I Quit the Hero’s Party Chapter 477

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The beast hoped and hoped.

The beast longed to become human himself. Why do you long to become human? The answer to that question was simple. If I become a human, if I can see the same scenery from the same height as a human… I will be able to understand.

“I am Fortuna. A sacrifice to be offered.”

If I become human, I will be able to understand the true meaning of her words, her death, and the reason she could not smile.

“What are you?”

Only then will he be able to answer the question she asked herself that day. That’s why Barta wanted to become human. She longed to be able to see the same landscape as humans. She wanted to have what only humans have.

···Something that only humans have.

Barta knows what it is.

It is a brilliant brilliance.

Strong will or belief. The brilliance of pure desire radiating from humans. It was something only humans had, and it was the brilliance that blinded Varta.

‘Show your brilliance, Lac Van Grace.’

I have been living in pursuit of brilliance.

I came to swing my sword, yearning for, yearning for, and jealous of the brilliance. That’s why Barta smiled, baring his teeth at his rival in front of him.

‘If I can’t see it, I’ll cut it down.’

I have no intention of looking at it. I have no intention of leisurely testing my skills like I used to. What is shown from the beginning is full power.

Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

The huge sword blade and the trajectory of the sword swung with repeated acceleration matched exactly. This is the moment when the great sword that falls as one with the fired sword energy is about to engulf Lark.

···iced coffee.

Barta groaned.

Varta looked as he swung his sword. The radiance that blooms from humans. Pure white light. It is the light that only Varta’s eyes can see, and the light that Varta chased after.

‘As expected, my eyes were not wrong.’

Barta was delighted.

In joy, he swung his sword at his rival.

‘Show me, the brilliance. Show me the light you have.’

your everything.

* * *

The noise made by sword energy rushing through the ground.

The sound of the animal’s footsteps hitting the ground with a thud and a thud. A ringing land. Flipping stone floor. The sound of space being torn apart. Twisting sound. All kinds of noises echoed.

Lark paid no attention to the echoing noises.

What you listen to is the sound of your own heart beating. Lark narrowed his eyes, listening to the beating. He let out a long breath. The heated breath was exhaled and dispersed as qualitative vapor.

···The time felt stretched out.

The whole world moves slowly. Even your own movements. The sound of my heart pounding, booming, booming… gradually became heavier and slower. As time slows down to its limit, what Lark thinks of is the past few years. It’s his own life.

Lac Van Grace looks back on his life.

When you look back on your life, and the path you have taken, you can see, strangely enough, what you have been lacking. An area where there is only one step left. On his way here, Lark realized what ‘one step’ was needed to reach that realm.

‘···It was vague.’

His path was half-baked.

There was talent. He also did not neglect efforts to develop his talents. He used weapons and trained his body every day. Training, training, performance. No one can say that Lark’s accumulated time was not enough.

In the first place, that was the only thing I knew how to do.

imitating others. Copying someone else’s movements. Ignorantly training your body. To faithfully imitate the movements you have seen hundreds, thousands, or tens of thousands of times. That was Lark’s way.

‘but···.’

Now that I look back, it was all half-hearted. Neither magic, swordsmanship, nor the body can reach the top level. Above all, there was nothing ‘one’s own’ in the tower he had built.

For Belnoa, it is the dragon’s spell.

A torrent for Chloe.

For Resty, it is a summoning spell.

Every person around you has their own characteristics. You have something to represent yourself. But what about yourself? There is nothing to represent. Even if there is one… it is not one’s own, it is borrowed from ‘someone’.

‘Galatric style, this first holy sword, this spell to strengthen the body, and body strengthening using scales…’

Not all of it belongs to Lark.

It was just a tower built with the help of others. A half-penny top that only imitates others. Something that cannot truly be called its own tower.

‘I lived a mediocre life.’

Lark burst out laughing.

But I’m not frustrated. Don’t despair either. He has no intention of denying the path he has taken. What about a tower made from other people’s things?

“This is my way.”

All of that is fertilizer. This is a textbook for reference.

“You walk your own path.”

It was as if the answer had been found.

At this moment, Lark remembered something he had heard somewhere. It was a story he had heard from a great wizard he respected.

“Don’t you like the tower you’ve built? Doesn’t it work for the other person? “Then what should I do?”

She smiled and told me about her experience.

“Whatever.”

“Tear it all down.”

Break it down.

“Stack it up again. From the beginning.”

“Once you break it down, it’s easier to build it up again. It’s easier two, three, four times. Don’t be afraid to break it. Just because you destroy it, it doesn’t mean it disappears somewhere.”

