The Indomitable Martial King - Chapter 9

[ Chapter 9 ]

Gym Unbreakable is a martial sect that specializes in the extreme training of unarmed combat techniques, but it is not devoid of weapon skills. The skill in question was the staff technique, which was not developed for the purpose of fighting opponents, but for rigorously training disciples. As such, it lacks any defensive maneuvers and focuses solely on offense. Specifically, it’s specialized in evenly tempering the opponent’s body without missing a single inch.

“Damn it! Let’s attack him all at once!”

As their comrades were quickly defeated, the others rushed in surprise. Drawing their swords from their sheaths, they aimed to kill by stabbing their weapons forward.

“Haah!”

As they were mercenaries who fought with their lives on the line for a living, it seemed like they were able to find a gap in Repenhardt’s defense. After all, it was to be expected with a style of combat that lacked the concept of defense. A mercenary who charged in thrust powerfully at Repenhardt’s side. However…

-Thud!

The steel sword was deflected, whirling away to lodge itself in a distant tree. Watching this, Repenhardt smirked bitterly.

“Ah, is this really a human body? It’s mine, but this is too much.”

From the start, his physique was a shield in itself. There was no need for defense against opponents so weak that they had to wield weapons.

It was astonishing for Repenhardt himself, but imagine how the opponents felt? Seeing their swords deflected by his side, the mercenaries lost their will to fight. Repenhardt generously shared with them the experiences he had personally undergone for two years. The woods echoed with their agonizing screams.

“Argh, ah, aah!”

Repenhardt leisurely muttered while moving his hands non-stop (Somehow, he resembled Gerard),

“Don’t worry, you won’t die.”

The remarkable aspect of this staff technique is that it never lets the opponent die.

Puff, puff, puff!

“You won’t die. You just won’t.”

Even if muscles were torn, tendons were cut, joints were broken, and bones were smashed…

“You definitely won’t die.”

“Aaaargh!”

Upon reflection, he thought there might not be a better torture method. He briefly considered using it as a torture technique when the opportunity arose. Once all his comrades were quickly turned into thoroughly tenderized material, Bright finally realized that this young man was no ordinary individual.

“Ugh, state your name!”

“State my name?”

From the tone, it seemed he hadn’t regained his senses yet. Repenhardt swung his sitck lightly and moved in front of Bright. Then, he said with a grin,

“It wouldn’t be fair if all your friends ended up like that and you were the only one fine, right?”

Bright also underwent the unique martial training of Gym Unbreakable. After about a minute, the wooden stick he was using eventually broke. Had he wrapped the stick in aura for protection, it might not have broken so easily, but unfortunately, his aura, specialized for physical strengthening, couldn’t be applied to weapons like those of other martial arts. Such is the trade-off in everything.

After the beating ended, Bright finally groaned and spoke.

“Please, save me…….”

Bright begged incessantly, his mind no longer occupied with the thought of capturing orc slaves. His only thought was to escape this hellish beating. Repenhardt, sensing a deep nostalgia in this scene, smirked and gestured.

“Scram.”

This simple word was a lifeline to Bright and his companions. They hurriedly supported each other and limped away from the clearing. Watching the mercenaries leave, Repenhardt licked his lips.

‘This was somewhat fun, beating them. It’s a pity it’s over. Maybe I should take on disciples and do this properly?’

Unbeknownst to him, he was already deeply influenced by the philosophy of Gym Unbreakable.

As the situation ended, an orc boy emerged from behind the curtain. He didn’t hide his shock. Repenhardt’s strength as a warrior was beyond his imagination.

Placing his hand on his chest, the orc boy expressed his gratitude sincerely.

“My benefactor, I will never forget this day for as long as I live. I will surely repay this kindness.”

Despite the orc’s typical tone, which might sound menacing as if vowing revenge, the sincerity was unmistakable. Repenhardt waved his hand dismissively and asked.

“It doesn’t matter. Do you have a place to go?”

