Chapter 141: Roman Dmitry's People (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 141: Roman Dmitry's People (5)
Ahead of the match, Viscount Conrad encouraged his subordinate.
"Gabriel. How are you feeling?"
"Excellent."
"Good. You should be. I've spent far too much money on you for you to feel even slightly off."
Gabriel was a swordsman in his early forties. Having served the Conrad family since childhood, he was a secret weapon crafted with all of their heart and soul. He wasn't an incredible genius like Chris, but he had shown steady, reliable growth that met their expectations. In return, the Conrad family spared no expense in supporting his development.
As a result, he had crossed the wall to become a 3-Star swordsman a month ago.
It was a truly momentous occasion, but Viscount Conrad had deliberately kept it a secret from the public.
'This tournament has an Aura restriction. At first glance, it seems like a disadvantageous rule for high-realm swordsmen. In truth, however, the higher the Star level, the greater the difference in destructive power—even when restricted to a 1-Star Aura. This is a fight clearly stacked against lower-realm swordsmen. They won't be able to display their full strength, while a 3-Star swordsman like Gabriel can secure an overwhelming advantage right from the start.'
According to public rumors, Gabriel was only a 2-Star swordsman. Since 3-Star swordsmen were rare in the northeast region, there was no reason to leak this latest breakthrough and give his opponents a chance to prepare.
Conrad glanced over. Checking the opponent's appearance, he couldn't help but chuckle at the empty right sleeve fluttering in the wind.
"Gabriel, that fellow McBurney is nothing. He only made it to the third round because of good matchmaking luck. His balance is completely ruined from losing an arm. Keep this in mind: out of all the swordsmen representing the Northeast Association, everyone except you has been eliminated. You are our last hope. Simply winning won't satisfy the crowd. Do it overwhelmingly. Don't feel any pathetic sympathy just because your opponent is a one-armed cripple. Crush him miserably right in front of Roman Dmitry's eyes. Understood?"
"I will obey your command."
"As expected."
Conrad smirked. He liked that answer.
'Yes, it's not over yet.'
Roman Dmitry's people. Their performance so far had been overwhelming. Watching the opposing swordsmen fall one after another in the previous five groups, Conrad had briefly thought that perhaps overcoming the Dmitry family was impossible. But as expected, even Dmitry had its limits. They couldn't mobilize six top-tier experts. In the end, a loophole named McBurney had appeared.
Of course, there was still a slight sense of foreboding.
Just the fact that this man was one of Roman Dmitry's people made it impossible for Viscount Conrad to be absolutely certain of victory.
'Surely he won't lose to a one-armed cripple?'
He cast aside his doubts. Gabriel was a 3-Star swordsman. Victory was a given. This match was merely a stepping stone to the championship.
"Both contestants, onto the stage!" the referee's voice rang out.
From this point on, there was no turning back.
*
Step.
The two swordsmen stepped onto the stage. Gabriel, who had taken his position first, scrutinized McBurney with a look of utter disdain.
"Tsk."
The fluttering sleeve. He couldn't help but scoff.
Even if he hadn't known who McBurney was, he would have reacted this way. But before the tournament, a colleague had already told him all about the man.
"McBurney? He's a guy who was once active on the Western Front. But he lost his right arm—his sword arm—and became a complete wreck. His chances of winning are zero. I met him a year ago, and far from using his left arm skillfully, he struggled to even carry heavy luggage with it. The fact that such a guy is in your group means that Roman Dmitry's clean sweep of all six divisions is practically impossible."
His colleague had declared it with absolute certainty. There would be no miracle for McBurney.
Remembering those words made McBurney's presence on the stage seem even more absurd.
'There are always people in this world who don't know their place. A commoner who couldn't even dream of reaching the threshold of a knight when his right arm was intact is now harboring hopes of winning a tournament full of knights after losing it? Today, I will show McBurney exactly how high the wall of reality is.'
Setting aside the Conrad family's interests, just looking at McBurney made Gabriel feel inexplicably irritated.
Preparations were complete.
The referee checked both contestants, took a step back, and waved the flag.
Flutter.
Gabriel took the initiative. Without hesitation, he charged, his massive frame bearing down on McBurney like an enraged wild boar.
Clang!
Clash! Clash! Clash!
It was an intense exchange. Sparks flew every time their swords collided, and McBurney staggered backward repeatedly. He was clearly being pushed back by sheer force. Believing his expectations were spot on, Gabriel pressed the attack with a wide, cruel grin.
