Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 18

Chapter 18
El-Cid's evaluation was as ruthless as ever. Despite emerging victorious without a single scratch, forty points—what would the score have been if he'd actually gotten hurt?
Leon listened intently to hear the reasoning as El-Cid explained.
—There were three major reasons for the deduction. Circling around to strike from behind was good. Taking out two in one blow wasn’t bad either. The problem came after that.
“After?”
—Yeah. Why did you give them time to react after landing a successful ambush? If you’d kept up the attack, you could’ve cut down the next three without worrying about retaliation. But you hesitated and missed your chance. And while I’ll admit it was smart to focus on the goblin with the blowpipe, you acted too passively because you didn’t trust your own vision. That was a mistake.
Now that he thought about it, everything El-Cid said was true. He’d been so impressed by the sharpness of the Holy Sword that he let his guard down, and that hesitation gave the goblins time to counterattack. He’d also frozen up while trying to keep an eye on the blowpipe goblin.
Unable to argue, Leon cleared his throat for no reason. Unfortunately, El-Cid wasn’t finished.
—To be honest, the first two problems don’t matter much. They're a result of your lack of real combat experience—once you’ve been through a few more fights, those will work themselves out. But this third reason... this one can’t be overlooked.
In martial training, practical combat and drills were inseparable. There were walls that only live combat experience could break through, and there were limits that only training could overcome.
A true master could not emerge without both unless one was some otherworldly genius—and El-Cid had only ever known one person who fit that bill.
—When you weren’t on level ground, your stride shortened by at least twenty percent, did you know that? It wasn’t just a lack of experience. Your movements weren’t designed for uneven terrain in the first place.
Looking a little indignant, Leon muttered, “They never taught us that at the Academy.”
El-Cid, as if he had expected this, replied, —Of course not. Proper footwork is practically a secret technique, and there’s no way they can correct every cadet’s movement one by one.
The Academy’s goal was to train a large number of decent fighters, not a small elite force. Once general skills improved, flaws in footwork were easy enough to gloss over, so there was no reason for them to waste time fixing it one student at a time. Though those neglected fundamentals would inevitably hold you back when reaching for higher ground.
—Looks like we’ll need to start from the footwork up. We’ll be going through a forest tomorrow, so we’ll start the day after.
“Day after tomorrow, got it.”
Leon returned to the campfire and sat down. His eyelids, which were heavy before the battle, felt a little lighter. The battle was nothing special—a brief skirmish against goblins—but the rush of blood had burned away any drowsiness.
The fire crackled as moths flew into the flames and died. Watching that pointless cycle unfold, Leon sat still, and El-Cid, sensing he had no plans to lie down, spoke up again.
—Not going to sleep?
“I’m not really sleepy.”
—I was going to save this for tomorrow, but how about I tell you a story? It’s one of the pieces of knowledge every Hero should know.
Leon nodded. El-Cid’s stories were always more engaging and enlightening than any class at the Academy. Whatever this one was, it would surely be the same.
—You already know, right? That monsters like the goblins you just fought come from another world.
“Yeah, they taught us that.”
It was actually a fairly well-known fact. Monsters didn’t originate in this world. That’s why, even after being completely exterminated by raid squads, they continued to reappear.
The borders between dimensions were like loosely knit nets—enough to keep out transcendent species like demons, but too porous to stop lesser monsters, which was why there were so many goblins and kobolds.
El-Cid continued, —Monsters are a threat to this world. Not just because they’re aggressive or strong. Their very presence is toxic. Ecosystems invaded by monsters stop functioning properly. They rot, instead of renewing. Monsters are living pollutants—parasites that consume resources. That’s their true nature.
That was why coexisting with monsters was impossible, and why monster raids had become one of the Hero’s duties. It was impossible to eliminate monsters at their root, but it was possible to reduce their numbers and return their energy to the Goddess.
Heros only emerged during ages of chaos—a time when dimensional rifts widened and monsters surged in number. However, that surge was so great that even a Hero couldn’t face them alone.
—And so, five hundred years ago, the Goddess had an idea. One that was pure and hopeful to the point of naïveté. What if... the energy we need to restore the world could be partially returned to the one who slays the monsters?
At first, that idea worked. Heeding the Goddess’s revelation, humanity—who had until then only ever fled from monsters—finally drew their blades.
Anyone could become stronger. It was a chance to break through innate limitations—a chance to scale the walls of an unfair world.
Many risked their lives against the monsters, and those who survived came to be called heroes. Up to that point, it had all gone well.
It was the next part of the story that left Leon speechless.
El-Cid’s voice turned cold as he continued, —Humans began to exploit that blessing. They sought ways to grow stronger more efficiently. More safely.
The ones who led this exploitation were the privileged class. The royals and nobles who had claimed the first victories against monsters and earned those blessings now feared losing their position.
So they made a pact in secret. They quarantined the monster-infested zones and barred entry without their permission. They even quietly buried the information that defeating monsters could make you stronger. It was as petty and shameless as anything could be.
