Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage-Chapter 577: Havel’s Limits

CH577 Havel’s Limits

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[Quickdraw – Flash Slash]!

Slash!

Slash!

Slash!

Again and again, Havel struck at the water with his sword.

Yet every time, the blade narrowly missed the koi fish darting within.

Frustration and fatigue slowly crept in as Havel began to question his own skill.

His Quickdraw Style was built upon the foundations of speed, agility, and precision. Among his Noble race — and across his entire plane — the style was renowned as the fastest sword technique.

And yet...

Here, that same sword style was somehow not fast enough to achieve his goal.

’No.’ Havel wiped the sweat from his forehead.

’It’s not that the sword style is slow... It’s that I am slow.’

He glanced down at his arm, glistening with sweat.

Even his clothes were soaked through.

Havel could barely remember the last time he had exerted himself this much.

For most of his life, things had come so effortlessly to him that he had long forgotten the earlier years when he had trained with such intensity to reach the level of skill he now possessed.

"Grumble~~"

Havel pressed a hand against his stomach.

The trial truly knew how to torment him.

If the objective had been anything else, he might not have pushed himself nearly this hard.

But the reason he kept going —the reason he continued to pour such effort into something that seemed pointless— was simple.

Food.

He was hungry.

Extremely hungry.

From experience —and from understanding his own similar nature— Havel knew that the female elf who had previously given him food, before falling asleep again, would not wake up to feed him a second time.

The meal she had shared with him had merely been a passing whim.

At this rate, he would starve to death long before the woman awoke again to fish.

Havel had imagined many ways he might one day die. But starving to death while a food source swam right in front of him? That was a fate he absolutely refused to accept.

So he forced himself to keep searching for a solution, even when none seemed to exist.

[Quickdraw – Flash Slash]!

Slash!

Slash!

Slash!

Yet no matter how many times he tried... the result remained the same.

His vision suddenly wavered, and he collapsed to the ground.

’I am reaching my limits,’ he thought to himself. ’Soon, I won’t even have enough strength to move my arm, much less swing a sword.’

Grumble~~

’So hungry... I need to... eat.’

His vision wobbled again.

His consciousness grew hazy as his mind drifted between reality and memory.

Havel recalled a time long ago... the last time he had felt hunger like this...

Havel had been an orphan, and most of his early life had been spent hungry, scraping together whatever scraps of food he could find.

That was how he survived.

However, everything changed the day he met a strange man.

The man looked thin and frail.

Yet his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the world— and he bore it effortlessly.

The man appeared genial, the sort of person who looked incapable of harming even a fly.

Yet the countless scars covering his body —everywhere except his face— told a very different story.

Most striking of all was the cross-shaped (X) scar carved across his chest.

Even now, Havel could not decide whether meeting that man had been a blessing... or a curse.

What he did know, however, was that after meeting the man, he had never gone hungry again.

At the very least, he had never again been forced into hunger by poverty.

In fact, it had been so long that he could barely remember the last time he had truly felt hungry.

Not even when he had been captured in his home world and brought to Pangea, before eventually being sold to the Fury Family’s main agoge, had he been forced to sleep while starving.

Using the skills that man had taught him, he had always found a way.

Yet here he was now.

Hunger gnawed at him.

Food swam right before his eyes.

And still...

He could not claim it.

’Would you laugh at me if you were here?’ Havel wondered.

Then he shook his head.

’I don’t have the energy to waste on useless thoughts.’

He slowly forced himself to his feet.

Throughout the entire motion, his sword never left his hand.

However, this time, even after regaining his footing, he did not immediately swing his sword again.

’I only have a few swings left. I have to make them count. I can’t waste what little energy I have left,’ Havel thought to himself.

He looked down at the sword in his hand.

It was a blade that had never disappointed him— a weapon that had carried him through countless situations in the past.

’This time will be no different,’ he told himself with determination.

Closing his eyes, Havel steadied his breathing and began contemplating a solution.

It was then that a memory —long buried in the depths of his past— surfaced within his mind.

—

[Ultimate Quickdraw Art: Death Phantom Razor]!

When their small home had once been invaded by powerful hostiles, the frail-looking man had stepped forward to face them.

Despite his thin and seemingly weak body, he somehow managed to shield a younger Havel from the enemies before them.

Havel had not even realised the man had moved.

It was only when the hostiles suddenly split apart into ten or so slices that he noticed his teacher had already acted.

Hours later, while cleaning the mess left behind after the intruders had been repelled, Havel asked curiously,

"Teacher, how are you able to move and attack so fast?"

"When will I be able to perform nine instantaneous slashes like you?"

Havel’s teacher smiled.

"The Death Phantom Razor is called that because it is a move that can only be learned by wrestling with the phantom of death and stealing its scythe for yourself."

"You’re speaking in riddles again, Teacher," Havel pouted.

"I’m not. You simply don’t understand yet," the man laughed.

Then, a moment later, his expression turned solemn.

"Every living being with a brain has a limit imposed upon it by that very brain. This is especially true for sapient races like our Noble race."

"That limit exists to ensure we do not push our bodies beyond what they can bear.

"However, more often than not, the brain sets this limit far below the true threshold of what the body can endure."

"In other words, there is untapped potential hidden within our bodies."

"As long as we are willing to endure the pain and push beyond the limits imposed by our minds, we can access that hidden reserve of power."

"It is from this principle that practitioners of the Quickdraw Style gain their sudden bursts of speed and agility."

Havel nodded in understanding.

It was a principle his teacher had explained to him before.

"However, for the Death Phantom Razor, we must push our bodies even further," his teacher continued.

"For a single instant, we must push our bodies beyond the true limit of what they can safely bear."

"Although this post-limit state lasts only for a brief moment, it is still a journey into an unknown state... one where a single wrong move may lead to death."

"That is why I say the Death Phantom Razor is a tussle with the phantom of death."

"If you win that tussle, you live— and gain the right to wield its scythe."

"But if you lose..."

"You die."

Havel’s teacher paused for a moment before continuing.

"So, if you wish to truly master the full state of the [Death Phantom Razor], you can only achieve it when facing slow, true death."

He reached out and placed a hand on Havel’s head, ruffling the young boy’s hair with a gentle smile.

Afterwards, he stood up and looked toward the sky for a long moment.

Then he turned back to Havel.

"Do not rush, Havel."

"The unique experience required to truly learn the Death Phantom Razor... as a fellow swordsman, I can assure you that you will encounter it one day."

Then his expression softened.

"But to be honest... as your guardian, I hope you never do."

"For it would mean that I have failed you."

—

Havel’s eyes suddenly flashed open.

His vision stabilised as his consciousness returned from the haze of vertigo and memory.

’You have not failed me, Teacher. This is the path I chose for myself.’

’And I will walk it to the very end.’

Havel tightened his grip on his sword.

Then he moved. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

[Ultimate Quickdraw Art: Death Phantom Razor]!

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