NOVEL WEB chapter 226 - The Knight Reflects on Defeat (5)
…That was a strange dream.
[You dare know your crime?! How could a Plum Blossom Swordsman lose to some Zhongnan bastard?! How utterly disgraceful! You are the shame of the Huashan Sect!*]
A group of old Daoist masters raged at him in his dream.
And it wasn’t just one or two of them.
[We must sever his tendons and exile him!]
[Huashan’s name weeps today…]
[How will we ever face our ancestors now?!]
They were treating him like a criminal, and Ihan simply scratched his cheek.
[Look at that insolent attitude!]
[He has no remorse for his sins!]
[T-this… this brat…!]
Their blood pressure was rising fast.
And Ihan, looking at them, finally spoke—
"Oi, you damn specters. I don’t know who you guys are, but let’s get one thing straight. First of all, I’m not part of the Huashan Sect, you morons."
[……?]
After throwing that insult, he calmly continued.
"I was an assassin in some insane experimental organization. After that, I was a mercenary. My roots are way closer to the Demon Sect or wandering rogues than anything from the righteous sects. And even if I had to be in one, my first technique came from Shaolin, so if anything, I’d be closer to them than Huashan. Besides, my techniques might have come from martial arts novels, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually part of the Murim, does it? If you really think about it, I made all this up, you idiots. That makes me the founder here, dumbasses."
[…….]
"You can shove your excommunication. If anyone’s getting expelled, I should be the one doing the expelling."
[B-but the Plum Blossom Sword Art…]
"You got a patent on it or something?"
[…….]
"Thought so. Damn freeloading ghosts. Y’all don’t even have the rights to it, so shut up."
[T-that’s…]
"Enough bullshit. Get over here. Since when do some random sect disciples have the nerve to talk back to a founder?"
[W-wait, hold on—!]
"Show me your so-called Plum Blossom Sword Art!"
[…!]
The Huashan Sect specters screamed.
***
THUD!
Ihan bolted upright.
"…Damn ghosts. They had insane footwork."
He sat there, dazed, staring at his palms.
He had planned to beat them up at least five hundred times, but he only managed around three hundred.
Ghosts were still ghosts. They had no legs, so they ran like hell.
…Maybe that was what they called the [Phantom Step]?
"Hm. Should I try making it?"
Ihan mused, nodding to himself at the new inspiration for footwork.
Just then—
"…What kind of nonsense are you muttering the moment you wake up?"
"There’s a reason for everything."
Baltar spoke up, and Ihan, having already sensed his presence, responded without even looking at him.
"How long was I out?"
"Thirty minutes."
"…Figures. No wonder I feel refreshed."
"Haha. That recovery rate of yours is still absurd. Are you telling me just that was enough for you to recover?"
"Eh, I’m only about 40% back. But wouldn’t anyone else recover about this much with some rest?"
"Haha, if you said that in front of other warriors, they’d beat you to death for it. …Though, knowing you, you’d just end up beating them instead."
"……."
Instead of responding to Baltar’s teasing, Ihan quietly took in his surroundings.
Crumble… crackle…!
Thud!
Snap—!
"…Ahem."
A wry smile crept onto his face.
It was a disaster.
The massive training ground, boasting an area of about 6,000 square meters, was completely destroyed.
The earth had collapsed in places, forming sinkholes.
The surrounding walls had crumbled, leaving a clear view of the outside.
And to top it off, the intense energy left behind by their battle—both from his sword aura and the sword phantoms—had ignited fires all over the place.
It looked like the aftermath of a nuclear explosion.
…The only comfort was that there was no radiation.
But still—
"I really screwed up this time…"
Seeing the destruction firsthand, Ihan broke out into cold sweat.
When he was caught up in the fight, he hadn’t cared about anything else.
But now that he had snapped back to his senses, reality was hitting him.
‘What the hell was I thinking…?’
The damage alone was catastrophic.
And it wasn’t just some property damage—he had wrecked a part of the royal palace.
Beating up the First and Second Cat Knights yesterday? That had been self-defense, so he had some justification.
But this?
This was all on him.
‘Forget debt collectors—I’m about to be arrested.’
Hell, they might even haul him to the gallows.
"If I fix everything, do you think they’ll still punish me?"
"Hm? Can you fix this?"
"I did a lot of engineering work. Give me, what, two weeks? No, maybe just a week. I’ll have it good as new."
"…You always have the strangest skill set."
"Haha…"
In his past life, he had literally built training camps in the military.
And now, with his current strength, he was practically a walking construction vehicle.
Even if he worked alone, a week would be enough to rebuild everything.
That might be enough to lessen the punishment…
Just as he was deep in thought—
"I know what you're worried about. Typical of you, really. Only you would stress over something like this, you fool."
"Of course I’d worry about it."
"At times like this, you seem like such a simple, upstanding guy. But the moment your eyes go wild, you turn into a complete lunatic."
"…I caused the damage, so obviously, I should be the one to fix it."
"Haha. You’re insane, but also oddly responsible."
"?"
Ihan wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a compliment.
But then Baltar said something surprising.
"Don’t bother worrying about it. ‘This kind of thing’ happens all the time."
"…This kind of thing?"
"Back in the previous king’s era, this was a common occurrence. Knights would duel, and the royal palace would regularly get wrecked. Haha. It was practically a yearly event."
"……."
"But after the previous king passed away, the knights started declining. The old warriors either retired or left for Avalon, and these kinds of ‘events’ stopped happening. Still, the law remains—Even if the royal palace is destroyed in a knights’ duel, as long as there are no casualties, no punishment shall be given. So, you’re fine. Haha."
"Oh."
That meant—no gallows for him.
And right on cue—
Drip… drip…
A gentle rain began to fall, extinguishing the lingering flames.
