Pick Me Up Infinite Gacha! Novel - Chapter 337
Chapter 337 – The Sword Waiting to be Unsheathe (2)
<Episode 8 of Aaron’s Parallel Story>
***
Rals’ eyes widened in disbelief.
He wasn’t mistaken.
The worn-out blade of his enemy was blocking the well-forged steel axe.
‘What the hell?’
He clearly felt something.
An intense vibration that spread when two forces collided head-on.
In that case, the weaker side should break.
But the guy held his sword at an angle, not moving at all.
‘It must be a coincidence!’
In the middle of a fierce fight, deep thinking is a luxury.
The 17-strike attack wouldn’t be called the ultimate technique if it ended with just one block.
«Urah!»
A diagonal cut, full of force and weight, struck the man’s body.
«Four!»
Clang!
Blue sparks flew.
This time too, it was deflected.
‘What an idiot!’
Assuming he blocked it by luck once.
But how long can that luck last?
The difference in strength is evident.
The quality of the weapons doesn’t even compare.
In that case, there is only one outcome left.
Being crushed along with the old iron sword.
«Five!»
Clang!
With a clear sound, sparks flew.
The cheers of the audience began to increase.
The head-on clash of weapons was one of the most anticipated scenes.
The next thing they expected, of course, was the defeat and death of one side.
«Come on, come on!»
«Six!»
Clang!
Each time Rals swung his axe, his huge muscles twisted.
Sweat mixed with sand splashed forcefully.
Whoom!
The swinging sound was extremely fierce.
The impression was such that it almost seemed like the air in front of the man was tearing apart.
«Seven!»
Clang!
The man blocked those deadly attacks.
Rals, making sure this time would be the last, swung the axe several times, but the situation didn’t change at all.
«Eight!»
«Uwaaah!»
Whoom!
The eighth attack.
It was a powerful spinning blow that the man could deliver.
Even so…
Clang!
The guy blocked it.
With a calm expression.
Only then did Rals notice something strange.
‘What the hell, damn it? What’s going on?’
By now, he should be in pieces.
But the guy was unharmed.
In fact, compared to Rals, who was drenched in sweat, he even seemed calm.
«Damn you!»
Is he playing?
Rals’ face flushed red with anger.
‘So it wasn’t a coincidence!’
The guy is using a special technique.
Rals had faced some opponents who used similar techniques before.
‘So he can use the deflecting technique.’
It’s a technique where, at the moment the weapons collide, the blade slides to disperse the impact.
It’s a technique difficult to mimic without much training and innate sense.
Although the sword is in poor condition, the guy is a high-level swordsman.
He must have some techniques.
«Even so…»
«Nine!»
Clang!
Rals brought down the axe with all his might.
The impact of the weapons colliding surpassed a certain level, and the clear sound was no longer heard.
Now there was a sound of something exploding.
«Clever techniques don’t work against brute force!»
«Ten!»
Clang!
He struck once more.
«Die!»
«Eleven!»
Clang!
Once more.
«Hahaha!»
«Twelve!»
Clang!
Rals’ ultimate technique, the 17-strike attack gradually increased in power as it continued.
By the tenth attack, it turned into a series of downward blows.
These strikes contained overwhelming force, like that of a mountain.
«You’re holding up quite well!»
«Ha ha ha! Tear him apart! Kill him!»
«Rals! We trust you!»
The audience cheered.
The intense struggle of the man and the defiant was a spectacle worth the price.
However, in their minds, the outcome was already decided.
Soon, that axe would split the man’s head.
Clang!
«Thirteen!»
«It’s already your limit!»
Rals, sweating profusely, taunted.
Deflecting is not an invincible technique.
If you keep hitting with more force, it will eventually break.
«Fourteen!»
«You can’t even talk!»
Clang!
The muscles screamed in pain.
The body begged to stop as it sent pain signals to Rals’ brain.
But he didn’t stop.
«Urahhhh!»
«Fifteen!»
This is the last one.
Although it’s a 17-strike technique, he had never reached the seventeenth.
No opponent had resisted until the fifteenth strike before.
Some had dodged or fled, but in the end, they were reached and their heads split in two.
Clang!
The axe resonated.
The arena mixed with blood and sweat splattered everywhere.
In the midst of that, Rals had a premonition.
The guy’s corpse, split in two.
«Hah… hah… I congratulate you on holding on this far. But there are two more left, right?»
The man spoke in a low voice.
«I’ll accept them.»
Rals’ mouth fell open.
His brain began to fail as he faced an absurd reality.
‘Am I seeing things?’
No.
The giant shook his head.
The guy stood firmly.
His entire body covered in blood.
«What… how?»
One by one, the facts he had forgotten while focusing on attacking returned to his mind.
‘Why is his weapon intact?’
Once, it’s fine.
Two or three times can be considered luck.
But when a coincidence repeats, it’s no longer a coincidence.
‘Deflecting! So he’s using the deflecting technique…’
Was it really deflecting?
Logical reasoning confronted him with reality.
Deflecting is a technique where the blade slides at the moment of impact.
