Chapter 80 : Of All Things to Watch, a Fight Is Best

We shared the clearing, each of us training in our own way.

I spent my time harassing trees or darting about swinging my sword like a madman, while Hugo kept to one side, practicing his endless downward cuts.

And whenever I felt stiff, or when training didn’t go my way and irritation built up, I would suddenly “resume class.”

Which usually meant kicking Hugo in the ribs.

Thwack!

“Never drop your guard!”

“Urk—!”

With the heart of a good teacher, I pummeled him mercilessly. Hugo gritted his teeth, dodging, blocking, doing whatever he could to counterattack.

I struck with enough killing intent that survival demanded he draw on mana, whether he wanted to or not.

Of course, my mouth never stopped running.

Mind games and mana practice had to go hand in hand.

I taunted him however the thought came, sharpening his weaknesses. Especially those about his father.

“Was it true your father sold his body instead of candles? If not, knock me down and prove it.”

“They say he carries dirty pictures in his pockets. The whole town knows.”

“Didn’t he scream like a maiden when a cat startled him in the street?”

At first, Hugo was thrown into confusion, but little by little he began glaring furiously and striking back with greater ferocity.

His attacks still didn’t land cleanly on me, but the improvement was undeniable.

Each time he was beaten unconscious, he got stronger.

The moment he felt mana, his growth had exploded.

Mana really was cheating.

Not that I had room to complain, with inner energy being even more broken.

“Grkk—”

After a blow to his side, Hugo finally slumped to the dirt, unconscious.

“Not bad. He lasts longer now.”

I dragged him aside, left him there, then lifted my gaze to the starless night sky.

Catching my breath, I began my own training.

Hanging from branches, striking trunks until bark flew, then finally drawing the broken sword Sir Boksil had given me.

“Fuuu…”

I steadied my breathing and poured aura into it, raising a crimson blade from the fractured steel.

Vmm—

By now, I was practiced. I swung it in several arcs—no longer rippling even under forceful strikes.

“Mm. Good.”

Satisfied, I released the aura, then tried with starlight.

It stretched beyond the broken edge, gathering into a shimmering blade, keen and radiant.

The Star Glow Sword.

It had taken countless attempts, but I’d managed. Still, under strong swings it wavered like liquid light—more practice needed.

Next, I tried moonlight.

Much harder.

Difficult to explain, but moonlight was slippery, flowing, impossible to control.

How had I ever wielded it so fiercely against the Knight of Frost?

Maybe I really was someone who only shined in battle.

I closed my eyes, guiding it carefully so it wouldn’t slip away.

Wooong…

At last, moonlight seeped into the blade.

“Good…”

I coaxed it upward, past the broken half, shaping it with utmost care.

Sweat trickled down my temple as I compressed it into a single edge, sharpening.

When I opened my eyes, a Moonlight Sword gleamed faintly in my hands.

Not as dazzling as starlight.

Gentle, subtle. Almost ordinary to the eye.

But I could feel it.

Starlight was brilliant, destructive. Moonlight was quiet, hidden, and piercing.

The very blade that had pierced through the Knight of Frost’s chest.

Silent, deadly power.

Strength didn’t need noise.

I raised it to swing, but the moonlight wavered, collapsed, and slipped away into the night.

I tried anyway, leaving only a thin crescent shining in the air before fading.

A crescent moon, no full orb.

And just that little drained my energy in a torrent.

…Much more training was needed.

I remembered something.

The Heavenly Demon had promised new techniques if I mastered the Night Sky Star Moon Art.

“Master.”

[What now.]

“What does it mean to ‘master’ the Night Sky Star Moon Art?”

[Your current realm is the beginning of Moon—the Waning Moon stage. If you can raise a Full Moon, that is mastery.]

“Ahh.”

[You may not realize it, but you already managed it once.]

“…Me? When?”

[When you drove your blade into that icy bastard’s chest.]

“Oh.”

Indeed, in that moment, I had conjured a full moon.

It must have been so, otherwise no matter how careless he was, a monster like him wouldn’t have been wounded.

…Of course, I hadn’t expected him to survive even that.

“So all I have to do is draw a full moon like then.”

[Correct. You’re far from it. Work harder, fool.]

“Got it.”

I exhaled, sheathing the sword and calming my energy.

Looking around, I noticed Hugo had woken, staring at me wide-eyed.

“What are you staring at?”

“…What was that? I’ve never seen aura like that.”

“None of your business. Keep swinging your sword.”

He mouthed silently, then whispered a word.

“…Genius.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Me, a genius?

I kicked him in the rear.

“Talking nonsense means you’ve rested enough. Come on.”

Then I beat him again.

“Didn’t your dad get scolded for being picky with food?”

“Your mom can’t cook better than me.”

“Raaagh!”

I booted him across the clearing.

“Break time.”

Dropping down, I sat heavily on the ground.

Hugo rolled, then trudged back and sat beside me, dusting himself off.

We sat in silence, dazed, resting.

I counted stars, then glanced at Shushruta snoozing up in the branches.

I’d told her to just stay behind and sleep in bed, but she insisted on following anyway, only to nap here.

Why? Who knew.

Hugo spoke.

“Who is that sister?”

Following my gaze, he was staring at Shushruta.

I answered casually,

“My companion.”

“Really?”

“Underestimate her for being silly-looking, and you won’t even realize you’re dead.”

“…An assassin?”

