8. Clashing Blades p3
Having killed one of the leaders of the assault force, Sol suddenly lost her strength and fell to the ground.
A dull pain shot through her buttocks. Her hair, which she had fallen on, was being re-dyed by the fresh blood spreading across the floor. The knight’s blood was a beautiful color, belying his age. The little girl ignored it and laid her body on its back.
She exhaled as if being crushed by the overwhelming fatigue. A familiar sense of exhaustion took over her small body. Even the blood-dripping sword felt strangely heavy.
(As expected… this recoil is tough.)
Unable to resist the exhaustion that came from the core of her body, she slowly let go of the sword.
While lying on the ground, she recalled the previous battle.
(Considering this was to get used to this body, it went well.)
She had been able to advance the battle in her favor. One of the reasons was probably that Tehrich was unfamiliar with fighting a little girl. He had to change his fighting style when facing a small opponent. He couldn’t get used to it without experiencing it once. Indeed, he had been careless in maintaining distance and estimating range. There were openings everywhere, and it wasn’t difficult to outmaneuver him.
It was easy to overcome his haphazard stance.
(But the biggest reason for my victory this time was that I was familiar with his tactics. It was more than ten years ago, when I fought alongside the Laptenon army… I was captivated by the sight of him running across the battlefield in his heavy knight armor, and I admired him.)
At that time, Sol had observed and analyzed him repeatedly. Although their fighting styles were completely different, there was much she could learn. The timing of his steps. His skillful handling of one-on-many battles. Considering what she had learned back then, he could be called one of her masters, someone she could face with gratitude. And what she had learned from this battle was how to move in her little girl form and its effectiveness. How to take her opponent by surprise with movements she couldn’t have achieved in her old body. She had gained practical knowledge.
A smile spread across her face as she gained experience that would be useful in the future. She had become stronger, climbed another step towards becoming a hero.
(But I can’t believe he remembered me. He’s a nostalgic master to me… but to him, I was probably just an old man he exchanged a few words with.)
What she thought about last was, after all, the end of the duel. A flash of lightning, a leap like the wind—surpassing the limits of a mediocre person.
That was the secret technique she, a mediocre talent, had developed through hardship. An acceleration technique that allowed her to achieve a speed that even heroes couldn’t match for a brief moment.
The principle was very simple. She just explosively released the magic power Od circulating within her body and used that propulsive force to deliver a swift strike. But the side effects were significant. The exhaustion that was currently assailing the little girl was due to the consumption of internal magic power by this technique.
Od contributed to a person’s physical abilities and life force. Losing it suddenly put a heavy burden on the body.
(If I lose all my internal magic power, I’ll die. Well, even if it doesn’t come to that, since it depletes the source of my enhanced physical abilities, my bodily functions will decline, and I’ll be hit by fatigue and exhaustion. If I were to list them, the drawbacks are endless.)
Mastering this technique required special training. Adjusting the consumption of internal magic power wasn’t something that could be done naturally; she had to grasp the right balance and fine-tune it according to the situation. If she neglected her training and misjudged the amount to release during acceleration or landing, she would either be slammed into a wall by the excess propulsive force or scrape her body on the ground.
Regardless of the process, it was a reckless, all-or-nothing technique.
(Come to think of it… who said my way of life and fighting style was reckless? They hit the mark.)
Common sense dictated that Mana should be used as propulsive force. If she took in and released external magic power, there would be no risk of internal magic power depletion. She could experiment as much as she wanted and get a feel for it. Therefore, there weren’t many fools who would spend decades training in the using Od as propulsive force trick.
It would be unbearable if there were many fools like Sol, this great fool.
(Even so, there’s a reason to use Od.)
Unlike Mana, which floated in the atmosphere, Od, the magic power generated within the body, was of higher quality. Although it was possible to achieve the same effect by detonating Mana, the propulsive force was no match for that of Od.
It was the secret weapon of those called mediocre, ordinary.
(I don’t need a second strike. That’s a luxury. I know my sword can’t reach heroes.)
This was the way to reach the status of a hero.
Something she had finally obtained after being on the verge of death many times. Although it was an extremely inefficient technique that anyone sensible would rationally reject, a mediocre person could only boast.
Even desperate struggles could become splendid techniques if polished.
(However, it didn’t work against the ‘Strongest of Mankind.’)
What came to mind was the death of the old man, Solfort. Even her life-risking strike hadn’t worked against that golden hero. It had been a head-on duel, but she had been mercilessly cut down. On top of that—although she misjudged the amount in this body—even Tehrich had dodged it.
This was just an extension of her desperate struggle. If she didn’t choose the right time to use it, it would only lead to self-destruction.
(Anyway, I have to get up…!)
She propped herself up on one elbow and shifted her weight—.
“Ugh…”
—At that moment, sparks flew in her overheating brain.
She collapsed on the ground, and the thread of her consciousness rapidly thinned. Her senses were enveloped in a hazy sensation.
(Did I use too much Od… This is bad.)
She pinched her cheek. She dug her nails into the soft flesh. If she lost consciousness now, the eastern magic room would be unguarded.
—The assault force was attacking the magic rooms simultaneously.
That was the information she had overheard on her way here. Although she couldn’t guarantee its accuracy, it was highly probable. There hadn’t been any Imperial reinforcements, which was unusual if the unit was only targeting this one location. The Imperial soldiers were probably overwhelmed as their forces were dispersed. Then, she had to defend this eastern magic room until someone came to take over.
Sol slammed her small fist on the floor. A dull sound and pain spread. But that was all.
“Nn…”
Contrary to her will, the sensation in her limbs faded—, and the little girl collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Silence descended on the path leading to the eastern magic room.
No one moved anymore. At some point, the distant commotion had subsided, and a chill, as if all human life had been extinguished, began to permeate the air. There was no one here who cared that the tide of the battle in the fort had turned.
The flickering of the indoor lamps continued to illuminate the deserted corridor.
“What… was that…”
A voice echoed in the battlefield where everyone had fallen.
A man stumbled into the corridor. His military boots made an unreliable sound in the chilling space.
He was a brown-haired soldier with a pathetic expression.
His pale face was frozen in astonishment, staring at a single point.
He cautiously walked down the blood-soaked path. He glanced at the knight’s corpse, then quickly looked away.
“Hey… hey… you.”
The man—stopped hesitantly in front of the little girl. He dropped the bundle he was carrying.
Nudd Halt. Having recovered from his nausea, he looked down at the small, limp body.
“You… just who are you? …Damn it.”
