Surviving as a Villain at the Academy chapter 112

112 – Belator. (2)

Sweat trickles down, a cold sweat? Who has time for that? I was still moving very, very busily.

Kwaaang!

The sound of the earth yielding echoes. The dust scattered far and wide from beneath the arena, leaving only a cracked and sunken, ominous-looking ground.

Bellator hasn’t uttered a word since. Useless conversations were unnecessary.

And that meant he was pouring all his focus into the fight… It was practically a death sentence for me.

Damn.

Bellator’s greatsword exuded an even more ominous aura. Even though there seemed to be no magical or peculiar power imbued, he was unleashing overwhelming strength, thrusting his attacks at me.

I parry the sword strokes coming towards me. The only fortunate thing is that the sword seems intact?

The sword bestowed upon me by the subjugator successfully withstands his immense attacks, something akin to a permanent preservation enchantment, perhaps.

Bellator’s intention was simple. Fight. Prove your worth through battle.

Avoiding like a rat wasn’t what he desired. In the end, I needed to earn his recognition.

I corrected my stance. If there was something I had to do, it had to be done.

I raised the sword. The fundamentals taught by Edan Crassus, the commander of the Royal Knights, haven’t disappeared, ingrained in my body.

In fact, it could be said that it was the first time I properly learned swordsmanship. Before, I swung the sword roughly relying on Prakh’s experience.

Suddenly, a thought passed through my mind. As the thought occurred, I gathered the magic residing in my body. Perhaps due to the forcefully gathered magic, I felt a surge of power in my body.

But I accepted that surge. It was a kind of gamble, but it was worth trying. Without this gamble, I wouldn’t earn Bellator’s acknowledgment.

If I just evade like a rat and manage to withstand the attacks, what would he see to recognize me as his master?

Essentially, the magic I use comes from Asti’s power. The power drawn from Asti wasn’t necessary in this situation.

What I needed now was the pure power of myself.

I focused my mind. In that moment, I felt a much more intense power flowing through my entire body than Asti’s magic. It wasn’t magic; it was the most fundamental power I could harness.

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Why did I gather mana? Until recently, I had been ambiguously blending mana into my body, but it was all because of a sudden realization.

In a space where the strength of the mind becomes the measure of strength, the understanding that if something other than my pure power is mixed in, it becomes not stronger but rather weaker. Such enlightenment.

Certainly, Asti’s mana could be considered my power, but… that is truly incomparable, a power that is purely derived from me.

Rather than blending it vaguely, it was now appropriate to let it go.

Perhaps Bellator would appreciate my attitude more.

“Hooh.”

As I did so, a gleam appeared in his eyes. It seemed like the correct answer.

I held the longsword straight in my hand. The trembling that had just moments ago rattled my hand had ceased. At the same time, a more expansive sense of battle and power flowed through my entire body than I had felt when facing Uru for the first time.

I felt like I could break anything.

In that moment, Bellator’s greatsword thrust toward me.

Kwaaang!

Certainly, in the past, I would have been pushed back. But strangely, I parried his greatsword. My arm was no longer painful, and my breathing remained unaffected.

…At least in this space, it seemed that fighting like this was the correct answer.

The restrained swordsmanship might have felt frustrating, knowingly or unknowingly. Wondering why I was using my strength so strangely.

Even so… now that I knew, it was fine.

As I successfully parried his sword, Bellator laughed heartily.

“hahahahaha!”

Anyway, both Uru and Bellator. Why do they enjoy fighting so much?

Perhaps, because they lived in an environment where they couldn’t survive without finding pleasure in fighting.

They lived in an era where strength was the measure of survival, enduring the torment of angels and demons with nothing but their bare bodies.

Displaying strength is not just a matter of survival; it remains a way of life for them.

Of course.

Disliking it wasn’t an option.

Bellator’s greatsword swung towards me, targeting my neck.

I forcefully raised my longsword to parry the greatsword. What had seemed unimaginable just a moment ago had happened, leaving even me in a state of disbelief. But there was no time to be astonished.

Although it might look like a mere sparring session, it was, in reality, a battle where we aimed for each other’s throats.

The deflected greatsword spun, rotating. Bellator utilized the rebound from my parry to execute a precise rotation.

The spinning strike, enhanced by the momentum, was heavier and shot towards me.

Kaaang!

A much more intense blow than before struck my longsword.

Bellator’s swordsmanship fundamentally capitalized on rotational force originating from the body, turning it into striking power. He knew how to manipulate his body for maximum effectiveness better than anyone else. Look at how he handles the greatsword he wields.

When overwhelming mass combines with rotational force in the massive greatsword, naturally, a terrifying force emerges.

In that case, I wouldn’t be inferior.

Once I observed something, I could easily replicate it. Especially if I understood the underlying principles.

Having frequently activated the mana within me and paying close attention, it seemed like scrutinizing things had become a part of my abilities. Considering how clearly I could see his movements even after absorbing Asti’s mana.

I, too, twisted my ankle, contorted my waist, and swung the sword in the same manner. Subsequently, a lightning-fast strike clashed with Bellator’s greatsword.

Kaang!

“Your swordsmanship resembles mine.”

“There’s no need to mimic it. Stealing someone else’s talent is quite alright.”

He chuckled in response to my words without saying anything.

I, too, was the same. Swords clashed and collided, violent shockwaves bursting out.

It wasn’t a dazzling explosion of magic, nor was it the clash of fancy blades. It was simply the raw collision of the foundations we had built.

In that sense, it felt just like a swordsmanship class. Except, it was a swordsmanship class where your life was at considerable risk.

Perhaps this is the scene Bellator envisioned. After all, the best way for him to showcase his strength would be by utilizing the power that emanates from his own body. Maybe he wanted to teach me how to do the same.

As that thought reached me, I felt my enthusiasm burning even brighter.

In truth, I haven’t built much in this world. Specifically, not with my “pure” strength. Asty was always there with me, and the majority of what I achieved was with her help. Even the power I wielded, it ultimately came from the contract with Asty.

Of course, I didn’t think that was a bad thing. The fact that I became stronger efficiently at that time was all thanks to her assistance. Above all, even though it was power derived from a contract, it was still a power I obtained.

But now, I had to move forward. Just like Ruslan broke through his own wall and pressed forward in the original story, I, too, needed something that I had built up besides the magical power Asty had given me.

Because Asty told me I had talent.

Her words brought me to this point.

Wanting to learn swordsmanship from Edan, wanting to learn magic from Asty, they were all part of the same context. It all became one flow and gave me a great realization.

And Bellator felt the same way.

Clashing with each other with a power unlike anything before, our swords collided, our bodies recoiling from the impact.

Swiftly picking myself up from the recoil and regaining my stance, I unleashed the boiling power coursing through my whole body onto the ground.

Kwaaang!

Just like Bellator did before, the ground split apart with the sheer strength of my pure physical body. In its wake, an incomparable sense of freedom flowed through my entire being.

Kukung. Kukung. Kugukung――!

I feel like I can do anything. I trampled upon the earth. With each step I took, the ground erupted and fluttered behind me like a cape.

Standing there alone, Bell

In an instant, a piercing strike powerful enough to split the world in two shot towards me.

There, in front of me, was the result of extreme physical training to confront angels and demons, carried out to the very limit by a mere human.

The true strike unleashed by the great warrior, who whipped himself and witnessed countless deaths, yet never ceased to struggle, was about to shake even the celestial and infernal beings that trampled humans like insects and killed them from the sky.

To call out.

To cleave the heavens.