Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Fuck Off, You Crazy Bastard

“You reek of booze, so move.”

Don't panic.

For now, I only needed to think about escaping from this damned dokkaebi woman.

If things went wrong, I'd definitely wake up tomorrow morning in the depths of a hellish hangover.

“Promise you won't run away firsst~”

“Goddammit, seriously.”

My head hurt from realizing I'd walked willingly into the tiger's den.

Still, there was one saving grace.

Clarice was with me.

The Saintesses of the Seven Great Holy Orders were all ridiculously self-centered, but most of them tended to give Clarice some consideration.

So getting out shouldn't be too diffi—

“Clarice!?”

Clarice suddenly swayed and started collapsing.

I caught her around the waist.

What's wrong with her all of a sudden?

I looked down in confusion.

Clarice's face was red as a ripe apple.

“Hauuu... Big Siiis~ I'm dizzy. The world is spinnnning...”

“What the hell. Clarice?”

Even her speech was slurred.

Anyone could tell she looked drunk.

“Hey, what did you do to Clarice?”

“Hmmm? Who knowss~ Maybe Sister Clarice is so weak to alcohol that merely smelling it gets her drunkkk?”

“...I'm seriously going insane.”

The Order serving Diana, God of Gold and Alcohol, dealt extensively in wealth and liquor.

And its Saintess, Kiara, enjoyed spirits so strong they far exceeded normal common sense.

Even I, someone who could hold my alcohol reasonably well, felt dizzy from the smell alone.

Clarice had only recently become an adult and had probably never even tasted alcohol.

No wonder she was already swaying.

“...Hey, let's at least open the door. This smell is killing me.”

Partly to air the place out, and partly to give myself an escape route if necessary, I cracked open the restaurant door.

KABOOM-!

“...”

Kiara slammed it shut again.

Her golden eyes glowed brightly in the darkness as divine power began flowing from her body.

‘...This crazy bitch...! She's using her authority!?’

I hurriedly tried to raise my own divine power.

But Kiara's authority activated first.

Amber divine power spread outward.

At the same time, my ability to use divine power was sealed.

“Crazy bitch, what did you do?”

“Don't worryyy~ It's merely Lord Diana's authority, for the sake of a fair drinking sessiooon~”

Aha.

Because I could use divine power to purge the alcohol from my body, she was blocking me from doing it?

For an Order whose members practically drank alcohol instead of water, they really did have a completely insane authority.

“Nowww you can't leave until you've had a drink with meee?”

The moment Kiara finished speaking, a golden cup dropped into my hand.

I instinctively caught it.

Kiara smiled drunkenly and filled the cup with the liquor she'd been drinking.

“What the hell is this now?”

“The Holy Grail of the Diana Orderrr~”

“...You crazy bitch. You brought out a holy relic just to get drunk?”

“Don't worryyy. It was bestowed by the god specifically to be used as drinking wareee~”

I'm losing my mind.

I stared with disgust at the amber liquid inside the Holy Grail.

“And once someone accepts this cup, they cannot leave the drinking table until they've emptied ittt~”

“Haa.”

With Diana's divine authority involved, I had only one choice.

Drain the glass as quickly as possible, sling Clarice over my shoulder, and run.

“So if I drink all of this, you'll let me go?”

“Of courrrse~ Have you ever seen me say one thing and do anotherrr~?”

At least the Holy Grail wasn't very large.

That was one small blessing.

I squeezed my eyes shut and drank.

The instant the liquor touched my lips, blazing heat spread through my mouth.

Then a ball of fire slid down my throat.

“Heeeh~ As expecteeed~ Sister Beatrice knows how to drinkkk~?”

As you'd expect from the Diana Order, the liquor itself didn't taste bad.

But this was way too strong.

Why is this bitch drinking pure alcohol instead of liquor?

“Huaa...”

I finally emptied the cup and let out a long breath.

I'd only had one drink, yet I could already feel myself getting tipsy.

That said plenty about what kind of alcoholic this dokkaebi had to be to drink it like water.

“Good. I finished it, so let me out already...”

“What are you talking abouttt? Your cup is still fullll.”

“What bullshit...”

My words died in my throat.

Was I hallucinating because the alcohol hit me that quickly?

I'd clearly seen the bottom of the cup a moment earlier.

