Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 86

Chapter 86
It was an attitude that could have seemed arrogant. However, instead of being offended, the giants only grew more fired up at Leon’s bravado and shouted out loud.
“Brave! A warrior to look up to!”
“For a human, you sure know how to say it with style!”
“Don’t you dare fall before my turn comes!”
The Titans were a kind that could not help but be strong from birth. They already possessed the body of an ogre—the apex predator of the food chain. Then, they trained that blessed body even further and even mastered martial arts once thought to belong only to humankind.
From the Titans’ perspective, it was simply their way of repaying the goddess’s blessing and fulfilling their duty more completely. However, regardless of their mindset, strength beyond measure inevitably bred fear. All races feared the Titans.
Even the dragons, who valued balance above all, were wary of the Titans leaving the mountains. They had once tried to seal the Giant King, but they got beaten senseless and driven off like stray dogs.
And yet, look at this tiny, fearless human, daring to declare he’d face them one by one! He did not back down a single step as he shouted it for all to hear!
“From the left? That means I’m up first!”
As Leon called it, one giant stepped out of the group. His build was much the same as the others, but his sharply carved muscles and his unusual weapon set him apart.
He was holding a staff—more specifically, a quarterstaff.
El-Cid chimed in, —
Ha
! Dangerous one to face right off the bat. Nervous?
Of course, I am.
When it came down to it, the advantage in weaponry depended on distance. A dagger was weaker than a sword, a sword weaker than a spear.
In the realm of Aura Weapon mastery, different efficiency blurred that line a little—but distance still mattered enormously. The quarterstaff was one of the strongest weapons at a distance.
It had no edge, yet a swing could shatter bones. Even if it couldn’t pierce, a well-placed thrust could punch through to the organs. And if that was wielded by a Titan with strength beyond human measure? Nothing more needed to be said.
If his technique were sloppy, maybe it wouldn’t matter, but...
Leon’s eyes swiftly traced the giant’s body. Seeing was believing. The body said more than a thousand words.
Weight balance, footwork, breathing, the contraction and release of muscle—there were countless tells to read. And just looking at the calloused hands gripping the staff told him enough.
More than a seasoned fighter, not quite a master.
His opponent was powerful. He didn’t seem to have much experience fighting opponents of Leon’s size as some of his smaller movements were a bit loose—but, Leon couldn’t be sure if that could be a big enough advantage once the battle began.
A quick look said the staff was about five meters long. That was roughly the same length as a pike meant for stopping cavalry.
To close that distance, Leon would have to dig inside by three full steps. It was unfair to the point of absurdity. All he could do was laugh.
The two gave their names, then said no more, each stepping back.
“Leon.”
“Gaul.”
There was nothing left to say.
A human and a Titan. Two warriors stood twenty meters apart, weapons at the ready. It was a distance terribly unfavorable for Leon, but starting any closer wouldn’t have made it easier. The air between them thickened, tension swelling until it seemed a single pin could pop it like a balloon.
“Begin!”
Balkan’s roar pushed both warriors forward. Of course, it was Gaul’s thrust that opened the fight. He was taking full advantage of that massive reach.
Gaul started off with a simple two-handed thrust—the most basic move, yet the foundation of all polearm technique. The blunt tip of the staff blurred like a mirage, punching through the air like a lightning bolt. Instinctively, Leon brought up his Holy Sword to block, but the impact sent his whole body skidding back several meters.
“
Gah
...!”
That attack left Leon winded, and it was
after
diverting more than half the impact. Without a doubt, a direct hit would have put him out of commission immediately. As he regained his balance, blood dripped from his torn hand to stain the sword’s grip.
One strike had torn his palm open. The Holy Sword still hummed from the force—a testament to how much he’d taken.
He’s fast and strong. I can’t win if I just stand there trading blows.
Raising his blade again, Leon took a step forward. His opponent was strong, yes—but not so strong he couldn’t deflect it. Fast, yes—but not so fast he couldn’t see it.
In the end, martial arts were born to stand against those stronger than oneself. A few disadvantages could always be overcome.
With a loud
clang
, he parried the overhead downward swing with a diagonal deflection. His wrist and elbow went numb, but he could bear it.
The real threat was the thrust.
