novelraw Chapter 77 : Fighting Spirit
Chapter 77 : Fighting Spirit
Chapter 77: Fighting Spirit
Countless scars swept past around the two old swordsmen.
It looked as though Wichard Wilcock’s private training yard would require a considerable amount of time to be restored.
Wichard, having sheathed his sword, spoke toward Theodric standing before him.
“It's not just my imagination. You really have grown weaker. You didn’t even bring out that Aura you used to boast about.”
“Who can resist the passage of time. When you grow old, it’s simply the natural course of things.”
“You look the part too. Last time I saw you, you were still passable, but now you’ve turned into a shriveled old grandpa, haven’t you?”
“Keheh heh, the northerners are still as ill-mannered as ever.”
“Don’t change the subject. What on earth happened?”
Theodric patted his waist and plopped down onto the ground.
Wichard brought over a chair, but Theodric waved him off.
“It seems the achievements I built are beginning to fade.”
“Nonsense. You should know better than anyone that something like that can’t be explained with such a flimsy excuse.”
Wichard stared intently at Theodric, who wore a self-mocking smile.
Soon, Theodric met Wichard’s gaze as well.
The eyes of the old knight, who once cried out for justice and took the vanguard on the battlefield, were clouded.
“An ugly truth and a comfortable lie. If you were a count, which would you choose.”
“You’re spouting nonsense out of the blue.”
“I chose the truth. That day, the world I knew was turned upside down.”
Theodric rose from his spot and picked up his sword.
A blue light rippled across the surface of the blade.
“Do you remember when Aura became a knight’s technique?”
“It was during the height of the civil war. They said His Majesty the Emperor supported the research and it bore fruit. Why bring that up all of a sudden?”
“His Majesty the Emperor’s grace. A power that can cut anything. A technique only swordsmen who have reached a certain realm can use. That’s how it’s known to the world.”
Theodric’s sword slowly pointed toward Wichard.
When Wichard drew his sword to block, Theodric’s blade was pushed back slightly with a clang.
“You know as well as I do that there are things even Aura cannot cut. Yet have you never doubted it? Why was Aura publicized as if it were a finishing technique?”
“What is there to doubt. Everyone acknowledged that Aura was more effective than Fighting Spirit. If I could have become a knight, I would have chosen it as well.”
“You’re wrong. Aura is not omnipotent… kuhk!”
Theodric failed to continue and covered his mouth.
Seeing blood on the hand covering his lips, Wichard’s brow furrowed.
Theodric did not stop at coughing up blood; he clutched his heart and gasped for breath.
“What is this… are you afflicted with some mortal illness?”
“Kheh heh… all humans die eventually, Count. It’s simply my turn now.”
“How much time do you have left?”
“If I dare to estimate, at most three years.”
Silence settled between the two men.
Theodric wiped the blood away with a handkerchief.
Once his breathing stabilized, Wichard spoke.
“So that’s why you’re helping a fallen noble. Seeing your blood relative before you die made you change your mind?”
“That’s right.”
“Grimbard would raise hell if he knew.”
“I broke my oath, so I have nothing to say. It’s shameless of me, but would you keep it a secret?”
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of harassing an old man who’ll die on his own if left alone.”
“Thank you, Count.”
Leaving Theodric behind, Wichard exited the training yard.
He had sparred to clear his complicated thoughts, but instead his heart felt heavier.
As one grew older, the people around them departed one by one.
It was a natural thing, yet not something one could adapt to.
Upon arriving at his office, Wichard summoned the Admiral.
“How goes the war situation?”
“We are being pushed back because Count Betterot has recruited a large number of the Demon Tribe.”
“Those lunatics. And the Emperor’s response?”
“They are observing, saying it is an authorized exchange.”
“So that’s how they’re going to play it…….”
“The weapon deployment is complete. We can use them at any time, as soon as you give the order.”
“Wait. It was hard enough to obtain them—we should at least get our money’s worth.”
