novelraw Chapter 184 : Chapter 184
Chapter 184 : Chapter 184
Chapter 184 - The Executioner's Dilemma (8)
An impromptu action I had never attempted before.
The faster-than-expected consumption of stamina that resulted from it.
Objectively speaking, it might have been closer to a self-defeating move that hindered the achievement of the plan rather than helping it.
The damage I received and the damage Grændal received from that action were the same, but it was true that it was more disadvantageous for me, who had a weakness in terms of durability.
However.
Kaang-!
For some reason, I didn't particularly feel like it was ‘over.’
No, rather, I felt a strange sense of elation enveloping me.
Clang-!
Even while exchanging sword blows, everything is clear.
‘A large motion is a feint. He’ll thrust in for a surprise attack, so I’ll widen the distance.’
Whap-!
‘Followed by a diagonal slash from the lower right to the upper left.’
Kagagak-!
It is natural for one's clarity of thought to diminish when the body is under strain.
But this time, something was different.
It was a story of being able to easily understand even a pattern I was seeing for the first time, as if I could grasp it in my hands.
However, that was only a matter of perception.
Tong-!
I met Grændal’s sword strike with perfect timing, but I couldn't parry it properly and was sent flying.
‘Well, I'll be.’
It was because I had exhausted my stamina to the point where my body couldn't keep up with my perception.
Shall I take solace in the fact that the damage wasn't that great, thanks to the soft snow piled on the ground?
“⋯⋯.”
Feeling a strange sense of liberation, I pushed my fallen body up and readjusted my stance.
If I were to think about why I felt liberated, I could guess the reason was probably the surrounding scenery.
Behind the ruined bell tower, a white snowfield and forest stretched out to the horizon.
I had never thought of it as beautiful until now.
Not when I was dragging this wretched body to this place to kill Grændal.
Nor when I occasionally caught glimpses of the scenery outside during the fight.
It was because my gaze was so clearly fixed that I had no time to pay attention to my surroundings.
But now, that scenery was clearly in my perception, which meant that in this situation, I was even surveying that scenery.
‘I see.’
This was the sensation of seeing the world as the world itself.
It was the basic perspective required to use high-level Origin Magic, to the extent of cutting through space.
And it was also clear that this understanding was not limited to just the physical aspects.
When you progress through Elwin's story in
That by clashing swords with someone, you can read their life, their thoughts, and even their soul.
That a sword strike is the culmination of a swordsman.
To be honest, I thought it was nonsense. No, to be more precise, I thought it was a story that had nothing to do with me.
The people who had actually felt it were all major characters, including Elwin.
It was a world far removed from me, with my meager talent. That's what I thought, and it was actually true.
Even after going through countless battles, I had never felt someone's life from their sword.
To me, clashing swords was just one of the many acts for survival.
However, now I could truly understand those words.
To steal 『Space Slash』, the technique that symbolized Grændal in
How does he use his magic power to use that technique?
And in what way does he thrust his sword?
That was the foundation of 『Space Slash』, and its framework.
And this also meant that there was something to be filled within that framework.
‘I agonized over it a lot.’
Even though I understood the entire process rationally, actually imbuing it into the sword was another story.
Despite having all the understanding, the feeling that something was missing always lingered by my side.
It was also true that all my previous attempts to imitate 『Space Slash』 had ended in failure.
What on earth was the problem?
At the time, no matter how much I agonized, I couldn't find out, and since there was no way to go back, I had no choice but to repeat countless deaths.
And, in that process, while exchanging countless sword strikes, I was finally able to find out the identity of that empty space.
Not just ‘how,’ but also ‘why.’
When a person throws a punch, they don't primarily perceive the movement of the muscles used in that process.
What comes first is the conscious or unconscious understanding of why the punch is being thrown.
Because the person in front of you started a fight.
Because the opponent threw a punch at me first.
Because that opponent is a sworn enemy, and so on.
Of course, the execution of a technique and the act of throwing a punch couldn't be completely equated, but their essence was the same.
As I exchanged blows with Grændal, and as I directly received that space-cutting sword, I thought.
With what heart does this executioner wield his sword?
When he wields his sword, what does he feel?
I already knew the answer.
The pain of being abandoned by the world.
The contempt for knights who were not knightly.
The sadness he felt after learning that the nature of the human species was so weak.
The regret of thinking, what if I had chosen a different path.
The anger that had lost its way due to that nature and ended up directed at the world itself.
And even the obsession of acting while knowing that his actions were a contradiction.