"Let's see how long you can hold out!"
Clash! Clash! Clash!
He didn't even use Aura. Against a cripple like McBurney, he was confident he could take him down with raw physical swordsmanship alone.
Watching from outside the stage, Viscount Conrad also smiled, fully understanding Gabriel's intention.
Step, step.
The pressure was immense. Before long, McBurney was pushed to the very edge of the stage.
Sensing his opponent was cornered, Gabriel threw a feint.
Whoosh.
'To block this, he has no choice but to dodge to the right.'
He deliberately targeted the opponent's left arm. His only arm. McBurney had no other option, and just as Gabriel expected, he stepped to the right to dodge.
At that moment—
Tap, tap.
Gabriel closed the distance and launched a brutal follow-up attack. Feigning a horizontal slash to force a block, he quickly stepped in to strike the right side—the side where McBurney had no arm.
'It's over.'
It was perfect. A single left arm could not cover the entire defensive range, and this attack exploited that exact blind spot. Having only one arm didn't just mean a lack of familiarity; it resulted in completely exposing the right side of the body.
It was then.
Sway.
McBurney twisted his body as if he were about to fall.
It was a bizarre movement. With his back almost touching the ground, McBurney balanced himself using only his waist core, dodging the lethal strike by a hair's breadth.
And then—
Whoosh!
Thud.
"Ugh."
He struck Gabriel's forearm. It was fortunate Gabriel had reacted quickly; a split second slower, and the blow would have landed squarely on his face.
"You bastard."
Gabriel gritted his teeth. To think he had been struck by a mere one-armed cripple. It was an intolerable reality. Gabriel flared his Aura and pressed McBurney hard.
Rumble!
Clang!
Clash! Clash!
Even the sound of the swords colliding was different now. A 1-Star Aura wielded by a 3-Star swordsman. Even if blocked with a sword, the sheer impact should have been enough to churn a man's insides. Yet, every time McBurney blocked, he tilted his blade at a precise angle to deflect the kinetic force.
Dangerous moments continued to unfold. McBurney, seemingly unable to maintain proper balance, was constantly pushed into a corner. But at every critical moment, he evaded the attacks with those bizarre, off-kilter movements.
The first time, Gabriel thought it was a fluke.
But as it happened a second and third time, and the match dragged on longer than expected, he realized something was terribly off.
'McBurney... This guy hasn't lost his balance. He is intentionally utilizing the physical imbalance caused by his missing right arm.'
Once again, McBurney attempted a counterattack. Twisting his body to secure distance for his left arm, he aimed for Gabriel's vitals while looking as if he were about to tip over completely.
Instantly, goosebumps broke out on Gabriel's skin.
He barely managed to block the attack. Only then did the truth finally dawn on him.
'McBurney's advancement to the third round wasn't a stroke of luck.'
The one-armed cripple. That fluttering empty sleeve no longer looked laughable.
*
When he first learned the Left-Handed Sword.
McBurney could never forget that moment.
"The foundation of the Left-Handed Sword lies in utilizing your lost physical balance. As humans grow, their bodies develop to smoothly use two arms and two legs. But by losing an arm, your balance has been completely shattered. People might think of this as a fatal weakness for a swordsman, but the Left-Handed Sword sublimates the unique movements arising from that lost balance into a deadly martial art."
Swinging a sword with the left arm naturally caused the body to lean to one side due to basic physical anatomy.
It was a fatal weakness.
With the right side completely exposed, it was incredibly difficult to block an opponent's attacks compared to when he still had his right arm.
However, the Left-Handed Sword approached combat differently.
Instead of fighting the imbalance, it allowed the body's center of gravity to intentionally collapse to the left, utilizing the rotational power of the waist while maintaining proper foot placement. The resulting effect was like magic. It allowed him to efficiently evade enemy attacks while simultaneously targeting their blind spots.
It was shocking. The Left-Handed Sword. Within the techniques of that art, various ways to weaponize a broken balance were deeply woven together.
'The creator of the Left-Handed Sword was a one-armed man just like me. He must have been deeply despondent over the reality of losing his arm. So how on earth did he create such swordsmanship? Was it because he was a special person? No. He and I are no different. But unlike me, who gave up on reality the moment my arm was severed, he constantly searched for a new path. That is how he was able to create the Left-Handed Sword.'
A new world had opened up.
The Left-Handed Sword did not merely present a new martial path; it showed him that living as a one-armed man was still possible.
