*
EP.477 The Best, Trust, Full Power (2)
*
The beast wished and wished again.
The beast longed to become human. Why did it want to become human? The answer to that question was simple. If it became human, it would be able to see the same scenery from the same height as humans… and understand.
“I am Fortuna. The offering to be made.”
If it became human, it could understand the true meaning of her words, her death, and the reason she could not smile.
“What are you?”
Only then could it answer the question she asked it that day. Thus, Barta wished to become human. It longed to see the same scenery as humans. It wanted only what humans possessed.
…But only what humans possess.
Barta knew what that was.
It was the radiant brilliance.
An intense will or belief. The brilliant glow of pure desire that only humans could ignite. It was the brilliance that blinded Barta’s eyes.
“Show me the brilliance, Lac von Grace.”
It lived chasing after the brilliance.
Wielding its sword while yearning, longing, and envying the brilliance. Thus, Barta bared its teeth and smiled at its opponent before it.
“If I can’t see it, I’ll cut it down.”
There were no thoughts of letting it go. It had no intention of leisurely testing its skills like before. From the start, it would show its full power.
Chaahhhaaaaaaaah!
The massive sword energy and the swift trajectory of the sword perfectly aligned. As the emitted sword energy and the great sword combined to swallow Lac whole in that moment.
…Ah.
Barta groaned.
Wielding its sword, Barta saw it. The brilliance radiating from a human. A pure white light. It was a light visible only to Barta’s eyes, the light that Barta had chased after.
“Indeed, my eyes do not deceive me.”
Barta rejoiced.
With joy, it swung its sword towards its rival.
“Show me the brilliance. Show me the light you possess.”
Everything of yours.
*
The noise generated by the sword energy tearing through the ground.
Thud, thud as the beast’s footsteps struck the earth. The ground trembled. The stone floor turned upside down. Sounds of space tearing. Twisting sounds. All sorts of noises echoed.
Lac did not pay attention to the echoing sounds.
Instead, he focused on the sound of his own heartbeat. Listening to his own pulse, Lac narrowed his eyes. He exhaled deeply. The heated breath scattered like vapor.
…The perceived time elongates.
The whole world moved sluggishly. Even his own movements. The sound of his heartbeat went thud, thud, thud… growing gradually heavier and slower. In the time stretched to its limit, Lac recalled the past few years. His life.
Lac von Grace reflected on his life.
If he looked back, if he reflected on the path he walked, it was ironic how he could clearly see what he lacked. The final stretch with only one step left. Lac realized what that ‘step’ was on his way here.
“…I was ambivalent.”
His path was ambivalent.
He had talent. He did not neglect the effort to cultivate his talent. He handled weapons daily and trained his body. Training, honing, and discipline. No one could argue that Lac’s accumulated time was lacking.
From the beginning, that was all he knew how to do.
Imitating others. Following others’ movements. Brainlessly training his body. Stubbornly mimicking movements he had seen hundreds, thousands, even millions of times. That was Lac’s way.
“But…”
Now, looking back, everything was just ambivalence. Magic, swordsmanship, body, nothing ever reached the top tier. Most importantly, in the tower he had built, there was no ‘something of his own.’
The dragon sorcery for Belnoa.
The vortex for Chloe.
The summoning magic for Resti.
Every character around him had their own characteristics. They possessed something that represented them. But what about himself? There was nothing to represent him. If there was… it was borrowed from ‘someone’ else.
“The Galatrick style, the First Holy Sword, this spell that enhances the body, the enhancement of the body using ‘Balance’…”
None of that belonged to Lac.
It was merely a tower built using the help of others. A tower of a fool that could only imitate others. He could not call it his true tower.
“I lived ambivalently.”
Lac let out a slight laugh.
But he does not despair. He does not give up. He has no intention of denying the path he has walked. So what if it’s a tower made from others’ stuff?
“This is my path.”
All of it is fertilizer. A reference material to learn from.
“You, walk your own path.”
The answer was almost as clear as day.
At this moment, Lac recalled something he heard somewhere. It was a story told to him by a great magician he respected.
