Chapter 753

Chapter 753
“This has to be a fabrication!”
Lionel found it impossible to process what he was seeing.
An event that defied all logic had unfolded right before him.
For a split second, he wondered if there had been some sort of security breach—perhaps the secret of the move had been leaked.
But he dismissed it instantly; there was no way such classified data could be stumbled upon by a common traveling mercenary caster.
Even more unsettling was the fact that the version his adversary was displaying appeared superior.
It looked as though every weakness had been polished away, elevating the form to a state of absolute perfection.
“W-How could you possibly know that technique?!”
As Lionel retreated in a state of utter bewilderment, Ghislain offered nothing but a smirk.
*I picked it up from you.*
He had witnessed Lionel’s sophisticated maneuvers before—within the realm of a dream.
Furthermore, having successfully seized control of the Ruthania Kingdom, Ghislain had also perfected the internal energy control and combat styles exclusive to the Radlan royal family.
Consequently, the defensive barrier Ghislain was currently utilizing was, in truth, a refined skill that Lionel was not destined to master until much later in his life.
While Ghislain remained silent, his mocking grin caused Lionel’s blood to boil.
*Is this some sort of dark sorcery? Is he casting illusions to cloud my mind? But by what means? Have I lost my senses?*
It was a desperate, illogical train of thought, but it reflected the depth of Lionel’s disorientation.
“Ghhk!”
Gnashing his teeth, Lionel threw himself forward in a fresh assault.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
No matter the ferocity of the strike, Lionel was unable to pierce Ghislain’s guard.
As his strikes continued to meet nothing but solid resistance, Lionel’s frustration peaked, leading to increasingly frantic swings of his blade and buckler.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
His coordination began to fail.
His stance became riddled with vulnerabilities.
Observing the decline, Ghislain let out a dismissive click of his tongue.
“How miserable. If your only plan is to charge like a beast, why bother carrying a shield at all?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The core of your clan’s martial art is composure. It isn’t about overwhelming the foe; it’s about enticing them and draining their vitality. You are supposed to maintain a wall so solid that the enemy loses the will to even try.”
“You act like you know anything about it!”
Lionel’s skin turned a deep crimson with rage.
It wasn’t as if he lacked the knowledge.
In fact, he grasped the concept better than anyone.
The goal was to let the damage mount until the opponent finally collapsed from exhaustion.
That was the pinnacle of their family’s combat philosophy.
But how was one supposed to wait when every single offensive move was being rendered useless?
Was he just supposed to stand there?
Clang!
Lionel’s steel bit into Ghislain’s shield once again.
Ghislain’s smile widened.
“True, anyone can memorize the concepts. But do you understand why they fail you in a real fight?”
“……You arrogant prick.”
“It’s because you lack faith in your own skill. You haven’t conditioned your body to react instinctively. Let me give you a demonstration—try and stop this.”
Boom!
Ghislain drove his shield forward with explosive force.
Lionel, already winded from his own fruitless aggression, found his center of gravity instantly shattered.
He tried to pull back into a defensive posture, but his rhythm was gone.
Before he could blink, Ghislain had bridged the gap, swinging his heavy club from an unpredictable trajectory.
Clang!
Lionel managed to jerk his shield up just in time to catch the blow.
But Ghislain followed up immediately, shoving his own shield into Lionel’s space.
Thud!
“Gahk!”
Lionel was sent sprawling onto the dirt.
The timing of the strike had been flawless.
“Wh-What just happened…? How…?”
Lionel sat in the dust, dazed.
The display had been without error.
Ghislain had dropped into a low, stable stance, his shield positioned perfectly just below his line of sight—resembling a fortress that no army could ever hope to scale.
*No… It can’t be…*
*There’s no possible way… That… That disgusting dark magic user is more technically proficient than I am!*
Lionel forced himself up.
Deep down, he realized that if this had been a lethal encounter, his life would have ended already.
He was aware of the reality.
Yet, his pride refused to concede.
With a guttural scream, he threw himself into the fray once more.
“Raaaaaaaah!”
Boom!
Ghislain intercepted the charge with his shield.
This time, he intended to provide a masterclass in what shield warfare truly entailed.
He needed to force his opponent to acknowledge the gap.
With a predatory glint in his eyes, Ghislain hoisted his club.
“Pay attention—defense comes first, followed by the counter-move to neutralize the threat. Observe.”
Wham!
Though he pulled his strength, the club still connected squarely with Lionel’s head.
White light exploded in Lionel’s vision, and the world began to spin.
*Huh? What’s going on?*
He could feel the earth rising up to catch him.
As his mind drifted toward unconsciousness, a single thought flickered.
*Ah… so this is what it feels like to lose one’s senses. Interesting. Almost poetic.*
Through the mental fog, Ghislain’s voice echoed.
“When a fighter fails to connect time and again, they grow reckless and fragile. Once their balance is compromised, you crush them with the weight of a mountain.”
Wham!
A sudden, agonizing jolt of pain in his ribs yanked Lionel back to reality.
