Chapter 78

EP.78 The Saint Piercing Habits

Habits are not something that can be easily changed just because you know about them.

If it were that easy,

we wouldn't call them habits.

...

The Saint and the Knight were once again on the battlefield.

Under the pretense of proving their respective intentions.

The sky was shrouded in a black curtain,

and the night had descended, with the stars asleep, in the open field where the two faced each other with fierce malice.

And finally,

as the moon, which had been hidden, began to shine through the misty clouds,

the countdown for the second match of the final tournament began.

3.

I thought to myself.

Can I win this?

When I considered all the possibilities of this fight,

the probability of winning was almost impossibly low.

2.

This was even more so because I needed to win the next two matches to claim the championship.

But does that mean I'm going to give up?

I don't know. Feeling that the opportunity before me is distant, I'm tired of cowering in fear.

1.

So, I decided to do my best.

I steeled myself with this resolve.

The state of my body, which had been troubling me as if it had malfunctioned due to the morning incident, grew cold like it had been doused in cold water.

What was boiling like a fire was no longer my body but my mindset.

0.

Like striking the keys of a piano I had played many times,

I input the commands on the keyboard in the correct order at the right moment.

The Saint, whose blue eyes had been blinking calmly, charged forward in response to the command.

Although the weight of her armor and weapons limited her speed,

her charge carried a heavy presence.

I had to somehow take the initiative.

While her new body's dynamic vision was unparalleled,

even so, her opponent, who could handle three swords to the brink of their limits, couldn't possibly counter all my moves.

Clearly, my eyes could see and my body could recognize, but my reaction and skill couldn't keep up.

It was my problem that I couldn't fully control this overly capable body.

Sadly, there was no other way to describe it but as a lack of skill.

A sigh for myself was enough.

As I said, I had to somehow take the initiative.

If I gave the first move to the opponent, who boasted incredible speed with three swords,

and faced the continuous assault that followed from that first attack,

I would be too busy defending against fatal blows to lead the match in the direction I wanted.

So, this was more about seizing the timing rather than attacking and causing damage.

The Saint, gripping the handle tightly, charged forward.

Surprisingly, the opponent readily gave up the initiative.

She simply abandoned the first moment to start the match favorably.

Was she being careless, or did she underestimate me?

Such thoughts flashed through my mind, but I quickly shook my head.

Although I hadn't met her many times, she didn't seem like the type to do that.

Even though she might say, "Please defeat me and kill me," in all our previous battles, she had never gone easy on me.

Especially since this was the final of the tournament.

Was this some kind of performance she only showed to those who truly defeated her?

Whatever the concept, it didn't matter.

Regardless of what the opponent was thinking, my goal was to win and claim victory.

Borrowing the momentum from her charge, the Saint swung her hammer.

The ground, receiving the full weight of her armor, sank, revealing its ugly insides.

Whoosh, the sound of the air being split clung to the path of the massive hammer.

This meant the attack had failed.

While I thought it was unrealistic to win in one move, I couldn't help but feel a sense of regret.

Without diverting my attention from the pinpoint-like tips of the three swords, I launched another attack.

Starting from a slightly unbalanced position, this move.

It might have been a bit forced, but I didn't want to give up the initiative.

The Knight chose to evade rather than insert herself into the gap of the attack.

She seemed to judge it as dangerous.

Thus, the second match began.

...

...

...

The match, which I thought would end quickly due to the skill gap, continued for a long time.

I input the commands as if shaking off a chill.

The Saint's hammer, held with both hands, once again displayed its ferocious momentum.

But the attack never reached the opponent.

This was my mistake.

It could be called a blunder.

Not just this attack, but from the very first charge, the outcome of the fight was already decided.

The opponent was experienced, and I was slow to realize it.

The difference in experience in close combat led to this moment.

The Saint was panting heavily.

Her body, he