Chapter 52

Is a shield a weapon? Or armor?

The answer to that is simple.

It’s all how you use it.

I leap over the charging shield and take to the air.

Right after impact.

Twisting my whole body, I scatter the shock and, not satisfied with that, use the rebound to ride the shield itself.

A straight line can be wrapped into a circle.

A point can stain a line.

And blanks can be filled with points.

…I don’t know what it is exactly.

But something I learned by doing.

However, I still don’t know the exact principle behind it or why it works, or how it operates.

But.

I’m no scholar.

So there’s no need for me to desperately try to understand it in my head.

…If I can just use it.

If I can pull it off.

Anything will do.

“Huh?”

Even though he rammed his small body into me like an angry bull, why am I the one being pushed back?

Not only that, I clearly got hit, I could feel it.

So why did he end up riding my shield so effortlessly?

His agility as he tramples my arm like a leg and charges forward.

“You again with your stupid tricks!”

It’s a misconception.

I’ve never treated my opponent as anything less than capable of pulling off such moves.

So this notion is purely a mistake.

However, such thoughts create openings.

Pretending to approach head-on, then suddenly twisting my body at the shoulder and climbing up his arm acrobatically, threading through his waist and legs, I finally slam my axe into his groin.

It’s more of a tool or equipment than a weapon, but…

Same difference.

It’s all about how you use it.

“Gaaaah!”

No matter how much you train your whole body, even if you harden your groin and vital areas like steel, as long as it’s flesh and blood, there will always be weak points.

Regardless of how refined your body might be.

What’s more.

I was able to turn even his resistance against me into my own momentum while clinging to him.

Moreover, scattering his mana flow upon contact, dulling his senses and throwing off his reactions wasn’t even an issue.

That’s why, despite being able to easily neutralize the axe warrior from the start, I didn’t reveal this.

They’ve probably guessed by now that touching me causes problems.

But in emergencies, when a strong impression gets lodged in their heads…

Prejudices naturally form without them realizing.

This leads them to over-prepare, becoming clumsier and more rigid.

Instincts, which seem to protect oneself, often end up destroying oneself when they’re based on flawed assumptions—instinctive responses and motions.

Primitive judgment can also be the biggest traitor to one’s intentions.

Blocking courageous actions, instilling fear, magnifying trivial things into terrifying obstacles causing despair, interfering with challenges, and ultimately forcing one to kneel.

“Aaaagh! Krrraaah!”

To overcome oneself means suppressing and conquering such prejudices, fixed notions, and even instincts, crushing them entirely.

…The Demon King sure liked spouting off about this stuff, but looking back, it was some pretty core advice.

“That’s good! Very good indeed!”

“……”

After spinning his sword once, Carriel positions the blade near his ribs.

The tip points diagonally forward in a striking stance.

Even with one hand, this is Fortes.

His left arm pulls close, his hand guarding his face and jawline.

The bent elbow angles sharply like an arrow aimed at the target.

“What kind of stance is that?”

The spear warrior tilts his weapon slightly and asks curiously.

“……”

“So, you want to see for yourself, huh?”

Then let’s give you what you want!

“Kryaaaah!”

A battle cry flattens as the spear tip flashes and charges in.

“―!!”

Dropping into a near-crouched position instantly, using only the sword in my right hand to block, I smash the haft of the spear with brute force, barely deflecting it while extending my left hand to grab it.

Simultaneously, I seize the spear.

Before I know it, my whole body is pulled directly toward the front.

Had the spear been retracted just a moment earlier…

The hand gripping the spear would have surely been shredded by the blade.

I’m aware this is a dangerous gamble.

But without boldness, there’s no way to overturn a power gap.

If you have overwhelming strength, techniques, tactics, strategies—all that might be meaningless.

But without overwhelming strength…

You have no choice but to rely on clever maneuvers.

Just blindly following along is akin to throwing yourself onto a spear.

Like a snake, I climb up the spear shaft toward him.

“Wha?!”

I observe his bewildered expression, analyzing his gaze and demeanor.

Faster than any change in his eyes or expressions.

Optimized instinctive movements follow familiar patterns.

At the level of muscle memory.

Predicting the flow of mana coursing through his entire body.

Beyond thought and sensation.

Responding to my own optimized instincts.

…I press forward.

Simultaneously, I swiftly threw my sword.

“Muuu―!”

The sword rushes toward his face.

And at the same time,

I climb up his spear and hand, drawing out my axe.

Crack!

“Ghh!”

Through the gaps between his massive fingers and nails.

I swing my axe with all the momentum I gathered by climbing up the spear.

Somehow, it lodges in.

A focused attack utilizing the accumulated force from climbing against the spear.

But this won’t be the finishing blow.

“Tricksy bastard―!”

Grabbing his fingers, I throw my whole body around, twisting―

Snap!

“Tooooorrghh― Gaaaah!”

Even if his fingers are crushed, that alone isn’t enough to make him flip.

But if he doesn’t roll with the twist, it won’t stop at just breaking fingers.

Such instincts lead even his colossal frame to instinctively curl inward.

Had it been his wrist, attempting this would’ve been impossible.

Being large has its advantages too.

If his build had been ambiguous or excessively huge, this attempt would’ve been meaningless as well.

There was no certainty, but there was no other option.

Clang!

Even if I roll across the ground or somehow end up atop him, I wouldn’t gain any advantage.

How could a child atop an adult claim dominance?

But.

“This rat-sized thing! Where do you think you’re going―!”

The sword lying on the ground.

As he rolls across the floor and I follow suit, I snatch it early.

Simultaneously climbing up his arm, I grip his head with both knees.

I thrust the raised sword tip right in front of his eyes.