That single point of destruction was beyond what he could handle head-on. Even a good block would shake his entire body. Fail to redirect it, and his shoulder would dislocate, or his tendons would snap for sure.
The clashing sound of metal followed each consecutive exchange. This flurry was the quarterstaff’s true terror.
Unlike a spear or a sword, a staff had no edge and its balance point was even, meaning that any part of it could attack or defend. Parry it, and it would rebound with its own force; dodge it, and the momentum rolled smoothly into the next strike.
Try to back away or counter with a big swing and—
Here it comes!
Gaul, staff in both hands, twisted his body. A thrust: the bedrock of all polearm fighting and the strongest technique. A master’s thrust could pierce metal plates with even a blunt staff.
A chilling sound tore through the air as the staff punched through it. A straight line, simple but carrying enough force to obliterate anything in its path.
However, if it didn’t hit, it was nothing.
Leon’s body slipped sideways, a half-step ahead. He’d baited Gaul into thrusting by showing an opening and then slipped into his range. Gaul was not an opponent he could take down without taking on some risks himself.
Two more steps.
Calmly closing the distance, Leon’s eyes flashed. This was the tipping point where the size difference and distance turned in his favor.
A big body wasn’t all good. If he got inside the Titan’s guard, Leon’s tighter movements could overwhelm him. Usually, no one lived long enough to reach that point—but Leon judged it possible.
“
Uwooooooh
!”
Seeing Leon close in by a step, Gaul roared and spun his staff with furious speed. Something felt wrong and an ominous chill ran down Gaul’s spine.
One missed thrust shouldn’t have shaken him like this, but some primal warning screamed at him.
You messed up, Gaul!
Gaul scolded himself.
Leon pushed in another step. The rapidly spinning staff was terrifying, but his Aura Sense made its path clear as day.
Through the blur of the staff’s afterimages, Leon closed in until only one step remained. The difference between Titan technique—loose at close range—and Leon’s Rodrick’s Footwork was clear.
“You are terrifying! Faster and quieter than a thunder panther!”
When even the spinning staff couldn’t keep Leon out, Gaul’s eyes widened in awe. Then, he spread his hands wider apart on the shaft.
He had abandoned the thrust to switch to fast close-range strikes. This was a classic counter for fighting a sword at close range with a long weapon.
Here.
His body which had crossed the line of life and death countless times told him that this was the time to risk everything. Leon drew up his Aura without a shred of hesitation.
“
Haaaah
!”
He accelerated. Blood surged through his veins at eight times its normal speed, his eyes flushing red, his muscles swelling and locked in that state.
Leon had now reached the advanced tier, the fourth stage of Aura Wielder. The efficiency and limit of his bodily reinforcement were on another level compared to before. Right now, he could face Gaul’s short strikes head-on and break through them with brute force.
For the first time, staff and sword clashed—and the staff lost ground. As Gaul stumbled back half a step in surprise, Leon stepped in and brought his blade down with a bold slash.
The pressure he applied was one that even the Titan’s body couldn’t shrug off.
Gaul hastily brought his staff up, but his arm was blown aside.
“What?!”
The shock of losing in a test of strength to a human—the panic of leaving an opening—froze him for a split second. In an opening that was less than a second of hesitation, in that heartbeat, Leon stepped in once more and swung his sword.
Sword and staff blurred together, sparks flying as they collided. In the ten seconds that followed, several dozen strikes were exchanged, and sweat and blood steamed off both warriors’ bodies.
The scales of the battle had already tipped. One retreated while one pressed forward. With each clash, the gap widened, until the defender’s guard finally began to lag behind by half a beat.
And then, a cold, air-ripping sound echoed.
Gaul’s swinging staff cut through empty air. And Leon’s blade slipped into that gap, stopping just before Gaul’s throat.
The match was decided. Leon, who had managed to take three steps forward, had won.
“That’s enough! The human warrior Leon is the victor!”
As Balkan made the call, the silent giants erupted in cheers.
“Amazing! Both fought an incredible battle!”
“To think he’d overpower Gaul’s staff head-on—this little guy has some serious strength in him!”
“Come lift some iron with us in the Hell’s Club sometime!”
