LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 73
Chapter 73
Bahamut, that damn dog… No, what kind of creature is he?
No need for many words. Just one word can define him.
Madman.
Chuckle. Why do you ask?
Doesn’t this word resonate with the kind of creature he is?
But what can I do? No other word suits him better.
If you had seen what Bahamut did in that era, you would understand my words exactly.
Hmm, you think he’s like a Chief instructor?
Sorry, but that’s an insult to…
Ahem, to Bahamut.
Compared to Bahamut, the Chief instructor is but fake madness.
Why?
Do you think someone who enjoys life and slightly loses their mind is the same as someone who’s mad enough to change the world?
That’s right.
Bahamut changed the world.
Now, mana, martial arts, and magic seem systematically established, but it wasn’t so just a thousand years ago.
Back then, those who could instinctively handle mana were called ‘the chosen ones.’
Methods of mana operation?
Tsk tsk, what did you take my words for?
It was an era before mana was established, wasn’t it?
Anyway.
At that time, humans were a weak and frail race with nothing remarkable about them.
Orcs had fighting spirit, giants had wisdom, beastmen had transformation, and elves had magic.
So what if there were chosen ones?
Other races overflowed with individuals born with the unique traits of their race, along with mana.
Amidst this, chosen ones who began to train their bodies emerged.
They fought with magical beasts to feed their families.
Around the same time, those curious about principles and laws appeared.
They started wondering why fire is hot, why the sun rises, why people feel hunger…
They began to research these things out of curiosity.
Your expression is worth seeing.
Yes.
That was the beginning of martial arts and magic.
Bahamut was the pioneer who invented martial arts.
You might be exceptional in ‘martial arts’ or cunning, but compared to Bahamut, you’re but a speck of dust.
His created techniques, the ‘Rising Dragon’ and ‘Oppression,’ were so profound that others incorporated them into their own martial arts.
Didn’t most of the martial arts in the imperial armory have Rising Dragon and Oppression?
That’s evidence to support my claim.
I guess that’s how ‘martial arts’ were established.
Methods of operation? Have you forgotten the Dragon’s Breath that he and I created together? He must have modified it and spread it around, or others copied it after seeing it.
And you asked what else there is besides Rising Dragon and Oppression?
I can’t be certain but…
He probably created something tremendous.
What?
What’s this about angels?
You’ve been trying to trick me all along, haven’t you?
Hmm, angels.
To conclude, I don’t know much about ‘angels.’
But according to elven legends, there’s a race called ‘the Celestials.’
They use a power different from mana, have white wings, and reside in a ‘Sky Fortress,’ a product of an advanced civilization.
I thought they were a fictional race made up by the elves, but to have actually encountered them…
Anything else? That’s all I know.
What… What? Is that all I know?
You, you!
I’ve told you this much; the rest is for you to find out!
* * *
Yan sat in the small training yard attached to his quarters, recalling the story Momon had told.
At first, he detested speaking of Bahamut, but when coaxed gently, he opened up, filled with indignation.
“I knew the Founder was remarkable, but I never imagined to this extent.”
Momon had described the Founder as the original innovator of martial arts and a revolutionary who turned the world upside down.
A legendary figure who appeared out of nowhere when the human race was walking through its dark ages and led them into a golden era.
Momon’s tale was nothing short of mythological.
“And to think of the giants, orcs, beastmen, and elves?”
It’s not that these races are entirely absent from the current continent.
However, the beastmen had long been sold into nobility’s slavery, becoming mere collectibles, and the elves had not left their forests.
And it had been over seven hundred years since orcs began to be classified as monsters.
To think there was a race called ‘the Celestials’ that achieved an advanced civilization a millennium ago.
As far as Yan knew, creating floating objects was no easy feat.
When the first airship was built in the future, it was hailed as a milestone in the empire’s history.
Yet, all traces of such Celestials have now vanished.
Of course, they could be a fictional race, as Momon suggested.
“But considering the profound knowledge and divine power left by the Founder still descend to this day, it couldn’t have been entirely made up.”
Among these races, it was humans who had survived until now.
Currently, humans are the strongest and most populous race on the continent.
In other words.
The Founder had changed far too much.
* * *
“Surely, from a human perspective, he was an unparalleled hero.”
Why then did Momon call him a madman?
Yan considered summoning Momon again but shook his head.
While the tales of the Founder were intriguing, acquiring his legacies was now of greater importance.
Yan picked up the Ascalon lying on the floor and stood up.
“Sigh…”
He exhaled lightly and let the Ascalon hang down.
Feet apart at shoulder width, left hand lightly clenched, he placed it in front of his left leg.
It was the ‘Natural Stance’ that the puppet had demonstrated in the mental space.
The best posture to execute any sword technique without delay.
But…
“…Uncomfortable?”
Whether it was due to unfamiliarity or not, even lifting the sword in this manner was challenging.