“In that case, I will convey orders to reinforce the defenses.”
When Wichard nodded, the Admiral departed to pass on the commands.
Looking at the troop deployment laid out on the map, Wichard let out a grim smile.
“This opportunity should be used to expand my domain.”
A darkened evening.
At the center of the training yard, where a chilly wind blew, Theodric was meditating.
“Sir.”
“Grandfather. We’re here.”
As Robin and Imelda approached, Theodric opened his eyes.
Even though the two stood before him, Theodric did not rise.
“You’re heading to the front lines tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Somehow, we ended up spending two weeks here.”
“It will be difficult to see you for a while, so today I will satisfy your curiosity.”
“Oh, about what?”
“A power that, depending on a person’s will, can split the sky and cleave the earth. Each region calls it by a different name, but it is commonly called ‘Fighting Spirit’.”
Robin sat down properly, ready to listen.
Imelda followed Robin and sat as well.
“You’re probably wondering whether something like that is possible with will alone. It is possible. But it’s not something that works just by praying mindlessly.”
“Does that mean there’s a method?”
Theodric nodded.
“The first is to crave it madly. You’ve experienced killing intent before, haven’t you?”
“How did you know that?”
“That isn’t important. Killing intent manifests when the desire to kill is tightly concentrated. You just need something similar to that.”
“So instead of wanting to kill, I just have to crave using Aura?”
“That’s not it. Aura is a different kind of power…….”
Theodric slightly furrowed his brow and continued.
“For example, when a swordsman swings a sword at a person, it’s to cut the opponent. In the case of a spear, it’s to pierce. An archer craves for the arrow to hit its mark.”
“So I just have to desire that madly?”
“To the point of abandoning food and sleep to focus on a single thing. To the point where, if you fail to reach it, your mind feels like it will break. You repeat that.”
‘Is that really possible? That doesn’t quite resonate.’
Perhaps reading Robin’s doubt, Theodric rose from his spot and drew his sword.
“Primitive emotions are important. Whether the opponent is a person or a Monster, if you set your mind on cutting them.”
The air around Theodric’s sword wavered.
When he brought his sword to a palm-sized stone on the ground, it was cut smoothly.
There was no sign of Aura’s characteristic blue light.
Robin and Imelda could not take their eyes off it.
“The power to achieve what I crave gathers like this.”
“Even seeing it with my own eyes, I can’t believe it. Just how…….”
“Grandfather, that’s really amazing……!”
‘Then what’s the difference from Aura?’
Looking at the cleanly cut cross section, doubt arose in Robin’s mind.
Since Theodric had not yet finished speaking, he carefully folded away his question.
“The second is to build achievements that everyone can acknowledge. Simply put, it’s about increasing your presence.”
“If it’s achievements, do you mean leading a war to victory, or gaining fame by subjugating Monsters?”
“Anything is fine. It doesn’t even have to be a great achievement. If there were an adventurer who spent their entire life subjugating ten thousand Goblins, what do you think people would say about him?”
“A Goblin subjugation specialist?”
“Exactly. The perception would spread that he would never lose against Goblins. When facing Goblins, power would dwell in that adventurer without him even realizing it. To Goblins, he would be a demonic existence. He engraved who he was into the world.”
‘Isn’t that just accumulated proficiency?’
If one honed a single field, reaching a certain realm was only natural.
It was such an obvious statement that Robin’s reaction was lukewarm.
The old man did not mind and continued his explanation.
“The third is to uphold the will of another person. You recite and reenact a hero’s deeds.”
“When you say recite, do you sing a song or something?”
“Yes. It doesn’t have to be a song. Poems, stories, rumors. These are means to understand those who built achievements in the past. The deeper your understanding of that person becomes, the greater the power you can use.”
“…….”
At Theodric’s serious explanation, Robin fell into thought.
Should he believe this or not?
