The Lowest-Ranked Hero Has Returned

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Chapter 141: Interlude – Heir of the Iron Fist (4)

After successfully completing the ruins exploration, our party spent the remainder of the break at Berald's house, both to keep an eye on Gilbert's condition and to process the lessons learned from the ruins.

"Then, let's start, Dale."

"Whenever you're ready."

Yuren, gripping his sword, stared at me intensely.

His Stigma emitted a brilliant light, and enormous waves of mana surged from him like a tide.

I couldn’t help but let out a small sigh as I looked at Yuren.

'How does he seem to get stronger every time I see him?'

The amount of mana one possesses generally reaches a plateau after a certain point, and its growth rate slows significantly.

Initially, you just need to fill the “vessel” that is your Stigma, but once it's full, you have to work on expanding the vessel itself.

But Yuren seemed to have an infinite capacity, with his mana growing noticeably every time we sparred.

'Really, seeing stuff like this makes me realize how unfair the gods can be.'

Of course, I’m not really one to talk.

"Haa!"

With a sharp cry, Yuren sprang forward.

Burning in a brilliant silver flame, his aura painted the air with beauty.

His fluid swordsmanship was so graceful that it drew gasps from anyone watching.

Clang! Clang-clang-clang! Clang!

Our swords clashed, sending the sound of metal ringing through the air.

"Ugh..."

A groan escaped from between my lips.

After the ruins exploration, it wasn't just Yuren’s mana that had increased.

'His swordsmanship has become sharper, more precise.'

In his past life, Yuren's swordsmanship was already unparalleled, but now it felt like he had gone a step—or several steps—beyond that.

'And...'

As I met Yuren’s fierce attacks, I narrowed my eyes.

I had suspected it while watching him fight the guardian in the ruins, but sparring with him now confirmed it.

'Yuren's swordsmanship has changed from what it was in his past life.'

Specifically, the form of the "Sun Sword" that he wielded was evolving.

It was similar to how I, in my past life, restructured the Sun Sword into the Ashen Sword to suit my style after wandering the continent for millennia.

Yuren was no longer simply replicating the Sun Sword that Reynald Helios had originally created.

'In the past, Yuren didn’t do this.'

Back then, Yuren had tried to perfectly replicate the swordsmanship left behind by Reynald Helios, as if he believed himself to be his reincarnation.

He didn’t modify it at all—not even a slight change—imitating the 'Sword of the Sun' as if that was how it was meant to be.

But now...

'He’s changed.'

Yuren was no longer mimicking Reynald.

While traces of Reynald’s style still remained due to everything he had learned so far, with time, those remnants were fading, and Yuren—or rather, Yurina Helios—was making the sword his own.

'If things continue like this... from the eighth form of the Sun Sword onwards, it might become an entirely new style.'

Just as I created the Ashen Sword based on the Sun Sword, Yuren might soon develop a swordsmanship I’ve never seen before.

"...Heh."

A chuckle escaped my lips.

A chill ran down my spine—the kind you only feel when facing a true genius.

"Huh? What’s wrong, Dale?"

Yuren paused mid-spar, noticing my reaction.

I gave a small smile and shook my head, indicating it was nothing.

While compliments can lift spirits, too much praise can have the opposite effect.

'Here...'

Yuren’s growth had once again reminded me of why he was called a genius, but...

'It might be better to push him a little harder...!'

He still wasn’t close to closing the gap between us.

Clang! Clang!

"Ahhh! D-Dale, you...! That's dirty!"

Yuren glared at me with wide eyes as I suddenly rushed at him with my sword.

But the surprise quickly faded as he grinned, clearly enjoying the sparring session, and enthusiastically struck back at me.

"Whew."

"Huff, huff..."

As Yuren and I stood sweating under the scorching summer sun, drenched in sweat, Iris approached, carrying two iced coffees with ice floating in them.

"You two should take a break~."

"Ah, thanks, Iris."

"Much appreciated."

Yuren and I paused our sparring and gratefully accepted the iced coffees.

"Here, use this towel to wipe off your sweat."

"...Iris."

After the refreshing iced coffee, she handed us dry towels.

Her kind, thoughtful gesture filled me with a deep sense of gratitude that words couldn't express.

"Hmph."

For some reason, Yuren didn’t seem particularly pleased, but...

"Thanks, Iris."

After wiping off the sweat, Yuren and I returned the towels to her.

"Berald will be coming down soon, so I’ll leave so I don’t interrupt your training..."

"Wait a second."

Just as Iris was about to return to the house, Yuren grabbed her shoulder.

Narrowing his eyes, he glanced toward the inside pocket of Iris' priestess robe.

"Why did you put the towel Dale used in your inner pocket separately?"

"...Tch."

For a moment, the gentle and serene expression on Iris’s face twisted into a scowl.

But she quickly recovered, flashing a sweet smile as she answered Yuren’s question.

"Dale's scent is a bit stronger, so I was going to wash it separately."

"If that’s the case, I’ll do it. It’s sweat from training with me, after all."

"Oh~ there's no need for that. You’ve been so busy focusing on your training, haven’t you?"

Both Yuren and Iris held onto opposite ends of the towel Dale had used, smiling at each other while their eyes revealed none of the friendliness in their words.

"Besides, you’re not exactly free, are you? I heard you’ve been focusing on your ‘Seven Eyes’ training lately."

