Chapter 80: The Country Bumpkin's Advancement

Chapter Eighty: The Bumpkin’s Advancement

Ever since Shaya destroyed his own tent, he moved out of his previous quarters, concocted a random excuse, and settled at the very edge of the camp, pitching a tent by himself at the foot of a hill beside the encampment.

With the army gone, the camp was sparsely populated, and as a personal guard, no one bothered to question his actions. Yet, Sharba and Kato, his companions, soon noticed Shaya’s strange behavior.

For three consecutive days, Shaya was nowhere to be seen, returning only at night for meals, but each time his face and body bore obvious wounds. Sometimes his hair was wild, his face covered in bloody scratches as if clawed by something, sometimes he was smeared with dirt, like he had just crawled out of a mound. His appetite, usually the largest among them—greater even than Sharba’s—had shrunk; his hands trembled so much he could barely grip his spoon, his face twisted in pain as he ate, and he walked as if his bones were disjointed. Once, when Kato accidentally patted him during a meal, Shaya let out a shriek like a slaughtered pig, nearly sending his plate crashing into Kato’s face.

Both companions grew concerned.

“Hey, have you been sneaking out to see women?” Kato asked, eyeing the scratches on Shaya’s face.

“I think he’s been fighting! Damn it, who dares lay a hand on one of our personal guards? Let’s go sort them out together!” Sharba slammed the table.

Shaya’s body trembled, tears welling in his eyes, gritting his teeth: “No… I… I just fell by accident…”

(Damn, it really hurts…)

Shaya suffered in silence. For these three days, training under Dora, the female dragon, in the accursed arts of the Dragon Knight, had been pure torment.

Dora taught him only three techniques for now, claiming that was all she knew—though Shaya suspected the cunning dragon was hiding something.

Ancient Dragon Knights possessed formidable strength, their battle energy honed to perfection. But Shaya had never trained in battle energy. Dora herself knew a bit of the human methods, but after half a day teaching Shaya, he showed no sign of sensing the energy, and she declared him utterly talentless—a hopeless case for cultivating battle energy.

Shaya refused to accept this. (Much later, he would realize he’d been tricked by this sly dragon.)

What nonsense! Wasn’t he talented in martial arts? On the Wildfire Plains and in battle, hadn’t he slain at least a dozen warriors, if not more? Battle energy? So what? He’d killed enemies who possessed it!

At such moments, his innate stubbornness flared. Battle energy was just another form of power, after all.

If he couldn’t use battle energy, surely he could wield something else.

Naturally, he turned to his greatest asset: Crimson Killing Intent.

Through prior training, he’d begun to grasp its basics. In essence, when facing formidable foes, he rallied his fighting spirit and murderous intent, pressing himself to the limit, which activated the soul imprint in his pendant.

Whenever this happened, a chilling cold swept through his body—as if plunged into an icy lake in winter—filling his heart with endless bloodlust, a power emerging from nowhere.

He couldn’t fully comprehend how this power worked, but for now, that was beside the point.

The only drawback was the need to maintain control, lest he be overwhelmed by madness and lose consciousness entirely. By suppressing his frenzy, he remained lucid, but the Crimson Killing Intent he summoned was far weaker than the accidental outbursts he'd had before.

He experimented with a controlled range, finding its effective reach was about three steps. Within that range, it was still formidable, though less so than before. Using his fire fork, he could silently slice through hardened wooden stakes.

Against tougher objects—metal shields, armor—it could still cut, but lacked the previous penetrating power. No longer did a single sweep cleave through any number of foes standing in his path.

Testing further, he found he could easily slice through three stacked shields, but at four, the fork would get stuck, unable to break through.

“At this level, your power matches that of a mid-tier human warrior wielding battle energy,” was Dora’s assessment.

Well… that would count as battle energy, then.

Yet, Shaya noticed that each use of Crimson Killing Intent, the longer it lasted—about the time of a meal—would leave him utterly exhausted, sweat pouring, unable to move even a finger, his mind fatigued as if he hadn’t slept in days, his consciousness blurring.

It seemed the Crimson Killing Intent drained not only physical strength, but mental energy as well.

In terms of efficiency, it was far inferior to mid-tier battle energy.

Shaya felt somewhat indignant, recalling the earlier outbursts of Crimson Killing Intent with their irresistible, defense-shattering power—murderous to men and gods alike, fitting his style.

But Dora’s words silenced him.

“Your berserk power is greater, but without self-awareness, you attack indiscriminately within a certain range! On the battlefield, your allies will be nearby—would you kill them too?”

“…Fine!” Shaya conceded.

Weakening the Crimson Killing Intent wasn’t the real problem; the real issue was… learning the Dragon Knight techniques was pure agony!

Dragon Knight battle arts used a mysterious method to explosively release sensed power from the body. Each time he summoned it, his strength surged, the feeling ten times stronger than the Crimson Killing Intent. As the surge flooded him, Shaya felt every muscle, vein, even nerve expand several times over! The sensation of tearing made him tremble uncontrollably; for an instant, even his heart stopped beating!

He also entered a state of auditory hallucination—everything around him twisted and slowed: wind, birds in the forest, the distant training shouts from the barracks—all sounds stretched and warped in his ears, his vision distorted until only a single point remained.

A single point!!

Raising his fire fork, he stabbed toward that point…

(BOOM!!)

He distinctly heard a roar—an explosion that seemed to reverberate directly in his mind, jolting him awake as all illusions vanished. The power in his body reversed, the surging strength suddenly spilled out like a torrent, making him feel as though his blood flowed backwards, his heart racing to the brink of collapse.

