The Tale of A Man Who Believed That His Reincarnation Had Granted Him A Japanese Sword And The Greatest Battle Sense, Only To Have The God Finally Inform Him "Huh, I Didn't Give You Any Combat Sense… That's Scary…" - Episode 19

“First match of the first round! The battle between ‘Bone Crusher’ Roger Enri and ‘Sculptor’ Lloyd Ankeridge ends in victory for ‘Bone Crusher’ Roger! Oh, and Lloyd, who was incapacitated after having his pelvis shattered by a mace, is being carried away on a stretcher, screaming!”

After the opening ceremony, the first match ended in less than thirty minutes. It seemed that Lyra was having a conversation with some important people and was holed up in the VIP viewing seats. With nothing to do until my match, I wandered aimlessly around the arena like a jellyfish drifting in the sea, wondering where to go.

“Uh… um… uh, Enri-san!”

I was idly hanging around in front of the pachinko parlor, like a young person with no money just loitering in front of the pachinko machines, when someone called out to me from behind. When I turned around, it was Arthur-kun.

The brightness that had been on his face when we met at the café had disappeared, and he wore a somewhat serious expression.

“Oh, Arthur-kun, what’s up?”

When I casually called out to him, he made a face like he had bitten into a bitter bug. Hey, Arthur-kun, you were the one who started the conversation, and I just replied normally. Why do you look like someone just took the half-price bento right in front of you at the supermarket after a two-night shift?

Looking at him, the armor and daggers he is wearing now appear to be more luxurious than when we fought in front of the café, and I can sense his determination for this tournament. Additionally, he now carries about eight daggers at his waist, whereas before he only had two.

After being greeted, Arthur-kun fell silent for a moment before opening his mouth heavily.

“Enri-san. I have something to ask you. I am a coward who challenged you to a duel in a disrespectful manner. Will you still answer me?”

“Well, it depends on the content of the question, but if it’s something I can understand, it’s fine by me.”

“Well then, let me ask you this. How would you, Enri, overcome the ‘fear of battle’?”

Arthur’s boyish, large eyes trembled with anxiety. Grabbing the hem of his armor, he spoke out, looking regretful but somehow trying to hold back.

“I’m scared. I was told by Mr. Black that if I wanted to get stronger, I should fight Mr. Enri, so I fought, and it was the first time. It was the first time I felt death so close… so close.”

“I came from the northern country to get stronger because Mr. Black invited me, fought various people in the kingdom, trained with different people in the clan, and I thought I couldn’t lose to anyone…”

It seems that Arthur has become quite scared of fighting. He lost the skills and confidence he had steadily built up through his days of training, and he lost them by fighting against me.

“I’m scared… For the first time in my life, I’m… scared of fighting itself, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Well, that’s a choice he made, and I think he should also bear the consequences. He alone should experience the emotions of having lost the fear of death and gained confidence. It seems unnecessary to me to add my interpretation to the feelings he has.

Besides, ever since I died once in my previous life, my senses in that area have become dull. I don’t know if it’s because of the reincarnation perk of combat sense, or if it’s due to some completely different influence.

“I don’t know if this will help, but, Arthur-kun…”

Arthur-kun, who is wavering between fear, confusion, and despair, turns his face towards me. Sending him words of encouragement here would do him no good. So, I decide to send him the words that come to my mind.

“Once we pick up a sword, it’s like we’re already half dead, so if we’re going to die, we’ll die. No matter how many healers or helpers there are. So, we might as well be prepared for it.”

Originally, in my past life, I was a corporate slave at a securities company, working thirty consecutive days without being able to go home and collapsing on the office floor. Because of that, I ended up feeling that living was exhausting and painful, and that dying would be a relief, like a stroke of luck. Thanks to this wonderful work experience, I am aware that I don’t have a proper view on life and death.

Having been reincarnated into this world, I feel death and life more closely than before, but fundamentally, I still carry over the stance from my previous life. After all, life is something that will eventually rot and disappear, so it’s better to treat it as something disposable.

“That’s… that’s just…! I mean, I mean, if I die, it’s all over, right!! Even if you say to make up my mind…!”

“That’s true, once you’re dead, it’s all over. No matter how wonderful your family is, no matter how many great achievements you accomplish, no matter how many strong enemies you defeat, if you die, you just become a corpse and it’s all over.”

Arthur-kun’s shoulders tremble with anger. It seems my thoughts are stuck in his throat like a bone, unable to be swallowed.

“Th-that’s… Enri-san, aren’t you just stopping to think about dying?”