He was instantly alert.
“AAAAAARGH!”
It felt as if his chest had been caved in.
The agony was sharp and unforgiving.
And the lesson wasn’t over.
Ghislain spoke again.
“That is the moment the true work begins. But you must not rush. Be methodical. Identify the cracks. Systematic destruction.”
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Ghislain’s club rained down relentlessly.
Every time Lionel’s legs began to give way, a strike would come from the opposite direction, knocking him back upright.
“AAAAAGH! Stop this!”
He wanted nothing more than to stay down, but he was denied even that.
He was shocked that a human being could be dismantled so precisely.
And yet, every word Ghislain uttered was being branded into his subconscious.
“When the opponent’s spirit is entirely shattered, the battle is over. You don’t need flair. You don’t need a single killing blow. Just advance—unyielding and constant. That is the essence of your weapon.”
Wham! Wham! Wham!
“Uuugghh…”
The physical correction lasted for a significant duration.
The observing soldiers began to yawn.
They had witnessed this routine many times before.
This cruel brand of “instruction” was Ghislain’s standard method for forcing rapid evolution in his men.
“P-Please… no more…”
Lionel, who had dropped his gear without even noticing, sobbed between gasps of air.
He was utterly broken.
His holy gifts were gone, and now he was being dismantled in a test of raw martial skill by a mage.
A crushing realization began to take hold of Lionel’s mind.
*Wait… Have I been nothing but a fool living in a small world?*
Now that he thought about it, he had been showered with nothing but praise his whole life.
He’d been labeled a master and a genius.
He truly believed he was a titan of the battlefield.
But out here, in the harsh light of the world, he was being humiliated by anonymous soldiers of fortune.
And it wasn’t just this strange man with the dual names.
Julien and Kyle possessed terrifying strength as well.
Then there was Iralniel, the supreme leader of the elves—and Rahamod of the Salvation Order, who had stood against her.
They inhabited a realm of power Lionel couldn’t even fathom.
Finally, Lionel saw the world for what it was.
*Ah… I really was just a nobody.*
Thud.
Completely crushed by his new understanding of his place in the universe, he slumped to the ground and began to weep.
“Uwaaah… Why… All that effort… What was the point of it all… Waaahhh…”
“……”
Ghislain halted the “instruction.”
He hadn’t anticipated Lionel breaking down into actual sobs.
“……Are you alright?”
“I-I genuinely believed I was powerful… but I’m being thrashed by a wizard and treated like a child… Huuuuhhh…”
“……”
It was a rare sight to see a grown warrior weep with such profound misery.
The onlookers remained silent.
They all understood that Lionel had been operating under a massive misconception.
*It’s not that you’re pathetic.*
*It’s just that he’s a monster.*
*You were comparing yourself to the wrong person from the start.*
Back when Lionel possessed his divine empowerment, he had been a knight of the highest caliber.
Even without those gifts, Lionel could return to that peak if he dedicated himself to the proper internal energy techniques.
Ghislain knew this well, which was precisely why he was stripping Lionel down to his core. He intended to pass on everything—including the refined styles of the future.
The goal had been to bruise Lionel’s ego and fix his perspective.
But he hadn’t expected the man to shatter so easily. Not even the common mercenaries had folded this completely.
*Hmm, perhaps the psychological blow was too severe.*
Men with immense pride are the hardest to put back together once they crack. He’d have to use a lighter touch moving forward.
“That’s enough training for today.”
There was no use in pushing further. Lionel had clearly grasped the disparity in their abilities.
It was time for a softer approach. Luckily, there was a specialist on hand for that.
“Are you okay?”
Deneb hurried over, channeling her sacred energy toward Lionel. Since his injuries were mostly superficial, the swelling and discoloration began to fade instantly.
“Hrk… sniff…”
“Please, don’t take it to heart. It isn’t that you lack talent—Ghislain is simply an anomaly. Look around; no one else is even shocked by this, right? Ghislain is actually more proficient with a weapon than he is with sorcery. Magic is basically just a side project for him.”
“Sniffle…”
Deneb’s comfort offered Lionel a small measure of relief. She seemed to be the only person present who felt any sympathy for him.
He felt a twinge of shame for having been so arrogant toward such a gentle cleric.
But still… magic was just a *hobby*? That man truly was an unthinkable beast.
*And I had no clue… acting like I was something special…*
Lionel was overwhelmed with mortification. Embarrassed for his groundless boasting. Embarrassed for the defeat. Embarrassed for his public breakdown.
He wiped his face and muttered with forced stiffness.
“It’s fine. I just had something in my eye. I wasn’t weeping. The air is clearly filled with irritants.”
“…Ah, of course.”
Lionel pushed himself to his feet. He shot a look at Ghislain and spoke.
“I admit defeat. But mark my words, I will one day surpass you.”
“That’s the spirit. From this moment on, give your soul to the training.”
“That is my intention. If it leads to power, I will endure any trial.”
