NOVEL NEXT chapter 140
140. Oh, Erucel (2)
The grass was trampled beneath the soles of shoes.
It was Erucel’s shoes.
Mirsell shot him a glare, eyes brimming with discontent.
“I told you, if you don’t lift your feet from the dirt, it’ll hurt even more.”
The dirt patch was shaped like a rectangle, a replica of the training ground’s dimensions.
Yet, to have crossed that line was to step outside the bounds.
Erucel trembled, pushing himself forward.
“Ah, I know.”
Donathan sighed heavily.
‘Compared to when we took down the undead, this is pitiful. His body is too rigid. His stance reminds me of a grasshopper.’
‘Is it really possible within two days?’
‘He’s got more stamina than I expected. It’ll take some time to push him to his limits.’
As Erucel stood there, blankly gripping his sword, Mirsell leaped.
Even in this pure sparring without aura, if one were to exaggerate, his jump was high enough for a dunk.
Mirsell unleashed a diagonal slash, carrying the weight of his descent.
“Ugh!”
Eruzel rolled away, his face a mask of panic.
Perhaps displeased, Mircel grumbled.
“If you had just used the swordsmanship Grandfather taught you, you could have countered that. Why on earth aren’t you using it?”
Eruzel replied in a defeated tone, as if ashamed.
“…It just doesn’t work for me.”
“Did you forget it? Fine, then let me attack. I’ll show you the swordsmanship Grandfather uses. This time, you can use your aura.”
Mircel lowered his sword and beckoned him forward.
Eruzel furrowed his brow, igniting with determination as he took his stance. The nonchalance of his younger brother, who hadn’t even assumed a defensive posture, felt like a humiliation.
Thwack!
Eruzel charged like a wild boar, his eyes gleaming with intensity, aiming a strike at Mircel’s side. But Mircel merely deflected it with the wooden sword he held lightly.
The recoil sent Eruzel stumbling back.
“The Rock Force sword is all about mastering the recoil, you know.”
Mircel said this and swiftly struck Eruzel’s ankle with the wooden sword.
“Ah!”
“What good is it to fill your aura like that? You’re just going to bounce off.”
Eruzel stood on one leg, cradling his injured ankle with both hands.
“You used it too, didn’t you? The aura.”
“Well, it’s a Rock Force sword, isn’t it? That’s just common sense. And I barely used any. You used at least four times more than I did.”
This time, Mircel struck Eruzel’s remaining ankle. With the only leg supporting him taken out, Eruzel fell awkwardly to the ground.
Curiosity piqued by Mircel’s words, I turned to Donathan.
“Is it theoretically possible to bounce back with four times the aura?”
“It is. If you manage the recoil perfectly and let the aura flow, you can indeed deliver a tremendous backlash to your opponent.”
I was somewhat surprised.
Things like igniting flames on the sword like Bellen or emitting electricity like Aol were beyond the realm of advanced aura manipulation.
Even for Mircel, that seemed a bit much.
“Has he already learned that?”
When I asked, Donathan replied.
“Even so, it’s still at a basic level. If one has talent, they can show some promise even at a young age. Moreover, to use it in practice, there must be a clear gap between you and your opponent. It requires intense concentration, so it’s not something you can easily wield.”
Hearing this, it began to make a bit more sense.
As Leana trained under Bellen, she too had sparked a flame by the end of her first year.
‘Still, it’s astonishing. For a mere novice, she’s already eyeing the threshold of the strong.’
Judging by Donathan’s admiration, this seemed to transcend the realm of the ordinary.
‘Really?’
Yet, Eruzel had also risen to a basic level…
I rose from my seat and approached the two.
“Mircel, it’s time for your shift. I brought some snacks, so take a break and eat.”
“Really? Thanks, bro.”
Mircel pulled out a treat from the basket. I shifted my gaze from him and aimed my wooden sword at Eruzel.
“Draw your sword, Eruzel.”
This was training, so I wouldn’t use my aura.