“I think it’s something that can’t be helped. Just like the sky is blue, like there are trees in the forest, like people age, I think it’s just the way things are.”

As Arthur-kun, trembling with anger, was about to continue speaking, he was interrupted by a staff member in charge of the event.

“The swordsman of the Grosvenor family… Ah, there you are. Enri! The third match is about to begin, so please head to the arena!”

“Oh, is it already my turn? Understood. I’ll be there right away.”

“Well then, see you later,” I said my farewell and walked away from Arthur. I didn’t hear his voice from behind.

As I was being led to the match venue by the staff in charge, I passed by a player being carried on a stretcher. At first glance, the player, dressed in a martial artist-like outfit, had every joint in his body crushed vertically, making it impossible for him to walk on his own. It’s genuinely terrifying, vertically, I mean, vertically. What kind of opponent do you have to fight to end up with your joints crushed vertically like that?

I walk through the road that leads to the competition venue I passed during the opening ceremony and enter the venue. Looking over there, I see a figure. It must be my opponent for the first round. …Oh no, I got so distracted looking for Lyra-san that I didn’t check who my opponent was.

As I stepped onto the stone arena, made of remnants of bl00d and small fragments of blown-away weapons, I clearly saw the figure of my opponent, and it was someone I knew well.

“It’s been a while since the Winchester Tavern, you nouveau riche swordsman Grosvenor.”

The opponent was Roga, an S-rank adventurer I had encountered in Lainchester. He was equipped with a plate armor made by layering several black metal plates over his torso, and in his right hand, he firmly gripped a longsword drawn from its sheath. Lightning crackled and scattered from his short golden hair, even at this distance.

“Oh, you’re the guy from that overpriced tavern in Lainchester. Long-time no see.”

“You’re getting too familiar with me… Tch, you’re a plague to me. Ever since the rumor spread that you cut down lightning, all these cocky weaklings have been bothering me.”

Moreover, after pausing for a moment, Roga quietly glares at me.

“Even though Arthur was the one who started it, my cute little brother from the same clan got hurt. I’ll make sure to repay the favor properly.”

Roga grips his sword tightly and takes a stance, as thunder begins to crackle ominously around him. The spectators, seeing the purple lightning discharge, erupt into cheers, getting more and more excited. Arthur-kun controls the wind, and Roga in front of me controls lightning. I have no idea how to fight against that, but—well, if I draw my sword, maybe the gods’ wonderful gift will somehow help.

“First round, third match! The opponent of the adventurer [Rai Jin] of the adventurer clan ‘Orders’ is the mysterious swordsman Enri, recommended by the Grosvenor family, rumored to have a past with him!”

“Alright, alright! The highly anticipated first round match is about to begin! Now then, are both fighters ready… First round, third match. The match starts now!”

As soon as the announcement ends, the audience’s cheers grow even louder. Encouraged by those cheers, Roga charges in with a straightforwardness that can only be described as foolish. Without losing momentum, Roga swings his longsword powerfully two or three times.

Although he doesn’t have the speed of a boy swordsman who can control the wind, his handling of the sword is skilled, and he targets the arteries, sides, and right shoulder with compact, shortest-distance strikes. However, there is no killing intent in his attacks; it’s clear that he is just gauging the situation, wielding a sword without the intent to kill.

As evidence of his cautious approach, he hasn’t even performed his trademark discharge. I don’t understand anything about the magic or similar powers in this world, but it seems that they can’t just flow endlessly like a waterfall in the mountains.

Therefore, we will retaliate in kind. As a precaution, we will step back without drawing the sword from the scabbard on our belt, relying solely on our movements to evade.

“This guy…!”

Irritated by the lack of attack, Roga momentarily slows his movements and performs a gathering motion. The moment his thoughts flow to a clear opening and retaliation, he places his left hand on the sheath, leans back his upper body, draws his sword, and slashes.

The slash released like a projectile effortlessly sliced through the black iron armor as if it were wet paper, and the sensation of scraping away the bones of his side was transmitted to the right hand gripping the hilt. However, as soon as Roga felt one and a half of his ribs being severed, he immediately recoiled and created distance.

Spinning the sword in my hand, I flick off the bl00d from the tip and return it to its sheath while humming a tune. Looking deeper with both eyes, I see my opponent, sweating profusely and wearing a pained expression. Surely, he must be terrified of the one wielding this sword. The shock and trauma of having his strongest card, which he prided himself on, cut down right before his eyes must have shaken him to his core.

“Observing is fine, but if you just observe, that’s all it will ever be. Show me that ‘static electricity’.”