The orc boy suddenly looked desolate.

“The world belongs to humans, where could I possibly go?”

However, his expression soon changed to one of strong will.

“Still, the continent is vast, there must be somewhere to lay my head, right? Even if there isn’t, I’d rather die wandering than live as a slave.”

Though dressed shabbily and covered in wounds, with a rusty sword at his side, the orc boy’s eyes shone with the pride of a warrior. Repenhardt smiled broadly.

“A spirited one, aren’t you?”

He paused for a moment, then continued.

“Beyond the Rakid Mountains, to the southeast for about fifteen days on foot, lies a nameless wasteland. A place untouched by human footsteps, thus unnamed, the utmost remote area, called the ‘Land of Trials’ by non-human races.”

He continued speaking towards the curious orc boy.

“Head there. I’ve heard that orcs live hidden in that place. The Blue Bear Tribe.”

The expression on the orc boy’s face noticeably brightened. Were there still free kinsfolk, not enslaved yet? Filled with hope and joy, the boy suddenly adopted a serious demeanor and bowed his head.

Repenhardt, disturbed, asked,

“Is it appropriate for a warrior to bow his head so readily?”

Placing a hand over one’s heart is a sign of respect, but bowing the head signifies absolute submission.

The boy’s tone shifted once again.

“You have saved me and opened a new path for me. Now, you are my mentor, and should the opportunity arise, I will take up arms for you.”

In orc culture, a mentor is a guide in life, a revered figure. It’s a concept similar to a human ‘master’ yet slightly different; strict obedience is expected, but never at the cost of one’s pride, distinguishing it from slavery. Perhaps akin to the relationship between a monarch and his knight?

Indeed, it was the highest form of politeness. And it wasn’t out of place, either. The orc boy asked Repenhardt politely,

“May I inquire the name of my benefactor?”

“I am…”

Repenhardt hesitated for a moment. He had been using the surname ‘Winston,’ given to him by the Tower of Delphia. However, a new life had unfolded before him…

“My name is Repenhardt, Repenhardt Wald Antares.”

In the runic language, ‘Wald Antares’ means ‘Ruler of Antares.’ He decided then to adopt this as his surname, for that was the path he must walk.

“Repenhardt Wald Antares. I shall not forget that name.”

The orc boy repeated Repenhardt’s name in an awkward human pronunciation and then turned to leave.

“Well then, farewell.”

“Ah, safe travels.”

Once decided, a warrior does not hesitate. The orc boy walked away towards the southeast without looking back. Watching his departing figure, Repenhardt suddenly called out,

“Ah, wait! What is your name?”

He realized he had not asked the boy’s name. As the distance grew, the orc boy shouted back,

“I am the son of Krota, inheritor of Lat’s mantle. Call me Tassid!”

“Eh?”

Repenhardt’s eyes went wide in surprise. No wonder he felt an inexplicable fondness and comfort around him!

“That boy, he was Tassid?”

Tassid, one of his Four Heavenly Kings, was an Orc Warrior.

He was the chieftain of the Blue Bear Tribe and eventually became the Great Chieftain of all orcs.

Repenhardt stared blankly into the forest from which the orc boy had disappeared. The boy was already furiously running towards the other side of the forest.

He runs without looking back, towards his kin, along the path he was shown, the path he must take.

“How curious, fate is.”

Feeling the power of destiny anew, Repenhardt wondered. Could it be that Teslon in his prime had also met Tassid? But considering his temperament, it seemed unlikely he would have found and helped a young orc. Perhaps Repenhardt’s choice of this place had twisted fate. After all, this spot wasn’t particularly useful for martial training. He had chosen this clearing next to the waterfall purely for magical training. Anyway, it was curious.

“Ha ha ha…….”

A smile naturally came to his face. Nostalgia welled up within him. He felt an urge to chase after the boy immediately, to catch up to him. But soon he shook his head.

