WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Natty
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◈ The Regressor and the Blind Saintess ◈
Chapter 148: Balak
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Vera's meeting with Balak had truly been an accident.
Back when Vera was swallowing the Empire's entire criminal underworld and spreading his influence across the continent, he had gone to recover a relic that had found its way into the Gaineks Plains. Balak sensed his aura and suddenly attacked.
Not a word had been exchanged.
There had been no reason to fight.
Balak charged at him with gleaming eyes, and Vera simply responded by drawing his sword.
In the end, that match had been a draw.
It had been decided in a single exchange.
Balak collapsed with a deep sword wound across the chest, while Vera fled with five broken ribs. That was how their incomplete contest had ended.
Vera heard Balak's name again after the Demon King emerged.
It came with news that someone had defeated alone the kind of legion commander the heroes had to band together to defeat.
[Balak, King of the Orcs, killed Conqueror Teira.]
How shocked had he been when he heard that?
His perception had been distorted, so he could not be certain it was real history. Even so, if there was even a slight chance it was true, Vera had something to learn by fighting Balak.
‘The technique that defeated the legion commander was Balak's.’
He knew it because they had fought directly.
Balak had been roughly his equal then. The reason Balak could later become strong enough to defeat a legion commander was certainly not because Balak's strength had increased.
Balak had already trained their body to its limits. If there was a reason, it was only that their techniques had grown more refined.
‘The technique that killed a legion commander.’
He needed it.
Vera clearly remembered how he had barely claimed victory against Garthea, pushing himself beyond his limits.
Now that it was certain the enemies he would face were far stronger than any legion commander, it was absurd to continue his journey with only this much strength.
Vera calculated again.
‘For now, I win. What I need are Balak's techniques. I'll steal them and adapt them into my own.’
Balak's combat arts must have already taken shape.
Within six years, the Demon King would emerge, and Balak would achieve greatness with perfected techniques. Of that much, Vera was certain.
‘I’ll steal Balak’s combat arts, refine them, and incorporate them into my swordsmanship.’
With that, he would reach for a higher realm.
Vera let out a long breath.
Balak was now close enough to make out with the naked eye.
A massive figure who could rival even Holy Emperor Vargo in size. A fierce face befitting an orc. Reddish-brown skin. Long blond hair braided down their back. And battle aura like molten lava rippling over their entire body.
‘...Madman.’
Balak was charging at him with a smile.
Vera protected his whole body with golden divine power. Clenching both fists, he considered how to respond.
‘The prince’s swordsmanship, with my body.’
He would imitate Albrecht's swordsmanship, the sword of Flow, with his body. He would redirect Balak's attacks and draw out every technique Balak possessed.
Having reached that conclusion, Vera shaped his divine power into aura.
Balak's fist swung toward him.
There was no sound of collision or explosion.
Balak's outstretched fist scattered helplessly beneath Vera's response.
* * *
It was an instant that felt like eternity.
Balak's eyes widened as they watched their fist fly through the air.
Their fist had never once been stopped. It was only natural to react that way when it had been scattered in such an unexpected fashion.
Within that endless instant, Balak looked at Vera.
A black-haired human wrapped in golden battle aura. Curiosity flickered in those gray eyes.
Not fear. Not tension. Curiosity.
That was enough for Balak to be certain.
‘A strong one!’
This human was the monster that had been stirring up their battle aura without pause these past few days.
Balak's smile deepened. They gathered the battle aura scattering through the air, twisted their arm with a crack, and threw another fist at the human.
The drawn-out moment contracted once more, and again, their fist failed to strike the human.
Thump.
With that faint sound, its path twisted aside.
Balak felt their heart grow hot. It was a familiar response whenever the instincts of their race began to consume their reason.
A formidable opponent. No, an opponent who seemed impossible to defeat. An opponent before whom they could unleash everything.
Balak had felt this way only once before while fighting.
‘Wraith Knight!’
The Death Knight of the distant Cradle.
That was how they had felt upon meeting it.
They might die.
The moment that thought came to mind, Balak felt a more intense ecstasy than ever before.
The King of Fighters. The honorable warrior who would continue the eternal struggle. Joy burst from Balak at the sight of themself roused to fight before the fear of death, and all reason vanished.
The red lava turned the color of a brilliant sun.
The vegetation covering the plains began to wither.
Their essence, accumulated through experience rather than training.
Balak began to unleash it.
Vera's eyes gleamed.
‘It’s coming.’
He knew because of their duel in the previous iteration.
Balak would change their stance now. They would move their aura. As though proving his prediction right, Balak spread both feet shoulder-width apart. Their fist drew back behind their body, while the muscles protruding from their half-bare frame visibly tightened.
Facing aura that seemed ready to burn the whole world, Vera adjusted his stance as he felt his divine power beginning to collapse from its edges.
Balak's fist shot forward.
A sun-like force filled his entire vision.
‘Crushing Fist.’
The only signature ultimate technique Vera had faced from Balak.
Avoiding it would have been the wisest choice, but Vera did not.
He had already mastered that technique perfectly. What he needed was what came after.
So Vera reached out.
Vera's hand shot straight forward as though it would meet the fist head-on, then twisted course and ran along the fist toward the wrist. He seized it and spun his body.
Whoosh!
Crushing Fist shot into the air, burning everything in its path. Then Vera's rotation swung Balak's body around and sent them flying into the air.
