Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Chapter 1: Another Chance Given (2)
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Thud. Thud.
Martin Adalbert and Sien Igrit descended stone stairs.
The deeper they went underground, the clearer the beastly howls became. The air grew heavy as the mana concentration thickened.
Yet the two showed no concern whatsoever. They simply kept walking with calm expressions.
At the end of their path, a vast space unfolded—one large enough for dozens of people.
Stone pillars and stalactites littered the area, making it hard to move around. Fortunately, glowing rocks embedded sporadically in the ceiling provided enough light to see clearly.
"I've come here so many times, but I still can't get used to it."
"That's understandable. Dungeons aren't made for humanity, after all."
Sien grumbled with a furrowed brow. Martin replied with a smile.
Dungeon.
Another world beneath the Krasian Continent.
The eternal enemy of humanity, where monsters endlessly spawned—the source of nightmares.
Monsters born here periodically climbed to the surface, threatening mankind.
As such, ordinary people were strictly forbidden from entering.
Ironically, however, this place had contributed more to the advancement of civilization than anything else. It was a treasure trove of resources, including mana stones.
There were nine dungeon entrances across the continent, and Vareahein City—the heart of Adalbert territory—held one.
Considering that all nations except the Altheria Empire controlled one each, this was truly remarkable.
Thanks to it, House Adalbert wielded influence rivaling a kingdom, and its patriarch might as well be called a king. The other three great noble houses were no different.
It wasn't for nothing that the three great noble houses were regarded as special even within the Altheria Empire.
"Anyway, those old fogeys in the elder council and the greedy branch family members are really pushing their luck."
"Ah, you're talking about the mission, right, Sien?"
"Yeah. What’s the point of taking down the Monster Lord on the tenth floor within a hundred days? The real key is awakening your unique ability anyway. Right?"
"That's true. Even completing the mission won't make you patriarch if you can't awaken your unique ability."
Awakening a unique ability within a hundred days.
That was the task Martin faced. Everything else was meaningless.
'Last time, I failed spectacularly.'
There were indeed people who awakened unique abilities later in life. The problem was how miraculously rare it was.
A hundred days had been granted, but he couldn't suddenly gain what he'd failed to grasp in a lifetime. Elder Aren knew that full well and had proposed it out of mere magnanimity.
In fact, Martin hadn't awakened his unique ability at this time. His failure led to House Adalbert's expulsion from the three great noble houses, and as the sole direct descendant, he himself fell to commoner status.
It was a situation where vanishing from history wouldn't have been surprising.
But fate played a trick, perhaps.
Two years later, at age twenty, he awakened his unique ability postnatally. That allowed him to reclaim his nobility.
And so, he resolved to fight—for his rightful place.
"Still, I don't think it's all bad."
"Why not?"
"Because I can prove my strength to everyone."
Martin answered confidently. Then he turned his body.
"Yip! Graaah!"
"Grrrrowl!"
Sounds like barking dogs pierced their ears.
Reptilian-headed humanoid monsters soon appeared.
"Kobolds."
Martin, who had already sensed their approach, remained composed.
They inhabited the first floor of the dungeon alongside goblins and were considered weak individually.
They compensated with numbers—in this case, twelve of them, all armed with fist axes.
"No need for you to step in this time, Sien."
"Huh? No need to push yourself. Training like this is just a formality anyway, and fighting trash like them won't awaken your unique ability."
"True, but I want to loosen up. I haven't touched my sword in days because of the funeral."
"Pfft. The greatest genius in Adalbert history won't have dulled that much."
Sien chuckled in response.
It was true that Martin was being scorned by nobles for lacking a unique ability.
But he possessed overwhelming talent in one area: swordsmanship.
The greatest sword genius since the founding patriarch of House Adalbert.
Even those who mocked him couldn't deny that assessment.
"If a genius asks, you'll let me handle it alone, right?"
"If you put it that way, fine. Go ahead."
"Thanks."
Sien finally agreed. Martin refocused on the kobolds, reaching for the scabbard at his waist with his right hand.
As his five fingers gently gripped the hilt,
Shing.
A pleasing sound rang out, and the silver-white blade slid free.
'This talent is insane.'
Sien was awestruck.
It was just drawing a sword—nothing special. Yet it was breathtakingly beautiful, stirring her heart.
At the same time, it sent chills down her spine.
The razor-sharp blade evoked thoughts of death in any who beheld it.
She wasn't the only one who felt that way.
"Grrrrowl."
"Kyaaaooo."
All monsters instinctively regarded intelligent beings like humans as enemies.
But the kobolds before Martin hesitated to charge.
Their survival instincts screamed warnings: they could never defeat the being before them—rushing in meant certain death.
In that moment, Martin circulated his mana.
Mana surged from his abdominal mana core—the mark of a true knight. It flowed through his mana circuits to his sword.
Hummm.
A golden glow blossomed brilliantly, enveloping the blade.
