30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

Chapter 269

   *

     

     

    -Duel! Duel! Duel! Duel!!

     

     

     In the makeshift hypothesis ring, within the circular cage stacked with the corpses of the non-eating kind of demons, Ivan rubbed his forehead and grumbled.

     

     

     “Why is this happening?”

     

     “…What?”

     

     “Why are we doing this? Did we not say we would talk?”

     

     

     Einar stared blankly at Ivan for a moment. A conversation? Was he talking about the iron conversation?

     

     

     ‘It feels like primitive medieval fantasy.’

     

     

     Ivan clicked his tongue. Since there was no Samaritan here, there were also no laws of the good Samaritan. It meant there was no legal clause that would protect if someone rescued you and then demanded payment for their trouble.

     

     There were no good Samaritans in this place. Just the bad Drovian.

     

     After over ten days of working overnight, he finally had a break after personally sweeping the demons for the last two days.

     

     A good agent should naturally take a rest. Adequate nourishment and rest are the secrets to maintaining the body’s functionality in homeostasis.

     

     But contrary to his wishes, Einar looked at him with incredulous eyes.

     

     Objectively, it wasn’t a wrong thought. He had rushed over from a foreign land to help, flipped the country upside down to rally the Yarl, and ultimately came to the crucial moment to save Drovian.

     

     He wasn’t so shameless as to show resentment toward Ivan for such a thing.

     

     However, being a father…

     

     

     “Come on, Iva… No!! Banka!! Let’s go!!”

     

     “Ugh.”

     

     

     With Ecdysis banging on the drums and shouting, Ivan gritted his teeth.

     

     Watching his daughter scream like a clown going around the country, and now, cheering for him to win in a duel?

     

     All kinds of duels directed at Yarl are basically closers to challenges. It’s not conducted in the way of war but rather follows the most moderate succession tradition in Drovian.

     

     In other words, if a duel were to take place in the sight of all the Drovian warriors, a loss would not be tolerated by the king.

     

     He knew he had brought this upon himself, but he hadn’t even considered the possibility of losing… still.

     

     

     “Aha, I see.”

     

     

     Ivan chuckled wryly and nodded. He asked back in a stone-faced voice.

     

     

     “Should I throw the match?”

     

     “What…? You little….”

     

     

     This little one has no heart of a human.

     

     Einar felt a calm emotion at that moment. Yes, that’s right.

     

     Outwardly, the angry king was furious at his daughter’s change.

       Internally, the father was disappointed in his daughter’s change of heart.

     

     And in his true heart…

     

     

     ‘I must prove that even if I die and this boy and Ecdysis carry on, the bloodline of the royal family remains supreme.’

     

     

     In front of all the warriors watching, he would showcase the best of his might.

     

     This was not to display a warrior challenging the king, but rather a chance to prove that a successor worthy of being called equal to the strongest king in Drovian’s history carries on.

     

     Thus, he had feigned anger and cited unnecessary reasons to lead the duel, but—.

     

     

     ‘Such trivial reasons no longer matter.’

     

     

     Even for Ecdysis’s future, he needed to instill a sense of humanity in this little one.

     

     

     “Come at me with all you’ve got, little brother. If you die, Ecdysis will become a widow.”

     

     “Interesting.”

     

     

     Ivan smirked and raised his axe. At that moment when Einar also lifted his axe in response.

     

     For a moment, Ivan, who had been lost in thought, suddenly asked.

     

     

     “Oh, speaking of widow, Einar.”

     

     “What’s going on all of a sudden?”

     

     “Is it possible to have multiple marriages in Drovian?”

     

     “…What?”

     

     

     Does it imply wanting to cheat before even getting married?

     

     As Einar’s eyes shook, Ivan continued calmly.

     

     

     “I’m about to have a wedding with Elizaveta. We’re having a baby.”

     

     “…Today.”

     

     

     Einar lowered his head slightly and let out a small growl. His messy hair covered his eyes, making it hard to read his expression.

     

     

     “So today, there will be two widows.”

     

     

     Before he could finish that sentence, a beast-like killing intent burst forth, tearing through the atmosphere.

     

     The roaring warrior, reminiscent of the time when he slayed the Seven Dragon Lords, charged toward his foe.

     

    -Waaahhh—!!!

     

     

     The warriors of Drovian cheered joyfully and gulped down their demon meat.

     

     

     *

     

     

     The physical limit of nerve acceleration, is that the utmost limit of a superhuman? In the slowly flowing realm of superhumans, are victories and defeats only determined by human techniques?

     

     

     Regardless of the martial arts and effort built as a superhuman, do they return to the realm of humans before their limits?