“Don’t like the tower you’ve built? Doesn’t work on your opponent? Then what should you do?”
She laughed and shared her experience.
“What do you mean?”
“Just tear it all down.”
Tear it down.
“Then build it up again. From the beginning.”
“Once you tear it down, rebuilding it is easier. Once, twice, thrice, it gets even easier. Don’t be afraid to tear it down. Just because you tear it down doesn’t mean it goes somewhere.”
Build it up again.
“With time, it helps you construct your tower as a foundation. So, build it up again.”
Lac opened his eyes, which he had closed without realizing.
Thud, thud, thud… The slow beating of his heart began to quicken. Lively. Fiercely. The time that had slowed down started to regain its pace.
He saw the beast charging at him.
He saw the falling sword energy.
Towards the incoming sword energy, Lac suddenly smiled. After all, what he was about to do was madness. If he made even the slightest mistake, he would fall to his death in this showdown, and he couldn’t help but find it ridiculous that he was contemplating such a gamble.
It was ridiculous, but at the same time, Lac was confident. This was indeed the way he could surpass the King of Beasts.
Thud.
In the face of the oncoming sword energy, Lac’s stance changed. It was a stance that Barta could not recognize. It was not one found in the Galatrick style, nor in the Grace style.
Creeeak, creak, creak.
Lac’s own stance. Unique to himself, not imitating anyone else. A culmination of experiences and insights gained through imitating others. A sword (劍) of his own making.
“The warrior of the North is a scorching flame.”
Lac engraved himself into his sword.
“It is an eternally tempered steel that never cools.”
Heats up.
Kaahhhhhh!
The moment the swords clashed, Barta’s eyes widened. The swung sword could not advance any further. The swords came to a momentary halt as if bound in the air.
Klank, clank, kanng, klang.
The sword energy was the same. The severed sword that fell like a guillotine was trapped by Lac’s great sword. Barta tightened its grip on the sword in its hand and pulled its feet down deeper as it pressed the sword down.
However, it could not advance further.
“…How?”
Barta looked at Lac, who held the sword.
Blood vessels burst in its eyes. Trembling arms. Muscles creaking, cracking under the strain. But it was not holding out by sheer strength. What paired with that strange stance… was the sword energy that wrapped around Lac’s sword.
Clang, clang, bang, clang.
Sounds emerged from the sword energy.
The sounds that should not be heard continued to resonate. Like the sound of striking iron. The interval between each sound grew shorter and shorter until it sounded like one single continuous sound.
KAAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAK!
The sword energy burst out in all directions. The sword energy, wrapped in a snowstorm, shot up and consumed Barta’s sword energy. It struck with a clank, clang against the sword that Barta wielded.
“……!”
Barta’s sword was pushed back.
Barta’s technique broken. With clank, clank, clank, Barta’s sword was gradually forced backwards. The further it was pushed back, Lac’s sword advanced forward. And finally…
Swoosh.
Lac’s sword pushed Barta’s sword away, tracing a complete trajectory. The howling snowstorm knocked Barta back. The distance it was pushed back was merely a few steps. Unlike Barta, who remained uninjured… Lac, having executed the technique, coughed up blood.
“Heating.”
Yet, Lac was smiling.
With bright red eyes glinting, he let out a laugh. While laughing, he thumped his fist against his heart. What he thumped was his heart, but… it wasn’t only Lac’s heartbeat that echoed.
Heating.
Thud, the Holy Sword held by Lac roared fiercely. Like tempering iron, the sound of clang, clang echoed continuously from the Holy Sword. The First Holy Sword, a symbol of permanence and indestructibility, began to change.
SHIIIIIIIIIIIIK!
As if obeying its master’s will, it began to glow bright red. In a flash, Lac struck the earth, pulling the sword heated with energy. He charged at the retreating Barta.
“……Ha!”
Barta let out a chuckle.
With its mouth wide open, Barta closed the distance of three steps in a single stride, swinging its sword. Thud! The earth shattered as the stone soared, and Barta’s sword clashed with Lac’s sword.
KAHAHAHA!
At the same time, the two swords bounced off.