Just a moment ago, Mircel had made an exception, but the condition was to engage solely in pure swordsmanship.
This part was something I could leave to Donathan, so it wouldn’t be too difficult.
* * *
Before long, the sun began to set.
My legs trembled, and my body refused to obey. All of it was due to the man before me.
Eruzel glared at Hessel, beads of cold sweat trickling down his brow.
‘What is this? Who is this man…?’
Even Mircel’s swordsmanship had improved tremendously in the time I hadn’t seen him.
But the man before me, scratching his back with a wooden sword, was on an entirely different level.
I had only heard of it until now; witnessing it with my own eyes and feeling it firsthand brought a new understanding.
“Apologies. My back was a bit itchy. Now, it’s your turn to take a hit again.”
Even when I tried to widen my stance and create distance, he closed the gap effortlessly.
No matter how randomly I rolled my body, unsure of my own direction, his sword awaited me ahead.
‘Does he possess some kind of foresight…?’
As long as I didn’t use my aura, I had the advantage in physical ability over Mircel, so I could evade him.
But against the man before me, it was impossible.
I couldn’t even conceive a way to escape in my mind.
Step by step.
As Hessel approached, Eruzel found himself retreating involuntarily.
But then, Hershel let his sword droop, looking at her with a mix of pity and disdain.
“Eruzel, if running away pleases you so much, why not keep at it?”
“What, what do you mean?”
“It’s not a bad deal, is it? To live in fear, to lay down your sword, and spend the rest of your days as an ordinary noble.”
Eruzel shook her head. That meant giving up everything she had fought for until now.
“I-I may not look it, but I have talent—”
“Then why does your mindset look like that?”
“That’s…”
As she hesitated, Hershel closed the distance between them.
“Do you want to say it’s because of me?”
His words pierced her like a dagger.
Thinking back, it was all because of this man. The b*stard who wouldn’t back down until he struck her and showed his ridiculous side.
“Damn right! It’s because of you that I—!!”
“Then why do you only express your anger with words? If it were me, I’d beat you to a pulp, whether it’s with rice or with death.”
“…”
“Do you know why?”
Hershel whispered in her ear, his voice low.
“Because if you don’t even struggle, you’ll lose everything. Your money, your pride, your honor. And you’ll lose women too.”
At the mention of women, Eruzel flared up. Amelda, whom she had known, was a kind-hearted person.
To be sullied by such a man was absolutely intolerable.
“Don’t be ridiculous! You vile wretch of the world!!”
It was a strike fueled by all her strength. So powerful that she accidentally infused it with her aura. But the wooden sword snapped with a crack! and broke in two.
All from a single finger raised in mockery…
“It’s my turn now.”
Hershel’s wooden sword struck her with a dull thud.
Neck, shoulder, thigh, side.
The movements were as fluid as flowing water.
“Cough!”
Eruzel clutched her trembling legs, but soon her strength gave out, and she collapsed to the ground.
Thud.
—
Then Hershel approached, carrying a sack and a magic wand.
“Here’s the fatigue remedy and healing potion I bought from the alchemy club. Open your mouth.”
As he twisted the cap off the potion, Eruzel clamped his lips shut and turned his head away.
“Ugh.”
“What a brat.”
Hershel’s hand pressed down on his cheek with a grip that forced his mouth open.
After pouring the potions down his throat, he cast the signature ‘restoration magic’ of one born with a peculiar talent.
This process would be repeated countless times the next day.
By the evening of the following day, Eruzel’s mind had already dried up.
With hollow eyes, he glared at the grinning Hershel.
“Your condition is unacceptable. Fine, this time let’s slow it down even more.”
He had already taken a beating at what he thought was a slow pace.
Should he like this or not? There was no time to decide as Hershel approached.
“Alright, how’s this? It’s the speed of a worm crawling.”
Hershel’s sword truly was a bit slower than before.