“Something like that.”

Hugo suddenly sighed deeply.

I frowned.

“A brat sighing like that—what is it?”

“…Does this even mean anything? I still haven’t landed a single hit on you.”

He’d finally gained the mana he’d longed for so desperately, and now he dared to whine like this?

I nearly smacked him again but held back for a moment.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Mm.”

So he really was just a sixteen-year-old brat.

But what of it?

Smack!

“Argh!”

I cuffed him across the head anyway.

“You ungrateful wretch. You should be groveling in thanks for being able to feel mana at all, not crying like a baby.”

“So what? I still can’t touch you. Is this even mana? Feels no different.”

Smack!

Another blow.

“You thought beating geniuses would be easy? Even if you train like mad, some pampered genius who spends his days drinking will still outpace you.”

“…It’s unfair.”

“Of course it’s unfair. The world always is. If you want to beat those blessed bastards, you’ll need to grind yourself to the bone. And even then, most can’t win.”

Hugo rubbed his head, muttering.

“Who’s calling who a cursed genius…”

“You brat.”

Smack!

He glared up at me.

“What do you know? You’re one of the blessed ones too! I’m dirt poor, talentless, and all I’ve got is swinging a sword. I practice every day and still, nothing changes. Always dead last! Meanwhile, those bastards loaf around, drink in secret, and still grow stronger overnight!”

I stared at him huffing and puffing.

Then laughed.

It was too pathetic not to.

“What’s so funny?”

“Forget it. And mind your tone.”

“You’ll never understand.”

“I do.”

I looked up at the moonless sky, smiling bitterly.

“I know exactly how you feel. Better than anyone.”

“….”

I clapped his shoulder.

“Brat. You’ve gotten stronger.”

“Yeah, right. I still can’t do anything but get beaten by you.”

“Taking a beating well is a talent too.”

“Bullshit.”

“Tomorrow we’ll see if it’s bullshit.”

If he hadn’t been beaten bloody by me, he’d never have touched mana at all.

He would’ve spent his whole life cursing this unfair world, bitter and empty-handed.

Opportunity breeds opportunity, I thought, staring at the star-filled sky where the moon was absent.

The next day—one week since I’d first met Hugo.

Under the blazing sun, the clearing held me, Hugo, and Shushruta, who had dragged along bags stuffed with snacks.

“You called them out?”

Hugo nodded.

“Yes. I sent a challenge letter and told them to bring their practice swords.”

“What did you write?”

“Just like you told me: if they don’t come, they’re worthless cowardly worms, not even fit to be dung.”

I nodded, satisfied.

“Good. They’ll have no choice but to show.”

Shushruta’s ears twitched, and she said,

“Ashuban. The brats are here.”

“Already? Quick to take the bait. The provocation worked.”

I met Hugo’s eyes.

“Listen, brat.”

“Yes.”

“This is your chance to defend your father’s honor.”

“Mm!”

“Show them what happens when a talentless fool who worked himself to the bone finally grasps talent. This is revolution from below—the rebellion of the untalented. Got it?”

“Yes!”

“Look at me.”

Hugo’s eyes blazed as he stared at me.

I grinned and tapped his cheek.

“Good eyes. You look ready to kill.”

“Maybe more than one.”

“Perfect. That’s the spirit.”

“Yes!”

“They insulted your father. Kill them.”

“Yes!”

Shushruta and I slipped into the trees, vanishing from sight.

Soon enough, the clearing filled with noisy boys.

Rickmon, the leader, slouched in with his wooden sword resting on his shoulder, grinning arrogantly as he swaggered toward Hugo.

“Hugo. Finally lost your mind, huh?”

He flicked his practice sword mockingly in Hugo’s face.

“You dare challenge me? Begging for a beating, are you?”

He smirked, every word calculated to provoke.

But Hugo didn’t flinch.

I whispered to Shushruta,

“Hey, you brought snacks?”

“Dried fruit, jerky, and—oh, here, popcorn.”

“Popcorn?”

“Corn kernels fried in oil. A snack.”

“Perfect.”

I stuffed some into my mouth and leaned back to enjoy the show.

Of all things to watch, nothing beat a fight. And of fights, the best were scrappy brat fights. Thrilling, since I wasn’t the one in them.

I wondered if this was how the Heavenly Demon felt watching me.

[Pretty close, actually.]

So that’s what it was.

Rickmon poked Hugo’s shoulder with his sword.

“Hey. Hey, brat. What’s that face? Looking cocky, huh? You asking for it?”

Hugo kept silent.

“Fine. I’ve pitied you long enough. No more. Today’s your last day in the Starvanger squires. I’ll break your limbs and send you crawling back to your candlemaker daddy’s shack.”

Rickmon’s grin grew sly.

“Oh, wait. Maybe your dad’s too busy rolling around with some fat noblewoman to even notice you’re gone.”

His gang burst out laughing.

“Pfft—hahaha! Or maybe he burned the house down making candles.”

“Lucky brat. If it were me, I’d have killed him outright. Rickmon’s being merciful.”

“What a sight. Looks like his funeral’s today.”

Clack!

Hugo swatted away the wooden sword jabbing at his shoulder.

Then, staring Rickmon in the eye, he said, “I heard your parents are siblings. That true?”

“…!”

Rickmon’s face froze.

Hugo watched, then grinned.

“Come on, bastard.”

(End of Chapter)

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