All those feelings were mixed together, and the executioner must have truly wished.
If I could, I want to cut down this rotten world.
And his god granted him the ability to fulfill that wish.
By bestowing upon him a sword strike that could cleave the world itself.
These facts were not things I was completely unaware of, nor were they sudden enlightenments.
Everything was in my mind. Just fragmented and unconnected.
And what connected those fragments was the countless sword strikes I had exchanged with him.
If so. What kind of heart must I wield my sword with to steal that world-cleaving sword strike?
***
Kang, kaang-!
The silence of the tranquil snowfield was filled with the sound of steel clashing against steel.
The source of that sound, the flow of the desperately continuing battle, must have been tilting at some point.
“This bastard⋯⋯!”
Strange, bizarre.
That was the true impression Grændal had of the boy before him.
That weak body could not possibly have withstood the shocks inflicted so far and should have collapsed long ago.
He had never been an enemy with strengths in physical abilities from the start, but the boy now was clearly at his limit.
He was not strong. He was not fast. He was not sturdy.
He was precarious, as if he would fall at any moment.
And yet, the boy was dominating the battlefield.
‘Am I⋯⋯ losing in a battle of wits?’
There is no need to be strong. There is no need to be fast. There is no need to be sturdy either.
It was enough to just bring the sword to the most perfect angle at the most perfect moment.
That was the reason why the boy was overwhelming the executioner, and it was the proof that the world the boy was seeing had changed.
Whap-!
Grændal, who had his own strength turned back against him through a counter, could faintly diagnose the strain on his body.
‘I'm on the verge of my limit.’
A situation on the razor's edge of being able to continue the battle.
In such a situation, the executioner must have made a decision.
To make a decisive move.
Clack.
He takes his stance.
He draws out the magic power bestowed upon him by the ‘Great One’ with all his might.
The process required for Grændal to unleash a sword strike that cleaves the world ended with just that.
The rest was just a sincere wish.
That he wanted to cut down this world.
That he wanted to destroy with his own hands a world filled with hypocrisy, filled with sorrow, and stained with sound and fury.
That intense desire was the foundation that made up the world, and it was also the way to handle the world.
And, he unleashes a sword strike imbued with white light.
Towards the greatest blasphemer who denies his everything.
***
I can feel it.
The process of the nature of the magic power flowing in him rapidly changing.
That the particles of magic power leaking from his body are shining with a pure white light.
‘It's coming.’
As I recognized that fact, all the elements of the situation flowed into my mind slowly, as if time was being played in slow motion.
The preparatory motion as he begins to unleash his sword.
The way he manipulates his magic power to imbue his sword with the magic of the origin.
The movement of his muscles, where his eyes are directed.
‘If I delay any longer, I won't be able to respond.’
It was a judgment made after recognizing all the elements, but the timing was not even a little late.
At the very same moment, I began to imbue my sword with the magic of the origin.
The enemy is wielding his sword with the sole intention of cutting down the world.
He hated the world, was angry at the world, and was saddened by the world to the point where he couldn't bear it otherwise.
That was embodying a miracle in this world, and I had to cut down the man beyond that miracle.
If so, with what kind of heart must I wield my sword?
How must I wield my sword to make it reach the man who is beyond the world?
‘It's simple.’
It was truly a simple story.
Like Grændal’s story, it was not a fact I was unaware of.
It was only natural, as it was something I was always thinking about.
I hate, truly hate the one who brought me pain, and all of them.
I loathe the one who is running away from his sins, and from the world, with a ridiculous logic.
I despise the one who concludes that our lives are simply sad, and believes that to be the truth.
All those emotions mix together, creating an intense animosity.
‘I want to cut that guy down so badly I can’t stand it.’
That was all.
That was enough.
This was everything that made up my world.
All the magic power in my body is squeezed out and released, turning into a white light and being imbued into the sword.
Cracks form all over my body. Magic power leaks out through them, and soon, only terrible pain is left in my body.
It didn't matter. As a price for wielding power beyond my means, it was far too cheap.
What was imbued in the sword was a gray light, incomparably murkier than Grændal’s light, Yuna's light, and The One's light.
It was certainly an unexpected event that was enough to cause hesitation, but.
Nevertheless, I had a conviction.
‘It’s enough.’
I don't know the reason.
But without any doubt, in conviction, I swing the sword.
At the same time, Grændal also swings his sword.
Kagagagak-!!
Two sword strikes that cleave the world clash in mid-air.
And.
Flash-!
A flash of light erupts.