Chapter 55
Using my left arm as a shield, I used the enemy's strength to create distance.
I thought, wow, it sounds so easy when you put it into words.
In the brief moment and distance I gained by sacrificing my left arm, I drew my sword with my unharmed right hand.
But that was as far as I got.
The searing pain nearly brought me to my knees.
My vision blurred, my clenched molars creaked to keep from screaming, and my thoughts scattered in every direction.
Rage and fear at Oganight's strength, frustration at my own weakness, and pride that I was still alive.
Anger at having my arm crushed, and anger at myself for needing to sacrifice it.
Damn it.
My clothes are shredded again.
A ridiculous, out-of-place thought suddenly popped into my head and strangely calmed me down.
Even in this situation, my miserly nature still showed itself so strongly, I almost chuckled.
In reality, I was still gritting my teeth in pain.
And thanks to that, I noticed something strange.
My left arm was still attached.
I had assumed it had been blown to pieces, but though it was crushed and mangled beneath the sleeve, it was still there.
Yes, beneath the sleeve.
I had braced myself for my physically enhanced arm to be obliterated, so the sleeve should've been blown away without a trace.
Before I could think about what had happened, my instincts gave me the answer.
"Miserliness at its peak."
I muttered that in the characteristic high-pitched voice of physical enhancement, which to normal ears would sound like a squeal.
Not just the sword—now even my clothes could be enhanced. My mentor's going to be exasperated again.
Sacrificing my left arm and smirking at my own miserliness took no more than a single breath.
The next moment, Oganight's magical energy was closing in.
*
Since Oganight's movements were synonymous with magic itself, I could predict them almost like precognition thanks to my ability to see magical energy.
But reacting to them was another matter entirely.
Letting out a scream I didn't even understand, I thrust my sword into the path of the converging magical energy that radiated certain death.
The moment the sword tip touched the magical energy, I felt a strange weight I'd never experienced before.
It was like swinging a sword through heavy water.
I was already too slow to match the enemy's speed.
Cursing the sudden resistance, I forced the sword forward through the heavy pressure.
Not wanting to waste even the magical energy leaking from my breath, I spun it with all my might inside my body.
In that moment, as Oganight's fist—death itself—rushed in trailing afterimages.
I felt something bend through my arm, the sword slipped past the fist, and left behind an unnaturally light sensation.
I deflected Oganight's punch.
A moment of blank astonishment.
I could tell Oganight was shocked, having his punch deflected and his stance thrown off by someone clearly weaker.
It wasn't just that I dodged it—I had lightly deflected a lethal blow from a being far stronger than me. That was absurd.
Oganight's head, which looked like it wore a knight's helmet, tilted up as if to follow his deflected fist.
I couldn't believe it either. I didn't understand it, and I wasn't even sure it was real.
But my body moved.
A body that had undergone countless repetitions of training—something no monster ever did—ignored all confusion.
Magical energy erupted from the woodgrain-like pattern on the physically enhanced blade, as if to say it could go no further.
My body sought the sharpest possible edge before my mind could catch up, and the sword responded.
A once-in-a-lifetime chance—if not now, then when would I go all out?
That thought came to me only after I'd finished swinging the sword.
Oganight's left arm flew off.
*
When I heard the sound that was both a roar and a scream, all I felt was bitter regret.
I didn't reach it. My sword didn't reach it.
The sword that should have struck down toward Oganight's heart, toward the chest where the magic stone was embedded, had only severed his left arm at the shoulder.
I wasn't fast enough.
All that training, repeated thousands and tens of thousands of times, hadn't matched the raw physical ability of a simple monster.
The pride that swelled in the monster king as he dodged the sword without concern was nothing more than a signature for his own death.
He roared because he was frustrated.
He roared because he was scared.
He roared because he still didn't want to give up.
I stepped forward to launch a follow-up attack on the off-balance Oganight—but quickly stopped my foot.
A dense line of magical energy.
On instinct, I gripped the sword even with my still-unhealed left hand.
The stabbing pain made my eyes throb.
I desperately slipped my sword into the thickest line of magical energy.
The sword tip still met strange resistance, but oddly enough, it felt much lighter than before.
I had no time to question that odd sensation—only the sound of my sword deflecting Oganight's fists, falling like a torrential storm, remained.
Not even a moment's thought was allowed.
I deflected everything in the span of a single breath. I felt a strange joy knowing the monster king had abandoned caution just to defeat weak little me.
I deflected everything for another breath. I felt arrogant anger at having been underestimated as a fragile creature by the monster king.
On the third breath, my thoughts began to catch up with my senses. I started to understand the strange resistance from the sword tip and the sensation of bending something.
On the fourth breath, I realized—I was bending magical energy, bending magic itself.
On the fifth breath, I tried cutting magic. Then I tried bending it drastically.
On the sixth breath, I could feel Oganight's irritation and anger, and it started to feel fun—but I still couldn't find an opening to counterattack.
On the seventh breath, I realized the magic circle powering my overstrained physical enhancement would collapse in about two more breaths.
I regretted that if only my body were sturdier, I could have made the magic circle stronger. I didn't think I had slacked in my training, but regret still rose up.
On the eighth breath, even now, my eyes and body were catching up to Oganight's speed.
I clenched the grim reaper called satisfaction crawling up my back between my molars.
On the ninth breath, I suddenly realized there was a body sturdier than mine.
I wasn't being reckless because I was going to die—I was still trying to win, and I was baffled by myself. But there was no time left.
I was both exasperated and amused by my own foolish idea.
Well now, this is getting pretty fun.
The moment I poured magical energy into creating a tiny opening, the magic circle within me shattered without resistance.