I Gave Up on Conquering the Heroines – Chapter 101

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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Transylvania ripped open a blood pack with their teeth and gulped it down.

It was bland blood, from who knows what shady source.

They didn’t used to taste this bad.

Strangely, ever since they started hanging out with that human, all of their blood packs had become tasteless.

Still, it was a necessary evil for survival.

Transylvania grimaced, holding the blood pack in one hand and chugging it down while their other hand slowly reached down, feeling for their waist.

They couldn’t feel what they were supposed to feel.

Looking down, they noticed the sword that was always strapped to their left hip was missing.

The sword Dakia had passed down to them.

No.

To be precise, the sword they had stolen after Dakia’s death.

“Ah.”

And at that moment, a forgotten memory resurfaced.

The reason they had stormed Elvenguard and killed Rex’s brother.

Why they had simply walked away after killing him, they remembered everything.

It was a rainy night.

Transylvania was climbing a steep mountain, their back laden with a heavy pack filled with food and supplies.

A shabby thatched hut came into view midway up the mountain.

From afar, a rhythmic tremor, as if shaking the very earth, reached their ears.

“Ah. You’ve arrived, Sylvia.”

[T/N: WELP who could have guessed transylvania is a girl lmao]

“I told you not to call me that. Put down the sword, will you? You’re going to collapse and die swinging it like that.”

Behind the thatched hut where they had arrived with their pack…

A white-bearded old man was swinging a single-edged sword.

It was a worn-out sword, with missing teeth and a dull blade.

But every time the old man’s thin, muscle-wasted arm swung the sword, a powerful slash erupted, seemingly capable of splitting the mountain in two.

“I’m so close to enlightenment. It’s right there… right in front of me…”

The old man’s name was Dakia.

A diligent swordsman who had systematized an ancient swordsmanship and a genius who was on the verge of achieving the ultimate technique of that swordsmanship.

Dakia had never even held a sword until he was past his middle age.

But at Transylvania’s suggestion, he had picked up a sword…

And awakened to an explosive talent, surpassing the level of a Sword Master in just 10 years, becoming skilled enough to even overwhelm Transylvania.

And then, as most geniuses do…

He grew tired of the limitations and weaknesses of existing swordsmanship and began to create a new style.

It was a modified version of an ancient, aggressive swordsmanship that had been passed down orally and was now almost extinct.

“Eat something before you swing that thing.”

“The energy emanating from the sword is my nourishment. Just breathing is enough to fill my stomach…”

“You’re just gassy. That’s an illusion, old man. Eat while you train.”

“Ugh…”

Transylvania had a feeling.

That Dakia’s lifespan was coming to an end and that Dakia’s sword was about to evolve once more.

[T/N: I will start referring to transylvania with female pronouns as is done in the raws]

She had been frustrated by his lack of progress for over ten years…

But now, right before his death…

With his joints twisted, his back bent, his entire body falling apart…

Dakia was about to achieve enlightenment.

“Forget food. I need magical herbs.”

“You’ll die if you smoke those. Just eat.”

“I know my own body best. I’m already at death’s door. Eating healthy and sleeping soundly won’t extend my lifespan by a single day. Just get me some magical herbs. I’m wasting precious time sleeping.”

“…”

Transylvania couldn’t argue any further.

Dakia was facing death, and he was on the verge of achieving the ultimate technique.

Every second was precious.

She couldn’t understand the human desire to complete the ultimate technique of a swordsmanship they had dedicated their entire life to, even if it meant shortening their lifespan…

But she could feel his desperation, even in her own heart that had long ceased to beat.

“Don’t die while I’m gone.”

“As if I could control that. Haha.”

“Just stay alive, damn it!”

With that, Transylvania rushed down the mountain.

It would take over a month to reach the nearest town on foot.

But even with her back laden with magical herbs, she returned in less than two weeks.

“Dakia! Why is it so quiet?! Don’t tell me he’s… d-dead…”

“Cough, hack! Sylvia…”

But what awaited Transylvania was a collapsed hut and Dakia, lying on the ground, bleeding from a hole in his abdomen.

“Run…”

“So you were the murderer’s accomplice. You wouldn’t tell us where the murderer went, so we took you hostage and waited… We’ve caught you red-handed.”

“…”

Elven warriors, heavily armed, surrounded Transylvania.

