Translator: Pink Tea Editor: Ryunakama
Day 62 Daytime, Murimuri Castle
The monsters fierce battle was akin to a beautiful yet terrifying waltz that took place in a complete tranquil silence as the two were almost gliding around like in a dance, producing no sounds in the process.
Both wield wooden swords, one casually closes the distance, as if walking through a park, the other stands without taking a stance, but as soon as they nonchalantly clash a rondo of madness silently and violently repeats.
These are monsters.
This is what monsters are.
Smoothly as if swimming in the water, they move in a graceful dance, an eerie disparity in speed was present there.
They are fast, but it doesnt seem that way, slow, but impossible to track with an eye, flowing through a heavy, sluggish stream of time as if it was stretched by some means.
Makes sense that the strongest cutthroat expert in killing humans was powerless to do anything. Taking a step inside that dance would instantly shred one to pieces.
Movements of techniques perfected for the sake of killing humans are no different from those of clumsy dolls in a marionette play. This is different. This is pure and simple Slashing.
True Slashing, to which humans, anatomy, monsters, magic, and all of that are completely irrelevant.
Bare Slashing, stripped entirely of murder, protection, theory, logic, and all other baggage. A technique that exists for nothing but cutting.
Different from sword techniques where one moves their body to cut, there is no other purpose to their movement but Slashing. Pursuing nothing but the result which is Cutting.
That boy has vanquished a dungeon, he is a monster.
Then who is that beautiful woman? A servant of a dungeon killer stronger than a dungeon killer himself? A short while ago the princess and I had a spar with her, but I couldnt gauge her strength at all, the only thing I understood is that she is strong.
And what I understood after fighting a monster, is that to fight a monster one has to be a monster too.
Too weak to be called strong.
Too crude to be called skillful.
Too slow to be called fast.
Too simple to be called sophisticated.
But that is a monster, having received training in assassination techniques I can fully understand his scariness.
I cant kill that, my sword cant reach him, if I lost an arm back then I still could consider it as getting lucky. He is deadly.
.
The strength to survive with that meager power that he had, the strength to obliterate all of the perils without giving up, that Will that allows him to be strong despite his weakness is the real monster.
There is no way in which I can retort to this boy (monster). No excuses or complaints are allowed. Not when facing this boy that nonchalantly survived hell.
The weakest boy, who even when surrounded by comrades akin to heroes from legends, is still being looked at with eyes of admiration.
His strength is hardly different from that of a run-of-the-mill villager, yet that insane strength overwhelms everyone, be it a hero, the King of the Frontier, or the Sword Princess.
Looks like even if we end up facing 10,000 enemies alone we still wont be allowed to give up. After all, we simply have to kill 10,000 by ourselves. Kill them before they kill you and its your win. This is what they must be telling us.
There is no point screaming or wailing that its impossible or cant be done, because the answer is right in front of us.
The princess is gripping the sword tighter and tighter. She saw it. She finally found it, Her goal. The guiding light to achieve her objective.
And before I noticed, my hands were also tightening their grip on the sword, entranced and fascinated by the monster that survived hell, fighting like a maniac to protect everyone and everything.
They are telling me. If you resolved yourself to protect the princess, then kill everything. Throwing your life away to shield her is useless, rather, use that body to kill every threat. That is what protecting means, is what they are telling me.
This is insane. But without going mad, one cannot become a monster. The true meaning of truly not giving up is becoming a monster, achieving the goal even if you have to go mad for it.
For someones sake, they tried to protect something, someone they were forced into a fight where losing or dying was not permitted, if those two are the monsters that emerged from that, then we havent been struggling at all, no, we havent even started struggling.
Betting our lives was pointless, lives didnt have any inherent meaning or worth to them. Only when the goal is carried through, the meaning and worth appears, so dying was completely meaningless.
I stand up with the sword in hand. We are yet to accomplish anything, and we dont have the strength to do that either.
If dying is not allowed, then we need strength, and that strength is right before our very eyes.
Even if its far beyond our reach, giving up will not be forgiven, can not be forgiven anymore.
Reaching my hand for that ideal, I will make sure to grasp it no matter how much I will have to crawl or writhe in pain, I cant back down until that moment.
It most likely will mean that I wont be able to lower this hand of mine as long as I live, after all, I already reached out for that boy (monster).
Ill be in your care
If ones lifetime is not enough to catch up, then there is no other choice but to keep chasing the entire life, desperately reaching ones hands for it. Only there can that boy (monster) be found.
Thats why he is so adored by his hero-like companions. Everyone is pursuing him, stretching their hands.
They want to stand by the side of those two lone monsters. To prevent them from going alone to a place they might not return alive from. Thats why they keep reaching for them.