Chapter 81
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: One Thought Leads to Another
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‘Faster than a monster that's already faster than humans? Then isn't that just an even bigger monster?’
I was stroking my chin, watching Walter's movements.
Piuwoong-!
An arrow whistled past me and lodged into Perkler's shoulder.
Kuaaa-!
Oof, that must hurt.
It was an arrow loosed by Gazdal, the man from the Eastern Continent.
“Aw-, missed it.”
He grumbled like that, but leisure played across Gazdal's lips.
Gazdal nodded at me in greeting, nocked another arrow, and said,
“Boss, like I told ya. I've been thinkin'. Runnin' like that ain't easy at all, right? But he can pull it off now—gotta be the results of trainin' with you, Requiya, and Instructor Fred, yeah?”
Why does this guy talk like that?
“You can run faster usin' mana, make your arrows hit harder too. Accuracy? Don't even need to mention it. Walter's arrows curve right in midair.”
Got it.
Means he's usin' mana to steer the arrow mid-flight.
I yanked the spear strapped to Gazdal's back.
A relatively short, slender throwing spear.
“I'll handle it.”
“Walter! Bring it here!”
“The boss is here!”
The bandits were residents of the sanctuary now.
Couldn't just let 'em get sacrificed to some monster.
Walter veered toward me.
I kicked off the ground and leaped his way.
As I brushed past Walter, our eyes met. Hey there, Walter.
Suddenly, Perkler filled my vision.
“Let's see what you've got—.”
Not talking to Perkler.
“—Kalruk.”
The first martial art I'd picked up after crash-landing in this world was spear technique. Or more precisely, staff work.
Truth was, the Sanctuary's martial manuals didn't fuss over weapons.
Some passages called it a sword, others a spear; still more mentioned axes, clubs, bows, and the like.
Just fit yourself to whatever weapon you had in hand.
“Thou who hunts the sanctuary's residents and thirsts for their blood—I judge thee for the sin of heresy.”
I slashed at Perkler's neck, deliberately slowing my strike so he'd dodge.
As expected, he whipped his head aside.
This time, I swung at a speed he could block.
Perkler guarded his neck with an arm, right on cue.
Kaang-.
Stone-hard muscle met steel, ringing out metallic.
I spun round and round, landing a barrage of one-sided blows.
Deliberately left him no room to counter.
If he grabbed me, he'd crush my body to pulp, after all.
‘A few days ago, maybe he could've. But now? Fat chance. Still, better safe than sorry.’
This much playtime was plenty.
I drove the spear haft hard into his forehead.
Ppak-!
Sounded like rock cracking.
My wrist throbbed.
‘Kuh-, what a rush.’
Perkler's skull had to be rattling—couldn't tell dream from reality right now.
No intention of letting him snap out of it.
You know the saying.
Dying quietly in your sleep, painless—now that's a blessing.
“Holy Knight Kalruk commands the annihilation of thy soul.”
Kuh-, what a line.
Ppuk-!
The spear whipped half a turn, skewering Perkler's neck.
I danced behind him on wind-light feet.
Yanked the jutting blade, letting the haft punch clean through.
Drifting into oblivion from blood loss, he'd sleep easy.
Spinal cord severed—no pain even if he woke.
Kuung-.
As he crumpled, I swung the spear hard to flick off the blood.
Handed it back to Gazdal.
“Good work, everyone.”
“You're the one who did it, boss.”
“Talkative bunch. Let's hunt till sunset, then head home.”
“Gotcha-.”
A lot had changed.
Me, snapping a monster's neck in one go.
The bandits, unflappable like it was nothing.
Not a bad change at all.
Rare peaceful days slipped by.
Between mana cultivation sessions, I kept tabs on sanctuary business.
“Gates wide open, and not a single ant shows.”
“Close 'em up, then?”
“…….”
No interrupting dumb ideas at meetings.
Once done, everyone headed to their posts.
“I'll check the weapons, pull any needin' repairs.”
“Good man, Yuderg—appreciate it. Requiya, Fred, lend him a hand.”
“Yes!”
“Heh, yes.”
Hunting support stayed me and Ibu.
Ibu and Hama getting stronger by the day meant less for me to do.
“Fuckin' thing. Boss. Tell 'em no rabbits. Cute as hell. Breaks Ibu's heart when they die.”
“Gazdal, no rabbits. Plenty of food anyway.”
“Roger that!”
After work, I'd oversee the bandits' training in the plaza.
“Eragez, tough?”
“Tough, sir!”
“You're doin' it right. Tough means it's workin'. Sirgraf, hurts?”
Nod, nod-.
“Hurts means you're young. What's a kid like you whinin' for?”
Nod, nod-.
Evenings, we'd draw water from the well and stream. Drinking and washing supplies.
Sensitive senses or not, I must be pretty dense in some ways.
You know, that whole "five senses" deal?
The elixir's effect was fading, but no clue how much time left—or gone.
Silver Star didn't know either. Probably dulled up merging with me.
Still, I'd decided—time to burn through the ability non-stop.
