[Translator - Pot ]
[Proofreader - Kawaii ]
Chapter 331: Now That I Think About It, He's a Little Pitiful
Allenvert sat for a whole day, looking as if he were either asleep or ditating.
“This is it!”
Then he would suddenly stand up and perform a sword dance.
“Tzuoooot!”
He would launch a volley of techniques into the empty air…
“Kiiiyooooot!”
Or he would try to split the ground, only for sothing to go wrong, getting himself caught in an explosion. He spent his ti in a frantic daze.
“He’s raising all sorts of fucking hell.”
Geninghen, who was watching, couldn’t help but click his tongue.
“Leave him be. This is the ti to go through plenty of trial and error. In doing so, he will find his own path.”
It was just as Leszek said.
After seeming to wander aimlessly for a few days, Allenvert quickly began to get the hang of it.
“Allen, is there anything I can help with?”
“Well, there’s a part that’s not working as I thought…”
“Grab your sword. I’ll face you myself.”
Georg sparred alongside Allenvert, offering him his unstinting guidance.
“Think. Why are demonic arts called demonic arts? Because they take a faster path, a more dangerous path, a more extre path.”
⁝
“Then why did our ancestor incorporate the principles of demonic arts?”
⁝
“Because you cannot defeat an enemy without understanding them. Good thods, dangerous thods, safe thods, insane thods. Devour them all. Everything will beco your flesh and blood.”
In the midst of these koan-like conversations and exchanges, Allenvert grasped a strange clue.
And with it, he began to weave sothing.
…It was the mont a martial art the world had never seen was being created at the hands of a great grandmaster.
.
.
.
A good while longer passed after that.
“…Incredible.”
Geninghen, watching the sparring match between the father and son, Allenvert and Georg, was at a loss for words.
“To think that’s the skill of a greenhorn who hasn’t even had his coming-of-age ceremony.”
“At this point, it’s no longer a matter of age. An individual who can cross the wall of the 8th-tier is barely one in 10,000, no, one in a million, is he not?”
Even the ever-stoic Leszek could not hide his amazent in the face of Allenvert’s shining talent.
“It is only a matter of unavoidable differences in experience. The caliber of the two is now almost equal.”
But what was even more surprising was…
“How long did it take the Clan Head to achieve great mastery of that martial art?”
Leszek answered Geninghen’s question.
“It took him over 10 years. It took 20.”
But Allenvert now looked as if he had understood the Limitless Heaven-Defying Art to a level near great mastery.
“He caught up to all those long years in just ten days, is that it? The word ‘genius’ is not enough.”
Leszek let out a small laugh.
“You can’t stop the Dark King with the kind of geniuses you trip over everywhere.”
It was an absurd expression, but that was precisely the perspective of superhumans.
“Old man, it’s about ti to get ready.”
“Mm.”
Leszek quietly stroked his sword.
“Looking back, it wasn’t so long ago that I showed Allenvert the state of martial arts I had achieved.”
The two elders smiled bitterly.
“…Yes. Amidst unbelievable accomplishnts, he has finally caught up to your chin.”
“It ans our eyes were not wrong.”
Perhaps the second closest person to the state of the 9th-tier on this entire continent.
The man closest to the spirit of the sword.
And the Sword Saint.
“Now, it is my turn.”
The final hope he had acknowledged, the one and only possibility to beco the Dark King’s adversary.
That was Allenvert.
“Now that you have fully mastered the divine arts of Grunewald.”
It was now Leszek’s turn to pass down his own martial arts to Allenvert in their entirety.
***
A considerable amount of ti had passed since the Dark King had entered his closed-door training.
“…It’s taking longer than expected.”
Gulbark looked back at Ivan.
“It’s only natural. How could the process of ascending to the caliber of a demon god be easy and comfortable?”
“That is true.”
“Ivan.”
Gulbark twisted his lips into a small sneer.
“There were truly so questionable points in the series of actions you showed at the Litvaleur Royal Castle.”
“…”
“Has your head gotten too big, just because you beca a superhuman by grasping the grace bestowed by our master?”
That’s right. No matter how strong he beca, no matter how old he got, no matter how high a caliber he obtained…
He and his clan could not escape the fate of slaves, bound by shackles like a heavenly punishnt.
And a slave does not even have the right to wear the expression they wish.
“I apologize for the incidents that occurred due to my poor judgnt.”
Ivan spoke with the expression of a wax doll, devoid of any emotion.
“It’s strange. Then and now, you have always shown a rather human side when it cos to matters involving Karzan.”
Ivan affird Gulbark’s words.
“As you said, he was a man I once thought of as a friend.”
“And wasn’t that why I tolerated you paying respects at his and his grandfather’s graves?”
“Yes. But as it happens, a brat nad Allenvert has been acting as if he were impersonating that Karzan, and so…”
Ivan offered an excuse that was a suitable mixture of truth and lies.
“It is true that my heart was thrown into disarray.”
“So you admit your disloyalty.”
Gulbark did not glare or show any hostility. But with just that monotonous murmur, the air froze over.
“Just because you did not cross the line does not an I cannot question your cri. And I will not warn you a second ti.”
Ivan simply replied.
