Chapter 367: The Tin Knight and the Land of Emeralds (17)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 367: The Tin Knight and the Land of Emeralds (17)
It was difficult to define your relationship with the previous knight as one of 'master and pupil.'
You had never properly spoken with him, nor had you ever been taught anything by him.
In a way, that was only natural.
After all, controlling a character who uses swordsmanship doesn't mean the player outside the monitor actually learns swordsmanship.
If you perceived this as a game.
If you dismissed everything as an illusion, that premise could never be broken.
But you had accepted that this was not a game.
You admitted it was not some hazy dream.
It was an incredibly painful thing to do.
Because accepting reality meant also accepting the absurd and desperate situation you were trapped in.
However, there was also something to be gained by doing so.
It was the chance to look back on yourself.
You could use the previous knight's power. You could use his abilities.
How to swing a sword, how to move your mana, how to take a step.
How to discern an enemy's skill. How to grasp the elements of the battlefield. How to assess your own condition.
You could naturally utilize everything the previous knight had built up.
Just as a person doesn't question how they breathe.
Just as they would find it difficult to answer if asked how they are able to walk.
To you, back when you saw everything as a game, the previous knight's abilities were like that.
But from a certain point on, that was no longer the case.
You began to seriously contemplate the act of breathing. You decided to analyze the act of walking, one step at a time.
It was a difficult process, but you had the world's finest model to work with.
The previous knight's experiences, etched into the doll's body, seemed to welcome your desire to move forward on your own, guiding and bestowing their wisdom upon you without reservation.
You were no longer a being who merely used what was given.
You were a being who could use that as a solid foothold to advance to the next stage.
Therefore.
[The 'Tin Knight' says that losing to some doll whose growth is stunted would be an insult to the old man!]
There was no way you could lose to the fake knight before you.
CLANG!
The knight's thrusting sword met yours, producing a sharp metallic ring.
Due to the difference in power output, you were pushed back, but instead of resisting, you threw the sword in your hand high into the air.
The knight's sword aimed for your now-defenseless chest, but you boldly offered up your side, grabbing the knight's arm and holding it fast.
Then, with your other palm, you struck the knight's elbow with all your might.
THWACK!
Despite it being a palm strike filled with mana, the knight's arm did not break.
The knight's body, a combination of high physical ability and vast holy power, was like a fortress in human form.
You didn't mind.
Smashing a fortress was something you had already done before.
Mana erupted from your elbow as if in an explosion.
CRACK!
The distinct sensation of shattering bone was transmitted to you.
And at the same time, your body was sent flying backward like a soccer ball.
It was the result of the knight exerting its monstrous strength to throw you.
With no time to break your fall, you swung your shield.
A blast of sword energy that had pursued you was blocked by it.
Looking at the knight, you saw it had switched its sword to the hand that had been holding its shield.
The arm that had originally held the sword was bent at a grotesque angle.
It seemed to be the result of your arm-break, followed by the strain of throwing you.
Your own condition was far from perfect.
Your waist had been deeply cut when you first grabbed its arm, and your left hand and arm, which you had used like a pile bunker, were badly crumpled.
As you focused your mana, the wounds began to repair themselves rapidly.
But you had no time to wait for the repairs to finish; you had to charge forward.
You could see the knight's right arm also rapidly mending itself with holy power.
SH-SH-SH-SH-SHINK!
The knight's sword energy spread out like a net, shredding the surroundings.
It was a flashy technique, unbefitting of the knight, but it wasn't wasteful.
From the air to the ground.
Your own sword, which was falling with excruciating slowness to your superhuman senses, was about to be swept up in that storm of sword energy.
The knight intended to hold you in check while simultaneously pulverizing your sword.
You threw your shield.
KAANG!
The shield, heavily infused with mana, was damaged by the net of sword energy, but it neither stopped nor changed its trajectory, striking the knight's sword.
Thrown off, the knight's sword energy failed to completely destroy your sword, merely knocking it away once more.
After a quick glance to confirm its direction, you charged forward.
The knight, having regained its footing, took aim at you again.
Your form, rushing forward without a sword or shield, might have looked like a moth drawn to a flame.
But you knew.
Full plate armor made of metal isn't as heavy as it looks.
But you, made of metal down to your very core, were more than heavy enough.
The sword energy from the knight's swing cut into your body.
Even though you had reinforced your body with as much mana as possible, a large gash was left behind.
But it didn't stop you.
Your body, now a single great iron mace, slammed into the knight.
KRA-POW!
The knight's body was thrown backward.
There was no blood, but a part of its armor was severely dented.
You immediately snatched your shield and threw it into the air.
The shield flew like a boomerang, met your sword, and then both flew in unison toward you.
For you, who could build a sandcastle with the aftershocks of beating down an enemy, this was well within the realm of cheap tricks.
Just as you recovered your sword and shield, the knight's sword swung for your neck.
A clean, efficient strike.
A beautiful trajectory that, while crude, possessed a certain functional beauty.
In response, you deliberately swung your sword with brutish force.
Mana and holy power repelled each other, creating a shower of sparks.
You checked the knight's eyes.
Those eyes, which showed not a sliver of emotion, somehow looked bewildered to you.
