Chapter 502
The primal pleasure-inducing duel is a culture where romance and divinity coexist, a thrilling and sensual tightrope walk that teeters on the boundary of tradition and lawlessness.
Why are duels sacred?
Because they are tied to honor and courage.
The courage to willingly throw away one’s life for honor. That steadfast resolve is what highlights the sanctity and romance of dueling.
Of course, from the audience’s perspective, they care nothing for honor or courage. They simply want to watch the blood splatter and limbs being severed!
Culture grows because there are those who consume it; it gains a meaningful context as more people indulge in it, right?
However, there is a common misconception.
That is, the bias of modern individuals addicted to mass media: the equation of ‘duel = exclusive to men’!
This is a very biased, sexist, and uneducated way of thinking. In this world, there is no task that can only be done by men or women, aside from cross-dressing!
And duels are battles where the honor of the brave is at stake! Regardless of gender or age, if one’s honor is threatened, everyone has the freedom to call for a duel!
Naturally, being a woman is no exception.
This truth is evidenced by none other than the ‘magic-hating greatsword enthusiast’ who was born male but trapped in a female body, proving it through a one-on-one duel with an unworthy male who knows nothing of honor.
Also, it is evidenced by the ‘noblewomen of Imperial Russia,’ who inherited a fiery temperament even worse than the blizzards of Siberia, and took up arms to decorate the battlefield with their blood against those sneaky noblewomen who were gossiping behind their backs.
Age is no barrier!
Regardless of whether one is a man or a woman, once a sword is drawn, one must sever the opponent’s limbs!
In fighting, one must either win or die!
Thus, the sanctity and fairness of dueling for all has been clearly proven. (Though judgments from police, prosecutors, and courts may differ.)
Therefore!
Dueling is a sacred culture, a culture shared by all, regardless of gender or age.
As long as one has the confidence to take responsibility for the words and actions they spit out (cowards should stay curled up), they can carelessly wag their tongues and still keep their lives! (Of course, this applies only when they win. If they lose, they must die.)
In other words,
If we just shift our perspective a little…
“Please allow me just one more chance, Professor!”
“No.”
“Save me! This crazy old magician is trying to kill his disciple!”
“… You, huh?”
An untalented disciple who couldn’t even keep her tongue in check!
If this is the fate you face, then give up all hope!
—
Episode 18 – The Man Club
Armed with a pair of fiery skewers, Camila chanted, “Help, help!” but ultimately fell victim to the calamity she summoned.
“No matter how many times I see it, that mouth of yours is as cheeky as ever. An old magician, really, oh dear.”
“Kweeeeng….”
With a slap of his palm on her lips! It was a lesson from the master who couldn’t hold back from lamenting her foolishness.
Camila, caught by the nape, looked like a frightened kitten.
Her legs dangled in the air, and her eyes drooped in a pitiful manner. The Duke regarded Camila with discontent.
“You fool! Did you really have to speak ill of your master?”
“Then can’t you do a better job…?”
What have I failed to do? A momentary flicker of despair passed through the master’s gaze, but the disciple seemed to have much to say.
Camila, held by the Duke, began to voice her grievances.
“Bringing me to train and throwing me into a den of monsters—where’s the sense in that? That alone is unfair! And then suddenly declaring a one-on-one duel after I fought against a monster! Not to mention being called insufficient when I couldn’t land even a single effective blow while being tossed back into the monsters!”
Without a moment to rest, living in the Coliseum for 24 hours! Even ancient Roman gladiators wouldn’t have lived like this!
Not to mention, meals were served late!
“No rest, no food! What is the meaning of this?!”
At least gladiators managed to eat three meals a day on time. The Duke himself was a tyrant who didn’t give breaks and barely offered food.
Therefore, it’s understandable she felt wronged. Camila argued this point.
“Furthermore, our abilities are restricted, yet you are fighting at full strength!”
As the Duke listened to Camila’s protests, he raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Isn’t that only natural?”
Am I training? You are the ones training.
This absurdity made Camila interrupt his words, blurting out a question.
“How can that be natural?”
“I am not a leisurely person, child. You also are not in a position to train your time away casually. To learn from me, even 24 hours may not be enough. It’s only natural I must push you without rest, isn’t it?”
“…….”
“And training is inherently arduous. Even if you push to your limits all day, you may barely achieve anything. How much more if the child eats what they desire and rests whenever they want?”