“I will keep that in mind.”
“This is the last ti I will tolerate this on my authority. The mont the master finds your actions displeasing, no one will be able to protect you.”
That’s right. He too would die. Just as Karzan had died in the distant past, for the simple reason that he had slightly displeased the Dark King.
“Besides, you know, don’t you? That because of that madman Karzan, His Grace’s Ereshkigal disappeared…”
That’s right. The mont the Dark King took issue with the fact that he had shown a soft attitude toward Karzan of all people, there would be no way for Ivan to survive.
‘…Right. There is truly no way to resist anymore.’
From beyond the firmly shut iron door, a sinister black mana was leaking out bit by bit.
Just a fragnt of it was enough to instill a bottomless fear.
Kieeeeeeeeeh!
Aaaaaaaaaaah!
The demonic wails, like the sobbing of countless vengeful spirits, gave him goosebumps.
It was impossible to tell if he was mastering the martial arts within the Ebony Oath, or if he was devouring the souls trapped within it.
‘Just what kind of man was Vitenfeld Grunewald?’
How could he have defeated the owner of that demonic art, an art that did not seem to be of this world?
‘…Just run away, Karzan.’
Ivan thought.
‘He is already unbeatable as he is, but if he consus the Dragon Heart…’
The birth of a demon god was approaching.
“…Hm.”
Just then, Gulbark stood up as if he had heard sothing.
“Ooh, finally.”
What he had heard was the Dark King’s telepathic ssage.
“Ivan, prepare the Dragon Heart. He will soon take it.”
Who was he to refuse such a command?
“Understood.”
At this mont, Ivan pushed even the last handful of defiance remaining in him down below the sea of obedience.
***
Forgetting the date, I continued my training.
Leszek’s teachings were generally static, carried out in a calm atmosphere.
This was because it was no longer training to hone the arts of combat.
Rather, it was closer to studying in the traditional sense.
“Moving from Sword Aura to a Sword Orb is not that difficult.”
“Sword Control, Sword Orb, Sword Aura and the Mind Sword ultimately depend on how strongly and clearly one can embrace Sword Intent.”
“Then how does one forge that intent?”
“Unfortunately, there is no right answer. It is a matter of how you nurture the small embers you obtain in the process of training, understanding, repetition, and overcoming.”
It was a repeated process of Leszek throwing out a topic for ditation, and groping my way forward through the night as I pondered it.
It was a slow and frustrating process, but it was the final step toward the highest state.
Since it was naturally difficult and arduous, I did not grow impatient.
Rather, I took it easy and would spend the whole day gazing at the sky, thinking of old tis, or gathering to talk.
“Co to think of it, Father.”
On a night on the vast and desolate plateau, one that was hard to believe was inside a barrier.
“What were Gulbark’s and the Dark King’s martial arts like?”
We sat around a campfire and talked.
“Gulbark was stronger than , and weaker than Elder Leszek.”
My father said.
“So, as you are now, you would be almost on equal footing with Gulbark.”
“…I see.”
My skill was beginning to surpass my father’s.
But I didn’t know my exact position.
This was because I was currently focusing more on training than on sparring.
“You look like death ward over these days.”
Geninghen chuckled.
“I guess even you are finding it hard to imitate Leszek’s state, eh?”
“It is quite profound. Even I can’t just steal everything.”
“That’s normal, you punk.”
Geninghen clicked his tongue.
“By the way, quite so ti has passed.”
I said.
“Has the Dark King still not taken the Dragon Heart?”
“Wouldn’t that be the case? If he knew the truth, he would have crossed the sea and thrown a fit imdiately.”
“Hm.”
“More importantly, no particular report has co from Venion’s side. It seems they are just waiting while the Dark King is in his closed-door training.”
I twisted my lips into a sneer.
“Once the Dark King ascends to the caliber of a demon god, it’s all over for them.”
“There’d be no need for any scheming. He could destroy one kingdom a day and unify the continent in a week.”
“That’s brutal.”
But that was an impossible tale.
“Because the Dragon Heart is going into my stomach.”
“Hehehe. Those stupid bastards. They’re naive in the strangest ways, aren’t they?”
“Well, I think even I would have been fooled.”
It was a sha I couldn’t personally witness the Dark King exploding with rage when he learned the truth.
‘He had Ereshkigal stolen by only for it to blow up, and now he’s getting tricked with the Dragon Heart.’
Now that I think about it, he's a little pitiful, isn't he?
***
Balthazar Eisenach.
He was spending his busy days organizing the forces of Mount Virgenhrid, which had been left vacant after Grimnar Angantyr’s disappearance.
“Grandfather.”
Tara Eisenach, a girl who was also Allenvert’s relative, peeked her head in.
“Are you okay? You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine. It’s just from fatigue.”
The old man sighed deeply and stroked his granddaughter’s head.
“It’s just that I keep getting a bad feeling.”
It was not yet known whether it was an old man’s worry or a sage’s intuition.
‘Allen, Knut.’
He simply offered a prayer for his grandsons again today.
‘I will believe in your victory and pave the way in advance.’
That alone was the last mission left to him.
[Translator - Pot ]
[Proofreader - Kawaii ]
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