The art of manifesting refined internal mana externally: aura.
It required a three-circle mana core in the abdomen, and only upon reaching this realm was one called a true knight.
Even highly talented knights typically couldn't wield aura until their late twenties. Sien, hailed as a true genius, had only managed it this year at twenty-three.
'And he awakened it at seventeen.'
Just last year. That was when she truly grasped what talent beyond common sense looked like.
"Not coming? Fine, I'll come to you."
Martin declared calmly.
This was his first real combat since regressing.
The opponents were underwhelming, but it didn't matter. Plenty more foes awaited him ahead.
Whoosh!
He finally kicked off the ground.
The ferocious dash finally spurred the kobolds into combat stance.
'T too late.'
Swoosh!
An unhesitating slash from above.
A long afterimage trailed like golden silk through the air, the blade striking a kobold's head dead-on.
Bone and flesh cleaved apart in an instant. Confirming it, Martin kicked the body away.
It flew like a cannonball, crashing into another charging kobold. An explosion of gore followed, mangling both.
"Gaaah!"
"Kywaang!"
The kobolds flew into a frenzy at their kin's death. Rage overpowered their fear of Martin.
Gripping their fist axes tightly, they charged en masse. Their numbers bolstered their momentum.
'Pathetic.'
Their steps telegraphed their every move.
The subtle cues in their gestures revealed their targets instantly.
All judgments happened in a flash, linking straight to action.
Boom!
Martin slammed down his mana-reinforced right foot. A shockwave rippled out, unbalancing the swept-up kobolds.
He launched forward, closing the distance in a blink. He swung his aura-wrapped sword horizontally.
Slice!
One kobold's head flew into the air. Feeling the feedback in his hands, Martin pivoted on his left foot. Centrifugal force propelled a slash from low left to high right.
The aura on the blade extended. The luminous edge carved a long arc, ensnaring three kobolds.
Splatter!
The kobolds didn't register their deaths. Momentum carried their severed bodies a few more steps before they crumpled to the ground.
"Gaaah!"
"Kywaang!"
The one-sided slaughter quenched the kobolds' rage in an instant. Even their instinctive hostility toward humans vanished.
Terror.
No other emotions gripped them. Abandoning the fight, they turned tail and fled.
"What a hassle."
Kobolds and goblins called for reinforcements after fleeing. Even weaklings became threats in dozens or hundreds.
Muttering lightly, Martin leaped powerfully.
Pursuit was effortless.
He could see the path to intercept every fleeing one. Just focusing revealed the optimal route.
Whoosh.
Thus, he dashed unhindered, cutting them down. Each swing claimed a life for certain. The dungeon's complex terrain posed no obstacle.
Thud.
The last kobold collapsed, bisected.
"Including the chase, one minute thirty seconds... Isn't that too fast, Martin? Even for kobolds, that's twelve of them."
"Ever heard of rabbits or sheep taking down a lion or tiger? I haven't."
"Hmm. You've gotten awfully cocky. You used to blush at compliments. Who are you, and what did you do with Martin?"
"Imitating someone with my level of talent? That's a talent in itself."
"Whoa. Can I just punch you once?"
"No thanks. You might actually kill me."
Sien playfully clenched her fist with a grin. Martin flatly refused. Separate from his swordsmanship or current realm, her physical conditioning vastly outstripped his.
She could fell most monsters with a single knuckle rap.
'Good call fighting alone.'
Swinging the sword and wielding aura posed no issue.
But his actions lagged behind his perceptions. It was the gap between his past Sword Saint mind and his current frail body.
This battle had meaning. He'd gauged the divide.
'At this rate, I'll recover my original power faster than expected.'
Martial arts, magic, unique abilities.
The powers defining the Krasian Continent.
All progressed from one-circle to five-circle realms.
In his previous life, Martin had reached the pinnacle five-circle at just twenty-three, earning the title of Sword Saint.
The empire teemed with five-circle-plus powerhouses. Few had ascended purely through swordsmanship like him.
Regaining that power swiftly was encouraging.
Not everything went smoothly, though.
'Ugh!'
A sudden throbbing headache struck, his mana circuits aching fiercely.
Sweat poured down his back from the intense pain. The illness dormant during the funeral flared while wielding aura.
"You okay, Martin?!"
Sien rushed to him in alarm.
To reassure her, he raised his right hand.
"...Just a simple headache. Happens all the time, right?"
"You've never had a flare-up from mere kobolds lately."
"Probably from resting during the funeral. It'll stabilize with time. No need to worry."
"...You really think so?"
Sien countered with a sorrowful expression.
A bitter smile tugged at Martin's lips. Her heartfelt concern pierced him.
He had no reply.
He could only curse the illness that had tormented him lifelong and driven him to death.
'What a goddamn curse.'
The Dragon's Curse.
The most horrific affliction on the Krasian Continent—a twisted blend of blessing and malediction.