Growth and training are supposed to be hard, and facing various restrictions is only natural. This was the reason the master reprimanded the disciple and the reason the incapable disciple complained.
However, it seemed that the disciple could hardly hear her master’s words.
While the Duke was scolding, Camila was busily preparing something.
“Besides, you should have eaten much more before! Before complaining that the meals provided are insufficient, think about how much you usually eat….”
“Opening!”
At that moment, a single fiery skewer flew through the air like a dagger.
Just as the Duke tilted his head to easily dodge the sneak attack, Camila seized the opportunity to gather a tiny flame in her fist.
“The reason I bent my knees was to gain thrust!”
Ha, take that! With a fiery fist, she burrowed rapidly into the opponent’s space, and her hands and feet began to collide.
As the trajectory of the strike traced the air, the Archmage evaded the attacks with graceful footwork.
Swish-! As he stepped aside, a low attack aimed at his abdomen grazed his side. Swish-! A punch flying at his face was deflected by him tilting his head.
Taunting her opponent, the Archmage continued to evade with light movements, while the disciple calmly assessed her openings and jumped in.
Just as her punch was about to make contact with his side, clench! Her hand was caught.
“… Huh?”
Not only was her attack blocked, but she was also left stunned to find she was caught. Suddenly a fierce wind enveloped her, and she was flung into the distance toward the monster-laden area!
What the heck—
“Isn’t this a bit much?!”
Even as she faded into a dot on the horizon, her plaintive voice could be heard.
The master who had just sent his disciple flying snorted.
“To strike first before my celestial words had even finished. How audacious! I cannot simply let that go.”
– Are there rules to dueling!?
“Be quiet, you brat.”
As the disciple, who had only shown her ugly side to her master, fell straight through the cracks of monsters.
The fresh new face brought cheers from the monsters (??: Worme, who’s that? / ??: We’ve been waiting for a human like you!), and Camila let out a scream filled with joy.
It was a signal that the chase had begun.
“What a foolish child who knows not honor. What shall I do with her…”
I truly worry for my disciple’s future.
The Duke sighed as he brushed his palms together.
Then, after collecting himself, he signaled the alchemist, who was sitting quietly, to enter without hesitation.
“It’s your turn already. Come in, Laniehri’s child.”
“… I go. Grandmother.”
The alchemist armed with magical tools soared into the sky, and the Archmage’s flames swallowed the heavens.
—
Once the operation to capture the sorcerer from the underworld was abruptly halted, the Duke kidnapped us as if it had been waiting all along.
And thus, the training began anew!
The master, who had admired the escape of the five students, introduced a more systematic method than before.
In the desert, a rich diversity of monsters gathered, and an arena-style one-on-one duel emerged (??: Lizard bro, they’re laughing! / ??: Let it be. They’re probably having a good dream).
The misbehaving disciples began to emit a fragrant aroma, with no-added chemicals salt streaking down their backs.
It wasn’t hard to guess where this lunatic training method had originated from.
“… You’ve really prepared thoroughly for the week.”
Humans tend to overthink when they are left with nothing to do. The Duke had been left alone in the classroom for a week due to the students who ran away, like a teacher abandoned by his students.
What the missing disciples were doing outside could be easily figured out by simply turning on the TV.
Like checking the game records of students who snuck to PC rooms under the pretense of going to the bathroom, the Duke spent seven days watching the TV, pondering, ‘What should I do about these brats…’.
Thus was born ‘Human Modification Forge 2.0’! A more powerful, fiercely evolved +9 Man Club!
“Are you okay?”
“No. I feel like I’m dying….”
The granddaughter (not) who had eaten the grandmother’s lovingly prepared meals and desserts replied with a half-dazed expression.
“I can tell just by looking! The Duke was relentless, wasn’t he? But is it really that tough?”
“If the Colonel faced it himself, he would understand….”
“Oh….”
The alchemist, who crawled on the sandy ground without any shame, gazed blankly at the sky. Her appearance was pitiful, but she was doing better than expected.
Over there, the saint sitting far away seemed to have completely lost her focus!
Compared to Lucia, who had been thoroughly beaten by the Duke, Francesca still displayed some leniency in her demeanor.
“At least you can move, right? Lucia was utterly inept and only took hits. So, see it positively that you can still at least move.”
The lifeless purple eyes glared chillingly over here. It was a gaze that could make even a spy flinch.
With her body sprawled out on the ground, Francesca questioned in a voice filled with injustice.
“You can say such things, even after witnessing me crawling on the floor?”