Build it up again.

“It becomes fertilizer, it becomes a foundation, it becomes a material that will help build a tower. So, build it up again.”

At some point, Lark opened his closed eyes.

Thump, thump, thump… The slow sound of my heart began to beat violently. Lightly. Violently. Time slows down and begins to find its own pace.

A rushing animal is visible.

The falling black energy is visible.

Lark suddenly burst into laughter at the surge of sword energy. Because from now on, what he’s going to do is going to be crazy. He was dumbfounded to think of such a gamble in a decisive battle where even the slightest mistake would result in death.

It was ridiculous. At the same time, Lark was confident. This is the only way for him to overcome the king of demonic beasts.

Cooung.

In front of the surging sword energy, Lark’s posture changed completely. That is an attitude that Barta is not aware of. You don’t exist in the Galatrick style, and your stance doesn’t exist in the Grace style either.

Talent, talent, Gigi Geek.

Lark’s own. Not imitating anyone else, just your own. Experiences accumulated and realizations gained by imitating others. A sword created by compiling them all.

‘The northern warrior is a hot fire.’

Lark engraved himself on his sword.

‘It is iron that does not cool down and can be tempered forever.’

Heating.

Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

The moment the swords collided, Barta’s eyes opened wide. Her swinging sword goes no further. The moment the sword and sword collided, the two swords stopped for a moment, as if they were caught in the air.

Squeak, squeak.

The same goes for sword energy. The sword, which became one with the sword and was dropped like a guillotine, is held by Lark’s great sword. Barta put a little more pressure on his hand holding the sword, stepped a little deeper with his foot, and pressed down on the sword.

However, it doesn’t go any further than that.

‘···how?’

Barta saw Lark holding a sword.

Eyes with burst blood vessels. Trembling arms. A muscle that makes a popping, popping sound. However, it is not holding on by force. What pairs with that strange posture is the sword energy surrounding Lark’s sword.

Kang, Kang, Kang, Kang.

A sound is heard from the sword.

A noise that should never be heard continues to echo. A sound like hitting metal. It was around this time that the interval between sounds continued to shorten, until they were heard as a single note rather than a broken note.

Ka-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga!

Sword energy flew out in all directions. The sword energy surging in a blizzard engulfs Barta’s sword energy. Varta strikes her swinging sword with a clanging sound.

“······!”

Varta’s sword was pushed away.

Barta’s technology is broken. With a kang, kang, kang sound, Barta’s sword was pushed back little by little. The more he was pushed back, the more Lark’s sword advanced forward. And, oh no…

Wow.

Lark’s sword pushed away Varta’s sword, drawing a complete path. A swirling snowstorm pushed Barta away. The distance that was pushed was only a few steps. Unlike Barta, who was not injured, Lark screamed and vomited blood as soon as he unleashed his technique.

“Heating.”

However, Lark is smiling.

He opens his red eyes and laughs. Laughing, he thumped his heart with his fist. It’s not just the heart that’s beating… but it’s not just Lark’s heart that’s making the beating sound.

Heating.

Kuung, the holy sword held by Lark stirred greatly. The sounds of kang and kaang constantly rang out from the holy sword, as if tempering iron. The first holy sword, symbolizing immutability, immortality, and eternity, begins to change.

Cheeeeeeeeeee!

As if following its owner’s will, it began to turn red. In an instant, Lark kicked the ground, dragging the heated holy sword. He galloped towards Varta, who was pushed away.

“···under!”

Barta burst out laughing.

With his mouth torn open, Barta swung his sword, catching up with one step the three steps he had been pushed away from. Coo! Varta’s sword collided with Rak’s sword as it struck the ground and cut through the bouncing rock.

Kaaaaaaaaaaaa!

At the same time, the two swords flew out.

Rak is pushed a little further back, but not completely like before. Lark immediately took his stance again and rushed towards Barta. Faster than before.

Kaaaaaaaa!

Metal collides with metal and sparks fly.

Sword energy and sword energy collide and space is distorted.

At this moment, when he sees the spark being sucked into the twisting space, Barta feels surprised. This is because the movements of the human in front of me changed in an instant.

‘different.’

Kang.

‘fast. No, it’s getting faster.’

Kang, Kang.

Every time sword and sword clashed, the human’s movements became faster. The sword held by the human became even more red-hot. The more impact you apply, the sharper and stronger it becomes. Where have you seen this scene?

‘···Quenching.’