"Heh. But that’s nothing compared to the physical training you’ve been doing, Yuren."

The conversation continued between the two, both with forced smiles but clear tension between them.

“No, you know... It's not just about what you can see with your eyes.”

“Still, it's not like we can chase after what we can't see, right?”

Their gazes met.

“......”

“......”

After a brief and awkward silence.

“Gah! Give it back, now!”

“If you don’t tell me exactly what you’re going to use it for, you’re never getting it!”

Iris and Yuren raised their voices, bickering like children fighting over a toy.

“......”

As I was pondering how to step in and stop them.

“Brother! Have you finished training with Yuren, brother?!”

The mansion door swung open roughly, and Berald stepped out from the yard.

“Oh, yeah. We’re just taking a break.”

“Haha, then could you spar with me next time?”

“Of course.”

[Translator - Night]

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Since I’d already decided to focus on helping my comrades grow during this vacation, there was no reason to refuse a sparring match.

‘It’s not like I won’t gain anything from it, either.’

As the old saying from the Republic goes, teaching is also a form of learning.

Sparring with Yuren, Berald, and Camilla was proving to be a great source of experience for my own growth, especially since I still wasn’t fully in control of my newly gained powers.

“Haha! Excellent!”

Berald clenched his bandage-wrapped fists tightly, exhaling with a determined breath.

“You’re still planning to keep wearing those filthy bandages?”

“Hehe, but these are an heirloom from my ancestors. A legacy left for their descendants.”

Berald smiled and repeatedly clenched and unclenched his bandaged hands.

“And, they’re surprisingly effective.”

“Effective? How so?”

No matter how I looked at them, they were just dirty strips of cloth.

“Well… how should I put it… My punches feel a little lighter? That sort of feeling.”

“Isn’t it just because you think it’s some sort of ‘Iron Fist’ legacy or something?”

“Hehe, maybe. But it doesn’t feel bad, so I’m going to keep using it.”

“Well, fair enough.”

If he liked it, there was no reason for anyone else to complain.

“All right, let’s begin!”

Berald shouted as he summoned his magic.

I slid my sword back into its sheath and hooked it onto my belt, beckoning him with a flick of my hand.

“Let’s see if you live up to the legacy of the ‘Iron Fist.’”

“Haha! Excellent!”

With a loud, boisterous laugh, Berald charged forward.

Dark, earthy-colored aura flared from his fists.

Boom! Crash! Kaboom!

The sound of his punches echoed across the wide yard, creating a cacophony that didn’t sound like it came from mere fists.

‘Berald’s movements have improved a lot.’

It was a pity that he had lost his powerful artifact, but Berald’s personal growth had been so remarkable that even the phrase “rapid progress” didn’t do it justice.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Maybe it was because of Gilbert’s story, but seeing Berald's savage punches, I suddenly pictured the image of the ‘Iron Fist.’

‘He really was an incredible person.’

Fighting the Demon God with nothing but those worn bandaged fists.

It really drove home just how extraordinary the Iron Fist Ryujin Seong must have been.

‘Usually, at that level, having a powerful artifact isn’t a choice but a necessity.’

There’s a saying that a master doesn’t blame their tools, but that didn’t apply to heroes.

As a hero’s strength grows, so does the need for weapons that can handle that power.

Without them, even channeling mana through the weapon could cause it to shatter.

Sure, you could enhance a weapon’s durability with mana, but doing so is a waste of mental energy.

It’s much more efficient to use a sword made of steel than to strengthen a twig with mana to make it as hard as steel.

‘Well, in the Iron Fist’s case, he didn’t use a sword but his fists.’

Still, when you think about how the Sun Sword Reynald Helios used the legendary sword called ‘Dawn’ and the Spear Saint Baek Seunghyuk wielded the powerful artifact ‘Dragon Slayer,’ it shows just how unique the Iron Fist was.

‘He said weapons like that didn’t suit him… huh.’

Remembering what the Iron Fist had said, I smiled faintly.

‘He’s someone with a lot to learn from.’

Even though I didn’t agree with his thinking, I could respect his convictions.

A hero who fought the Demon God with nothing but his fists.

A true ‘martial artist’ in every sense of the word.

No matter how different his philosophy was from mine, I couldn’t help but admire such a great warrior.

“Huff, huff…!”

As the spar dragged on, Berald’s breathing grew heavier and more labored.

“Shall we wrap this up?”

“No! I can still go on!”

Berald gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and charged at me again.

‘Man, this guy's persistence is something else.’

I couldn’t help but admire his determination, a true testament to being the ‘descendant of the Iron Fist,’ as I prepared to block his punch.

Whoooosh!

Suddenly, the bandages around his fists turned jet-black, emitting a brilliant light.

“...Huh?”

Golden letters appeared over the now blackened bandages.

The words were written in the old language of the Republic.

‘Heaven-Destroying Asura Gauntlets…?’

What the hell is that?

Boom!

Before I could finish my thought, Berald’s punch slammed into me, sending my body flying, smashing into the mansion’s walls.

“Gah, ugh…!”

I coughed up blood and stared at the black gauntlet wrapped around Berald’s fists.

“No way... that Iron Fist bastard…”

When he said weapons like that didn’t suit him, he meant he already had something better?!

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