Crownless Reincarnation: New World? Nah I'd win-Chapter 23: Monk of Pride.

"Perfect timing."

He said, grabbing his sword once again.

Akamir twirled the wooden sword lazily in his hand, feeling the lightness of it now that his body had advanced.

Danzo, the gruff old knight in armor, stood before him, looking at him in confusion.

To his sides, Jade and Walls, both younger knights, lazily stood there.

"You three." Akamir said, stretching his body. "Spar with me."

'How did they even survive?'

He wondered, looking at them.

Unlike him, they all lived in an inn that is owned by an old lady.

'Well, good thing they did.'

It's better for him this way.

"You want the three of us to spar against you, young master?" Danzo asked, frowning.

"Yes. But," Akamir said, pointing his sword at them, "no mana. Only swordsmanship."

The knights exchanged glances. Walls chuckled under his breath.

Jade shrugged, flipping her sword easily to her ready stance.

"As you wish," Walls said, cracking his neck. "Don't blame us if we bruise you a little."

Akamir only smiled.

"Come."

The three knights moved immediately.

Danzo lunged first, a heavy, crushing overhead strike meant to overwhelm.

Jade slid low to Akamir's right, aiming a slicing strike at his ribs, while Walls darted around behind.

Akamir stepped forward, ignoring the instincts screaming at him to evade.

Instead, he raised his sword with one hand—

Clang!

Danzo's heavy blow was deflected off the flat of Akamir's blade.

Using the momentum, Akamir pivoted on his foot, ducking under Jade's sweeping strike and thrusting a sharp elbow into his abdomen.

"Urgh!" Jade gasped, knocked back.

Walls tried to capitalize, slashing toward Akamir's exposed back.

Akamir, without looking, twisted his wrist, catching Walls' sword midair with his own, and with a slight pull, disarmed him completely.

Clatter!

Walls' sword flew into the dirt.

Danzo roared and came in again with a broad swing meant to cleave Akamir across the chest.

This time, Akamir met him head-on.

Their swords clashed.

Danzo grinned at him, thinking he had him in a contest of strength.

But—

With a sharp turn of his wrist, he disarmed Danzo as well, sending the man's practice sword spinning harmlessly away.

"...!"

Danzo took a step back, stunned.

"Again."

Akamir rushed towards them.

After fifteen brutal minutes, the three knights dropped their swords, panting heavily, bruised and sweating under the morning sun.

Akamir hadn't even broken a sweat.

Danzo wiped his forehead, regarding him with something close to awe.

"You've gotten... ridiculous, young master."

Akamir shrugged, twirling the sword once more before planting it into the ground.

'I don't think there are many in my level when it comes to pure swordsmanship.'

Akamir thought, leaning his body with the support of the sword.

It may sound ridiculous to anyone who heard it but Akamir was sure of it.

'Even though they are knights their swordsmanship is only subpar.'

He thought, staring at the three panting knights.

'...At this rate all I need to do is get stronger physically.'

Akamir also had an interest in mana as well.

There was no such thing as mana in his previous world and with all the limited knowledge he had of mana—.

'I can use it in countless ways in a battle.'

"I need to buy a new sword." Jade mumbled, touching his broken sword.

"How much will it cost?" Akamir asked, looking at him.

"I don't know." He replied, shaking his head. "Maybe two silvers."

Akamir nodded.

In this kingdom, gold, silver, and copper are used as currency.

A common person's income fluctuates between one to three gold coins.

'I have around two hundreds given by Darvin.'

But what took Akamir's interest was the World Reserve Bank.

A bank that is in charge of all the currency and can provide an appropriate amount of world coins corresponding to the golds and silvers.

World coins which can be used in any nation or kingdom.

'I think that belong to this world.'

Akamir picked up his sword once again as he swung it sideways.

'I need to once again start from the basics and refine my swordsmanship before using mana.'

Historically, swordsmanship has always followed one of the following principles:

Heaviness, Speed, Breaking, Illusion, Scattering, Severing, and Sharpness.

Each sword art is made by mastering one of the following principles.

'I have already mastered three of them.'

Akamir swung his sword horizontally.

BOOM!!

A heavy burst came out of it indicating one of the principles.

'Now, I should master the other four.'

Akamir made up his mind.

To reach the pinnacle of sword and at the same time reach the pinnacle of mana arts.

'It should be fun.'

He smiled, gazing towards the forest.