It was Lac that was pushed back a bit more, but unlike before, he wasn’t completely pushed away. Immediately, Lac regained his stance and charged at Barta. Faster than before.
KAHAHAHA!
Iron clashed with iron, and sparks flew.
The sword energies collided, twisting space.
In the moment of witnessing the sparks being sucked into the twisted space, Barta felt astonishment. The movement of the human before him had changed in an instant.
‘It’s different.’
Clang.
‘It’s faster. No, it’s getting faster.’
Clang, bang.
Each time the swords collided, the human’s movements sped up. The sword in the human’s hand glowed hotter. The harder he struck, the sharper and stronger it became. Where had he seen such a spectacle?
‘…Forging.’
The image of forging a sword. The beast sharpening its claws against stone. The sight of the human striking itself, training its body to become stronger. But the one training was not just that human.
The sword (劍) became sharper with each swing. It intensified, becoming fiercer. It felt as if the one wielding the sword had become one with it.
‘This is a strange phenomenon. An incomprehensible phenomenon.’
This was something unheard of.
However, because of that, Barta laughed. In the face of the unknown, Barta rejoiced. Watching the human shine all the brighter as it forged away the impurities… Barta desired more than ever.
Clang.
The light.
CLANG!
The even brighter light.
KAHAHAHA!
The swords crashed, and both Barta and Lac were pushed back.
Where the swords clashed left a distortion in space. The ruptured space began to heal, sucking the surrounding air.
The invading air pulled at their bodies.
However, the two swordsmen used that very pull to accelerate their movements. Accelerated swords clashed again. With every clash, Barta felt a resonance all over his body, while Lac felt as if his arm would tear apart.
Yet, neither of them would stop.
They lunged at each other as if tearing one another apart.
The Galatrick style’s first technique, “Initial Slash.”
Barta’s swift strike tore through space, drawing a line. As the line tore open space, before it could reach his neck, Lac swung his sword to shred Barta’s drawn sword path.
THWIIING!
Blocking the opponent’s sword path, Lac drew his own. The furious snowstorm. The red-hot great sword of Lac unleashed the same technique. The Initial Slash. Barta stomped the ground with his own feet for that blow.
Thud, the ground shook, and the sword path trembled.
A very slight tremor, yet in the realm of the elite, even that would form a giant gap. Absorbing the wavering sword path, Barta connected his blade. The swords clashed with a mighty resonance.
WHIP!
Sometimes Lac was pushed back, other times Barta was. Each read the path of their opponent’s sword, overlaying their own at each turn. Two brushes laden with ink wildly moved, consuming one another on a blank canvas.
PLOP.
The ink spilled soon became blood, and neither brush yielded as they stained the canvas. Before they knew it, the surroundings were filled with the sound of air being sucked into the healings of shattered space.
“More!”
Barta urged, joyfully pressing Lac.
Even though his already tattered half-body leaked juices, even though pain hammered down on him, Barta accepted it as a sign that he was alive. Accepting that, he swung his sword towards his rival.
In response to the descending sword, Lac drove his body forward instead of his sword, taking a step further as he angled the sword beside him.
KAAGAGAGagagak!
Like a Kalt, Lac slipped by, descending onto Barta’s knee. He pressed down on the sore beast’s knee with his foot as he swung his sword.
CRACK!
Barta had snatched Lac’s swung sword using his unwieldy right hand. His hand, woven from beasts, shook violently, causing blood to splatter. Yet, holding on, Barta attempted to swing his sword directly…
He couldn’t have not considered the counter to that trick he had faced before. Lac twisted his sword.
KIYIYIYIYIING!
The sword energy burst forth, tearing apart the hand that gripped Barta’s sword. With the freed sword, Lac blocked Barta’s strike. An unstable stance. Since the strength was not fully applied, as soon as the two swords clashed, Barta’s body was thrown into the air with a screech.
His fingers broke. Scratched by the whirling sword energy, one side of his vision turned red.
WHIP, landing smoothly, Lac exhaled deeply. As the vapor from his breath scattered, he raised his head to look at Barta. With blood-stained eyes, he faced Barta with one eye closed.
“Indeed.”
