Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 89

When their eyes met, Leon felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The way the Giant King’s pupils flicked several times in quick succession—he knew that movement well.

It was the very first principle El-Cid had taught him.

Rodrick’s Vision...?

Leon realized the reason and was visibly shaken, even though he already knew who the Giant King’s master had been. Because recognizing that fact meant—

“What is your relationship to Rodrick? Are you related by blood?” the Giant King asked.

He had also realized they were from the same lineage. Any clumsy excuse wouldn’t work. The gap between Leon and the Giant King in Rodrick’s Vision alone was vast.

At the Giant King’s level, just looking at someone’s grip would reveal the martial art they practiced as well as their tiniest habits. Since Leon hadn’t reached naturality like the Giant King, it was safe to assume even his version of Rodrick’s Footwork had already been exposed.

“I suppose you could call me his junior...” Leon answered and cautiously stepped back.

“Junior, huh? What nonsense,” the Giant King scoffed. He clearly saw through the evasion. “Rodrick’s martial lineage ended long ago. His techniques were too advanced. Mortal intellects couldn’t master them. Even the basics—vision and footwork—took most people years of effort without yielding results.”

Those who thought themselves geniuses despaired at the depth of it and gave up, dedicating themselves to other styles. They instinctively knew that without someone directly teaching them through it, even a lifetime of training would be fruitless.

If Rodrick were alive, he’d probably scold them—“How do you not get this?”—but quite literally, no one else could. Was understanding the structure of the lungs a prerequisite to breathing? Did anyone consciously track their femur, ligaments, and joints while walking?

The Giant King answered, “Of course not. Without someone to teach you, you’d never know. But that guy... he was born knowing it all.”

Rodrick may have been human, but he wasn’t. It wasn’t that he breathed fire or shot lightning from his hands. He couldn’t do anything biologically impossible. He couldn’t grow a third arm or see the back of his head.

However, he could control his body perfectly.

He could contract each muscle fiber individually, speed up nerve signals to enhance perception, stop his heart at will, secrete stomach acid without food, and even manipulate his auditory nerves to hear ultrasound.

“The Footwork and Vision we learned—those were all just natural for him. Like how anyone can wiggle their fingers without being taught, naturality was something he could just do.”

And his intellect was as exceptional as his body.

“Did you know? More than half of humanity’s known Aura training techniques were discovered by Rodrick in just five years. And over seventy percent of those he didn’t even bother explaining—too troublesome, he said.”

“Hah...”

Leon was speechless. If what the Giant King was saying was true, Rodrick was essentially the progenitor of Aura.

And El-Cid didn’t deny it.

—No point explaining things nobody can understand, right? Just wastes my breath.

Even the rarest geniuses of an era couldn’t fully grasp his teachings and despaired. After repeating this disappointment several times, Rodrick gave up taking disciples altogether, but with one exception. The Titan accepted at the Goddess’s request—the Giant King.

—This big lump wasn’t as smart as the others, but he followed orders without complaint.

They say if one’s brain’s no good, their body has to work harder. And if they didn’t understand, they just had to grind through it. Geniuses, however, weren’t capable of doing that.

There was an old saying. Wise men waste years debating why mountains can’t be moved or how to move them. Fools, without overthinking it, just keep shoveling—until one day, the mountain is gone.

The Giant King was a prime embodiment of that. Three hundred years have passed, and he alone inherited Rodrick’s martial legacy.

Thus, he had the right to demand an answer from Leon.

“Let me ask you again,” he said. “What is your relationship to Rodrick, the Hero of the previous generation?”

Leon could no longer remain silent.

Can I reveal your existence?

—Hmmmmmm... well, I suppose it’s fine.

El-Cid, unusually, thought about it for a while, but eventually agreed. With that answer, Leon opened his mouth to speak.

***

“So... yeah. That’s the story.”