Whoosh!
Yan lifted the sword upwards.
Instead of slicing through the air with fierce speed, it ascended with a dull sound, as if swinging a cudgel.
Yan’s brow furrowed.
“Is this right?”
Normally, he would attribute it to a lack of practice, but this felt different.
Yet, he did not abandon the Natural Stance.
In that state, he recalled the ‘Rising Dragon’ that the puppet had performed.
A diagonal upward strike with the sword.
In the Natural Stance, Yan slightly twisted his waist.
Then, he swung the Ascalon powerfully upwards.
Whoosh!
He thought he had replicated the ‘Rising Dragon’ as closely as possible.
“No, this isn’t it.”
The chilling sensation that the puppet had exhibited was nowhere to be felt.
Instead of slicing the air, it felt like it should have torn through space itself, but that overwhelming presence was absent.
Yan lowered the Ascalon and drew mana from his mana heart.
Hum.
The mana surged through his veins as if they were smooth highways.
With mana at his disposal, Yan swung the Ascalon upwards with vigor once more.
Swoosh!
The sword strike turned fierce with the addition of mana.
Yet, it lacked the raw and wild sensation that the puppet had displayed.
Momon clicked his tongue.
[What do you expect when you dance in clothes that don’t fit?]
“Ah.”
Though the explanation was unkind, Yan understood it perfectly.
His mana heart began to pulse as before.
But this time, instead of the familiar ‘Dark Dragon Art,’ the mana followed the pathways of the ‘Breath of the Divine Dragon.’
It was a mistake to have tried to wield the Founder’s sword using the mana routes of the Dark Dragon Art from the start.
Whoosh.
Mana stretched from the sun and passed through the moon.
Then, it whirled around and pierced through Mercury.
From there, the mana flowed through Yan’s veins like water bursting from a broken dam.
Tremble, tremble, tremble.
Yan’s arms, legs, and spine began to tremble as if afflicted by a fit.
Yet, he checked his condition more calmly than ever.
‘I’m still okay.’
He had never expended so much energy except when facing Vila.
The small training yard might crumble from such force.
‘But what of it? It’s not mine, after all.’
Compared to the Founder’s swordsmanship, what was a little destruction?
The mana spun wildly in the center of his chest before heading towards his shoulder.
When the mana reached his shoulder, then the triceps, elbow, forearm, and finally his hand.
‘Now!’
Yan’s eyes widened as he thrust the Ascalon upwards with all his might.
Rumble. ……Whirl.
A sound that hinted at impending trouble briefly filled the air, but then the mana dispersed on its own.
Far from a tremendous outcome, nothing happened.
Yan leaned against the wall, suddenly overwhelmed by a loss of strength and a throbbing headache.
It was natural to feel the aftereffects of expending so much energy in an instant.
It could have been a letdown, but instead, Yan’s face held a sense of accomplishment rather than irritation.
[Hmph, what an annoying face.]
That brief sound that hinted at trouble was a sign of potential.
For a moment, a wild force had surged beyond his control.
Then, Lia entered the room.
She carried a tray, and on it was a cup filled with cold water.
“Yo… Young master, please drink this.”
She stuttered, perhaps unaccustomed to addressing him as ‘young master,’ quickly set down the cold water, and fled the room.
Yan chuckled and downed the water in one gulp.
Despite her disguised identity, Lia diligently played the role of a maid.
Clack!
Yan set the cup back on the floor and grasped the Ascalon.
Strength flowed into his grip.
Crack.
“The journey east is in two days.”
To be precise, less than two days remained.
The Grand Instructor had instructed me to leave at exactly 12 o’clock.
That left barely 30 hours for training.
“I don’t expect to master it completely, but I should at least get a feel for it.”
With those words, Yan silently gripped the sword and swung it upwards.
Then, returning to the Natural Stance, he swung the sword upwards again.
If he repeated this full-force sword-swinging training, his muscles would scream for mercy.
But what if he poured mana into the swordsmanship training as well?
With just an average willpower, he wouldn’t last an hour before collapsing.
And so.
Yan wiped the sweat beading on his forehead and began swinging the sword.
As day broke and night fell again, he devoted himself to training, sparing only the bare minimum for physiological needs and meals.
Yan’s relentless determination made it possible.
* * *
Time swiftly passed, and the day for Yan to depart eastward arrived.
“Huff, huff.”
The walls of the training yard Yan had used were sharply gouged as if clawed by a beast.
Yan’s face, as he looked upon it, was drenched in sweat, and a foul stench wafted from his body.
It was so severe that even Lia avoided the training yard from the next morning onwards.
Yan chuckled and slung the Ascalon over his shoulder.
Even a simple movement like this showcased the bulging muscles of his back, a testament to the extent of his dedicated training.
“Shall I set off now?”
Shaking off the sweat-soaked hair, Yan stepped out of the training yard.