“Cough…!”
“Also, if we were to get technical about it, wouldn’t I have been in a worse state than the saint? She…”
“I must have been sealed away. Despite doing my utmost without such things, look at this mess.”
The Duke’s determination to punish the insolent students was truly remarkable.
She gathered every bit of knowledge, experience, connections, and tools, creating a Spirit Bomb, and within just a week, perfected various methods (extremely horrifying instruments) to train us.
One of those results was the ‘sealed power of Lucia and Akande.’
“Of course, with divine and power restrained.”
“Where on earth did Grandmother find such vile instruments?”
“They say they were made by the Inquisition.”
I hadn’t heard the exact principles, but according to my personal investigation, the Duke had sought methods from the Cult and Al-Yabd. Specifically, the Inquisition and the Sinners’ Commission.
For thousands of years, these two institutions had specialized in researching and combating heresy, creating various weapons, including a device that suppresses the divine power of a ‘Priest.’ The device worn by Lucia was that very ‘binding tool.’
Naturally, suppressing just the divine power wasn’t enough to guarantee security, so the Duke created additional magical tools.
Lucia and Akande possessed the strength to lift trucks with their bare hands and knock people away with punches.
The moment they donned the magical tools handed by the Duke, those explosive powers turned them into mere fluff. Just like Camila, who had her magic restricted (by the way, she was also limited in magic the moment she got dragged here).
I sighed as I gazed at the blindingly clear desert.
“Well, you could have done better. Even those two turned into fluff manage to hit. You, on the other hand, were even allowed to use magical tools, so why did you lose?”
“I tried, ugh… It’s not as easy as it sounds…”
Unlike the fluff-turned Camila, Lucia, and Akande, the Duke permitted Francesca to use magical tools.
This was because she primarily utilized magical tools, and also because modern alchemy was a field far removed from combat.
Of course, she couldn’t just use any magical tools. The magical tools allowed by the Duke were solely those designed and crafted by Francesca herself.
In other words, she couldn’t use magical tools already circulating in the market or modified ones. That was the root of the problem.
“Most of the magical tools I own are modified versions, so they’re basically useless, and Grandmother can easily dismantle them.”
Even though the Duke had stepped back from the frontlines for decades, her status as an Archmage couldn’t be denied by anyone.
Not just because she was a renowned figure in her youth, but because her wisdom and experience surpassed the best mages of the current era. It wasn’t just surpassing; she could single-handedly suppress the entire magic society.
Modern magical tools? Any veteran mage who had rampaged on the battlefield could identify their principles, ways of usage, and even the weaknesses of the magical tools with just a slight touch.
Then they needed to develop an original magical tool…
This wasn’t an easy task even for Francesca, let alone adequate to face the Duke.
Francesca’s knowledge stemmed from what had been left behind by Archmages, so it was natural she would be easily seen through by the Duke, who was sitting right above her.
“…sigh.”
Francesca, rolling in the sand, began carelessly tossing away the magical tools she had created.
The magical tools, flying weakly, landed atop other magical tools, stacking up to form several burial mounds, making it only natural for an alchemist to be in such agony.
“Whoa—!”
A massive object fell into the grave of magical tools.
Crash! Bang!
Amidst the breaking, shattering, and wrecking of various magical tools, a bear-like figure popped up from the chaotic scene.
“Haha! Levitation! This is so much fun!”
It was Akande.
Despite diving into a heap of scrap metal, he emerged, grinning broadly. Even in this tense moment where everyone else was at their wits’ end, he maintained an upbeat attitude.
“Ah… my magical tools…”
Just then, as the fainted alchemist lay in a cold sweat, a barbarian warrior (and I mean really barbaric) walked out, shaking off the dust.
“You. Frederick.”
“Why?”
“I’m looking for a woman with silver hair.”
“……”
Here it comes.
I shook off the sand clinging to my rear. As Lucia, who had regained her focus, sent me off, I gathered my belongings and headed towards our destination.
The translucent barrier shimmered, and the distinct temperature difference between the inside and outside of the dome-covered desert was stark. The once quiet and desolate desert was nowhere to be found, replaced only by the remnants of destruction.
Stepping through the barrier, the Duke, seated in a lotus position, gently opened her eyes.
“You’ve come.”
“…Yes.”
“Finally, it’s your turn.”
The Duke, gracefully leaping down from her perch, spoke in a composed voice.
“I shall teach you how to use it, so retrieve what I gave you.”
