101 – Dakia’s Sword (5)
Crack.
Transylvania tears open a blood pack with his teeth and gulps it down.
Whose blood this was, or who might have peddled it, unknown—it tasted awful.
It hadn’t always been so flavorless.
Oddly, ever since he started accompanying that human tribesman, all the blood packs seemed to have lost their taste.
Yet, for survival, there is no choice.
Transylvania grimaces disdainfully while, with one hand, he holds and drinks from the blood pack.
With the other hand, he slowly reaches down to his waist.
The familiar sensation he expects to feel is absent.
Looking down, he sees no sign of the sword that was always strapped to his left side.
The sword passed down by Dakia.
No, to be more precise, the sword he had stolen on a whim after Dakia died.
“Ah.”
And at that moment, as the thought occurs to him,
A forgotten memory resurfaces.
The very reason he had gone so far as to barge into Elvengard was to kill the man called Rex’s brother.
The reason why he only killed him, and then walked away quietly.
He remembered everything.
It was a rainy night.
Transylvania, as usual, loaded a lot of food and various goods on his back and climbed up the steep mountain.
The look of a shabby hut on the mountain’s hillside gradually revealed itself.
A shaking wailing was being passed down regularly from far away.
“Oh. Sylvia’s arrived.”
“Don’t call me like that. Stop swinging that old sword. You’re going to fall down and die.”
Behind the hut where he arrived carrying his backload.
There, an old man with sporadic beard was swinging a rusty sword.
The teeth were all decayed, and the blade was blunt and messy.
However, whenever the arm of the old man, whose muscles were all gone, swung the sword, a powerful sword stroke seemed to cut the mountain exploded.
“Now, I really have enlightenment right before my eyes. Truly, right in front of me ….”
The old man’s name was Dakia.
A hard worker who established the sword art handed down from ancient times.
And, he was a genius who was about to achieve the wrongs of that sword art.
Dakia, who had not even held a sword until he was middle-aged.
But, he picked up a sword at the persuasion of Transylvania whom he came across by chance.
He opened his eyes to an explosive talent, and in just 10 years, he acquired the ability to follow and even overthrow the Swordmaster.
Then, as is usual with geniuses.
He got tired of the drawbacks and limits of the existing swordsmanship, which led him to create a new sword art.
It was a sword art that modified an aggressive ancient sword art, which is now almost extinct only handed down orally.
“Eat before you swing.”
“The energy that the sword scatters is soon my food, even if I breathe, I feel full…”
“You’re bloated with gas. That’s a misconception, old man. Do it while eating. Do it while eating.”
“Hup ….”
Transylvania had a hunch.
He felt that Dakia’s lifespan was soon to end.
And that Dakia’s sword was on the verge of evolving once more.
It was a moment when he had been frustrated for over ten years with no progress.
Just before he was old and dying.
Dakia had been trying to gain insight into his twisted joints, bent back, and ruined body.
“I’ve had enough food. I need herbal magic.”
“If you smoke that, you’ll meet the grave. Eat your food.”
“I know my body best. It’s already on the verge of death. Neither eating healthy nor sleeping healthy will extend my allotted time by a day. Get me herbal magic instead of nagging. I’m deathly fretful of wasting away in sleep.”
“………”
Transilbia couldn’t argue anymore.
Dakia had death and the final stroke of his swordsmanship looming over him.
Every second was precious.
Although she couldn’t understand Dakia’s desire to master the final stroke of his swordsmanship he had dedicated half of his life to, even at the cost of wearing out his lifespan,
The urgency hit Transilbia, whose heart had already stopped.
“Don’t die, stay and wait.”
“Do you think it’s up to me? Ha ha.”
“Just don’t die on me!”
Transilbia hurried down the mountain along that path.
Getting to the nearest village on foot would take over a month.
However, lugging a load of herbal magic, Transilbia came back in less than two weeks.
“Dakia! Why are you so quiet! You haven’t—- died—-.”
“Cough, crap! Sylvia…..”
But what was waiting for Transilbia was a collapsed hut.
And Dakia, collapsed and spouting blood from a hole in his stomach.
“Escaped…..”
“Indeed, you were an accomplice to the murder ghost. We have suspected you when he wouldn’t answer where the killer was, so we waited with a stall….you fell right into our trap.”
“……..”
Elves armed to the teeth surrounded Transilbia.
Among them was a figure who appeared to be the leader.
Probably a high-ranking warrior.
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Transilbia instantly memorized his face.
For about 100 years now, she was called a murder ghost.
