I Became the 101st Hero – Chapter 43

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Wjin
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The swordsmanship Libero had shown me…

It was merely a glimpse of his true capabilities.

But even that glimpse was enough to reveal his essence, the core of his mastery.

There was no guarantee that I could ever reach that level.

In fact, it was highly unlikely.

‘But if I could even come close…’

My obsession with his swordsmanship stemmed from my experience as a player.

After discovering that inheriting the Royal Crest allowed a character to become Libero’s disciple, I had experimented with various characters, granting them the Royal Crest and guiding them down that path.

And through those experiments, I had reached a conclusion.

There was no faster way to improve one’s Swordsmanship skill in this game than by becoming his disciple.

Furthermore, the swordsmanship he taught, for some reason, possessed an almost absolute advantage over other swordsmanship styles of the same rank.

I had never seen a character who had learned from him lose a sword fight against someone of the same rank.

Back when I was a player, I had simply assumed there were hidden stats involved. But now, I understood the true reason.

‘It’s because Libero’s swordsmanship is simply that powerful.’

If two opponents possessed similar levels of swordsmanship proficiency, the one who had learned from Libero would always emerge victorious.

Essentially, his swordsmanship was an unbeatable style.

Of course, the Royal Crest’s inherited trait, [Authority of the Lodraim Royal Family], had no other significant effects besides granting access to Libero’s teachings.

And its inherited skills were mostly non-combat traps, like [Court Etiquette] and [Dexterity].

But the power of Libero’s swordsmanship more than made up for those shortcomings.

‘It was especially effective against brute force fighters like Gwen.’

Mana, unlike other stats, was practically impossible to increase after character creation unless you used specific methods.

And for some reason, Libero’s swordsmanship was particularly effective against heroes like Gwen, who had low innate Mana.

However, Gwen already possessed a solid foundation in Lidval family swordsmanship, and thanks to the [Precociousness] trait, her swordsmanship improved quickly even without Libero’s guidance. So she never needed to rely on the Royal Crest.

Taking all of this into consideration, I had chosen Gwen’s [Precociousness] trait and Erciara’s [Authority of the Lodraim Royal Family] as the key to maximizing Allen’s potential.

Like Gwen, Allen’s Mana stat was abysmally low.

The difference was, Allen’s other stats were just as bad.

That was why, in all my previous attempts, Allen had struggled to even reach Sak from Basil.

It was challenging enough to reach the required 500 SP for the Secondary Inheritance. And if he inherited the Royal Crest for his Primary Inheritance, which offered nothing besides a connection to Libero, it would spell disaster in the early game.

But this time, I had finally managed to reach Libero with Allen.

A clear path to growth now lay ahead…

‘Or so I thought.’

I closed my eyes as his scolding voice echoed through the room.

“Have you already forgotten what I told you?”

Of course, I remembered.

“You said not to bend my waist when I strike.”

I remembered.

But my body wasn’t cooperating.

‘Idiot.’

I swung my sword again.

‘Don’t bend your waist… ’

And then…

It activated the moment I thought about it.

I cursed under my breath. Libero had already noticed.

“Allen.”

“I know.”

I knew I wasn’t supposed to use Absolute Obedience.

But it wasn’t something I could easily control.

Absolute Obedience activated at the slightest thought, even when I wasn’t consciously trying to use it.

Of course, if it hadn’t been for Absolute Obedience, I probably would have died to that wolf I encountered back in the beginning. And it had saved my life countless times since then.

But now, it was becoming an obstacle.

‘Is there a way to turn this thing on and off?’

I had tried, of course.

‘Disable Absolute Obedience.’

‘Disable it until I tell you to activate it again.’

‘Disable it for ten minutes.’

But none of it worked.

Perhaps it was because activating it again would also require Absolute Obedience, creating a paradox.

Or maybe it was simply impossible to turn it on and off.

The latter seemed more likely.

‘Typical Allen.’

I had come to accept his inherent flaws.

As I continued to practice my swings,

“That’s enough for today.”

Libero, who had been silently observing my training, finally spoke.

I lowered my sword.

My body was already at its limit.

Libero, who didn’t seem to experience fatigue, had no concept of rest.

Allen, on the other hand, had abysmal stamina.

But Libero always stopped the training sessions when it was time for me to eat and sleep, following the minimal schedule I had set for myself.

‘This is exhausting.’

In the past, I had always used Absolute Obedience to push my body to its limits while exercising and training.

It was still physically tiring, but it felt easier mentally, more like a mechanical process than a conscious effort.

But now that Absolute Obedience was forbidden, I had to rely solely on my own willpower to swing the sword.

‘It takes so much more effort when I have to do it myself.’

However, I had to admit, my progress was faster than when I was relying on Absolute Obedience.

The act of consciously swinging the sword made me more aware of my own movements, of every subtle nuance and shift in balance.

That was why my Swordsmanship skill had been improving so slowly, despite having inherited the [Precociousness] trait.

‘But…’

Even with the accelerated progress, it was still frustratingly slow.

Talent or no talent, my growth was simply too slow.

I was still making mistakes with basic techniques that I could have executed perfectly with Absolute Obedience.