“……”
I set my bag down and unlocked it. Opening the case for the first time felt like cracking open Pandora’s box.
An unshakeable sense of unease washed over me, yet there was nowhere left to run. Even if I tried to escape, I would be caught again in no time.
I peered in cautiously, the gleaming surface sparkled in the sunlight.
As I retrieved the item gifted by the Duke, I slowly unfolded it, holding it with both hands.
This is…
“…armor?”
*
Upon confirming the identity of the gift, confusion washed over me.
“What on earth is this.”
What had been in the case was armor. More accurately, a ‘garb that resembles armor.’
Is it even appropriate to call this armor? I thought, staring at it quizzically.
It looked like the padded suits police wear for crowd control. Though it showed features of ‘protective clothing,’ why were there so many flaps of cloth hanging off of it?
It resembled a dual-armor suit. You know, those armors that medieval Islamic armies or Crusaders wore, where cloth and armor blended? It had just that kind of vibe.
But the difference was, with those dual-armors, it’s obvious you’d think, “That looks like something from the Joseon Dynasty.” Yet this one’s neither a ‘Neo-Joseon army’ cosplay nor anything of the sort. It resembled a ‘Tactical-dual-armor’ instead.
It was something I had never seen before.
“……”
As I was left speechless by its bizarre appearance, the voice of Camila reached me from afar.
“Wow! This armor looks amazing! It looks like it came straight out of a game!”
“Cyberpunk?”
“No, Battlefield 1. Isn’t it similar to the bulletproof armor worn by elite units?”
What’s that? Shut up nerd. Spouting off about something only you know.
Camila, who had been watching from beyond the barrier, suddenly tilted her head.
“Wait a minute… Was the sentry in 1 or 5? I’m not sure since I’ve played both.”
“Just how much do you play games? You’re just a bourgeoisie.”
“I didn’t pay for it! My brother paid for the game pass. I secretly brought the Xbox and played it on the side.”
Why the hell are you taking your brother’s game console? You little thief!
Blood can’t lie. Just look at how, like true Brits, they grab whatever they find! Is looting just folklore for them? (Half-true.) If that leads to a riot, they’ll loot all the way to the last store.
While I pondered deeply about Camila’s morals and sense of law-abiding, the Archmage who walked over naturally clasped her hands behind her back and started speaking.
“Do you want to know what that is?”
I shook my head, still examining the item that resembled protective gear.
“Well, it looks like protective equipment, but I don’t know who made it or where it was used.”
I was proclaiming that it was something I had never seen before.
Curious about its origin, the Archmage casually shared the story behind it.
“Long ago, it belonged to a companion who fought alongside me on the battlefield.”
“Battle, you say?”
“Indeed.”
It was said to be the possession of a mage who had been active during the Cult-Magic Tower War. That meant it had seen real combat.
Yet, I had never seen something like it before? I asked why there had been no records of such an item even when studying military history. The Archmage simply shrugged her shoulders.
“How many records have vanished in the flames of war?”
“True…”
Given the ancient magics and those developed during wars had also vanished, it wasn’t at all surprising that records of such items could easily be lost during those times.
While I was observing the mysterious artifact, the Archmage began to urge me.
“Put it on quickly. Even if it’s a relic from an old age, it was crafted by a great mage, and I’ve enhanced it, so I can promise good performance.”
If the Archmage assures me like that, it seems worth anticipating a bit.
Since wearing it is just like donning ordinary clothing, she wouldn’t need to help. After I put it on, she would explain its uses, so I would receive instructions to dress quickly. The usually laid-back Grandma seemed rather insistent today. Perhaps she was excited by seeing an ancient item.
I took off my outer clothing and prepared to wear the relic.
Just as I stretched my neck towards an opening that seemed big enough for a head, I caught sight of some small engraved letters inside. It was an exceedingly familiar foreign language.
“Why is there Patalian…?”
Midway through putting it on, I held the letters up to the sun to see them.
Though they were weathered and hard to read, I muttered the words I could roughly decipher.
“…Barbara. Armor that protects me through all trials and hardships. A hard-made item. Absolutely do not touch it.”
The fragmented sentences conveyed the traces of time all too well. My shortened sentence concluded with a single name.
It was likely the name of the mage who had either created or owned this.
And at the same time, it was a name I recognized.
Barbara, an armor that protects me through all trials and hardships; a hard-made item, so absolutely do not touch it.
– Giovanni Ranieri.