Wherever she went, a whirlwind of blood always blew around Transilbia.
Bounty hunters frequently wreaked havoc in the places he had been.
This incident was no different, a scene akin to daily life.
However, for some reason,
Transilvia felt a deep rage for the first time in a while, holding a panting Dakia.
“ARGHHH!!!
Many elf warriors died that day.
The man known as the captain, after crossing swords with Transilvia a few times, withdrew immediately.
On the river of blood where royal blood flowed,
Transilvia, embracing the already breathless Dakia, made a vow.
That he would continue his swordsmanship.
He wasn’t sure if it was too big a task, but he would do his best to make it happen.
He would develop the skill that Dakia had been unable to complete.
And, he would avenge him.
After burying Dakia, Transilvia immediately started investigating and found out the name of the Elf captain.
He was a high-ranking warrior who had recently returned to Elvengard from a serial killer subjugation expedition.
Without a second thought, Transilvia chose to head to Elvengard.
He effortlessly slit the throat of the high-ranking warrior, who was off guard, laughing and chatting at his home.
He was certain.
It was the face he had seen that day.
He had accomplished Dakia’s revenge.
There was no longer any reason to shed blood,
so Transilvia, responding to the priestess’s prohibition, left Elvengard.
Since then, Transilvia had been using Dakia’s bequest sword, sharpened to a razor’s edge.
He’d lent it to a human who had entered a duel, though.
“I can’t remember for some reason.”
Such a young elf who threatened him excessively wouldn’t have stood a chance to remain in his memory.
Because he was blind with rage at that time, everything else didn’t matter.
Transilvia laughed a carefree laugh and slumped to the floor.
The skill that, despite his best efforts to recreate, had ended up nothing more than a counterfeit.
The young human could have been taken aback by how much the replica bore a resemblance to the Dakia’s sword on the brink of death.
It was perhaps because his sword, that had reached the extreme of inefficiency and shattered, was similar to the sword swung with the worn-out body of the old man.
“There’s nothing to do.”
It was time to wait for the outcome of the duel.
He waited for the news stating that the genesis had finally been created from the prototype.
Transylvania shone brightly with red eyes in the darkness.
“I feel a little restless.”
His body shivered with an unexplainable thirst.
***
I was born riding a horrifying calamity.
I realized that during the seventh round.
Through characteristics of my swordsmanship, I managed to learn it overnight from the beginning, and after regressing six times, I barely reached level 10 of the Dakia style swordsmanship.
It was enough to suppress a knight who claims to be level 9 or 10.
I also thought I was strong.
Until I happened to enter the Swordsmanship Academy and face a Swordmaster.
He was a novice who had just received the title of Swordmaster.
Even his face was full of youthful energy, looking even younger than me.
Although he was a so-called ‘fake Swordmaster’ who had not yet grasped the basic essence of swordsmanship.
He had enough skill to toy with me.
I realized that day.
The fact that level 10 in swordsmanship not only cannot reach the extreme of the sword, but it can’t even get close.
The fact that no matter how many times I regress, I cannot stand against those with genuine natural talent.
From that day on, instead of the elegance of the sword, I turned my attention to strategies that enhance combat power in a short time with less effort.
In other words, it’s a trick.
It was faster to become stronger that way than to train with the sword bluntly, and tricks worked better against monsters.
In reality, I became much stronger.
Under the premise that I didn’t have much battle experience, I could now defeat a novice Swordmaster.
But as I continued to regress over and over again.
By learning and using all possible tricks, I had to hit the wall again.
There were no more ways to get stronger by tricks.
They were at the end of the line, having fled from the straight path.
In the end, after fleeing and fleeing again, there was nowhere left to run.
They had started to wield the forsaken sword once more.
Stopped being satisfied with being the king of common people, the head of the serpent.
They started to chase after the tail of the dragon.
The result was desperate.
From the seventh round till now.
The swordsmanship level stayed the same.
Without even a glimpse of the Five Elements.
They did train when they visited Elvengard the last time.
But that was just a process of trying to revert their body back to the state of their previous round.
There was barely any progress.
And finally.
The opportunity came.
Not someone who learned the Five Elements, but someone who established them.
They had met Transilbia and it was true that they had expected to get some meaningful enlightenment.
But all that came back was complete indifference.
Teachings disguised as abandonment.
The promised basic corrections ended up being given up and messed up.
‘It expands the attack range’ was a vague concept they kept trying to imitate while repeatedly reviewing Transilbia’s presentation of the Five Elements in his brain.