Right after that, Vera's fist struck toward Balak's abdomen.
It was Crushing Fist as well. It was as though he were making his intent clear.
I've seen this technique, so show me something else.
Thud!
A heavy impact rang out.
The technique landed cleanly, yet Balak did not even flinch.
Balak's legs wrapped around Vera's outstretched arm.
With a supple movement no one would expect from such a massive body, Balak snapped their waist. Both arms drew far back behind their chest, then thrust forward all at once.
It was not a technique that struck with a fist.
It was a type of Energy Burst that unilaterally poured all the battle aura in their body onto the opponent.
Vera gave a brief exclamation of admiration. He freed his trapped arm, twisted around, and swung his leg at Balak.
Sun-like aura swept across half of Vera's body, but he took no damage.
The gap between their current abilities was simply too vast. Also, Balak's technique still had only its framework. It was not yet complete.
Once again, Balak's attack came to nothing, while Vera's kick landed cleanly. Another exchange ended.
Watching Balak fly far away, Vera thought:
‘There should be more.’
The two-handed attack after Crushing Fist had certainly been powerful, but it was not a technique capable of defeating a legion commander.
That was not enough.
Legion commanders were not such easy opponents.
Vera refined his breathing and shook off the impact remaining in his body. Then he watched Balak, who was likewise settling into a stance.
Thud!
Balak struck the ground with both fists and got down on all fours.
Only battle aura could be seen in the eyes staring straight through him.
‘Have they lost their reason?’
There was no trace of reason or thought left within them.
Vera clicked his tongue and continued to consider his options.
Should he keep fighting like this? Or should he knock Balak unconscious and drag them back to the village?
He had decided there would be no more techniques to see from an opponent who had lost their reason.
That thought vanished without a trace from Vera's mind the moment Balak charged.
* * *
Balak felt their body grow hotter than ever.
They felt their own pulse tearing through their mind.
That was enough.
Balak rushed at Vera. They merely threw fists and swung their legs. There was no calculation in it, but it did not matter to Balak.
The battle aura carved into the instincts of their race, and their body, which had always been their most dependable ally, showed them the way.
Refining battle aura. Releasing it. Striking, blocking, and dodging.
Their body handled it all without thought. Balak only needed to surrender themself to the ecstasy burning through their whole body.
A fist shot forward and was blocked.
A swung leg had its path twisted by the human's arm.
Balak burned the entire space with battle aura, but the human's golden battle aura remained serenely in place.
Balak clenched their fists.
What followed was a barrage of the technique Vera had called Crushing Fist.
With the right hand, then the left, then both hands.
Balak unleashed Crushing Fist without pause.
The golden divine power began to tremble bit by bit. A crack appeared in the human's expression.
Laughing loudly, Balak threw another Crushing Fist.
Then.
Thud!
At last, Balak landed a solid hit.
Vera's body flew far backward.
Balak did not stop. They tightened the muscles in their legs and charged toward Vera.
The fist they threw...
This time, it was not Crushing Fist.
As always, Balak simply threw their fist as their body and battle aura instructed.
The handling of battle aura and correction of their stance were matters for instinct to decide. Balak only poured out their emotions.
A battle against a strong opponent.
A struggle with their life at stake.
It was a sacred ritual. They would determine who was superior, scatter blood and flesh, and ultimately survive to become the victor.
They turned the heat burning through their body into battle aura, and the pain of surpassing their physical limits into ecstasy.
They poured a single thought into their fist and unleashed it.
At that moment.
“...I swear.”
Vera spoke those words.
Balak lost consciousness.
* * *
In the middle of the plains, now thoroughly churned up, Vera stared at the fallen Balak with a shocked expression as he caught his breath.
‘...That was.’
He could not get Balak's final move out of his mind.
It had been a move that seemed impossible to block without invoking his divine authority.
It had been nothing more than an ordinary punch, with nothing special about it.
And yet, it had been a move that called death to mind.
Vera knew such a move.
‘His Holiness...’
The move Vargo had used to hurl Terdan backward had been exactly like it.
He could not understand.
Balak was weaker than him.
Balak was a berserker who knew nothing but how to throw punches.
So how had Balak accomplished something like that?
The move Balak had used just before was a move from a realm Vera had yet to reach.
During his battle with Anilis, only after the gates of the divine realm opened and he received its divine power had he barely been able to imitate such a move.
After pondering for a long time, Vera finally realized what Balak had done.
‘...The use of Ideation.’
Vera's gaze pierced Balak.
Vargo had talked his ears off about the use of Form and Intent.
If that was it, every question that had arisen was answered.
Ideation was a martial discipline on the conceptual plane, capable of overturning an absolute gap in physical force. It was a higher form of martial art that could pierce manifested energy and strike at existence itself.
That would explain both how Balak had threatened him and how Balak would later defeat a legion commander alone.
The moment he reached that conclusion, Vera suddenly let out a hollow laugh.
‘So I still haven’t reached it.’
What Balak had done was something he still could not do.
He had believed he had found a clue to Ideation by adding a covenant and an oath, restraining and suppressing himself, and setting a goal he wished to reach.
It had been a misunderstanding.
All he had done in battle so far was grit his teeth and force it.
He had not brought Ideation under his control.
Only then did Vera realize that he had yet to stand at the stage of using Ideation, and that he had merely mistaken himself for someone who could. A hollow feeling rose within him.
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