But the guy wasn’t doing that at all.
In fact, he was facing the axe head-on with the blade of his sword.
‘It’s not deflecting.’
Even the sound is different.
If it were deflecting, it wouldn’t make that sound.
So what is this?
How did he absorb the impact of the axe?
By facing it head-on?
Impossible.
In that case, neither he nor his sword would be unharmed.
‘I don’t understand…’
This defies logic.
Although in his world the laws of action and reaction were not known, the man understood them instinctively as a result of long training.
The transmission of force and its corresponding action.
When weapons collide, there is inevitably an outcome.
So where did the force released by the axe go?
Rals looked at the man’s feet.
«Incredible…»
The sand under the man’s feet was undisturbed at all.
The man hadn’t moved an inch since the consecutive downward attacks began.
The laws of physics were violated.
It wasn’t deflecting.
What the man was using was something that deflecting couldn’t even reach.
The man had received Rals’ attacks head-on, and somehow, neutralized the impact on his body.
Without breaking the worn-out iron sword.
‘How… did he do it?’
I don’t know.
Is it a technique?
Or a physical ability?
If it’s none of these, is it some kind of magic?
The only thing clear is that, long ago, the result was already decided.
Rals’ face paled as he realized this.
«What are you doing, idiot? You’re about to die!»
«Kill him! Kill him!»
The audience shouted furiously.
To anyone watching, Rals was the clear winner in the coliseum.
Rals was unharmed, save for the sweat, while his opponent was covered in blood.
To anyone, the outcome of the fight was already decided.
«This… damn…»
But Rals knew.
Those wounds, which seemed serious, were actually insignificant.
Of all the superficial wounds on the guy’s body, none were lethal.
The blood was flowing.
Just that.
There were no severed tendons, no broken bones.
Among all the wounds, no artery was damaged.
The blood was flowing only through the veins. They were superficial wounds that could heal with a little treatment and rest.
That abnormality only meant one thing.
Rals had done something similar before.
When the opponent was too weak, if he killed him immediately, the audience would get bored.
So he would let himself get hurt on purpose to create an illusion of a fight.
But doing that meant…
That there was a huge difference in skill between the two.
Like an adult playing with a child.
«Argh!»
Rals stumbled.
I… was I just a toy for that guy?
«Damn you! Miserable!»
Rals stared intently at the guy.
There was no emotion in the guy’s eyes.
«Kill him! Just kill him!»
«Are you crazy?!»
«Finish him!»
The audience shouted curses, yelling.
Rals completely ignored the shouts.
Perhaps, the next thing would be the end of his life.
It didn’t matter what those bastards said.
«I understand.»
Thud.
Rals dropped the axe.
His fighting spirit had long disappeared.
Now that all the facts were clear, he actually felt relieved.
«If you’ve worked so hard, and you’re stronger than me, then there’s nothing to do.»
Rals smiled bitterly.
«Before I go, tell me just one thing.»
«What is it?»
«What’s the name of that technique?»
Someday, I will die at the hands of someone stronger than me.
That’s the fate of a gladiator.
Rals was prepared for that.
That moment came sooner than expected.
«It was an incredible technique. How long have you trained? How much have you trained until you bled? Impressive.»
Rals smiled.
They belonged to the same arena.
He had an idea of the life that man had led.
Sold as a slave to the arena as a child, he grew up doing chores and training until he became a gladiator.
It wasn’t an ordinary life.
Rals was the same.
Although they barely knew each other, they had had similar childhoods.
«Ha, ha. Were you secretly training at night? That would also be part of your strategy.»
Suddenly, Rals felt impressed by that guy.
It seemed like he didn’t train at all.
And yet, he hid that level of skill.
‘He tricked me.’
The victories he thought he had achieved by luck, all were an act.
Probably everything had been planned.
‘You must not have slept much.’
He trained in some secret place at night, watching the stars, training over and over again.
His hands would be bloody, and the scabs on his palms would have no time to dry.
That’s effort.
Effort does not betray.
That was Rals’ belief.
If he died defeated, it would be by someone who had worked harder than him.
It wasn’t unfair.
It just meant he hadn’t worked hard enough.
‘Deflecting is not an easy technique.’
Rals knew it well.
Gladiators who are not born with strength, instead, polish their skills to the extreme.
They are what is called technical fighters.
Among technical fighters, those who master deflecting are very few.
And here was someone who mastered a technique superior to deflecting.
He couldn’t imagine how much training he must have done.
«Technique, you say.»
The man murmured.
«This is not a technique.»
«What?»
«A technique is something you learn and practice, isn’t it?»
«What are you saying? That technique… it was incredible! It’s not something you learn easily! Even with years of effort, it’s hard to achieve…!»
«I didn’t make any effort.»
The man spoke calmly.
«It was the first time I did it, but it wasn’t bad. You called it deflecting? Anyway, let me correct one thing. This is not a technique. I didn’t learn it or practice it.»
«….»
«I just did it because I could.»
Rals stood still.
The guy’s words echoed in his mind.