Chapter 153: Monsters (2)

‘He must be quite confused.’

A faint smile crossed Ransel Grantz’s lips as he looked at me, Harang, the black-haired youth in his early twenties.

I could understand why he showed such a complex expression.

He had probably never experienced defeat in his life.

It was only natural for someone with his talent.

To reach the Graduate realm in his early twenties—he must have overwhelmed not only his peers but also seniors ten or twenty years ahead in their swordsmanship journey.

Of course, if he had come from a renowned swordsmanship family or the Royal Academy, things might have been different.

Those places had many skilled mentors for the younger generation.

But this Harang was a mercenary.

That meant he likely had little chance of encountering senior swordsmen to guide him forward.

‘Even searching the entire southern continent, there are only four or five Gold Plate Mercenaries…’

He might have been taught by the Mercenary King Austin, but that man was busy with countless affairs.

It was highly likely Harang had built his current strength through trial and error alone.

So—

‘I want to be his mentor.’

I wanted to guide him.

I wanted to be a role model.

Sometimes like a friend, sometimes like a senior, I wanted to exchange swordsmanship freely and walk the lonely path of the sword together.

Of course…

‘He probably doesn’t welcome my request right now.’

That was likely.

I had been the same when I was younger.

Drunk on the superiority of having no rivals among my peers, addicted to constant victories, I avoided fights with strong opponents.

I wanted to remain the best forever and never experience defeat.

But that wouldn’t do.

Now that I realized settling in that state would never let me reach greater heights, I, Ransel Grantz, was filled with a desire to prevent the young man before me from wasting time as I had.

Of course, I hadn’t come here just to do a good deed.

‘I’ll gain a lot of stimulation and inspiration too.’

Juniors too far behind to match, peers, and seniors long stagnated and uninspiring.

How lonely had I been in between?

Even Xanthos Bogen, the kingdom’s second-strongest swordsman, seemed to avoid me, leaving me to walk a solitary path of the sword.

So, I didn’t want to miss this opportunity.

With that thought, I looked at Harang with shining eyes and spoke.

“Harang.”

“…Yes.”

“I’ll say it again, I’m sorry for coming so suddenly with such a burdensome proposal. But… I’m certain accepting it will benefit us both.”

“…”

“Don’t fear defeat. Don’t feel burdened. The more familiar you become with it, the more you’ll gain in the end.”

“…Hmm.”

Hearing Ransel Grantz’s words, I, Harang, let out continuous groans.

It was burdensome.

Not because he was a bad person or unreasonable.

On the contrary, it was because I could tell after just a few words that he was a good person, which made accepting his request difficult.

Of course, sparring once wasn’t hard.

But what came after was what I feared.

The expression he would show after crossing swords with me kept lingering in my mind.

‘In the past, I wouldn’t have cared about such things and would’ve crushed him with all my strength…’

But I, Harang, was different now.

Having rolled around in the Commercial City Marzen.

Taking on various missions as a member of the Eddy Mercenary Corps.

Recently getting caught up in all sorts of disputes in the Nadan Kingdom’s capital, I had grown socially.

So, I couldn’t help but think about the consequences I would bring.

“Do you need more time to think?”

“…No. Let’s do it. Let’s spar.”

“Haha, good choice. Thank you for making a tough decision.”

But in the end, I had no choice but to accept his request.

I felt he would keep coming back if I refused.

As I’d seen with Philip Portville, those with a strong passion for swordsmanship were often stubborn and obsessive.

This man seemed the same.

I had a strong hunch that if things didn’t go his way, he’d keep pestering me.

‘Of course, I don’t think he’d be rude like the Royal Academy folks… but it’s better to get it over with quickly than to keep being bothered.’

Or maybe—

There was still a chance, however small, that he was far stronger than I thought.

Though my sharpened senses from facing various strong opponents in the outside world were rarely wrong, there was always a “what if.”

With that thought, I nodded decisively and said.

“Alright. Shall we start now?”

“Right now? Here?”

“No, of course outside… There’s an empty lot behind the building. It’s not a polished noble training ground, but that makes it more comfortable for swinging swords.”

“Haha, you’re right. Too pristine a training ground is burdensome for Graduates like us. Swinging an Aura Sword and damaging it would cost too much to repair. Oh! Let me say in advance, please forgive me if I mess up the lot a bit with my sword. In return, I’ll give you an experience far more valuable.”

“…Sure.”

I nodded again.

There was nothing else I could do.

And so, we left the reception room and walked steadily toward the empty lot behind the hideout.

Our expressions were starkly different.