Eruzel sensed that his shoulders would soon ache. Even a careless swing of that sword would hurt like hell, and it wouldn’t be much different this time.
Yet strangely, he felt no pain.
Had he unconsciously stepped back too far? But the distance between him and Hershel hadn’t really increased.
This time, the sword swung toward his neck. His vision dipped, but curiously, there was no pain.
Eruzel realized he was moving on his own accord. He had just ducked to avoid the blow.
But his mind was already in a haze. Simple thoughts began to fill his head.
‘It doesn’t hurt, which is nice. But how long do I have to keep this up?’
Soon, Eruzel shook his head.
In truth, it didn’t matter. If this moment of not feeling pain could last, that would be just fine.
Even as he pondered, the sword flew at him several times.
Without realizing it, the corners of his mouth lifted, and Hershel’s voice rang out.
“Good! Finally dodging!!”
His voice was filled with satisfaction. His expression wore a wicked grin, as if he found joy in something else.
‘Huh?’
It was the moment Eruzel’s smile abruptly vanished.
—
Seeing his smile, an unsettling sensation clawed at my insides for reasons I could not grasp.
‘Isn’t it all because of this man? The reason I’ve ended up like this. But how can he smile so smugly?’
A person should never act this way. Not even a beast devoid of conscience would dare to.
Yet this man does it with ease.
‘Ah…’
Rage began to boil, creeping up to the very tips of my hair.
If I continued to endure this, I felt I might burst from the pressure.
Eruzel twisted his facial muscles, a grimace of fury taking shape.
“You b*stard! What the hell are you grinning about?!”
He must die.
The joy I had felt just moments ago was all part of this man’s scheme.
Whether in pain or in happiness, it was ultimately the devil’s play.
“I am not some toy for you to play with, you son of a b*tch!”
Eruzel shouted, gripping his sword tightly. Harsel moved. Strangely, Eruzel could predict the trajectory of his strike.
‘A vertical slash!’
I had learned from taking so many hits.
Eruzel deftly twisted his body to evade. Then, like water flowing, he thrust his sword forward. The target was Harsel’s neck.
“Uaaah!”
The wooden sword roared as it struck Harsel’s body. Eruzel was not satisfied.
‘No, that old man’s sword was not meant to end here!’
The recoil felt in his hands. Grasping it, channeling it into a cut.
That sensation was akin to the time I had shattered Luon’s statue with a wooden sword.
‘Push and cleave through. Separate this b*stard’s upper and lower body!!’
With all his might, he swung his arm.
Crack!
But the wooden sword merely splintered in two.
Eruzel, gazing up at Harsel, lost consciousness at last.
Thud.
Harsel looked down at Eruzel, face pressed to the ground, a sardonic smile curling his lips.
“Ha ha ha.”
—
—
Then he asked Donathan.
‘This is a success, right? That the unconscious disregards the commands of the conscious mind.’
‘Up to a point, yes…’
Hershel’s eyes widened at the unexpected answer.
‘Up to a point?’
‘The strike I just unleashed with all my might was not entrusted to the unconscious; it was a choice made by this man’s own will. It was evident in his gaze.’
Donathan paused for a moment, then offered his response.
‘He has overcome it. The fear of you, transformed into rage.’
It was the moment when the phoenix chick pecked at its shell to see the world beyond.
* * *
A fierce contest was underway, yet the crowd was sparse compared to before.
This was only natural.
Back then, half of them must have come to witness the prowess of Dorothian.
Eruzel ascended the steps of the training ground, her face shadowed by dark circles.
Then she spotted a familiar face.
Amelda, who could not openly take sides due to her position.
Yet, having come this close to the contest, it seemed a form of support, nonetheless.
‘Truly, she is a kind-hearted woman.’
Eruzel let out a hollow laugh, only to suddenly widen her eyes.
A blonde man had approached behind Amelda.
He seemed poised to place his arm around Amelda’s shoulder, but instead, he opted to stretch, changing his course.