     

     In most cases, yes. No matter how fast and fiercely one can move, at the end of the day it’s a fight where each uses their limbs to stab weapons into one another.

     

     Once they reach the ‘realm,’ the growth of a ‘superhuman’ stops and they continue to hone their skills as a ‘swordsman.’

     

     However, some exist who break that mold.

     

     The strong who can shape their thoughts and impose their will upon the world. Those who can defy the laws of physics and human limits, leaving their marks on the world with a single piece of iron.

     

     Beyond the realm of superhumans, there exists a realm of thought.

     

     Only then do humans finally break the limits of their kind and step into the realm of gods.

     

     This totality, is known as talent. A realm unreachable by mere effort, a territory unattainable by the struggles of the common.

     

     

     -Kwaaaah—!!

     

     

     Einar’s axe struck down with a thunderous noise. This is evidently a strange occurrence. Their time was flowing faster than the sound.

     

     To hear the cracking sound even before the clash means they were hitting the limits of sound speed. However, Einar would never strike with such a trivial blow.

     

     This implies that…

     

     

     ‘From the very first moment it began its trajectory, it was tearing through the air.’

     

     

     Strength without any technique. A force capable of bringing down castle walls and uprooting mountains. Literally, a force that could uproot mountains.

     

     It could not be avoided.

     

     

    -Creeeak!!

     

     

     Ivan gritted his teeth and swung his axe in response. There was no way to evade that blow. The strength that had transcended limits was exuding its pulling force.

     

     Around that trajectory, the space snagged at his axe blade. The moment he tried to evade with a narrow margin to counterattack, his body would involuntarily be sucked into the axe and jammed in it.

     

     Then, a counterattack.

     

     

    -Growl—!!

     

     

     Since he couldn’t use the same power, this was technique. Ivan focused intensely, veins bulging, as he clashed the axe blade.

     

     He canceled out Einar’s blow. With a technique that overcomes strength. The imagery he conjured flowed like water. Like the rough sea swallowing a collapsing landslide.

     

     

     -Whoosh—! Whoosh—!!

     

     

     The sound echoed deep. The cracking sound was hardly sharp. It resonated as if hammering down in the deep seabed.

     

     But it was sufficiently large. Remarkably explosive.

     

     

     -Whoosh—!!

     

     

     Einar’s strength was already beyond the norm. It had been so since that time.

     

     And Ivan…

     

     

     ‘I have seen this before.’

     

     

     He had already seen, read, and felt that attack countless times.

     

     His role was to target high-value objectives. Based on the great war, high-value targets had been demons, but since there were also post-war targets established.

     

     The monarchs and aristocrats of all the neighboring countries of Krasilov, and notable powerful individuals had their power analysis arranged with assassination in mind.

     

     So Ivan, who had fought closely with Einar, could be seen as a dagger prepared to assassinate Einar. Setting aside whether it would actually be used or if it was feasible.

     

     At the very least, it meant he had come prepared.

     

     

     -Whoosh—!!

     

     “Your skills have improved!!”

     

     

     Einar’s shout rang clearly in Ivan’s ears. Ivan looked at his face.

     

     The initial anger had vanished, now he looked satisfied. Laughing heartily, it seemed he was stretching as if this was a warm-up.

     

     Despite delivering deadly strikes that could tear through a person step by step.

     

     

     “Surely, you must have something you haven’t shown yet?”

     

     

     Reading Einar’s lip movements, Ivan nodded. His smile deepened.

     

     When they met a year ago, they hadn’t seen the end.

     

     That duel in the front yard of the orphanage had only been a simple test, but it was different now.

     

     This detestable little brother had kept fighting until he was knocked out even then. Both he and the other knew that this time, if they fought, it wouldn’t just end in a knockout.

     

     A mock battle incredibly close to real combat. Even without the intent to kill, a moment’s lapse in judgment could lead to death. They were fighting at a level far too high to give each other any leeway.

     

     Thus, there was arguably no better opportunity.

     

     

     “Do you remember?”

     

     “What?”

     

     

     As he shot down each of Einar’s swirling axes one by one, Ivan slightly tilted his head.

     

     Soon, Einar’s words followed.

     

     

     “When we were free in the Demon Realm, the others tried to teach you various things whenever they could.”

     

     

     Jill Ber acted like he was reluctant while teaching defense techniques under the guise of sparring, and Enrique had outright stuck by his side to teach him techniques.

     

     Patricia had taught him emergency treatment and the discrimination of demons, while Veolgrin explained how to find directions by looking at the sky and understanding the flow of mana.

     

     Even the Hero and Maximilian had tried to teach him swordsmanship.