The one who seemed to be their leader was probably a high warrior.

Transylvania memorized his face.

It had been 100 years since she was called a murderer.

Wherever she went, blood followed.

It was common for bounty hunters to storm the places she had stayed, causing chaos.

This was no different from those everyday occurrences.

But for some reason…

Holding the dying Dakia in her arms…

Transylvania felt a surge of rage for the first time in a long time.

“Graaaaaaaah!!!”

That day, countless elven warriors died.

The so-called leader, after exchanging a few blows with Transylvania, ran for his life.

Standing by the river of blood…

Transylvania, holding the lifeless Dakia, swore an oath.

To inherit his swordsmanship.

To try her best to recreate it, even though she was just a mediocre being.

To complete the ultimate technique that he had failed to achieve.

And to avenge him.

After burying Dakia, Transylvania immediately set out to find the name of the elven leader.

He was a high warrior who had recently returned to Elvenguard after a monster subjugation expedition.

Transylvania chose to go to Elvenguard without hesitation and without a word, she beheaded the high warrior, who was relaxing and laughing in his home.

She was sure of it, it was the same face they had seen that day.

She had avenged Dakia, and with no further reason to spill blood…

Transylvania left Elvenguard at the priestess’s request.

From that day on, Transylvania had been using Dakia’s sword, sharpened to a razor’s edge.

She had lent it to that human for the duel…

“No wonder I couldn’t remember.”

She couldn’t possibly remember a young elf who had threatened her with a dagger.

She was consumed by rage back then, nothing else mattered.

Transylvania chuckled and sat down on the ground.

The ultimate technique that she had recreated to the best of her ability but was ultimately just a cheap copy…

The reason that young human could see the swordsmanship of Dakia, on the verge of death, by mimicking that copy…

Perhaps it was because his broken, inefficient swordsmanship resembled the swordsmanship of an old man, swinging a sword with a broken body.

“There’s nothing to do now.”

All that was left was to wait for the outcome of the duel.

To await news of whether he had managed to recreate the original from a mere copy.

Transylvania’s red eyes shone brightly in the darkness.

“I’m getting a little antsy.”

Her body trembled with an unknown thirst.

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He was born with a terrible lack of talent.

He realized that in the 7th loop.

He had started with Swordsmanship traits, instantly learning swordsmanship, yet it took him six regressions to finally reach level 10 in the Dakia Style Swordsmanship.

It was enough to subdue knights who were born with level 9 or 10, and so he thought he was strong.

Until he accidentally entered a swordsmanship academy and sparred with a Sword Master.

He was a novice who had just earned the title of Sword Master.

His face was still youthful, looking even younger than him.

He was what they called a “fake Sword Master,” someone who hadn’t achieved enlightenment and mastered the ultimate technique, but…

He was more than skilled enough to toy with him.

He realized that day.

That Swordsmanship level 10 wasn’t even close to the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

That no matter how many regressions he went through, he would never be able to match those with true talent.

From that day on, he turned his attention to ways to improve his combat strength quickly and with minimal effort, rather than brute-forcing his swordsmanship.

In other words, cheats.

It was a faster way to become stronger than mindlessly practicing swordsmanship, and cheats were more effective against monsters.

He had become much stronger.

He could now defeat a novice Sword Master, assuming they lacked combat experience.

But as he continued to regress, time and time again…

Mastering every cheat and exploiting every loophole…

He hit another wall, he had run out of cheats.

This was the fate of those who strayed from the righteous path.

He had run and run, until there was nowhere left to run.

He started swinging the sword he had abandoned.

He stopped settling for the head of a snake, the king of mediocrity and chased after the tail of a dragon.

The results were despairing.

From the 7th loop until now, his Swordsmanship levels had stagnated.

He showed no signs of achieving enlightenment.

He had trained during his last visit to Elvenguard but that was just to re-hone his regressed body and regain his previous loop’s strength.

There wasn’t much progress.

And finally…

An opportunity arrived.

He met Transylvania, not just someone who had learned the secret technique, but the one who had created it.

[T/N: Yoo-jin still doesnt know transylvania is a she so im going to refer to her as a them from his pov]

He had hoped to gain significant insights from them, but all he received was indifference.

It was neglect disguised as teaching.

The basics that they promised to correct were eventually abandoned…

He could only endlessly try to mimic the secret technique, replaying Transylvania’s brief demonstrations and the vague concept of “expanding the range of attack” in his mind.