In the end, they became more angry because Transilbia didn’t give any kind of advice or comment.
They think it was probably due to their pride and frustration.
They let loose their sword without caring about the damage to their body.
Swinging it again and again.
They may have swung their sword as much in the last three days as they did during the entire twelfth round.
Despite all this, there was no enlightenment.
Not even a single spark of realization.
But they didn’t give up.
They were tired of running away.
Instead of lamenting about the lack of talent without enough examination.
He decided to give it his all, to the point of barely living or dying.
“Huh? Why would the sword…”
The moment the phantom sword is drawn and held in hand.
The moment he grips the foreign, unfamiliar, and awkward blade with both hands.
His eyes sparkle and widen.
It’s an ancient sword.
Sensing instinctively.
As if he could feel the hands of the ancient owner from the sword hilt.
It’s not Transylvania’s hand he’s talking about.
It’s more ancient than that.
The ancient owner who held this sword, transformed the sword hilt according to his hand shape, and filled it with momentum.
His hand grabs mine, moving it.
Guide me to hold the phantom sword correctly for the first time.
At the same time, it’s as if he’s whispering in my ear.
Relax your body.
Hold the sword closer to your body.
As I arrange myself according to these instructions, like being in a trance, my movements fall into place.
My entire body shudders with goosebumps.
A sensation that is shockingly familiar to my body.
The sword, which I swung around for three long days.
The very sword I had to awkwardly fit into my body, mimicking Transylvania.
That very sword is now in my hands.
Of course, it’s just an imitation.
I can’t fully realize Transylvania’s sword.
However, for some reason, I feel that my present sword is more stable and well-formed.
My intuition was never wrong, but…
I decide to trust it just this once.
Not only I, but even Transylvania and this sword are crying out that I am right.
“What nonsense…!”
At the change in my aura, Rex’s face turns completely pale.
Perhaps Rex had already noticed it.
Regardless of how much vitality he burned, regardless of how much unnatural power he pumped into his body.
He was up against an overwhelming limit that he could never surpass.
Yet, Rex still charges on.
Because it is unbelievable.
Maybe because he can’t admit it.
But I will show him.
I’ll make him believe and accept it.
[The level of the trait, ‘Dakiaryu’, has increased.]
[Trait: Dakiaryu(lv.11)]
A system window floats before my eyes.
The tip of the sword moves, drawing a curve.
The apex of offensive swordsmanship.
The ultimate technique of extending the sword into places it can’t reach.
Dakiaryu’s secret technique.
A new secret technique, which I had figured out on my own while trying to imitate Transilvia until my thighs felt like ripping apart, burst out along the sword blade.
Shrriiip …!
An attack that, at first glance, seems like an ordinary sideways slash.
But the sword doesn’t even come close to Rex, slicing only thin air .
It’s not just the radius of the sword that I swing.
The white energy of the sword, extending from the blade, lunges towards Rex.
Perhaps it was an utterly unexpected attack, as Rex twisted his body strangely and adopted a defensive position with his sword.
“Cough?!”
Rex, hit by the sword energy, goes flying backwards.
Rex gets up from a somersault and looks at me with a bewildered face.
A pitiful sight.
That’s the end of the duel.
Now I prepare the final blow.
The 14 basic techniques of Dakiaryu.
Even the basics that were criticized for being a mess, I pour my secret techniques into all of them.
Shwiiiing!
Aiming at Rex, who is far away, it swings.
Horizontally, vertically, diagonally and every other angle.
An unending combo that he cannot absolutely dodge.
From the sword cutting through the empty space, countless sword auras burst out.
In no time, the white lines fill up the sight until you can’t discern which is which.
Just like a net of sword aura that he cannot dodge, it envelops Rex.
“aaargh!!!”
Rex tries to block it with all his effort, but it’s not an attack that can be blocked by a single sword.
The sword aura pushes towards Rex like a wave and soon Rex falls with fresh injuries all over his body.
At the same time, he loses consciousness due to the pain and the burning flame fades away.
The back wall of Rex’s place is filled with countless scratches where the sword aura has hit.
“Ha…..haa….”
It’s over.
It’s finally over.
The moment he sits down, blowing out with relief…
“…Wow, it’s a bloody storm blade.”
Unidentifiable sound bubbles up next to him.
Bloody storm blade?
Sorry, but he won’t be called by such a bizarre name.
[The technique name has been registered.]
[Dakiya style Ougi: Bloody storm blade]
Ah, sh*t.
Lol