Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Sparks burst before my eyes.

Clang──!

I swiftly deflected Ron Winterbell’s sword as he charged in like a raging bull. Even though I had stacked reinforcement spells, my hand holding the sword went numb.

I could feel, through my skin, the blessing of the Winterbell bloodline.

Sure, there was a difference in skill as swordsmen, but even taking that into account, Ron Winterbell’s raw power was utterly absurd.

A true-born warrior, through and through.

‘Just a few exchanges and my wrist already aches.’

Still, oddly enough, I didn’t feel bad being reminded of that fact.

After all, this body also carried the Winterbell blood.

“Linen… Am I hallucinating? That youngest son, who couldn’t even walk on two legs, is now standing his ground against Young Master Ron…?”

“No, it’s not an illusion. The youngest master really is fighting on even footing with Young Master Ron!”

“Crazy… So what I’m seeing is actually real…”

Though now I could barely walk, it meant that if I fully recovered, I too could wield that blessing.

‘A beast of a man. At a glance it looks like he’s just swinging wildly on strength alone, but every movement is precise.’

To gauge his level, I had intentionally matched blades with him. The result? Even with overlapping reinforcement magic, it was impossible to overpower Ron Winterbell physically. If I kept clashing head-on, it would be my body—clearly more limited—that would give out first.

“You were so smug before, but after crossing swords, you’ve gone awfully quiet, little brother. Are you frightened already? Then go on, kneel and beg for your life. Who knows? With the generosity of the heavens in my heart, I might just spare you.”

Given that man’s personality, I had expected a more reckless charge, but strangely, even when I left an opening, he wouldn’t fully exploit it. Had he been meditating or training his mind? Whether he was reading my moves or simply acting on sharpened instincts, I couldn’t tell yet.

‘The one saving grace is that Ron Winterbell still lacks real experience.’

His body and talent were extraordinary. But that was all.

Talent only becomes complete through experience.

And I had lived another life.

I carried the memories of countless life-and-death battles, marching across war-torn fields.

Every seasoned swordsman would agree: one deadly battle teaches more than a hundred sword manuals ever could.

And the thing I excelled at most was fighting opponents stronger than me.

Like this.

“What the…!?”

Ron Winterbell’s blade, aimed squarely at my chest, sliced harmlessly through the air.

It happened so suddenly that he lost his balance for a split second.

He must’ve felt like his sword had moved on its own, ignoring his will.

I didn’t miss the opening and slashed at his side.

Although Ron Winterbell twisted his body with beast-like reflexes, resulting in only a shallow cut, it was more than enough to distort his expression. The surrounding spectators even gasped in unison—proof of how shocking the sight must have been for them.

“……”

Ron Winterbell stared blankly at his wound, then lifted his head and asked,

“What the hell did you just do?”

Instead of answering, I simply curled my lips into a faint smile.

Perhaps his temper was beginning to flare; he started to channel mana into his sword.

A blue aura, symbolizing the Winterbell bloodline, wrapped tightly around the blade.

A menacing energy radiated from him now, unlike anything he had shown before.

‘So even bloodline can’t be underestimated, huh.’

Ron Winterbell bit his lip and straightened his stance.

‘That’s Winterbell’s sword technique… no, the form is different. Did he modify it himself?’

Winterbell's Heavy Sword Technique.

Form Two—Wolf Fang.

But Ron had taken that technique and remodeled it to suit himself, creating his own version—Mad Blade.

‘…If I take that head-on in my current condition, it could be dangerous.’

【That’s a sword style Aslan often used. Though compared to how he wielded it, this one’s downright crude.】

It made sense. He had taken a family style and altered it as he pleased. Still, the destructive power it now held couldn’t be ignored.

“Since you're a cripple, act like one… since you're lowborn, know your place and live like it!”

The original ‘Wolf Fang’ consisted of three slashes.

The first strike aimed to quickly close the distance and harass the opponent.

It wasn’t meant to be powerful.

I avoided it with minimal movement and instead stepped further inside. I caught a glimpse of a grin forming on Ron Winterbell’s face.

He must have been waiting for me to come into his range.

The second strike followed.

It carried more force than the first, but it still existed only to set up the final blow.

‘At this distance, it’s impossible to dodge completely.’

My left shoulder was slashed, and blood streamed down. Compared to the pain I’d felt while taking elixirs, this was barely more than a mild itch.

‘Now comes the last one.’

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the first and second strikes existed solely for the third.

Close the distance, force the opponent to shrink back, and then deliver a killing blow.

Like a wolf going for the vital point of its prey, the final slash was a full-force strike meant to end it.

But for all its power, it had many openings.

And those openings were exactly what I’d been aiming for.

The moment Ron Winterbell began the prep movement for his final slash—

I drove my sword straight into his abdomen without hesitation.