Though, according to Libero, those techniques, learned through Absolute Obedience, weren’t truly mine. They were a shallow imitation, lacking the depth and understanding that came with true mastery.

“Get some rest.”

Libero put on his coat and left the basement.

He didn’t need sleep.

While I slept, he would continue his usual routine, wandering the streets like a restless spirit.

‘He’s a strange one.’

I knew his true identity from the game.

But his actions didn’t match his background at all.

He spent his days drinking himself into oblivion, wandering the streets aimlessly.

But when he witnessed injustice, he would transform into a righteous avenger, unable to stand idly by.

And then, once the deed was done, he would revert back to his usual, self-destructive habits.

There had been many theories about him on the online forums.

Some speculated that he was bound by some kind of contract.

Others believed he simply enjoyed killing.

But in the end, no one knew the truth.

‘He was always an enigma.’

Strong, yet pessimistic.

Righteous, yet passive.

But it didn’t matter to me.

As long as I could learn swordsmanship from him, that was all that mattered.

I turned away from him as he shuffled out of the basement, his shoulders slumped.

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“This is frustrating…”

Libero muttered to himself, unaware of his disciple’s thoughts.

“How could someone like that come from his bloodline?”

He couldn’t understand it.

The boy definitely possessed the Authority of the Lodraim Royal Family. And he could use the inventory, which meant he had a patron.

Yet, his talent was barely above that of an average person.

Unbeknownst to the boy, even that meager talent had been artificially boosted by the [Precociousness] trait.

‘What gives him the confidence to even think about becoming a hero?’

He thought back to the boy’s words.

“Prove to me that I can’t become a high-ranking hero. If you can do that, I’ll accept my limitations and step aside.”

“No, even if the outcome proves me wrong… I can’t give up.”

It was laughable.

How could someone with such meager talent make such bold declarations?

But he couldn’t bring himself to mock the boy.

He saw a reflection of his own past in the boy’s unwavering determination.

‘I used to think I could reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship.’

Unlike the boy, he had been a prodigy, his talent undeniable.

His skills had improved at an astonishing rate, and his goal, “the pinnacle of swordsmanship,” didn’t seem impossible.

He had grown stronger and stronger, eventually reaching a level where no one could match him.

‘Except for him.’

The ancestor of the Lodraim royal family.

The only person who could stand toe-to-toe with him in a sword fight.

That man had always said that Libero could reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

And now that the man was gone, Libero knew it was a lie.

He had longed to reach that elusive peak.

But there were too many limitations, too many obstacles.

So he had abandoned his human body.

He had made a pact with a transcendent being, sacrificing everything for the sake of power.

All he had left was swordsmanship.

And yet…

‘Even then, I couldn’t reach the true peak.’

It had been a foolish dream, a childish fantasy.

The pinnacle of swordsmanship was an unattainable goal.

Now that he knew the truth, why did he even bother to keep living?

‘Perhaps… I envied the boy.’

He envied the boy’s unwavering belief, his ability to cling to a dream, even if it was a hopeless one.

And he felt a pang of guilt.

He, who had given up on everything, who lived with only regret and bitterness, felt ashamed of himself.

That was why he had accepted the boy’s request.

He clung to a sliver of hope that the boy, with his unwavering spirit, might be able to change him, to rekindle the spark that had long since died.

Had the boy changed him at all?

‘I’m not sure.’

He chuckled softly.

‘I feel like I’ve just picked up a stray puppy.’

Of course, that would make him the fool for taking in such a hopeless case.

He noticed a group of men entering the building, their weapons glinting in the dim light.

A vermillion bird tattoo was etched on each of their arms.

‘Time for a little fun.’

He formed a mask from thin air.

It was a hero mask, popular among children when he was young. A hero no one remembered anymore.

‘What was his name again?’

He couldn’t remember.

But the shape of the mask was vaguely familiar.

He placed the mask over his face, and in an instant, he vanished.

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“Violet? What did you say?”

(Th-that is… the search for the 71st Demon King’s killer has been called off for now.)

“So Raus, the one who was inspecting Sak, has been recalled as well?”

(Yes, those were Big Sis’s orders. He’s headed to the Lodraim Kingdom to assist the 72nd Demon King.)

“Without even telling me?!”

Gineus, the Demon King who had been speaking to Violet, roared in frustration.

She was a beautiful woman with long, flowing black hair and pale skin. But right now, her beauty was overshadowed by her anger.

“That maniac is causing enough trouble as it is. I can’t handle two of them running around…”

(But there’s no guarantee that he even crossed over to Sak.)

Her black hair trembled with rage.

“Of course, he did! The only places connected to Basil by Gate are Sak and the Holy City of Hailen!”

(W-well, maybe he went to Hailen? Or maybe he’s still in Basil?)

“Do you have any proof?”

Silence.

Then, a meek voice responded,

(N-no…)

“Then tell that woman that if I find out that the 71st’s killer has infiltrated Sak, I won’t be so lenient with the one who’s already here.”

(What? But…)

She cut off the connection with Violet.

She may or may not relay the message. But she had been warned.

It would be Violet’s fault if she failed to deliver the message.

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