“Muuu…what?”

He must’ve sensed it.

Before he could react, I struck down and quickly retreated.

“Gaaaaah!”

Even a moment of hesitation would’ve meant being caught and finished off in a way I wouldn’t have welcomed.

Retreating far away, Carriel picks up his sword again.

Fortress Carriel’s straight sword.

The sight of Elhermina’s sword embedded in his eye, unable to be pulled out, struggling to even stand properly—though it might look pitiful at first glance—it chilled my heart as well.

“You crazy bastard! For a brat, you’ve got guts! Where’d you leave your liver?! There’s such a thing as recklessness, you know!”

Struggling to suppress the pain, he stands up.

Perhaps I underestimated him a bit.

The sensation of piercing his eyeball and drilling into it was clear, but who knows?

Maybe pulling back quickly prevented me from finishing him off.

But at that moment, there was no other choice.

No reason to regret or lament.

Even if it wasn’t the best option, it’s no reason to be discouraged.

After all, this might not be the last chance.

“Grrrrr!”

They say a wounded beast is more fearsome.

Then does that mean an uninjured wild beast isn’t scary?

It’s all about perception.

If I get scared, it’ll only put me at a disadvantage.

On the other hand, thinking otherwise opens up more opportunities.

“Hah, hahahaha! Fine! I admit it! You may be a strange brat completely different from Carriel, but at least in terms of determination and bravery when facing us, you seem worthy to carry his name!”

“……”

“Good. Since you seem ready, let’s recreate that battle as you wish! Let’s overturn our miserable past and create a glorious fight anew!”

What? Ready?

“?!”

Suddenly.

My mind begins to cloud over.

“……”

My whole body feels limp, my consciousness blurs, my throat burns, and no matter how I try to breathe, the air never seems sufficient, preventing my breathing from stabilizing.

“Yes! That’s exactly how he faced us! Not at full strength! So how could we have been powerless against him?!”

The warrior’s shout bordered on a scream.

“……”

It’s hard to even keep my eyes open properly.

Sounds fade away, vision wavers, and this feeling, this sensation, is like all my senses are shutting down.

‘Yeah.’

Even right after returning, he couldn’t get a proper sip of water.

He couldn’t eat properly either.

At that moment, all he could do was calm the anxious young villagers.

And then.

From afar, he approached the group heading toward the village.

Without hesitation.

With nothing but earnest prayers and desires.

“……”

But.

How am I supposed to fight like this?

Just holding the sword is a trial.

Lifting my body with two legs feels like a grueling task.

“……”

Still, there’s nothing else to say.

When has the world ever gone according to my wishes?

Injustice is normal.

No one wants to list unfavorable circumstances about themselves.

Whether choosing a battlefield or anything else, everyone—whether brave or cowardly—wants to have the upper hand.

There probably isn’t much difference in that regard.

If someone asks for a disadvantageous battlefield, it’s likely because they believe they can write their own glory.

They think they can control the battlefield like legendary heroes of old.

They imagine they can manipulate the battlefield with divine tactics.

Such fantasies, delusions, misconceptions.

…Will drive them into cold, dark pits.

It could be a grave or a cruel scene of burning corpses.

“Well! Now it begins! Can you just sit here?!”

“……”

There’s no energy to speak.

My throat is torn, my mouth completely dried out.

But.

I struggle to stand up.

“Alright, show us your limits. If you inherited Carriel’s name, his strength and skills!”

Be willing to thoroughly defeat us!

“The legend hasn’t ended! Our struggle wasn’t meaningless!”

The earth shakes.

Everyone watching starts approaching me.

Their meaningless march across the plains, stomping the ground, feels like a fleeting illusion.

But to me now, it seems utterly merciless.

“…Let’s give it a try.”

More like a breath escaping my lips than an actual voice, a feeble wind sound.

But so what?

I straighten my back.

If my posture collapses, I won’t be able to use anything I’ve learned.

As my body grows weak, my motivation fades like a dying ember.

All that remains is instinct.

An enemy is in front of me, and I must crush them to survive.

It’s truly simple.

Everything becomes monotonous and straightforward.

“……”

They’re coming closer.

Dozens, maybe hundreds.

I can’t even count properly.

My brain won’t function.

Even though I see them, I can’t properly recognize them.

For a moment, my consciousness flickers.

I almost nodded off.

Tension is firm, but my body won’t cooperate.

‘There’s no answer.’

I’m different from him.

Saint Carriel consistently honed himself, fought real battles, and continued to improve himself afterward…

‘No.’

There’s no need to make excuses.

Least of all self-excuses.

Unnecessary thoughts.

Allocating awareness and thought to them is truly, utterly wasteful.

I discard emotional attachments.

Push them away.

Didn’t I already doubt whether emotions were gone, whether I was dead, broken, or destroyed?

‘Was that all just another form of vanity?’

Not even a sigh escapes me.

I lower my stance.

What should I do first?

‘I don’t know.’

Defense? Counterattack? Evasion? Preemptive strike?

I don’t know.

Really, at this point, nothing comes to mind.

Nothing appears before my eyes.

That’s why, perhaps.

“……?”

When that illusion appeared, I wondered if what I was seeing was reality.

Instinctively, my gaze was drawn to it.

Compared to the towering figures of the savage warriors before me.

His back seemed impossibly tiny.

Faintly, I can see his eyes and lips part slightly.

‘…Follow me.’

Soon the warriors charge in.

Their momentum and intimidation.

Like the simulated heavy cavalry in the Demon King’s dreamlike battlefield where I repeatedly battered myself.

As they hurl their full strength at me to sweep me away…

I took an involuntary step forward within that wave.

All I could think of just before was chasing after his back.

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