     

     Good memories. It had been a tough time, but reflecting back, they weren’t bad memories.

     

     He was such a quick learner that it felt like teaching him was almost a hobby. The more he fought better and survived longer, the noticeably smoother the progress of the Hero Party’s missions became.

     

     At first, a 20-year-old young man, clearly talented but slightly lacking in parts, had swiftly grown to become a party member able to stand shoulder to shoulder with them.

     

     Yet during that time, Einar taught Ivan nothing.

     

     No, he couldn’t.

     

     

     ‘There was no way to teach without killing.’

     

     

     At that time, what Ivan needed to follow was too high of a level. And the other techniques were simply too basic and trivial.

     

     A tactic that pushed through multiple foes with sheer strength didn’t align with Ivan’s fighting style. This kid, despite appearances, was a technician.

     

     And his mental techniques were of a kind that could not be taught without killing. The moment they fought earnestly, that kid would likely collapse and die.

     

     But at this moment, Einar realized that it was finally possible.

     

     

     “Prepare your best.”

     

     

    -Swish…

     

     

     Einar’s body leaped back. The axe blades swept up the dust, trembling finely. An eerie resonance came from the two axes held in his hands.

     

     

     The muscles twitched like snakes, surging up.

     

     It comes. Ivan steadied himself, observing that sight. The martial arts of thought, the highest level of martial arts that a superhuman can obtain when transcending other superhumans, was about to be unleashed.

     

     The highest peak achievable with a human body, touching the realm of the gods.

     

     

     “Max split the heavens, Enrique consumed the shadows. Jill Ber withstood tsunamis and landslides. I am different.”

     

     

     Einar’s smile twisted increasingly ferociously. The swirling killing intent took form, ripping the air apart.

     

     The feeling of gravity twisting. Everything around was swirling toward Einar. The senses, a survival instinct inherent in all living beings, rang alarm bells.

     

     This was the illusion created by a single person’s killing intent. So close to the highest tier of mental magic, Ivan found himself instinctively struggling to keep his knees from bending.

     

     

     Jill Ber remained a knight, while Maximilian had no interest in power.

     

     Veolgrin found fulfillment as a royal advisor, Enrique loved a life of freedom, and Patricia chose a life of obedience to the gods.

     

     In contrast, Einar became a king.

     

     The only king in history who unified an entire race. A king who, by sheer force, subjugated millions and united Drovian, which had never been unified in its long history.

     

     Thus, this was the mind of a king.

     

     Greed that devours everyone before his eyes, the thirst for power that has life and death of all in his grasp, the malice toward all that resists, an unshakeable trust in his own power.

     

     All that mixed into one, pure and simple.

     

     A desire to protect the future of the race, justice.

     

     And the way to express that is, in the manner of a Drovian, only one.

     

     If it had a name, it would be Einar’s.

     

     

     “Dominate.”

     

     

    -Fwoosh—!!

     

     

     The muscles in Einar’s arms intertwined like tree roots, and the ferociously roaring killing intent distorted the center of the world.

     

     As the axe fell, all the warriors watching the duel between Einar and Ivan knelt to the ground.

     

     This was the power that made it possible to face legions with just two axes.

     

     The technique of the warrior who was in charge of ‘facing legions’ in the Hero Party.

     

     

     “Did you see well?”

     

     

     Einar laughed ferociously as he spoke.

     

     

     “If you learn this, you will become the ‘next generation.’”

     

     

     When the name ‘Reserve Unit’ first came about, it was intended to mean that they could substitute for ‘the vacancies of the Hero Party.’

     

     But among those who received that position, none had ever actually served the Hero Party. Such strong individuals had to engage in the grand war for their respective nations.

     

     Except for this kid.

     

     Thus, the ‘Reserve Unit’ that was practically the only one performing its function. While it was called the one responsible for vacancies, the reality was different.

     

     The more he taught this kid, the more the Hero Party sensed it. That ridiculous ability to learn.

     

     What if this kid had met a good teacher when he was younger and honed his skills thoroughly? Such thoughts arose.

     

     So he taught them little by little, regardless of their factions and cliques. Under the guise of being a self-proclaimed assassin, he had subtly fed them lessons.

     

     When everyone had failed, when they ended up not being able to subdue the Demon King.

     

     At that time, to make sure that all of us could be ‘reserves.’

     

     So one might as well name it, yes. ‘Next Generation.’

     

     The heir to the Hero Party. For the one who could perform all roles by himself.

     

     

     “Hmm.”

     

     

     Through the dust, Ivan’s blue eyes sparkled.

     

     

     “Everyone ‘saw’.”

     

   *

   

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