Lionel resolved to let go of his obsession with his lost holy power.
He would absorb every lesson, break through his constraints, and transcend his current self. As much as it galled him, every word that man said hit the mark.
Seeing this shift, Ghislain smiled, satisfied.
“Now you’re showing some potential. And remember, you are now a member of this band. Don’t forget your place—you are the junior.”
“Ghhk…”
Lionel ground his teeth. What a humiliating status.
If the leaders of the Holy See ever found out, he would be heavily disciplined. His status was far above someone like Deneb.
But the vow had been made. And without his former power, backing out now would only solidify his disgrace.
“Fine. I am a member of the Julien Mercenary Corps. I will accept the role of the rookie since I arrived last. However, it’s not right if I’m the only one in that position.”
“What are you getting at?”
Lionel gestured toward Ereneth, who was lounging on a supply cart.
“That elf arrived after me. Shouldn’t she also be a rookie? She’s living like a queen while I’m being beaten.”
“…Hmm.”
Ghislain crossed his arms, considering the point. To be honest, Ereneth’s role within the group was somewhat ill-defined.
He looked over at her.
Ereneth was sitting cross-legged on the wagon, casually accepting gifts from the other men.
“My lady, please enjoy this fruit.”
“My lady, I’ve kept this choice dried meat just for you.”
“My lady, this vintage is truly exquisite.”
She was being treated like a deity. And she welcomed it with a regal air, as if it were her birthright.
The simple-minded soldiers had developed a profound reverence for Ereneth. Her elven heritage, paired with her natural authority, had created a unique social hierarchy.
Of course, the fact that she was devastatingly powerful didn’t hurt her reputation.
Ereneth was leaning into the luxury—behaving very much like a human would.
But for a rigid personality like Lionel, the sight was unacceptable. He was intent on dragging her down to his level.
Picking up on his intent, Ereneth let out a soft, melodic laugh.
“Small human, I am not a rookie in this band. I am more akin to an honored guest.”
“What? A guest? Didn’t you also join this unit?”
“I am here to ensure the safety of the Blessing Stone. Thus… let’s call it a guest partnership. I am a guest who happens to be participating.”
She had very smoothly talked her way out of the entry-level duties.
Lionel’s jaw tightened. He searched for a way to argue.
“……”
“What? Are you finding that hard to digest?”
“…Don’t be absurd.”
“Cease your complaining. You are merely a child.”
“……”
He had no retort. Regardless of her youthful appearance, Ereneth was undeniably centuries older than him.
Ereneth tilted her chin up in victory. She was using her longevity to her benefit—just as a human might.
Ghislain found the whole situation surreal and highly entertaining.
*Seriously… my family wouldn’t believe a word of this.*
Regardless of Lionel’s feelings, the rest of the mercenaries were quick to side with her.
“Yeah, exactly. There’s no way the Lady Elf is a rookie. That’s just wrong.”
“Right? If we had someone like Ereneth doing manual labor, people would think we’ve gone mad.”
“Plus, she only *looks* young. She’s probably older than all of us combined. Could be a grandmother for all we know.”
BOOM!
“GAAAH!”
The man who dared utter the word ‘grandmother’ was sent flying by a sudden burst of spiritual energy.
With the group’s opinion so firmly set against him, Lionel had no choice.
The burden of being the rookie would be his alone.
“…I’ll do my part.”
With Lionel’s begrudging acceptance, the social order was finalized.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Lionel had been such a rigid presence that interacting with him had been exhausting.
Even if the men were too intimidated to actually treat him like a servant, at least the atmosphere of the journey would be less strained.
As the trek continued, Ghislain resumed his role as the primary instructor. He focused specifically on teaching Lionel the combat styles and mana cultivation unique to the Radlan royal family.
A few days passed in this manner. Eventually, Ghislain found himself deep in thought, a frown on his face.
“Hmm… this is taking too long.”
The destination was still quite distant. And with the current size of their caravan, their pace was slower than Ghislain liked.
It would be more efficient to break into smaller, faster units.
Just as he decided to bring the group together to propose the change, he noticed a crowd approaching from the horizon.
Initially, he didn’t pay it much mind.
But as they drew closer, his expression darkened.
*Refugees?*
They were hauling whatever they could carry, their faces etched with terror. Many were elderly or small children.
As Ghislain rode forward to meet them, the people fell to their knees, their voices rising in a desperate chorus.
“Please, help us!”
“Are you the lord’s men?”
“Take us somewhere safe, please!”
The voices overlapped in a chaotic blur of panic. Ghislain raised a hand to quiet the noise and then asked,
“…What is the situation? We are a mercenary group.”
The people began to stammer out their harrowing tales.
“M-Monsters came out of nowhere and razed our village! They’re slaughtering everyone!”
“Dark sorcerers! They’ve unleashed packs of chimeras!”
“They hit our town too! Everything is in ruins!”
As the panicked reports continued, Ghislain clicked his tongue.
The situation was easy to read.
The Salvation Order was clearly beginning to act out of desperation.