It had been a long time since they’d seen such a good fight, and the giants were all excited. Even in the heart of the Titan Mountains, worthy opponents were rare. Wyverns or ogres were no match one-on-one—only fellow Titans or the occasional S-rank monsters could make their blood boil.
However, this human warrior—not a Titan, not even an S-rank monster—had bested one of their own. That was something truly special.
“Truly, the martial arts of humans are profound. Still so much for us to learn.”
“Deflecting Gaul’s staff like that—and that footwork, it was far from simple. Far more precise than ours.”
“Damn, I want to fight him too! I hope my turn comes soon!”
Some giants, beyond the mere excitement, were discussing the subtle truths of the martial skill that had been displayed by Leon. These were the ones who understood that strength alone wasn’t everything.
Sword and staff, human and Titan. Two such different sets of conditions had clashed—and the one at a disadvantage had won. If that wasn’t proof of the depths of martial arts, what was?
As Gaul stepped aside, showing his respect, the next giant barreled out, smashing his fists together.
“I’m up next, warrior! Do you need a break?”
Spiked leather gloves, probably made from a monster ranked A or higher. They looked far tougher—and far more dangerous—than any ordinary metal gauntlet. Leon wasn’t sure an Aura Sword could even cut through them.
“Just let me catch my breath, then we’ll start right away,” Leon said, slightly panting.
“
Hahaha
! Excellent!”
Satisfied with Leon’s answer, the giant bellowed his name.
“I’m Karok! The one who tore the head off a cyclops and smashed a basilisk with my bare fists!”
“I’m Leon.”
“This is going to be fun!”
After a few minutes to catch his breath, Leon raised his Holy Sword once more. How many more could he handle today? His torso still ached where Gaul’s thrust had struck, and pushing his body so hard left his blood vessels tingling all over.
Not using Aura Weapon was no excuse as the first Titan hadn’t used Aura either. And if they did take it that far, this would have turned into a fight for their lives, not a spar.
“Let’s go.”
“Here I come!”
Karok slammed his fists together and lunged, and Leon braced himself like a bull ready to charge.
The two collided.
***
“
Grrrrgh
....”
A low groan slipped out of Leon’s mouth as he lay sprawled on his bedding.
He felt like he was on the brink of death, and it was no exaggeration. He had actually nearly died more than once. Giving in to his burning fighting spirit, Leon had ended up sparring with a whopping eleven Titans back-to-back.
The Titans hadn’t used any Aura, and Leon had sealed away his lethal techniques like Aura Weapon.
Of course, the Titans’ raw power alone was monstrous.
—Four wins, seven losses, huh? That’s a pretty sorry record.
El-Cid cackled above his battered body.
—Sure, they weren’t used to your range, but you weren’t used to theirs either—you should’ve kept that in mind. You could’ve gotten six wins if you’d watched for that.
“
Ugh
, I guess I let my guard down after winning the first match...”
—Tsk tsk tsk.
El-Cid clicked his tongue, fully intending to get on Leon’s nerves.
—Wasn’t your worst loss that fourth match? You ran in all cocky when your opponent dropped his sword and then got kicked flat on your back with one boot.
“
Aaaagh
! Don’t remind me!”
The memory of his own humiliation made Leon bury his face in the bedding and groan. In the heat of the battle, he had forgotten that a Titan’s body was a weapon in itself.
He’d gotten too absorbed in the swordplay and paid for it by handing over an easy win with a single lucky kick. Even the Titan who landed the blow had been surprised by what was the definition of a lucky shot.
“Who even taught those monsters martial arts, anyway? It’s cheating, using techniques with already unrealistic bodies like that...”
He’d finally begun to feel confident again after months of training, but this gauntlet of sparring had crushed that in an instant. He was ahead by several steps in technique—yet once the fight began, they were equals at best, and often he was at a disadvantage.
Eleven times he’d felt the sheer unfair gap in physical strength. Even for Leon, who normally refrained from complaining, that was too much.
However, what came next was even more... unbelievable.
It turned out that El-Cid had something to say about Leon’s lighthearted whining.
—
Huh
? Wait, did I never tell you?
“Tell me what?”
—I was the one who first taught the Titans martial arts three hundred years ago.
“What...?”
The truth Leon had never expected left his mouth hanging open.