In the end, frustrated by Transylvania’s lack of guidance or advice…

Driven by stubbornness and resentment…

He swung his sword without regard for his body.

He swung and swung and swung.

He probably swung his sword as much in the past three days as he had in all 12 loops combined.

But he didn’t achieve enlightenment…

He didn’t even feel a spark of insight.

But he didn’t give up.

He was tired of running away.

Instead of lamenting his lack of talent without even trying his best…

He decided to dedicate himself to the righteous path, even if it meant pushing himself to the brink of death.

“Huh? Why are you…?”

The moment he drew the single-edged sword and held it in his hands…

The moment he grasped the unfamiliar, awkward weapon…

His eyes snapped open.

It was an old sword.

Instinctively, he felt as if he could feel the hands of the sword’s former owner through the hilt.

He wasn’t talking about Transylvania.

Someone from long ago.

The original owner who had wielded this sword, shaping the hilt to fit their hand and imbuing it with their spirit.

It was as if their hand was guiding his own, moving it.

Guiding him to hold the unfamiliar single-edged sword correctly and at the same time, he felt a strange sensation, as if the former owner was whispering to him.

Relax your body.

Hold the sword closer to your body.

He followed those words instinctively, and gradually… it all started to fall into place.

Shivers ran down his spine.

It felt incredibly familiar.

The sword he had been swinging for the past three days.

The sword he had forced his body to adapt to, awkwardly imitating Transylvania’s movements.

That sword was right here, in his hand.

Of course, it was just an imitation.

He couldn’t perfectly replicate Transylvania’s swordsmanship, but…

For some reason, he had a feeling that his current swordsmanship was more stable, more complete.

His intuition had never been right, but he decided to trust it this time.

Because it wasn’t just him.

Transylvania and the sword itself were screaming at him that he was on the right track.

“Don’t try anything stupid…!”

Rex’s face turned pale as he sensed the change in his aura.

Perhaps Rex had already realized it.

That no matter how much of his lifespan he burned, no matter how much power he forced into his body…

He would never be able to surpass the overwhelming realm before him.

But Rex still charged, in disbelief.

Perhaps, in denial.

Then he would show him.

He would make him believe, make him acknowledge.

A system window appeared before his eyes.

The tip of his blade moved in an arc.

The pinnacle of offensive swordsmanship.

The ultimate technique that extended the blade to places it couldn’t reach.

The Dakia Style’s ultimate technique.

The new ultimate technique he had created, pushing his body to its limits while imitating Transylvania, shot out from his blade.

Whoosh…!

At first glance, it looked like an ordinary horizontal slash.

But the blade didn’t come close to hitting Rex, only cutting through empty air.

But he wasn’t just cutting through the air.

A white sword beam extended from his blade, shooting towards Rex.

Rex, caught completely off guard, twisted his body awkwardly and tried to block with his sword…

“Kugh?!”

He was thrown back by the sword beam.

After rolling across the ground, he got to his feet and looked at him with a bewildered expression.

There was no need to pity him.

The duel was over.

Now it was time for the finishing blow.

The 14 forms of the Dakia Style.

He imbued his basics, which had been called a mess, with the secret technique…

Whoosh…!

He swung his sword at Rex, who was standing far away.

Horizontal slashes, vertical slashes, diagonal slashes… from every angle.

An unavoidable barrage of attacks.

Countless sword beams shot out from his blade, cutting through the air, and soon, the white lines filled his vision, becoming indistinguishable from one another.

An inescapable net of sword beams enveloped Rex.

“Kraaaaaaaaagh!!!”

Rex struggled to block, but it was an attack that couldn’t be blocked with just a sword.

Sword beams crashed against Rex like waves, and he collapsed, his body covered in cuts.

As he lost consciousness from the pain, the blue flames surrounding him also flickered and died out.

Countless cracks, carved by the sword beams, marred the wall behind Rex.

“Haa… Haaa…”

It’s over.

It’s finally over.

As he let out a sigh of relief and collapsed…

“…Wow. Iron Blood Storm Slash.”

Undecided muttered a cheesy line from beside him.

Iron Blood Storm Slash?

He apologized, but that ridiculous name would never be used.

Ah, shit.

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[Damn who could have foreseen transylvania was a woman… XD mc is a harem god]