Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 92

The difference between the two races, humans and Titans, was vast from weight to sheer volume. If Leon swung his sword like he would against another human, that gap alone could spell disaster.

The blade rose to the upper left and came slicing down to the lower right with deadly precision, targeting Kasim’s left knee in a diagonal slash.

Wait, what?! Leon thought as he missed.

His eyes widened in shock, but that surprise didn’t last long as he realized the truth the next moment. He hadn’t missed. Kasim had dodged.

He had slipped just outside the path of the strike with a movement so subtle, so fluid, that even Leon’s Vision couldn’t track it. There wasn’t even a scuff mark on the ground where he’d moved, showing how flawless Kasim’s Footwork was.

He’s at least four levels above me.

To think a Titan—several times larger and heavier than a human—could move his body like that! Swallowing his awe, Leon pressed forward, burying it beneath fighting spirit.

The two were only two meters apart—just one reach of the arm, and they could strike one another. Leon decided that there would be no more thinking. Hesitation would be fatal.

He cast aside all thoughts and acted purely on instinct. There was no way that tricks would work on this opponent, anyway.

Kasim effortlessly deflected Leon’s lightning-fast horizontal slash with the back of his hand. His movement wasn’t even a tenth of a second off, as if he’d seen it coming from the start.

And that wasn’t all. The barrage of sword strikes that followed, Kasim received and nullified them all without taking a single step.

With fingers, with the backs of his hands, with his elbows. He found the slightest gaps in Leon’s sword trajectories and unraveled them.

How is he doing that...?

Leon was attacking relentlessly, but getting nowhere. Every slash curved off-course. Not only did he fail to reach Kasim, but his own wrists also throbbed from the unnatural deflections.

Kasim was using Soft Fist. If Hard Fist sought to dominate the opponent through raw power, Soft Fist aimed to control the flow of battle using the opponent’s strength.

Its principles were profoundly complex, and it was rare to find masters of the art. Even more so among the Titan race, known for brute strength. Yet Kasim was a true master of Soft Fist.

“Focus, my brother,” Kasim said.

Leon had attacked nearly thirty times in an instant, and every attempt had failed. When that happened, his sword faltered ever so slightly. In that instant, Kasim’s hand snaked forward and wrapped around the blade.

His palm seared against the Aura Fire, but Kasim didn’t even flinch.

“Guh...!”

Leon grunted as the sword was almost frozen in space. He pulled with all his might, but Kasim’s two fingers gripped the blade with crushing strength.

The next moment, Leon instinctively let go and crossed his arms to guard. Then, with a boom, his body flew backward several meters. It was just a single punch. With one hand still holding Leon’s sword, Kasim drove his other fist into Leon’s abdomen.

It wasn’t even a special technique. And yet Leon coughed up blood as he struggled to stay on his feet.

This is how strong he is even without using Aura...

The two quick back-to-back hits had come from Kasim’s upper body, more specifically, his shoulders and elbows. The sheer power of a Titan made even simple attacks into a finishing blow.

Kasim tossed the Holy Sword back to Leon.

“‘Soft can overcome hard. Hard can never be soft.’ They mean the same thing. Whether it’s softness overcoming force, or strength breaking finesse—what matters is superiority. The better one wins. Simple as that.”

The reason Leon’s sword had been blocked so effortlessly was the gap between him and the Giant King.

If I had been faster, sharper. If my sword paths had been more refined—

Even Kasim would have had a harder time interfering with their flow. The opponent was just too good. That didn’t mean Leon was weak—he was already a rare talent for his age.

“You’ve still got some energy left, don’t you? Let’s go again.”

Seeing through his reserves, Kasim lowered his center of gravity. He would strike just fast enough for Leon to barely react. Just hard enough to be blocked or dodged—but not enough to kill. No one but Kasim could do this.

He’s coming...!

Leon’s nape tingled with instinct, and he moved. In a piercing thrust known as “Spear Hand,” Kasim’s massive hand slammed the blade.

Even though most of the force had been diverted, both of Leon’s shoulders creaked from the shock. He backed up two steps and raised his guard again. Kasim, however, wasn’t about to give him the time. Another wave of chained strikes pestered Leon with no room to counter.

“Gah!”

As Leon was struck with three more hits in the blink of an eye, blood spread from his lips. He had blocked, diverted, deflected—and still, the impact tore through his insides.

Even without Aura, Kasim’s martial arts were overwhelming. Every motion carried the principle of internal force. It was why even glancing blows caused deep damage.

One of those techniques was penetrating force, a strike that hurt without direct impact.

Damn... I’m actually learning a lot from this.

Leon wiped at his already-blurring eyes. He pushed himself to watch—just one more move, one more technique.

This was the martial art passed down by Rodrick and a style only he and Kasim had inherited. Kasim, standing beyond the Master’s boundary, was like a living textbook.

El-Cid could explain it all he wanted, but it was nothing compared to seeing it with his own eyes and clashing with it.

—That’s right. Keep watching. It’s not like this is a place you can visit easily.

El-Cid wasn’t wrong. The Giant King and the Titans protected the dimensional fissure. They rarely left this mountain. Leon had to milk this opportunity for all it was worth.

“When you stop your step, it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped completely. Your center of gravity, inertia, the shifting of water and blood inside your body... You have to perceive and control all of that to truly understand the essence of Rodrick’s Footwork.”

As he spoke, Kasim stepped forward. There wasn’t a single motion above the knee, yet nothing felt unnatural.

Leon didn’t blink—he watched every micro-movement that could be described as stillness in motion and motion in stillness. Kasim moved while appearing still. He stood still while appearing to move. That contradiction was one of the ideals every martial artist sought.