“Ha… you say that, huh? If you’re going to say something like that, I guess I have no choice but to get serious too.”

Words exchanged in anger. In response to my words, a violent and intimidating crackling sound erupts from Roga’s body, releasing purple lightning. The lightning emanating from his body looks like a purple net, as if it were woven from countless strands of purple thread.

However, it is not just a net. Once you touch it, it stops your body’s movements, and with a single swing of a longsword, your body is severed by the purple death net.

Roga extends his left arm, which does not hold a sword, straight towards us. Then, in an instant, a bolt of purple lightning strikes with blinding speed, as if reaching out with a hand.

However, even if it doesn’t catch the eye, the body responds. The shortest and fastest swing from the waist, enhanced by a twist of the upper body, cuts through the approaching lightning as easily as splitting rotten firewood soaked in water.

“As I thought, it wasn’t just luck after all! …Who the hell are you? You’re not countering the blessed gifts from the goddess with magic or magical tools, you’re just managing to do it with sheer skill…!”

When he slashed through the lightning, the entire audience section of the arena fell silent. Then, he could hear the murmurs of astonishment spreading.

I don’t respond to his question. Holding the sword inscribed with the name Hashihime Ichimonji in my right hand, I slowly approach him step by step.

Straighten your back and only touch the ground with your toes. While maintaining the centerline, move your feet with a steady rhythm, swaying side to side. Focus on the neck of the opponent in front of you, the neck with sunburned scars not covered by armor.

“Ugh…!………… ‘Demon Thunder Dia Lightning Full Release Full Burst!!'”

Roga threw away his longsword and extended both hands towards me. Then, dozens of purple lights surged towards us from the front. It was like a sudden rain, an unavoidable, sprawling web of death radiating outward.

I stop in my tracks. I pull my left foot back, channeling all my strength into my right hand, and swing to deflect the rain of purple lightning. However, some of the strikes still slip through the gaps between my attempts and hit my body directly.

When lightning touches the body, the struck area becomes as hot as if a cigarette butt were pressed against it, and an intense pain strikes as if a heated rod were directly thrust into the nerves. For a moment, the heart stops beating, and breathing becomes impossible.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. The spot where I was hit swells up as if it were burned, my breathing becomes irregular, and I feel nauseous. However, it’s just that it hurts.

It’s not like my head was severed. It’s not like my organs were ripped out. It’s not like my hands were torn off. It’s just pain. If that’s the case, there’s no problem at all.

Roga threw away his sword. He entrusted his life to the technique that unleashed lightning. If the distance between them was just a little over six shaku, about two meters, then from here—he could leap and slash him down. He would probably take a few hits of lightning for sure, but as long as he could sever his neck in the end, that would be enough.

While cutting through the lightning with his right hand, he grabs the sheath with his left hand and throws it straight at Roga. Roga’s surprised gaze momentarily shifts to the sheath, and the lightning released from him also has a delay in its sensation. Putting strength into his swollen legs from the electric shock, he leaps into the air and positions his sword above his head.

Roga’s face was one of despair, but the longsword, his means of defense, had been thrown away by him. If he tried to reach for the longsword, his head would be severed. If he tried to jump back in a panic, he would be pursued and have his insides cut out after landing. If he tried to fight barehanded, a single swing with the full weight of gravity would sever both his arms.

In the end, all that Roga could do was strike with lightning.

Roga directs the lightning. Several bolts strike his body, scorching it. His brain trembles, his vision flickers between black and white, and he can barely breathe from the excruciating pain and shock—yet, it is not enough to stop my strike.

Grinding his teeth, forcing his eyes wide open, and ignoring the lightning coursing through his body and into the blade, he swung the sword down at Roga’s neck with a blank mind.

The sensation of skin tearing, the sensation of cutting through flesh, the sensation of forcibly breaking bones. And finally, the sensation of breaking free from all of that. With a thud, Roga knelt on the stage of the arena. No one spoke a word. The audience, the announcer, the other fighters—none of them uttered a single word. Except for one person.

“Well done, Enri. Should I say the match is over?”

From a seat that was higher and wider than others in the audience section, a familiar voice could be heard. As her voice echoed through the silent arena, an announcement was made immediately.

“The winner is the swordsman recommended by the Grosvenor family, Enri!!”

After a brief silence, the audience erupted in cheers as if they had exploded. However, I did not hear any more of their voices. My body swayed unsteadily, and perhaps due to the direct hit of the discharge, I lost consciousness and fell into darkness without any resistance.