**

When the next morning arrived, Akamir returned back to the ancient palace.

The creepy feeling was still the same but Akamir had gotten used to it.

"I should end this trial today."

Akamir mumbled to himself as he started walking in.

From what he had observed these trials are based on seven sins.

'I have killed four of them which leaves three more.'

Truth be told Akamir was getting tired of playing the games.

He had spent too much time for a trial he has no idea what would give him in return.

'Let's end this today.'

Akamir quickly walked past all the previous chambers he had fought until...

He reached a new rectangular one.

Follow current novels on freewebnσvel.cѳm.

"Trial of the faithless has been initiated."

The same voice echoed within the chamber.

"Trial five; The Monk of Pride."

The stone doors slammed shut behind him.

Akamir lifted his sword casually, staring ahead.

He blinked.

In the next instant a man floated cross-legged in the air, draped in a loose white robe, hands clasped in prayer.

The "Monk of Pride."

His head slowly lifted.

Eyes burned gold, filled with contempt.

"You dare stand before me, unworthy one?"

Akamir didn't answer as he adjusted his stance.

A faint smile tugged at the monk's lips.

"Bow. Submit. Crawl and I might spare you."

Mana rippled out of the monk like a rising tide.

The pressure hit him.

For a moment, Akamir felt his knees threaten to buckle.

'...Tsk.'

Akamir tightened his muscles, mana circulating through his body.

A thin blue barrier coated his skin.

Mana tempering.

It glowed faintly before settling like a second skin.

The pressure lessened.

The Monk of Pride raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Still standing? Good. Breaking you will be sweeter."

Without warning, the monk struck.

He didn't move like a man....he warped.

One moment he floated lazily; the next he was a blur, his palm striking toward Akamir's chest.

BOOM!

Akamir barely raised his sword in time, blocking the blow with the flat of the blade.

The force pushed him back, sliding across the smooth stone floor.

'Strong.'

The monk didn't stop.

Palm strikes rained down like a storm, each blow faster and heavier than the last.

Each strike bloomed golden energy, shaking the entire room.

Akamir blocked and parried, the Mana around him cracked but held strong.

"This all you have?" Akamir said, pushing the monk back.

The monk laughed softly.

"You are a blind child who knows nothing of true strength."

He snapped his fingers.

Golden clones burst out of his body, ten, twenty, thirty.

They swarmed toward Akamir like a wave.

Akamir's heart pounded, but his mind stayed calm.

'Fine.'

He spun his sword into a reverse grip, crouched low.

He gathered mana at the tip of his blade.

[Vyavan Sword Art]

He slashed forward.

BOOM!

A heavy wave burst out, shattering the first row of clones like glass.

Akamir moved.

The clones popped one after another.

Walls of golden fists hammered him from all sides, but the Mana tempering cracked and reformed again and again, holding just long enough for Akamir to strike.

He swept, slashed, thrust, ducked, leapt—his sword sang through the air.

Soon only the monk himself remained.

The golden-robed figure floated just above the ground, looking down at Akamir coldly.

"Impressive. But you have no hope of defeating me."

"I'm not here to play games," he muttered, lowering his stance.

[Foxdrift]

Akamir's body blurred as he reached behind the monk and—.

BOOM!!!

Slashed at the monk who was thrown away from the impact.

The dust cleared.

The monk stumbled out of the rubble, blood dripping from his forehead.

His golden robes were torn.

Pride still shone in his eyes...but it was cracked now.

He roared, charging forward recklessly.

Golden flames burst from his fists.

Akamir moved forward, weaving through the attacks, reading every sloppy move.

The monk swung wide.

Akamir ducked under it, twisted his body—

—and slammed the hilt of his sword into the monk's gut.

THUD.

The monk gasped.

Akamir followed up immediately, stepping in and leaving a deep slash across his chest.

The monk staggered.

"No... I am Pride...!"

He tried to summon more mana.

But Akamir didn't let him.

He raised his sword once and beheaded the monk.

His body slumped forward along with his head.

His body dissolved into golden motes, scattering like fireflies.

Akamir stood alone in the ruined chamber.

Sweat dripped from his brow.

His heart thundered in his chest.

Another gate opened up and Akamir approached it.

'Five down.'

At the same time, a voice echoed.

"Trial of the faithless has been initiated."

"Sixth Trial; The Judge of Apathy."

Akamir drew in a deep breath, walking inside the gate.

"...Bring it on."