They were the eyes of someone seeing a being completely different from what they had predicted.
You had no mouth, but if you did, you felt you might have cracked a savage grin.
With every flash of your blades, a part of you and the knight was cut and chipped away.
You continuously repaired your body, and the knight healed its body with holy power.
At a glance, it seemed like a repeat of the earlier exchange, but the bizarre, erratic, and at times almost surreal movements you interspersed created new variables each time.
The knight's techniques were perfected and efficient, but to you, they were nothing more than things you already knew.
Conversely, the knight possessed a superior body, but its techniques were frozen in the era when the previous knight had fought Dracaena in a living body.
Not all of your techniques were superior to the previous knight's.
Sometimes you landed an unexpected, effective blow, but there were also many times when the result was worse than if you had simply used the previous knight's techniques as they were.
Fully utilizing what is given and building something new to utilize are two entirely different matters.
Still, you did not stop.
Because your body was tin. Because your body was a doll. Even if you made a mistake, even if your limbs were broken, as long as you weren't completely destroyed, you could get back up again and again.
The previous knight's techniques guided you. Dorothea's mana supported you from behind.
The Angel of Annihilation.
Theoretically the ultimate weapon, created by the God-King Oz to slaughter all who threatened him.
Its techniques had reached the zenith of an era.
Its body was in a realm even mighty generals could not reach.
Its mind held no hesitation, no mercy, no pride, allowing it to slaughter enemies solely according to its master's command.
That's right.
That's all it was.
You twitched your toes. The knight remained still.
You took half a step. The knight remained still.
You took a full step. The knight remained still.
No matter how perfect, how excellent, how strong.
He was a being that had already stopped.
Your sword, which had been constantly pushed back, was now clashing with the knight's on equal terms.
Your body, which had seemed on the verge of collapse, was now standing firm, its feet planted on the ground with a newfound stability.
With every exchange of blows, every meeting of eyes, every scattering of sword energy, your once-immature techniques steadily improved, becoming more threatening.
VWOOOOOM!
The Emerald Throne screamed.
As if it could not accept the fact that its final and strongest guardian was failing to overwhelm the enemy, it bolstered the knight with an even greater amount of holy power.
The earth split apart from the knight's swing, and space itself tore and screamed.
SLICE!
You tried to deflect the attack, but the shield in your hand could not withstand the knight's strike and shattered.
A long gash ran from your shoulder to your spine, and an immense amount of holy power ravaged your insides.
Crackle. You felt a chilling sensation as something important was damaged.
The core.
It was the sound of a crack forming in the vessel that held your soul.
At the same time, the connection between you and the Tin Knight wavered precariously.
It was the feeling of a thread, miraculously connected from a faraway place, about to snap.
The repair function also seemed to have been fried by the last attack; your body was healing, but the process was dangerously slow.
A fear you had never felt when you saw everything as a game drenched your heart.
It was not the fear of death.
It was the fear of being unable to die.
It was the terribly vast and venomous fear of being trapped for eternity in that lonely, incomprehensible space, unable to meet anyone, disconnected from everything, without even the release of rest.
You looked ahead.
An immense amount of holy power was surging from the knight's body like a roaring flame.
It was incredibly powerful and threatening, but your eyes saw through to its true nature.
That was clearly an amount of holy power beyond what the knight could handle.
As proof, the knight's body was constantly hemorrhaging all over, a process that was being forcibly healed by holy power over and over again.
When the knight swung its sword again, everything in the vicinity began to be indiscriminately sliced apart.
The ground, the debris from the battle, the air, and even space itself were no exception.
You swung your sword with all your might to counter, but even so, you could only protect the small space where you stood.
The impact of blocking the attack made your body creak, and the crack in your core widened.
The knight—or rather, the God-King Oz behind it—began to crush you with overwhelming force, as if to deny you any chance of a counterattack.
THUD!
K-THOOM!
KRA-KAAAAAAAM!
Each time the knight swung its sword, the wounds on your body grew larger, and the knight's body, forced beyond its limits, broke down at the same time.
And at last, following your shield, your sword also broke.
All that remained was a half-shattered blade and the hilt.
Even so, you did not give up.
You knew the courage your companions had shown throughout your journey.
Unlike your past self who had taken everything lightly, they were people who knew this was reality, who correctly perceived its weight, and yet willingly stood and fought.
They had all played their parts, yet you alone would be defeated.
That your defeat would endanger their very lives.
You could never accept that conclusion.
That indignation and desperation allowed you to stand and fight, even in the face of the terror of eternal solitude.
The knight brought down its final slash.
You swung your broken sword.
Shnk.
A sword was cut.
Not yours, but the knight's.
─────!
The doll-like knight was impassive, but in its place, the emerald holy power shrieked.
You looked at your hand.
In it was a sword made of golden mana.
You suddenly recalled the last conversation you had with Dracaena.
You remembered the prideful dragon who had scoffed at your playful demand for a reward before disappearing.
The sword cried out.
It commanded you, with utter arrogance and pride, to get rid of the unpleasant thing before you.
You let out a short laugh and kicked off the ground.
You raised the sword and brought it down.
You saw the knight's body,
and the throne behind it,
split apart in a single instant.
The next moment, a golden flash erupted from the sword, erasing them all.