As the cool droplets washed over him, Ihan chuckled.
"…It’s been raining a lot lately."
Thankfully.
***
Shhhhhhhh…
"……."
"……."
Ihan and Baltar sat in silence, watching the heavy autumn rain pour down.
The training grounds had been utterly destroyed in their battle, leaving nothing but the roof of a lone resting pavilion intact. And now, they sat beneath it, using it as a makeshift umbrella.
It was one thing for Ihan to be here, but seeing someone like Baltar, an Aura User, casually sitting in such a miserable place was an odd sight.
"Someone like you could walk into any palace chamber and get a proper room. Why are you just sitting out here? You could be drinking tea in a warm place."
"That kind of delicate lifestyle isn’t my style. I’m more used to letting the rain cool my body after a fight."
"You’re not some wild animal… even our little Barbarian brat doesn’t rest like this."
"A corrupted barbarian, then. Shame on them. Tsk, tsk. Their ancestors must be rolling in their graves."
"…That’s racist, old man."
Pointless conversation.
A casual atmosphere.
Hard to believe that these were two knights who had just been at each other’s throats.
And yet, somehow, the image of the two of them, sitting under this half-broken shelter in the middle of a storm, suited them perfectly.
Rather than a lavish mansion, it felt far more natural for them to be resting in the middle of a battlefield, perhaps even smoking a cigarette.
Funny thing was, neither of them smoked. And neither of them drank much, either.
They were entirely different in many ways, yet oddly similar in others.
And so—
"If you have something to say, say it now. I’ll listen."
Baltar saw through Ihan’s thoughts with ease.
"…What’s with the sudden offer?"
"You’ve got something on your mind. That’s why you came looking for me."
"I just came here to fight."
"Don’t lie. You’re terrible at it. It’s obvious. Hah, you really are like me. Even when you have something weighing on you, you just bottle it up and keep silent."
"……."
"Just let it out. No one’s listening but me. And I have no intention of running around telling people your secrets."
"……."
Ihan remained silent.
Baltar didn’t push him, simply watching the rain fall.
Minutes passed.
Maybe ten.
And then—
"…It feels strange."
"……."
Ihan finally spoke.
Softly.
"It’s just… weird. Really weird."
His words were disorganized, like a grandson whining to his grandfather.
But there was no warmth or nostalgia between them. That wasn’t their dynamic.
It felt more like two old comrades talking.
And so, Ihan’s grumbling was more like revealing his true thoughts to a friend.
"It’s strange, right? Nothing happened to me directly, but for some reason, I can’t shake this feeling of unease. It’s like I’m just dancing in the palm of someone’s hand. It pisses me off. …Yeah, I think I feel disgusting. It’s suffocating."
"Haha, I can’t understand a word of that nonsense. Explain properly, one thing at a time."
"…Mm."
Realizing that his words were all over the place, Ihan nodded.
Then, with a bitter smile, he began speaking slowly.
"So, basically—"
He spoke of the temple’s ambush. The incubi and succubi. The Saintess Plan and the fanatics manipulating it.
He spoke of the half-demons, the demonic beasts from hell, and the enemy’s strategist, the so-called Prophet.
And the strange sense of defeat that had settled over him.
He spoke of the Magic Tower, the battle against the Tower Master, and how he had been forced to learn aura techniques—still at a beginner level.
Big things, small things. Even details he didn’t need to mention poured from his lips.
If it were anyone else, he might not have spoken so openly.
But this was Baltar.
A strong man.
Someone who wouldn’t go around gossiping about Ihan’s troubles.
That trust was what allowed Ihan to be honest.
And Baltar, proving himself to be a good listener, simply nodded along, occasionally responding with things like, "Is that so?" or "Hmm…" or "Oh ho!"
"…It’s just weird. I didn’t lose. The temple just got its ass kicked. But why do I feel like I lost? It makes no sense."
"Haha. Probably because you played right into the enemy’s hands. Of course, you’d feel like you lost. I went through the same thing in my younger years."
"You did?"
Baltar shrugged.
"When I was young—about sixty years ago—there was a genius in Britannia. A strategist named Hannibal. The man wasn’t just a military tactician. He was a prodigy in war, politics, economics, and even the arts. And back then, I lost to him over a hundred times."
"…Sounds like a monster."
"There are people like that. People who excel in everything except wielding a weapon. And their intelligence is far more dangerous than any sword. Even the old king had constant headaches dealing with him."
"……."
"He was more terrifying than the entire Britannian royal family and noble class combined."
"So… what happened to him?"
"I killed him."
"……."
"I was forty-five. Just after I became an Aura User."
"……."
Gulp.
Ihan swallowed dryly.
Baltar’s eyes, as he recalled Hannibal’s death, were terrifying.
Undeniably so.
No one could resist those eyes.
"Hannibal was brilliant to the end. But once I awakened my aura, no one could stop me. No matter what strategy Hannibal devised, no matter what tricks he used, no matter how many diplomatic maneuvers he pulled—
I crushed all of it.
And in the end, I drove my sword through his throat.
That was my victory.
…Do you understand what I’m saying?"
"…What exactly are you getting at?"
Baltar smirked.
"I’m saying, you can’t afford to be half-assed. If you want to win, you have to be overwhelming. A strength so absolute that no trick can stand against it."
"……."
Normally, Ihan would have snarked back.
But right now, he said nothing.
Because he knew—
Baltar wasn’t joking.
He was simply stating the truth.
"Get stronger. If you’re strong enough, you won’t have to feel defeated. Stop staying in this half-assed state."
"……."
"So, tell me—do you want to break free from that mediocrity?"
"…What are you talking about?"
"What else?"
─Do you want to become a Superhuman?
Baltar had just thrown a pebble into the still waters of Ihan’s fate.