Brute force method, sure, but it'd boost proficiency and expand my mana vessel to boot.
“Kahahahaha-!”
Guuuu-.
I'd whip up rain clouds, and Ibu would dance his axe routine underneath.
Hama'd just gape his jaws and guzzle rainwater.
‘That's right, good boy. Ibu's killin' it.’
I was admiring Ibu—dangling from his axe planted in the dirt, hips bucking in some lewd jig—when,
“Boss, Ibu.”
Erakins showed up.
“What?”
“Three days southwest, there's a lake. Used to connect here through the stream, but a rock's blockin' the way midway.”
Ibu froze mid-dance, slung his axe, and bolted over.
“Fuckin' thing. Era, why's a rock there? Who pulled that shitty stunt? Ibu'll smash their skull flat.”
“Rock's massive. Shape looks like an old Draven army rampart got flung there. Storm, maybe-.”
“Fuckin' thing. I'll head there.”
That night, Ibu rode Hama off somewhere.
Came back with tousled hair, shredded clothes, stone dust caked on his bare skin everywhere.
Next day, miracle—the stream started flowing.
‘Water problem solved.’
Nights, we'd circle up in the plaza, grilling meat.
“Walter, bison's best smoked. Tasty, but chewy as hell.”
“I just kill 'em, Gazdal.”
“I know. Smoke and salt it—lasts way longer.”
“Roger.”
Sudden humid gust.
Everyone froze, noses twitching.
“Moon's got a halo.”
Edinson murmured, distant.
“Rain comin'?”
“No dust when we plow, then.”
“Rain means huntin' break. Gloomy monsters prowl the woods even midday. Beasts all hole up.”
Chatter ramped up.
Ibu, who took a shine to the bandits, jumped right in.
“Fuckin' thing. Ibu loves flowers.”
“Bloom plenty soon.”
“Fuckin' thing, Era. But meat's the best. Fuckin' love it.”
“Dig in, Ibu.”
Me, Steron, Roginin? We just watched the others yap, not diving deep ourselves.
That was rest enough.
I ordered the two Holy Knights, eyes sunken from overwork.
“You two sleep tonight. I'll take watch.”
“Roger…….”
“Roger.”
Watch nights, I'd stand on the walls punching and kicking at the stars till dawn.
Had that Sanctuary leverage, armory full of weapons—but had to prep for bare-handed scraps.
Meant honing hand-to-hand was a must.
Every breath packed the profound essence of mana cultivation.
What a ridiculous loop.
I generate mana, Toolsep gobbles it up.
Hated its wild rampages, yet here I was feeding it.
Otherwise? It'd just lurk in my blood, waiting to devour me whole.
‘Need a shift in thinking…….’
Toolsep's tantrums hit harder every time.
Meaning it scaled with my mana cultivation and vessel size. Divine vessel too.
Grow stronger, and its backlash ramps up in tandem.
‘Once it kicks off, it explodes without end. Total loss of control. Toolsep's power feels purer, more refined than mana or divine force.’
Fists and feet flying wild, thoughts chasing tails.
‘It's tough 'cause there's more Toolsep than I can wrangle…….’
Aigo, tricky.
‘But if my mana pool outstrips Toolsep……?’
Might gain perfect control.
Ibu proved it.
Ibu never swelled or spasmed.
‘His vessel's just enormous.’
This lunatic would clasp hands in prayer pose, raising and lowering till elbows touched, then rage why nothing "grew."
The hell's he trying to grow?
‘Ibu's mana tank is huge. Dragonkin trait. Just doesn't know how to tap it.’
Not overdoing past limits helped too—solid theory.
‘Every cultivation pull, Toolsep slurps it up. Maybe a desperate bid to stick around as real power. Toolsep wants to exist, same as me.’
Made my mind ease a bit. What a softie I was—granting Toolsep a personality and all.
Motivation surged.
‘Gotta absorb those mana orbs. Feels doable. Not losin' to Toolsep—it's me honing elixir control.’
Thoughts snowballing, I'd somehow vaulted the walls toward the watchtower.
Kicked off the parapet, midair stomp.
Multiple spins to bleed momentum, then landed on the spire.
Balanced stork-like on one leg, moon-gazing.
The little moon trailed the big one.
‘Little one's a mana orb too. Same spot.’
They said the founding Saintess made it.
Small moon stood for the Supreme Saintess.
El Ravina held the seat now.
‘Saintesses must pull off something epic with it.’
Overlook the world?
They'd see every damn star-shape then.
I traced where the moonlight fell.
Hellite lay there.
Roginin had mentioned it.
When I asked about the Sanctuary.
— “Figured Holy Knights were just legend. But Ravina knew all about it, of course. Oral tradition among the top Saintesses……. But…….”
— “Told ya to come hear it yourself if curious.”
— “Exactly.”
Didn't need to know to get by, but damn if I wasn't curious.
Visiting Hellite didn't scream danger either.
‘I'll drop by someday. Their loss if not.’
Thirsty Holy Knight heads to the Holy Kingdom, right?
Take it or leave it.