Judging by his swordsmanship and his extensive knowledge of history, he was clearly a man of wide experience.
Even so, there was one thing that bothered him.
‘What if he’s just babbling nonsense because he’s gone senile?’
Although his dementia symptoms had recently improved, Theodric was undeniably a patient.
“Um… could you demonstrate it using the first method?”
“That’s quite the skeptical look.”
Robin did not deny it.
Theodric rose from his seat and spoke.
“I will show you the song of Dalat, the first knight who established chivalry.”
Theodric grasped his sword and closed his eyes.
Along with his softly reciting voice, the sword trembled faintly.
I shall always engrave loyalty to my lord upon my heart
With courage, I shall hold back the enemies
Righteous knights yearn for peace
Do you hear the echo of war
Thud.
Theodric stamped his foot.
Rather than the sound of a human footstep, a crushing pressure spread as if a Troll had slammed the ground.
Feeling the vibration transmitted through his toes, Robin listened closely to Theodric’s song.
Receiving divine protection, we steel our resolve
And advance upon the path that guards freedom
At the end of battles achieved through spilled blood
We reclaimed the joy of peace
Standing alone at the break of dawn
I shall sing the hero’s song
Hum. Hum. Hum.
Theodric’s sword resonated with the song, and a brilliant light dwelled within it.
He lifted the sword—one that conveyed resolve just by looking at it—toward the sky, and light shot out from the blade.
Paaang.
For a brief moment, the surroundings were brightly illuminated, and the clouds in the night sky were swept away.
Watching right beside him, Robin and Imelda could only stare with their eyes wide open, unable to speak.
Uuuung…….
The resonance of the sword stopped, and the light faded away.
After sheathing his sword, Theodric looked at Robin.
“That’s how you do it.”
“…May I try singing the song you just sang?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Robin followed the lyrics Theodric had sung, but nothing happened.
For Imelda as well, there was no vibration of the sword, nor did the ground tremble.
“Reenacting another person’s will requires a deep understanding of that person as its foundation. That’s why it’s rare to see these days. There aren’t many records of heroes left.”
“The song of Dalat? Please teach me.”
“It’s not something you can immediately master just by explaining it. I wouldn’t even recommend it. From now on, it all depends on what kind of resolve you hold when you take up the sword.”
Robin saw Theodric differently.
Ever since coming to Count Wilcock’s castle, his manner of dress had changed, and he seemed like a different person.
Imelda suddenly spoke up.
“What kind of achievements did you build, Grandfather?”
“Now that you mention it, we don’t know what you did in the past, sir. With this level of skill, you must have been famous even among knights, right?”
“That’s all in the past. And I have never achieved anything worthy of being called an achievement.”
“You said it didn’t have to be something great. Wouldn’t there be something, even if it was trivial?”
At Robin’s question, Theodric smiled bitterly.
Looking back on his old days, there was no shortage of things he had built up.
A righteous knight who maintained the order of the world and punished evil.
That was the kind of knight he had wanted to become.
That was also why he had been captivated by the song of Dalat.
Chivalry made the young Theodric’s heart race, and he swung his sword as his heart commanded.
His life had been in the light, and the path he had walked was something to be proud of.
‘There were times like that.’
It was around the time he retired and went to visit his old comrades that he realized something was strange.
Comrades who had not neglected their training had passed away at an early age.
It was no coincidence.
The inescapable hand of death was no exception even for Theodric.
“Grandfather?”
Imelda called out, snapping Theodric out of his daze.
She was looking up at him with a worried expression.
“Are you alright?”
“…Of course I am.”
“That’s enough for today. I’ll take you back to your room.”
“Yes, sir. Let’s head back now.”
Focus returned to Theodric’s eyes as he looked at Robin and Imelda.
The old man followed the words of the boy and girl.
Seeing the blond children worrying about him made a small, faint chuckle escape him.
It was just that—a meaningless laugh.
Even Theodric did not know why.