Yet the golden Holy Grail was already filled to the brim again, the alcohol sloshing inside.

“Hey, what the hell is this? Why did it refill?”

Kiara didn't answer my confused question.

Instead, she hoisted the already sleeping Clarice over her shoulder like a sack of grain.

Then she grabbed my wrist tightly and dragged me toward the table where she'd been drinking alone earlier.

“Hey, answer me. Why the hell does this thing refill itself?!”

“Hmmm~? Ahhh, I suppose I forgot to explainnn~? This cup, blessed by Lord Diana, never runs dryyy as long as even one person at the table doesn't want the drinking session to enddd~”

Kiara carefully seated the sleeping Clarice in a chair.

Then her golden eyes curved into crescents as she grinned.

Those were the eyes of a predator who had captured its prey.

“Now thennn, Sister Beatrice... Drink with joyyy. Rejecting the endless pleasure bestowed by the god would be a terrible sinn... Hehehe, come onnn, have another drinkkk~!”

...Ah, fuck.

I'm seriously screwed.

I had a powerful feeling I'd be crawling back to the citadel tonight.

Training was normally an unavoidable part of a Holy Knight's daily routine.

But the period of the Council was an exception.

Other than those assigned to guard duty, every Holy Knight was given complete free time.

There were originally two people who required guards.

The Saintess and the Archbishop.

But Beatrice was strong enough not to require protection, and she hated having guards follow her around.

So she was excluded.

That left only Archbishop Bartolomew.

As a result, aside from the single Holy Knight assigned to guard the Archbishop, everyone was effectively on vacation.

The Holy Knights enjoyed their rare freedom by sightseeing around the capital or socializing with knights from the other Orders.

That meant the training grounds at the detached palace were practically abandoned.

However, one man was still swinging his sword alone in the empty yard.

Cassian.

“Huu...”

Cassian was repeating downward slashes, horizontal slashes, and thrusts.

The three most fundamental motions in swordsmanship.

Ever since waking after being beaten by Beatrice, Cassian had done little besides physical conditioning and repeating those three movements.

Of course, the importance of fundamentals could never be overstated.

Even Captain Vargas never skipped basic drills.

But repeating only the basics was another matter.

There were two possible types of swordsmen who did that.

The first was a complete beginner.

Someone endlessly repeating basic movements in order to build a foundation.

The second was someone who had reached the peak.

Someone with nothing left to practice and nowhere higher to climb, who emptied everything they'd accumulated and returned to the beginning.

So which of those two opposite cases applied to Cassian?

Obviously, the former.

“Huh...!”

His old swordsmanship had relied entirely on his natural physical ability.

It was closer to a collection of shortcuts than a proper discipline.

The blessed body of a Hero candidate had covered those flaws.

Thanks to that, he'd become a promising mercenary awarded a Silver Badge before even turning twenty.

But inside the Eris Order, being some Silver-Badge mercenary meant absolutely nothing.

Here, he was merely a slightly sturdier-than-average human.

Forget matching the mid-ranking Holy Knights.

He could barely hold his own against the lower-ranked ones.

The tower he'd built with shortcuts had only looked impressive.

It was nothing more than a sandcastle destined to collapse helplessly under a single wave.

After entering the Order, Cassian had learned that lesson painfully well.

So, in order not to shame the title of ‘Hero,’ he resolved to rebuild himself from the fundamentals.

“Huff...!”

The March air was still cool.

But after swinging his sword dozens, then hundreds of times, sweat streamed down his body.

He was tired.

The desire to rest tried to push its way into his thoughts.

He crushed it back down.

Don't forget.

The helplessness of spending years unable to act according to his own will, constantly dragged along by something else.

And if that wasn't enough, remember this.

While the Saintess fought a desperate battle against the Apostate, the supposed Hero candidate had pathetically collapsed and slept through everything.

“Man.”

Cassian turned at the voice that reached him while he gritted his teeth and continued swinging.

Leonid stood there with his arms crossed.

“I always think this when I see you, but you really work your ass off, man. I wish our guys would learn from you.”

“...Thank you.”

“Too bad your skills barely improve.”

Cassian's expression turned bitter at Leonid's words.

Because he knew that better than anyone.

“Stop practicing for now and take a break.”

“I cannot. I wasted far too much time. I don't have the luxury to rest—”

“I'm saying it for your sake. Listen to me and stop being stubborn.”