One wore a satisfied, refreshing smile.

The other, with a troubled look and eyes full of concern, glanced at the one striding slightly ahead.

For a brief moment, I wished time would slow down.

Of course, that didn’t happen.

“Here we are. Shall we begin?”

“…”

“I’ll let you have the first move. Come at me with the swordsmanship you’re most confident in!”

Wooooooong-!

Ransel Grantz, shouting boldly, unleashed a fully formed Aura Sword.

His skill was considerable.

As I thought before, he was definitely stronger than Philip Portville.

Considering most Graduates I’d met were in their fifties or older, his talent was undeniable.

‘In the outside world, that is.’

No, enough thinking.

I shook my head vigorously and glared at my opponent.

‘Let’s end this quickly with full force.’

I felt that was the least courtesy I could show Ransel Grantz.

“Hmm, good.”

Seeing my gaze, Ransel Grantz nodded with a satisfied look.

It was a good expression.

Completely different from the earlier dazed look.

Impressed that I’d finally steeled myself, he lowered his stance to prepare for my attack.

Seeing this, I also took a charging stance, and the moment was ripe for a clash with just a small trigger.

…But.

Our spar didn’t start.

More precisely, I didn’t seem to have the will to.

Ransel Grantz frowned as he saw me, the black-haired youth, suddenly relax my stance and look to the side.

‘What? Still hesitating?’

That thought crossed his mind briefly, but it quickly vanished.

My expression as I looked to the side was far too serious.

No, “serious” wasn’t enough.

It felt like tension.

Or perhaps excitement.

Maybe anger, or even joy—a complex mix of emotions flashed across my face in an instant.

The sincerity and weight in it made Ransel Grantz feel goosebumps.

Naturally, his head turned to where I was looking.

At the end was a tall man, seemingly around my age.

Swish.

Swishhh-

Blond hair, blue eyes.

Fair skin, a handsome face.

His refined appearance could only belong to a noble family’s heir.

The low-quality clothes he wore clashed with his look but somehow created a captivating aura that drew attention.

But that wasn’t what mattered.

The sword, lightly swung with casual hand movements.

The profound principles within it shocked Ransel Grantz to his core.

‘Who in the world…’

Whooooosh-!

At that moment.

A sudden gust of wind made Ransel Grantz turn his head again.

And he was shocked, utterly shocked, unable to close his wide-open eyes or mouth.

Before him was a monster.

Two, three steps—no, leagues beyond what he had expected.

A monster with overwhelming strength glared at the blond, blue-eyed swordsman with a grim expression.

“Sir Ransel Grantz.”

“Uh, huh?”

“Let’s postpone the spar a bit. Please.”

“Uh, sure…”

He could only answer that way.

And he had no choice but to step back immediately.

If he didn’t, he’d get hurt.

No, he’d die!

His instincts screamed danger, and he quickly moved to a corner of the lot.

Boom!

Bang-!

Kabooooom-!

Right after, the swords of the two young swordsmen clashed in the center of the lot.

Crack, crack…!

Crunch, crrrunch-!

Strength against strength, power against power!

The two men, with unrelenting force, pushed against each other as if to devour one another.

The clash of their swords produced ear-splitting roars, and the ground beneath their feet cracked as if an earthquake had struck.

But that wasn’t their full strength.

Pop!

Pop-!

The youths pushed each other back, stepping two paces away.

Grinning as if they were having the time of their lives, they glared at each other, then shifted their weight forward and charged like meteors.

Kill or be killed.

Devour or be devoured!

With reckless, terrifying momentum, they swung their swords at each other, contracting their muscles with full force and drawing up their aura!

The result of their clash was beyond imagination.

Claaaang!

────────────!

An ear-shattering roar that felt like it would rupture eardrums.

Followed by a fierce shockwave!

A violent gust swept through, kicking up dirt and debris that scratched the surroundings sharply.

A red line was drawn across Ransel Grantz’s cheek, exposed to the chaos.

But he couldn’t even wipe the blood, staring blankly at the two youths’ fight.

“This is… this is…”

Impossible.

Ransel Grantz muttered quietly.

And nearby, Hagio, who had approached, watched him with a pitying expression.

‘Poor guy.’

Fully understanding the noble swordsman’s feelings, he felt sympathy.

But that concern didn’t last long.

A far more important fight was unfolding before him.

‘The clash between Rank 1 and Rank 3… A rare spectacle even in the village.’

Rank 1, Harang.

Rank 3, Gael.

Watching their fierce reunion, Hagio also flashed a fierce smile.

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