It wasn’t even a long explanation, but Leon sighed deeply after revealing El-Cid’s existence. Standing face-to-face with the Giant King at close range had worn on his nerves.

There was no killing intent or hostility, but recognizing the gulf between them made even that neutrality terrifying. If Balkan had been nearby, he might have felt a bit more at ease, but once the conversation began, Balkan had quietly returned to the village.

“I see. Understood.”

The Giant King, Kasim, nodded with his eyes closed, his expression still as blank as before. Even through Rodrick’s Vision, Leon couldn’t read a change. Whether it was due to the skill gap or true emotional stillness, he couldn’t tell.

And then—

“Huh?”

He was caught off guard. When Leon opened his eyes again, the Giant King’s palm was already right in front of his face.

Just closing that hand would crush his skull. Instant death. There wasn’t even time to react. It wouldn’t have been a fight.

Now Leon understood why El-Cid had spoken that way earlier. Even if Leon used the Grand Chariot, he wouldn’t last a single exchange.

Still, his body reacted. Even if death came in less than a tenth of a second, a body tempered by brushing past death instinctively drew the sword.

He slashed as he unsheathed—the fastest strike of his life—yet it was still several beats too slow.

The sword he swung extended toward Kasim, but...

“Excuse me. I’ll borrow this for a moment.”

...Only to end up in Kasim’s hand before Leon even realized it. It was the pinnacle of unarmed technique, disarming an opponent starting from a blade catch.

Stunned, Leon took a step back. He had never been subdued like this before.

I lost... completely. In the realm of martial arts.

If Kasim had used brute force to take the sword, Leon’s hands and wrists would’ve been shattered, but both were perfectly intact. In fact, they weren’t even swollen.

He didn’t even realize the sword had been taken until after it was gone. As a swordsman, there was no greater defeat.

While Leon stood stunned with the sting of loss, Kasim fixed a piercing gaze on the sword now in his grip.

“Come out, Rodrick!”

His voice was calm, but the weight of it thundered. His expression remained emotionless—a mask to conceal the surge of passion underneath.

This was a chance to settle the defeat from centuries ago. As a Titan, how could his blood not boil?

However, the Holy Sword El-Cid gave no reply. Actually, it responded with a deafening silence.

And the Holy Sword glowed white-hot as if rejecting the grip of someone who wasn’t its master. The entire blade from hilt to tip was wreathed in white flame.

For those tainted by malice, it was power akin to divine punishment. A light that could melt steel like butter with pure heat began to sear Kasim’s palm.

“I see you’re not going to make this easy.”

Kasim didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. He flexed the muscles in both arms and tightened his grip. Aura flowed through his veins, and crimson Aura Fire enveloped his palms.

In a way, it was almost laughable. The Giant King, a legendary being who beat down dragons, was now going all out... against a sword.

The power he was exuding could crumple mithril and bend orichalcum. It was more than enough to rip a drake’s head off while it was still alive. That power was now bearing down on the sword.

Yet, El-Cid’s beautiful form didn’t budge.

Kasim’s muscle fibers began to tear, and blood trickled out. Even the Giant King’s full power couldn’t make El-Cid yield.

“Kraaaaaah!”

Kasim let out a thunderous roar and poured his full strength into the effort.

The shockwave caused all monsters within a twenty-kilometer radius to soil themselves and flee, plunging the inner ecosystem of the mountain range into chaos.

Kasim paid no mind to that. He focused solely on his struggle with El-Cid. The vicious energy of the Aura Fire rolling off his forearms forced Leon to retreat twenty meters away.

That is absolutely terrifying.

The density and sheer volume of Aura were overwhelming. The Giant King was showing firsthand just how vast the Aura capacity of a Titan could be.

Would even all seven forms of the Grand Chariot be enough to counter this? At best, it felt like it would only cancel out some of the damage.

Still, Leon wasn’t worried about El-Cid at all.

Even Rodrick couldn’t break that sword in life—it’ll be fine.