With a hanging right hand, Barta gazed back at Lac. They both recognized each other’s growth. Even at this moment of sword meeting sword, they both understood that the other was advancing forward.
“I once thought of you as a challenger.”
Barta chuckled.
“But you have become my master.”
Even though his half-body was tattered, even though his body was falling apart, Barta grew even faster. He was gaining enlightenment from the human before him.
“I thank you.”
With those words…
Lac gritted his teeth.
“I…”
Lac inhaled deeply and adjusted his stance. Bringing his blood-stained white hair up with his hand.
“I do not thank you. On the contrary, I hate you. King of Beasts.”
Lac spat out those words.
“Thanks to you, I could grow stronger, you became my master, but I hate you. It cannot be helped.”
With wide eyes, Lac glared at the King of Beasts.
“Kenbel.”
While glaring, Lac mouthed someone’s name.
“Rahuirum. Bethel. Alken. Tithos. Alein. Yubel.”
Those whom he could never forget.
They remained a symbol of powerlessness for Lac.
“Oyakall.”
Lac spoke with strength.
“Oyakall of the eagle’s eyes.”
Speaking the names of those who had to be trampled upon, those who had been his teachers, brothers, and warriors he admired, Lac asked with boiling fervor.
“The pride of those who had to be crushed by you, I ask you in their stead here and now. King of Beasts.”
He aimed the tip of his sword toward the King of Beasts.
Looking at the blade aimed at him, Barta closed the mouth he had kept open.
…As if he saw something, perhaps.
‘Is it so?’
Barta’s pupils settled.
Before he regained his pride, the warriors he had trampled on and humiliated. Had they led this young man to grow as he had? Did they cause him to stand here so rapidly?
‘Was it them that brought forth that brilliance?’
Barta unintentionally laughed.
Indeed, humans were such beings.
Humans become intertwined with others. They are all bound to one another. They get angry for others, striving to prove the lives of others. Something beasts cannot do. That must be the value that humans possess.
“Is that… why you stand here?”
“That’s right. King of Beasts.”
Barta exhaled deeply and looked around.
The northwestern tip of the continent.
A land where everyone had either died or left, becoming a wasteland, where hundreds of years passed, turning into a wilderness. No one knows the fact that a country once existed here in the past. They do not know how this nation fell.
How did it fall?
Why had this land turned red?
The reason was simple. Because a woman could no longer smile, and because there was a beast that wished for her to smile, this nation fell into ruin long ago. The only remnants of the fallen nation… were these abandoned ruins.
In this day and age, it is called the Fortuna Temple.
However, Fortuna is neither the name of this temple nor the name of the god that it worships. Fortuna was merely the nickname of a woman who once smiled for someone… a name of a woman who scraped away her own flesh for others.
“And now I realize.”
Why he wanted to see her smile.
It was because every time she smiled, he could see that brilliance. Something that only humans possess… something he could not have, she had shown him.
“Lac von Grace.”
The King of Beasts, having attained enlightenment, lowered himself.
He extended his hand, tearing at his own half-body. He ripped off his tattered right arm, stripping away his beastly parts as he spoke.
“I am Barta.”
Barta.
“I am not the King of Beasts. I am the knight, Barta.”
A beast who received the name of a woman drew his sword.
“I would appreciate it if you called me that.”
Barta properly gripped the sword.
Even though his half-body had been torn away, Barta’s stance had steadied instead. He became sharper. Lac felt all of his nerves prickling.
Something was different from before.
The beast he had barely matched before now felt as though it stood far away. As if he had filled that one missing step, Barta, holding the sword, looked transcendental.
Barta stepped forward. Lightly.
With his right shoulder bloodied, he lifted his sword with his left hand. Heavily.
As if a paradox had been reached, Barta’s eyes sank quietly. Clearly, the being standing before him was a beast, yet at this moment, Lac saw the overlapping figure of someone.
“Look.”
“This is the extreme of the sword.”
Ganikalt van Galatrick.
At that moment, the proud knight’s figure and the beast before him overlapped. Lac’s instincts, intuition, and instincts all rang alarms.
It comes.
Death.
An unavoidable death comes.
*