Where the fire fork struck, a red glow appeared, forming a thin line, like a strand of hair, shooting straight out…

All the power was focused at the tip of the fork, bursting forth with such ferocity that Shaya was involuntarily propelled forward—not by his own steps, but dragged by the force.

He stumbled several strides, crashing headlong into a tree, seeing the red line slice silently through the bark, splitting the trunk within. Splintered wood exploded into fine threads, whipped back by the force, grazing Shaya’s face and leaving bloody scratches.

He examined the tree: a hole the size of a pinkie finger pierced the trunk, and further along, another tree, and then more…

Along a straight line, for thirty meters, everything in its path was penetrated! Six trees and two rocks the size of tables, all bore round holes as thick as a finger!

Shaya ran to inspect them, struck speechless by the result.

But before the shock could even settle, our bumpkin rolled on the ground, howling, “It hurts so damn much!!!!”

From every pore, blood beads welled up instantly. On his arms, fine cracks appeared, skin splitting and blood flowing down, bones creaking—at that moment, Shaya feared his skeleton might shatter completely!

The agony persisted for half an hour before he could finally rise, every inch of his body screaming with pain, every touch was like a thousand needles. Even walking, his soles throbbed unbearably.

After the first trial, he needed two hours to recover just enough strength, his first reaction a wild, painful laughter. Then, doubts arose in his mind.

“Hey, Dora, I’ve heard that even high-level human warriors, when condensing battle energy to strike at a distance, can’t reach thirty meters, can they?”

“Hmph! Dragon Knight battle arts are not to be compared with human battle energy! While battle energy can be projected outward, its method of concentration is crude, most of its power wasted. The Dragon Knight technique focuses all power onto a single point, minimizing loss, maximizing strength! This move is called… Dragon Strike!”

Dragon Strike!!

Damn, this move is truly formidable!

But… damn, it hurts beyond belief!!!

“Sigh, actually, with your current strength, after a Dragon Strike, you haven’t exhausted your energy yet, and could manage two or three more. But… your body cannot withstand the backlash. By my estimation, if you use it twice in a row, you’ll be seriously injured; three times, and your body might collapse and die.”

“…………”

Shaya hung his head, pondering for a while. When he looked up, his face was unusually serious.

“So, the martial skills I possess now are Crimson Killing Intent and ‘Dragon Strike,’ but both are trump cards for survival. ‘Dragon Strike’ paralyzes me after one use, with at least half an hour needed to recover, and generally can only be used once. On the battlefield, even if I kill the enemy, I’d be finished myself. As for Crimson Killing Intent, if I keep control, it lasts about half an hour—the time of a meal. So it’s only useful for brief combats. My biggest problem remains… I still have no martial skills usable under normal conditions.”

Dora replied coldly, “Greedy humans, never satisfied! With your current abilities—my dragon blood strengthening your body, your power and speed exceeding human standards—you’re already equivalent to a proper low-tier warrior. With Crimson Killing Intent and your axe technique, you rival mid-tier warriors, and in group combat, your lethality surpasses them. If you unleash ‘Dragon Strike,’ your instantaneous power can reach high-tier warrior level! Do you realize, for ordinary humans, it takes ten or twenty years of arduous training to rise from low to high tier, even for gifted ones! You’ve advanced several ranks in a single day, yet you’re still dissatisfied?!”

Hearing this, Shaya scratched his head and forced a smile. Thinking it over, he felt much more balanced. Gaining power comparable to high-tier warriors, even if only for a moment, he had indeed shortcut his way, and such luck was exceedingly rare.

Though Dora’s words were mocking, her reasoning was sound.

“All right!” Shaya waved his hand, his face set with determination. “Let’s train again!!”

※※※

Shaya trained relentlessly for three days, sneaking alone into the woods behind the hill to practice Crimson Killing Intent and “Dragon Strike,” enduring intense suffering. Every night he returned to his tent, collapsing into bed and falling fast asleep.

Each morning, the sheets bore traces of blood…

This stirred some sinister speculation in his attendant, Dodoro.

“Ew… blood on the sheets? Does this crude bumpkin have a few days like women do every month…”

After three days, Shaya left the camp, wandering the surrounding hills to gather a large bundle of herbs, then personally brewed a tub of medicinal decoction to soak himself in.

It was a medicine bath he’d taken since childhood, the recipe passed down by the old man. However, the most crucial ingredients had been used up years ago, and they weren’t found in the Wildfire Plains. The remaining herbs could be found in the mountains, but the old man said the effect was much diminished.

Shaya’s extraordinary physique owed much to daily soaks in this foul-smelling concoction, though he’d refused to do so after reaching adulthood. But after days of Dragon Strike training, his body was battered, so he had no choice but to resume the baths, smell be damned.

Dodoro, washing the sheets, couldn’t help but speculate again.

“Damn! After bleeding, the sheets stink… Is the master so old, and still wetting the bed?”

Scrubbing furiously, the mage muttered complaints…

※※※

This near self-destructive training lasted six days. On the morning of the seventh, as Shaya prepared to head into the hills, he reached the camp gate just as the lookout sounded the alarm!

Immediately, the patrolling soldiers rushed to the entrance! The Thirteenth Legion lived up to its reputation; within moments, an officer in full armor led a squad to the gates, which were promptly closed, and soldiers lined the barricades, bows drawn, tense and ready.

Groups of soldiers gathered at the gates, rapidly forming ranks under their captains’ shouts.

At that moment, an officer on the lookout tower shouted, “Look! It’s our men! Ah—it’s… it’s the routed army!!”

――――――――

Desperately seeking recommendation votes!!!

Also, on January 1st—this Friday—the book officially launches! Brothers and sisters who enjoy this story, are you ready with your monthly tickets? Hehe…

The competition among new books launching this month is fierce!