck raged enough ferocity to shred the world.
"My final technique: One Point. Survive this, and victory is yours."
With those words, Bronteus's sword advanced toward him—slowly, agonizingly slowly.
In this frantic battlefield, such a sluggish blade.
Yet bizarrely, he couldn't dodge.
Instinct screamed that no evasion would shake it off.
Can't parry this either.
Then the choice was the usual one.
Smash it head-on.
The subtle glow from Adamantine Might gathered into his fists.
As the light concentrated, its brilliance intensified until it blazed blindingly.
Melding with orichalcum gauntlets, it shone like the sun.
Radiant Fist.
No flashy impact like Vortex, Seriate, or Soaring Dragon Strike.
Just raising both hands to block Bronteus's "One Point."
As the marble-sized point neared his fists, he gripped it with the power amassed in his own hands.
Then...
Flash!
"!"
They say explosions too massive bypass human senses, unheard.
The ground split, blood vessels burst in his hands, yet paradoxically, it was so quiet he thought no sound came if he closed his eyes.
...Can't block this.
Not even Radiant Fist, mere compression of Adamantine Might, could stop it.
But he could buy time to analyze Bronteus's technique.
Separate from the crisis, the mana orb's motion was mesmerizing, yielding new insights.
That marble—mana churns wildly inside, yet no flows overlap.
Like a precision machine, pendulums of mana converged flawlessly into the orb.
Thus it warped the surrounding air.
Thus anything it touched would be pulverized by the pendulums.
Thus it pierced his Steel-twisted Aura-based Adamantine Might's Radiant Fist, drawing blood.
So how to stop this horrific marble?
Deflect sideways?
No—nearby orcs would die in droves where it hit.
Launch it skyward?
No—that violent pendulum wouldn't vanish; it'd crash back, slaughtering more orcs.
One choice remained.
Disrupt the pendulum motion right here.
Brute endurance wasn't defense. Dismantling the technique was too.
Unravel the countless non-overlapping mana flows in reverse order.
Then Bronteus's One Point would naturally dissipate.
Whoooosh!
His Steel and aura began counterflowing Bronteus's aura motion.
One pendulum clashed with Steel and vanished.
Another lunged to devour the Steel.
Aura swallowed that one.
Another targeted the aura.
One by one.
Heterogenous Power and aura pulverized the attack in reverse, feeding it back amplified with his own force atop Bronteus's.
"!!!"
Bronteus's eye bulged, filling his face.
"Returning it to you."
The rampaging force that would've shredded him and the orcs reversed toward Bronteus.
The blade tip began crumbling to dust from the devouring energy.
Seeing his ultimate blocked and his weapon—and neck—threatened, Bronteus muttered hollowly.
"...Damn it."
The ferocious energy that had pulverized the entire blade engulfed Bronteus's front as he spat the brief curse.