He doesn’t fight against the resistance of the air. He sheds all unnecessary strength and lets his body flow with the greater current...

If he’d trained alone, weeks or even months of training weren’t sure to bring him to this level. Now, however, in just minutes, Leon achieved a breakthrough.

Unaware, he had slipped into a state of no-mind. His body began imitating Kasim’s movements.

The tension left his knees and his ankles and hips moved like reeds, flowing freely and changing direction at will. The stiffness that once gripped his body finally gave way to freedom.

“Good.”

Kasim was pleased by the sudden leap in progress. As he expressed his approval, he raised his rock-like fist directly before Leon.

Realization was good, but because Leon was in a trance, his energy was draining like a receding tide. If left alone like this, he’d collapse within thirty seconds and likely die from exhaustion. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

So Kasim stopped him before that could happen. A punch flowed like water, shattering the sound barrier. The explosion and shockwave shook Leon’s bangs. The raging Aura subsided within him, and the focus returned to his eyes.

He stepped in to close the gap, springing from his previously lowered stance, and drove a fist straight into Leon’s abdomen without warning. Leon instinctively raised his sword, but the shockwave that pierced through even the Holy Sword felt like an earthquake inside his gut.

His spine rattled from the impact. Still, he didn’t let go of the sword. Leon was flung back and slammed ungracefully into a wall.

“Guhh...!”

He couldn’t even scream. All he could do was gasp for air.

El-Cid’s voice rang from the sword in his hand, sharp and annoying.

“Hey, focus. If you space out again, we’re starting over. Don’t rely on muscles or Aura. Move with your mind. Sounds like some outdated motivational crap, I know, but you’ve already manifested ‘Willpower.’ That’s the first step of separating body from mind—the seed of Psychokinesis is already within you.”

Back at the Academy, when he’d shattered countless wooden swords, Leon had sensed this mysterious power. It wasn’t Aura, nor was it mana.

This thing, which was different from other strengthening, was called “Willpower” by El-Cid.

“Think about it. Your muscles didn’t grow stronger. Your Aura didn’t increase. And yet your destructive power increased? That’s physically impossible. Only psychokinesis can make that kind of absurdity happen. And ‘Will’ is its most primitive form of psychokinesis.”

So what’s the difference between the two...? Leon asked inwardly.

“Whether you can consciously control it or not. The kind you do through repetition is half-baked. Any Master can do that.”

If psychokinesis were a hand, then willpower was a tool. Once forged for a specific purpose, it couldn’t be used for anything else. It was a limited method of use and was no different from using a power that could move mountains just to dig ditches.

Comfy? Sure. However, if Leon settled there, he would never move forward again. That was why El-Cid intended to guide Leon through the threshold now.

“Even something small is fine. Manifest a phenomenon you haven’t mastered yet—something unfamiliar. Size doesn’t matter. Whether you can do it or not is what matters. How much you can do will grow as your willpower strengthens later.”

Hearing this, Leon closed his eyes. He focused on “moving” with his mind alone.

Living beings instinctively perceived the world through their physical bodies, which made this concept so hard to grasp. That was also why they pushed him to the brink of death—to tear away from the confines of the flesh.

He pressed on through a challenge he could barely comprehend. Sweat poured down his broken body as he forced himself to focus.

El-Cid grinned as he looked down at him.

—Hmm.

There was no wind, yet a few strands of Leon’s hair trembled.

***

—What is it? Why are you calling me again?

El-Cid grumbled, clearly annoyed. Leon’s training was at a critical point, and now some interruption had barged in.

The voice responded hesitantly.

“...”

—You think this is too harsh? You think he might die?

Yes, psychokinesis training did look quite dangerous, but El-Cid scoffed as if the concern made no sense.

He replied into the nothingness, —Didn’t you see him almost get killed by some random lizard? I said I’d teach him right, didn’t I? The day of the prophecy is almost here—he at least needs to be able to protect himself by then.

“......”

—There’s no other way to awaken psychokinesis. His power will surge once the Holy Sword fully awakens anyway, so I’ve got to teach him how to handle it and what lies beyond. Am I wrong?

The voice fell silent. She couldn’t deny that.

Leon wasn’t a fully-fledged Hero yet. Once the prophecy day came, and the Holy Sword’s seal was lifted, he’d unlock its full power.

Unlike Rodrick, who needed no help from anyone but himself, Leon needed this weapon to fight cataclysmic threats. With it in hand, he would be at least ten times stronger than he was now.

—You think that would be enough?

El-Cid snorted, even knowing all that.

—You think just ten times stronger is enough? Of course not. That’s why you used this shortcut to trap me in this pile of scrap metal. The calamities heading for this era—they aren’t something some greenhorn with a fancy title can handle.

“...”

—I know what you’re worried about, so stop repeating yourself. I’ve got it. Do you not remember? Even back in the days, everything went the way I said it would.

“...! ...!!”

That last outburst made El-Cid wince. He was told a sharp point he couldn’t argue with.

—Okay, that one... was kind of bad luck. Not really my faul—

“...!!!”

—Alright, alright! My bad! I’ll pay better attention this time!

For once, El-Cid backed down. Even then, the voice snapped at him a few more times before quieting down. She must’ve had a lot built up. Sweating even in the subconscious realm, El-Cid quickly changed the subject.

—So... how’s the Saintess doing? I heard the ceremony’s over.

“...”

—What kind of reaction is that?

Suspicious of the vague reaction, he pressed for an answer.

The voice responded, “...”

El-Cid blinked, stunned.

—What...? The Saintess is... following us? By herself?