—That was the start of the divide. The powerful grew stronger and the rest were left behind. Eventually, monopolizing the blessing wasn’t enough for them—they started farming monsters like livestock.
The Goddess couldn’t take it anymore, so she punished those blasphemous few.
“W-wait, you don’t mean...?” Leon stammered with wide eyes as he realized what event El-Cid was talking about, and El-Cid affirmed it with a simple “yes.”
Five hundred years ago, a Great Calamity struck the world. A sudden meteor shower with no warning signs rained down across the continent, reducing the land to ruin.
Strangely, the destruction focused almost entirely on royal palaces and the estates of noble families. Many bloodlines were purged in a single night. Who could have imagined that the meteor shower was the Goddess’s wrath?
—After that day, the Goddess withdrew the power she had granted humanity. That’s the reason humans have grown weaker since. Not that the ones in charge seem to have noticed—they’re still out there trying to slay monsters. But hey, in the end, maybe it worked out for the better.
“I-it feels like I’ve just heard something I was never supposed to know.”
It was a piece of dark history that covered the whole continent. The ugliest chapter of humanity’s past—and one that spat directly in the face of the modern caste system.
Leon felt a cold sweat break down his back just imagining the weight of it. If he said any of this aloud, no amount of lives would save him. Even if it were a lie, it was dangerous, but this was too far from a lie—it was a truth spoken by the Holy Sword itself.
—Well, look at me, spoiling the mood for no reason. That was just a preamble. I haven’t even gotten to the main point.
Leon, pale as a sheet, waved his hands frantically and pleaded, “Please don’t. This is scary enough already.”
Everything he’d heard so far was more than enough to keep him from sleeping—if not plunge him straight into a nightmare.
El-Cid snickered and replied, —The scary part’s over, so relax. You remember how I said those who slay monsters receive some of their power, right?
“Yeah.”
—Well, it’s a little different for Heroes. I guess you could say there’s some favoritism involved.
Leon tilted his head, confused. El-Cid gave it a beat before continuing as if for dramatic effect.
—A Hero can absorb the
entire
strength of the monsters they slay. And they can use it to enhance specific aspects of their body or abilities. It’s a privilege granted only to true Heroes.
“What?”
—Hard to picture from just a description, huh? Seven goblins aren’t much to work with, but let’s see...
Before the stunned Leon could say anything, El-Cid drew in the energy from the monsters they’d just slain.
It wasn’t much. The power was paltry to begin with—and most of it was tainted. All that could be used was a small, purified fragment. From weak monsters like goblins, it really was nothing more than a handful.
Still, it was power, nonetheless. The blade of the Holy Sword suddenly lit up with a brilliant glow as it expressed its pure white Aura, nearly sacred in appearance, which burst from the blade and flowed down into Leon from his fingers to his wrist, then from his wrist to his elbow.
And then it stopped. The energy fizzled out before it could go any farther. As Leon staggered from the sudden void, El-Cid smacked his lips in disappointment.
——That’s it. All used up. So that’s all we get from seven goblins... I told you; goblins are a waste. Trolls or dryads have way better returns but you’re not ready to take on anything like that.
“...”
—Huh? What, why so quiet all of a sudden?
Leon’s lips worked soundlessly for a moment before he finally spoke.
“W-was that Aura? I just used Aura?”
El-Cid shut it down instantly, —Are you an idiot?
I
created it and injected it into your body. It fizzled out before it even reached your elbow, but if you can gather enough power, I can build your Aura up like that. That’s why I said you don’t need to rely on elixirs. And why Heroes actively hunt monsters.
“Ah... I see.”
Leon understood immediately. Even with a noble family’s Aura techniques and endless training, the rate of growth was agonizingly slow. And constant elixir uses eventually built resistance. Everyone hit their limit eventually.
However, what El-Cid had shown was different. The Hero could absorb the essence of a monster’s power and convert it directly into their own. It was a clean, simple feedback loop—effort translated directly into strength.
This method, unlike elixirs, had no risk of resistance. While it wouldn’t be so easy once he reached the higher realms, for now, this meant he could grow at breakneck speed.
—Oho? Looks like you’re feeling motivated.
El-Cid chuckled, having clearly read his thoughts. He’d been through the same thing himself. There was no denying it—building strength directly like that was a rush.
No one could resist diving in. If he could, Leon would’ve started monster hunting the very next day. He knew how reckless that was, but the excitement still tugged at him.
El-Cid understood the eagerness but offered a warning.
—Hold your horses, though. Right now, you’re still shaping your vessel. The power you gain from hunting monsters is what fills that vessel. If you try to pour anything in before it’s complete, it’ll just leak out.
“Got it. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Leon steadied himself and locked away the temptation. Most people would struggle with that, but his patience had been honed over years of hardship, and that kind of discipline was exactly what a Hero needed.
A man fated to wield overwhelming power had to be someone who could endure. Nothing in the world was more dangerous than a strong man who couldn’t control himself—and El-Cid knew that better than anyone.
—If there’s anyone who could do it, it’s you, Leon.
The Holy Sword encouraged him as if making a vow of his own.