And indeed, that thought proved correct.

“Hoo... As expected, this isn’t enough!”

Kasim, realizing brute strength was futile, hurled the sword high into the air and clenched both fists. At that moment, Leon’s pupils turned gold. He couldn’t miss this. The realm he hadn’t yet reached—his ultimate goal—was about to unfold before him.

Sensing it instinctively, Leon’s Rodrick’s Vision pushed past its own limits. Blood vessels burst across his eyeballs, and crimson tears streamed down, but every last bit of Leon’s attention was locked on Kasim.

Right then, Kasim muttered, “Burn.”

His will interfered with the material world. A vast amount of Aura ignited the air, forming a pair of fists.

It was a technique equal to Aura Blade—a finisher that materialized Aura itself, partially defying the laws of the physical world. It compressed impossible heat and pressure into the form of fists—something physics couldn’t account for.

This was the Giant King Kasim’s all-out strike.

“Roooooooodriiiiiick!!”

With a thunderous bellow, both fists shot out like bolts of light and clashed, in an X, against the sword suspended mid-air. And in that moment, the world was consumed by a flash of light.

There was no sound. The air itself had evaporated hundreds of meters into the sky, erasing all noise.

Had that explosion occurred on the ground, Leon wouldn’t even have left a bone fragment behind. If it hit, even a full-grown dragon would die in one blow. In terms of raw destructive power, it exceeded even ultimate magic.

And it had been aimed solely at one sword. The sword, falling from the sky, embedded itself into the ground.

Superheated by both its own radiance and Kasim’s assault, El-Cid scorched the earth around it like magma. The air shimmered and warped from the accumulated heat, even kicking up sudden gusts of wind.

And yet, the Holy Sword remained perfectly intact, without a single crack or scratch.

Upon seeing this, Kasim let out a furious howl.

“Kraaaaah! Rodrick, you bastard! Get out of that sword right now! Don’t hide like a coward—come face me once more!”

This time, El-Cid did not stay silent. The blade, glowing pure white, vibrated, and as if figuring out how to take advantage of it, reproduced a human voice.

“Hah! I’d love to, but I physically can’t! If you’ve got a problem with that, go complain to the Goddess—that silly wench!”

“Blasphemer, you degenerate warrior!” Kasim snapped at the disrespect toward the Goddess.

“You think I give a damn about some blasphemy? Kyahahahaha!”

Unable to take El-Cid’s mockery, Kasim gave the sword a furious kick. Of course, the blade that had withstood a full-power blow didn’t so much as bend.

El-Cid, coincidentally kicked all the way to Leon’s feet, added insult to injury with laughter.

“Kyahaha! Do you know how stubborn this hunk of steel is? You think it would break from your sorry kicks? You’ve improved a decent bit, sure—but not nearly enough!”

“Ugh! I’ve trained nonstop for the past three hundred years just to land a single hit on that face of yours...!”

“Then train for another thousand, noob!”

“Graaaaagh!!”

Kasim, raging uncontrollably, began laying waste to the area. Leon quickly scrambled back. What an embarrassing way to die that would be—to get caught up in someone else’s tantrum.

However, more than that, the exchange between Kasim and El-Cid felt... oddly familiar.

Wait... I’ve been going through the exact same thing...

Leon let out a bitter laugh, oddly comforted. Leon and Kasim were human and Titan, with a three-hundred-year generational gap. And yet in that moment, Leon felt a sense of brotherhood with Kasim. Even respect.

To think he had spent three whole centuries training just to land one punch on that infuriating face—Leon, whose perseverance was second to none, honestly wasn’t sure if he could follow in those footsteps.

“Damn cursed sword,” Leon spewed.

El-Cid, catching a stray, whined, —The hell did I do to you?!

“The fact that you don’t know the answer to that is the exact reason you’re a cursed sword.”

The Giant King Kasim, after three hundred years, had finally found a true brother.