From then on, he gritted his teeth.
He had lost count of how many times he swung his sword. While he had grown accustomed to using his left arm for daily tasks over time, swinging a sword with it was a completely different matter.
Falling down, face-planting into the dirt, bleeding—it was a grueling, desperate time.
Yet, even when forced to face his pathetic reality time and time again, McBurney had a reason why he could never give up.
'My lord presented a new reality to me. And at my current level, I can never be someone worthy of my lord.'
Upon arriving in Dmitry, McBurney had been stunned.
He already knew that Dmitry's subordinates possessed incredible skills, but he couldn't help but be shocked by the fact that they had been training in earnest for less than a year. Roman Dmitry was like a god. He was an existence who created something out of nothing, and because of him, his subordinates were developing at a terrifyingly rapid pace.
Only then did he realize that he was nothing.
If Roman Dmitry set his mind to it, he could create countless swordsmen far superior to him.
'I am just a useless cripple. My lord accepted me not because he needed my swordsmanship, but because he needed my loyalty. If I stand still just because I'm missing an arm, I will surely be left behind by the monsters who follow my lord. I don't want that. This is a hope I barely managed to grasp. I refuse to lose this opportunity.'
If he couldn't prove himself, he wouldn't be able to survive as one of Roman's people.
At the very least, he wanted to become an important asset to Roman Dmitry, the man who had thrown him a lifeline.
A nuisance rejected even by the kingdom—he wanted his existence to find meaning, just this once.
'The six representing my lord. I will take one of those spots and absolutely win the championship in his name.'
For a month, he trained relentlessly.
He believed that if he failed to prove himself this time, he would have to live the rest of his life as a cripple who couldn't overcome his weakness.
Barely scraping by, just like Henderson, he was included among the six.
That result was a tearful achievement born of McBurney facing his harsh reality head-on.
*
"Whew... whew..."
His breath was ragged.
The movements of the Left-Handed Sword were extremely physically demanding. Furthermore, Gabriel's skills were outstanding, so he didn't fall for the bizarre feints easily.
However...
Smirk.
He couldn't stop smiling.
Even though his breath caught in his throat, and attacks aiming for his life flashed right before his eyes, he felt like crying tears of joy. He was actually fighting this well with only one arm.
'I'm not finished yet.'
From the rock bottom of his life, McBurney rose again.
While everyone in the arena was certain of his defeat, McBurney instantly lunged straight into Gabriel's guard.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
Step, step.
The counterattack was swift. Quickly pulling back his sword, Gabriel aimed a lethal strike at McBurney's head.
McBurney took a step. Slightly dodging the opponent's attack, he used the Aura exploding near his legs to propel himself, striking at Gabriel's left side.
The realm of an Aura Swordsman—a realm he had reached by the skin of his teeth.
It was the miracle of the Asura Mind Method.
Though it was a surprise attack, it was at a speed Gabriel could still easily react to.
Rumble!
Aura erupted. With an enraged face, Gabriel swung his massive sword down at McBurney.
However—
Flutter.
"...!"
Gabriel's expression instantly froze.
McBurney had deliberately exposed his body. The result of that should have naturally been McBurney's defeat, but the place where Gabriel's sword passed through merely fluttered in the air, revealing a cold reality.
The right arm.
What should have been there was missing.
In the heat of the moment, Gabriel's instincts had targeted an arm that was no longer there. McBurney had intentionally offered up his empty right side as bait.
Swordsmen who lived in the world of common sense had the motion of parrying or severing an opponent's right arm ingrained into their very muscle memory. It was an excellent counterattack against any normal person, and Gabriel was no exception to that rule.
"Damn it...!"
The moment he realized he had fallen into the trap, Gabriel saw a blade filling his entire field of vision.
Thud!
"Cough."
Blood splattered. As Gabriel's massive frame collapsed backward, the people who had been obscured behind him came into sight.
The astonished spectators.
The pale-faced members of the Northeast Association.
Viscount Conrad, rendered completely speechless by the shock.
And...
'Roman Dmitry.'
Thud.
Gabriel hit the ground.
Suppressing the intense emotions welling up inside him, McBurney bowed his head deeply toward Roman.
'Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for giving me a new life.'
At that moment—
"Whoaaaaaa!"
"This is insane!"
"The one-armed swordsman beat Gabriel!"
The venue erupted into an absolute uproar.
It was an entirely unexpected variable, and a result that plunged Viscount Conrad and the Northeast Association straight into the depths of despair.