“It’s not yet time.”

His loyal subordinate and friend was now following his own destiny. He must not interfere with that path. Fortunately, the Blue Bear Tribe that he had directed him to was the original place of Tassid, likely not greatly twisting fate.

Feeling the receding presence of Tassid, Repenhardt murmured wistfully.

“Let us meet again someday. My friend, my brother, descendant of the valiant warrior.”

***

Half a year had passed since the strange encounter with Tassid.

The mountains were blanketed in white. Thickly piled snow covered everything, and sharp winter winds whipped fiercely over it. At the edge of a frozen lake in the mountains, where one’s breath seemed to freeze, two men were exchanging blows.

“Take this, my disciple!”

A muscular old man with a massive build let out a powerful punch. In response, a comparatively smaller but still impressively muscular young man dodged and countered with an elbow.

“That’s nothing!”

The old man, dodging a fierce elbow blow that seemed it could split a face, laughed heartily. Despite the cold, both were dressed lightly, in short sleeves. This sight would usually make one shiver, but their bodies were drenched in sweat, steaming in the cold air.

“Not bad!”

Exclaiming in admiration, the old man, Gerard, once again aimed a sharp jab at his disciple’s side, a blow that could shatter ribs and tear through organs. Such a casual exchange of potentially deadly blows, to an outsider, might look like a fight to the death between sworn enemies.

“Ugh! Isn’t that a bit too much, Master?”

Despite grumbling, the young Repenhardt deftly shifted his body to dodge the attack with a mere flicker. Then, he launched himself again, swiftly landing five kicks all over Gerard’s body in quick succession.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud!

With the loud impact, Gerard took a step back. Not missing a beat, Repenhardt immediately engaged in close combat, unleashing a relentless barrage of punches and kicks. Gerard, too, deftly parried these attacks and counterattacked.

“Taah!”

“Hup!”

Thus, the muscular master and disciple engaged in a fierce and prolonged battle. Before long, both were enveloped in a dazzling golden aura. The sheer force of their punches and kicks tore through the ground, scattering frost-covered clumps of dirt all around. Having awakened his aura about four years ago, Repenhardt had grown tremendously, now capable of holding his own against Gerard, who was adept in aura manipulation.

“Good. Very good!”

Gerard wore a satisfied expression. It had been nearly ten years since he started training Repenhardt, and his disciple had become an exceptional martial artist, far exceeding his expectations. Well, to be precise, he had spent about four years training Teslon and then another six years with Repenhardt, so there might be a slight confusion. But to him, a disciple was essentially ‘a sturdy body,’ so it wasn’t really a problem.

“Take this, Repenhardt!”

Now, Gerard also referred to his disciple as Repenhardt.

It seemed the constant beating had confused him, as he kept insisting that he was not Teslon but Repenhardt. Valuing his beloved disciple’s wish, he happily corrected himself and called him Repenhardt. The reigning King of Fists possessed a macho boldness, believing that as long as one’s body was strong, it was okay for the mind to be a bit erratic.

“Huh!”

Gerard inhaled deeply and took a step back, then uttered in a deep voice,

“Spirit Blast!”

Instantly, golden aura concentrated around the old man’s fist and shot out like a cannon. Repenhardt’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the incoming Spirit Blast. He raised his arms to defend his entire body while aura surged, spiraling around him in a protective whirl.

Boom!

The Spirit Blast launched by Gerard ricocheted off the spinning aura, flying off into the distance before exploding, proving its formidable power as the frozen, rock-hard ground cratered.

Amidst the flying debris, Gerard laughed, lowering his hands.

“You’ve reached a new level with Spiral Guard.”

Repenhardt, smiling, relaxed his stance. Watching his disciple unwind after the spar, Gerard nodded in approval.

“You’ve improved considerably. But…”

Suddenly, Gerard eyed Repenhardt up and down, scrutinizing his entire body, and then sighed.

“How come you’re still so small?”