kscans

Chapter 348 - Looking Toward a Grand Ambition

In the depths of extreme concentration, the first thing to vanish is sound.

The clash of swords, the world itself—I can hear it, yet I can't. I perceive it, yet it remains outside my consciousness. It's a strange, indescribable sensation.

When I enter that state, it feels a bit arrogant to say, but I'm pretty much invincible.

I can somehow feel how my opponent will move, what they're thinking. My avatar moves more freely than words can express, exactly as I command.

I don't feel like I can lose—it's a state where I can make such a shameless boast.

However... there are currently two individuals against whom I'd have no choice but to throw in the towel, thinking, This is impossible, I can't win.

The strongest of all, the [Sword Queen], and my master, the [Sword Saint]. They were, without a doubt, the top two in my personal rankings—or so I thought.

Yes, they were.

It's not that I was underestimating the countless other skilled players out there, but I had categorized those two as being in a league of their own. I was... just a newcomer who still had much to learn and whose understanding was shallow. This was a fact that was being hammered into me, day after day.

"Gah!?—Dammit...!"

A ridiculously powerful sword strike, reminiscent of the [Sword Queen] and the [Sword Saint], sent my katana flying. Into my now-empty hands, I instantly summoned two crimson daggers, but—

"Too slow."

"Ngh—"

A blade flashed like a gale, easily shattering them to pieces.

There was no time for shock, nor was I ignorant enough to be surprised by something of this level anymore.

Even so, my opponent's movements had once again exceeded my expectations, forcing me into a hasty retreat—and in that instant, I knew I had lost.

"—... Dammit all to hell! Ugh...!"

This was a genuine, full-status, all-out backstep.

A pure white blade followed my high-speed maneuver as if it were a matter of course and was pressed firmly against my neck... another defeat piled on. I let my frustration show with a cry from the bottom of my heart.

"Well now, how many wins in a row is that?"

"Ninety-nine."

"I see. In that case, let's go for one more to make it a nice, round number."

"Assuming you're going to win...!"

Beside us, the blue-haired girl acting as our analyst, Ri-na, announced the miserable battle record. The expressions on our faces as we continued our endless exchange of blows were a study in contrasts.

That is to say, the ever-victorious champion and the ever-losing weakling—the gap in skill between Irori (Fourth) and myself (Seventh) was so vast it was, simply put, depressing....

"Hey, big bro. Instead of getting all down on yourself, why don't you consider how Irorin feels, having to pull out a brand-new style against a rookie who's only been playing for a little over three months?"

"Hey, quiet over there in the cheap seats."

"He's more desperate than you think, you know. He's the very embodiment of a sore loser."

"Alright, I get it. You're next."

Irori went to deal with Mi-na, who was fulfilling her role not as support, but as a simple heckler, and my monumental 100th consecutive loss was postponed for a little while.

...This is bad. I'm starting to assume I'm going to lose, too.

This sparring match, which we'd started the day after the meeting to fine-tune my avatar control—I wonder when the day will come that I can actually land a single clean hit....

"—Still not going to use that 'thread'?"

"...No. There's no point in using it."

As I collapsed onto the training ground floor in exhaustion, spread-eagled, Ri-na approached and we repeated a question-and-answer session we'd had countless times before.

It goes without saying, but for me, [Trickster of Zenith] is basically a forbidden technique.

Whether it's PvP or PvE, I can't just count a power I can't rely on for a true victory—one that assumes my own death—as a card in my hand.

Of course, in a situation like the Four Pillar War where 'a win for the team is a win,' I wouldn't hesitate to play that absurd death card... but relying on it all the time would be wrong.

I'm confident that if I threw victory to the wind and challenged him recklessly like I did once before, I could probably hold my own against Irori even now—but that confidence doesn't translate into self-assurance.

Besides, my partner is working hard, too.

"That's the spirit, Sora-chan. Alright, let's add another ten."

"Hah... ugh, nnngh...! Y-Yes, ma'am...!"

Next to the area where Irori and I were engaged in our superhuman swordplay, a slightly different brand of spartan training was unfolding.

My partner stood with her eyes closed, beads of sweat on her face, both hands held out to the sky. Surrounding her were countless flame swords.

And bathed in the light of those white-hot blades was her demon instructor, calmly watching over the girl.

At the casually offered, unreasonable demand that followed a word of praise, Sora furrowed her brow as if wringing out every last bit of her strength to make it happen—

"Whoops."

"She did her best."

As I and Ri-na watched, her knees suddenly buckled.

If I'd been next to her, I would have instinctively caught her... but there was no need for me to rush over. Her kind demon instructor was right by her side.

"Forty-seven—a new record. You did wonderfully."

As she caught Sora's collapsing body, a shower of smiles and sweet words rained down.

The 'teacher' who machine-gunned candy and whips without mercy was Hinayo-san. Perhaps finally getting used to it, Sora didn't even try to hide her wry smile.

That was simply because...

"However, in a real battle, I'd say fifteen is your limit. First, let's aim for a nice round fifty and keep going, shall we?"

"Ah, yes..."

She had learned that after the candy, the whip would follow without a moment's delay.

"And you. How long do you plan on lying there?"

"Ugh..."

And of course, I couldn't just relax and watch my partner forever.

I shot a pleading look at my own demon instructor, whose shadow fell over me, silently begging for a little more rest. I already knew there was a ninety-nine percent chance my appeal would be rejected.

"What's with that face? Get up. This will be my hundredth win."

"It's our hundredth match...!"

From the day the 'White Throne Subjugation' project was officially launched.

Getting roughed up by our頼もしい—in more ways than one—seniors, we spent our days in luxurious training. Sora and I were being worked to the bone with heartbreaking mercilessness—

"Yes, just like that. Now, let's add another ten. Be mindful of the trick I taught you."

"Hurry up and get ready. I don't want to hear any whining, disciple of the [Sword Saint]."

""...Yes, sir/ma'am.""

We were steadily, surely accumulating strength and experience, our eyes fixed solely on 'that day.'