It was an unmistakable threat for all to see. A warning that he would not leave this woman unscathed.
Hershel wore a sardonic smile as he gazed this way.
‘That insufferable man…’
Yet, the composed Eruzel was no fool to think he would actually act on it.
If he were the same lustful dog she once knew, he would have been chasing after women long ago.
Moreover, he had even set the goal of subduing the man known as Meldon from the seventh round, making it all the more obvious that it was a provocation.
‘But… he’s less insufferable than before.’
Reluctantly, Eruzel accepted that he had changed.
Though only by the tiniest fraction.
—
“Position.”
It was the professor’s voice. This time, it was not Rockefeller, but Professor Gomon who took on the role of judge. He seemed to think that a perilous situation akin to the one with the Dorothians would not arise.
Erusel glanced back and forth between Professor Gomon and Hessel.
‘Come to think of it, that man gave Professor Gomon a heads-up.’
Rumor had it that even if one were to be half-killed, the match would continue as long as the word “forfeit” did not escape their lips.
Erusel scoffed.
‘What a misguided thought. Honestly, how am I supposed to win seven matches? Riamon is struggling against Berndal, who has eight.’
Two days of training had yielded no results.
It was a cycle of getting hit, fainting, and waking up again.
Even if an attack succeeded, that man didn’t even blink.
Erusel was thinking of just losing quickly and finding another way.
Thud, thud.
As he approached the designated spot, the man wore a confident smile.
Meldon of the seven matches.
He scrunched his face and curled his lips upward.
“Is this your first time seeing me in person? You really do look as foolish as the rumors say.”
As Erusel gritted his teeth, Professor Gomon announced the start.
“Begin!”
Meldon drew his wooden sword.
Fueled by anger at the man’s words, Erusel aimed his sword in return. Besides, with so many eyes watching, he didn’t want to appear cowardly.
‘I must show as little ugliness as possible.’
Meldon charged forward with a menacing grin. Erusel instinctively tensed his legs to leap back.
But his movement was abruptly halted, and his right foot, which he had positioned behind him, was pulled forward against his will.
Thud.
His left foot, now horizontal, stepped back a pace, grounding itself vertically on the floor.
His body had twisted at a 90-degree angle.
Meldon’s vertical slash sliced through the air, ruffling Erusel’s hair.
Erusel trembled, lost in thought.
‘What was that? Just now…’
The clash of swords had clearly enveloped him in a rapid aura. Yet, it was astonishing that he had managed to evade it.
—
For a moment, lost in thought about the strange turn of events, Meldon thrust his sword. This time, it was a piercing strike.
A sharp sting pricked at the nape of Erucel’s neck.
Instinctively, Erucel tilted his upper body to the side.
Meldon’s blade sliced past his right shoulder.
Ping!
The speed of the sword was undeniable. Yet, he had evaded it, having moved first.
For some reason, he had sensed, deep within, that Meldon would aim for his throat.
‘Is it just my imagination?’
As Meldon regained his stance, a fresh ache blossomed in Erucel’s thigh. He hadn’t even been struck yet.
Erucel stepped to the right, moving swiftly.
Thwack!
Meldon’s sword once again pierced only the air.
This soon morphed into certainty.
‘I can read him. No, wait. Now that I think about it, why…’
In that moment, Erucel realized anew that he remained calm even before a stronger opponent.
Whenever he felt an attack was imminent, his habit was to secure a safe distance without even witnessing the full motion of the strike.
But now, in this instant, he did not retreat; he evaded with minimal movement.
Erucel regarded Meldon with a look of bewilderment.
“This, this b*stard.”
The crumpled lines of Meldon’s nose, twisted in frustration, conveyed that his previous attacks were not mere jest, but a true intent.
Unconsciously, Erucel muttered the man’s rank.
“…Ten.”
“What? Why the sudden remark in the middle of a duel?”
Meldon asked with an irritable tone, and Erucel replied in a flat voice.
“They are of a lower standing than I expected.”