“Why?”

Cassian stopped swinging his sword and asked.

“Because if you keep repeating those sloppy movements, you're just going to ingrain bad habits into your body.”

“Ah.”

Cassian let out a quiet realization and stared at Leonid.

Leonid, Vice-Captain of the Holy Knights.

The other Holy Knights accompanying them were all too strong for Cassian to beat.

Even Eric, who had only recently graduated from being an apprentice.

But this man stood on an entirely different level from the rest.

“Sir Leonid, would you perhaps teach me swordsmanship?”

“Can't.”

Leonid shrugged and rejected him.

“Then perhaps one of the other Holy Knights...”

“Sorry, but that's impossible too.”

Cassian looked dejected after yet another blunt refusal.

“Don't look that disappointed. There are reasons, all right?”

“What reasons?”

“First, none of the Holy Knights who came with us are suited to teaching you the sword. Their weapons are all different. Judas is a monke— I mean, a martial artist. Griffith uses a rapier, Hans uses knives, and Eric uses that heavy sword most people can barely lift.”

How are they supposed to teach you properly when they all use different weapon classes?

Leonid added.

“So not every Holy Knight uses a sword?”

Cassian briefly forgot his disappointment and spoke with curiosity.

Of course he'd seen the rapier hanging from Griffith's waist and the enormous heavy sword strapped across Eric's back.

Cassian might've been terrible with a sword, but he wasn't blind.

But he'd wondered why Hans and Judas seemed to carry no weapons.

Only now had Leonid answered that question.

“The sword is the symbol of a knight, but not using one doesn't suddenly make you not a knight.”

“I see. But Sir Leonid, you use a sword like I do, don't you?”

“Different kind, though. Mine's a longsword. Yours is a claymore.”

Leonid gestured toward the weapon at his waist.

They were both swords, but the difference in size and length was obvious.

“Surely you could still teach me the basics.”

“Unfortunately, I'm not especially talented at teaching.”

Leonid gave a faint laugh.

Beatrice's overwhelming presence tended to make people forget it, but Leonid himself was a genius.

And as was often the case, geniuses were bad teachers.

When teaching someone, instead of thinking, ‘How should I explain this?’

Their first thought tended to be, ‘Why can't you do this?’

“Don't look so disappointed. When we return to the Order, the Captain's probably already planning how to work you into the ground. At least the Captain is an excellent teacher. He'll teach you properly. It'll hurt like hell, though.”

“I see.”

“Hmm... You look like you're itching to move. If I leave you alone, you'll probably start swinging the sword however you want again... What should I do?”

Leonid fell into thought.

If he left Cassian alone, bad habits would become ingrained.

He wanted to teach him the fundamentals, but honestly, Leonid lacked confidence in teaching someone who had practically no foundation at all.

Then should he correct his form through sparring?

No.

That would be like telling someone who couldn't even walk yet to start sprinting.

Hmm...

In that case...

“Want to ask Sis to teach you?”

“Uh...”

Cassian hesitated.

Leonid scratched the back of his head.

Everyone in the Order knew Beatrice hated Cassian.

Only belatedly did Leonid realize his suggestion might've sounded to Cassian like, ‘Why don't you go fuck yourself?’

“But doesn't the Saintess use a spear?”

After hesitating for a moment, Cassian finally spoke.

At least Leonid used another type of sword.

Beatrice's weapon belonged to an entirely different category.

“Don't worry about that. Sis isn't quite as good a teacher as the Captain, but she's still pretty good. More precisely, she's very good at spotting weaknesses and telling you what needs fixing.”

“I see. Then I'll ask her once.”

“...You're serious? You sure that's a good idea?”

“Shouldn't I at least try?”

Cassian answered calmly.

His eyes held grim determination.

Even if she cursed him out, beat him half to death, and left him in a wreck, he was willing to endure it if he could learn something.

“Damn, man. You've got guts. I'll come with you. Two people are better than one, right?”

Leonid liked the look in Cassian's eyes and lightly patted him on the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Let's go tomorrow morning. Saintess Clarice said Sis has to rest properly until the end of today.”

“Understood.”

And the next morning.

“Saintess, would you be willing to teach me swordsmanship?”

“My head is killing me, so fuck off, you crazy bastard.”

He was rejected instantly.