Thwuck!

“Young Master Ron!!”

“Master!!”

I had clearly pierced through his stomach, and yet, my senses were screaming louder than ever.

What was this… this feeling of unease?

My body reacted before my brain could.

I instinctively tried to pull my sword back, but no matter how much strength I put into it, it wouldn’t budge.

Ron Winterbell, blood dripping from his mouth, was grinning ear to ear as he clutched the sword that had pierced through his abdomen. If he hadn’t wrapped his hand in mana, all five of his fingers would’ve been sliced clean off.

‘You crazy bastard!’

Even now, blood streamed down from his fingers, but he didn’t care. With his other hand, he swung his sword.

Whoosh──!

“So you’ve thrown away your sword in the end? Fitting. That suits you perfectly. A so-called swordsman throwing away his blade just to survive… I’m ashamed to share the same blood with you, even if you are only a half-blood.”

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to survive.

‘If I hadn’t let go of my sword, my head would’ve been severed.’

Looking at the strands of hair that had been sliced off sent chills down my spine.

‘He’s completely insane. Utterly mad.’

I had misjudged him.

Because Ron Winterbell was someone who took great pride in himself, I thought he would never take a hit just to land one in return. From his perspective, even having a ranking match against me would have been a deeply humiliating ordeal.

Choosing such a tactic was, in itself, a sign that he now regarded me as either an equal or a serious threat.

About twenty minutes had passed.

‘I’m starting to feel my legs give out.’

Terrible.

To make matters worse, my body was starting to break down under the strain.

Clang!

Ron Winterbell pulled the sword from his abdomen and tossed it to the ground.

Judging by how the bleeding from his gut had stopped, it seemed the cold-natured mana of the Winterbell bloodline had acted as a coagulant.

‘…What a lunatic.’

Ron Winterbell wore a confident expression.

He probably thought that since I had lost my weapon, I had no means of attacking him anymore.

Well, for a swordsman to throw away his sword usually meant he had accepted death.

But there was something Ron Winterbell had misunderstood.

In my past life, I wasn’t a swordsman.

Among the many weapons I had mastered, the sword was simply the one I handled best, and so I used it most often. But I was the kind of person who would do whatever it took to win—regardless of the method or means.

That’s why, the weapon I handled best after the sword was—

“My god, don’t tell me you’re thinking of facing me with those scrawny fists?”

My hands and feet.

In other words, my body itself.

“I don’t know where you picked up all those petty tricks… but I don’t even feel it’s worth getting angry anymore. Why are you struggling so pathetically? If you’d just stayed quietly holed up in that annex, at least you wouldn’t be fighting for your life. If you’d been grateful for the mercy you were given and lived out your days just breathing, you wouldn’t have ended up following your mother to the grave.”

“…Looks like things aren’t going the way you thought, huh? Judging by how much you’re running your mouth. I mean, who would’ve thought you’d struggle this much against the cripple you used to mock? You even went as far as stabbing your own gut just to keep me here.”

“You little worm…”

Ron Winterbell, face twisted into that of a demon, stormed toward me. The sheer killing intent pouring off him, along with the fierce mana swirling around his body, made it clear just how furious he was.

The enormous sword in his grip was emitting sharp, frigid mana.

There was nowhere left to run.

The only way to escape this situation now was to admit defeat and forfeit the ranking match.

But that wasn’t an option for me.

“Hoo…”

I took a deep breath and calmed my mind.

Then, I poured every bit of usable mana I had into my body to reinforce it completely.

“Strength enhancement. Durability enhancement. Full-body composite enhancement.”

Mana, like an engraved seal, coursed through my bloodstream, transforming my body to a new level.

A surge of vitality erupted through me like an explosion.

“…Gah!”

But from the strain of overusing mana, blood ran down from my nose, and a dark red mass mixed with bile spewed from my mouth.

Despite a month of grueling training that bordered on body modification, I had still been living like a wreck until recently. A body that hadn’t used magic in years would obviously react poorly to being pushed this far. To make things worse, the spell I cast was a composite reinforcement magic with a complex structure—its backlash hit two or three times harder than normal.

You could say I was borrowing from my future lifespan just to squeeze out these ten minutes of power.

‘I can’t execute it perfectly. I haven’t even reached that level yet.’

Though I was acknowledged for my considerable talent, I could never replicate his technique to perfection. I merely took inspiration from it and adapted it into my swordsmanship.

The very first time I disrupted Ron Winterbell’s sword path—was by applying a martial art I learned from him.

The great leader of the Natos, the brave warriors of the Western Stone Mountains. A hero who once saved the world alongside the Hero. My sworn brother.

The Martial King, Ivaki.

A man who created his own original martial art.

“Dieeeee!!!”

Ivaki Style.

Form One – Vortex.

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