Forging a sword. The image of an animal sharpening its claws on a stone. It looks like he is beating himself up and training his body to become stronger. However, it is not only humans who are being trained.

The sword and the sword energy become stronger every time they are struck. It becomes intense. It gets intense. As if he had become one with the human holding the sword.

‘It’s a strange phenomenon. It’s an unknown phenomenon.’

This is something I have never heard of.

However, that was why Barta burst out laughing. At this moment, facing the unknown, Barta is delighted. He longed for Vartha more than anything as he looked at humans shining more brilliantly, shaking off impurities each time he struck them.

Kang.

Light.

Kaang!

A more brilliant light.

Kaaaaaaaa!

The swords clashed, and Barta and Lark took a step back at the same time. What remains where the swords collide is the distortion of space. The burst space was repaired and all the surrounding air was sucked in.

Air rushing in, bodies being dragged.

However, the two swordsmen use even that to accelerate their swords. The accelerated swords collide again. Every time the swords clash, Varta feels a rumble run through her grasp and pound through her entire body. Lark feels as if his arm will tear.

However, neither stops.

They rushed at each other as if biting each other.

Galatric type 1, Chogyeonsal.

Barta’s swift sword cuts through space and draws a straight line. The space was torn along the line, but before the tear reached the nape of my neck, Lark swung his sword and tore apart the path that Barta was drawing.

Kiiiiing!

Block the opponent’s sword path and continue your own sword path. A swirling snowstorm. Lark’s red-hot greatsword immediately performs the same technique. First-guess meat. In response to that blow, Barta hit the ground with his foot.

Kuung, the ground shakes and the sword road shakes.

Even the slightest tremor can become a huge gap in a top-notch field. Immediately, Barta sucks up the shaking blade and connects his sword. The sword clashes with the sword, creating a strong sound.

Sigh.

Sometimes Rak is pushed out, sometimes Varta is pushed out. Each party reads the other’s path and paints their own path over the other’s path. Two brushes filled with ink on pure white drawing paper moved roughly to engulf each other.

Patter.

The ink that splatters is blood, and none of the brushes are stubborn and ink the drawing paper. When I come to my senses, the surrounding area is already filled with the sound of the split space being repaired and air being sucked in.

“more!”

Barta was delighted and pushed Lark.

Even though the joints of his originally tattered body are bleeding, and even though the pain is pounding his body, Barta accepts it as a sign that he is alive. He accepted and swung his sword towards his rival.

Lark thrust his body into the falling sword instead of the sword. Instead, he took a step forward and placed his sword at an angle next to him.

Ka-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga!

Lark approaches with his sword flowing like Kalt. What the raised foot strikes down is Barta’s knee. Lark swung his sword, supporting the crushed animal’s knees with his feet.

Kwasik!

Barta stretched out his right hand, which was not holding the sword, and grabbed it. The hand made of magical beasts shakes loudly and throws a throw! And blood spurted out. Nevertheless, Barta does not let go of the sword and tries to swing it straight away…

This is something I’ve already encountered before.

There’s no way he wouldn’t have thought about how Sue would deal with something that happened to him once. Lark twisted his sword.

Kiiiiiiiing!

The sword energy bursting from the sword tears apart Barta’s right hand holding the sword. With his sword sticking out, Rak blocked Barta’s sword. Unstable posture. Because the force was not applied properly, the moment the swords collided, Lark’s body floated in the air with a popping sound.

My finger was broken. I was scratched by the swirling sword, and one side of my vision turned red.

Lark, who had slipped and landed, let out a long breath. As his exhaled breath turned into steam and dispersed, Lark raised his head and looked at Varta. He closed his red eyes and faced Varta with his single eye.

“indeed.”

With his tattered right hand hanging limply, Barta also looked at Lark. We recognize each other’s growth. Even at this moment when swords clash, both of them know that the other person is moving forward.

“I considered you a challenger.”

Barta laughed.

“You were also a teacher to me.”

Even though half of his body was being crushed and his body was being destroyed, Barta became faster and faster. I was gaining enlightenment from the person in front of me.

“I thank you.”

In those words.

Lark gritted his teeth.

“I am.”

Lark let out a long breath and adjusted his posture. He ran his hand through his blood-stained white hair.

“I am not grateful to you. On the contrary, I hate you. King of Demon Beasts.”

Lark spoke as if chewing and spitting out.

“Even though I was able to become stronger thanks to you, and even though you became my teacher, I hate you. I can’t help but do that.”

With his eyes wide open, Lark glared at the King of Demon Beasts.

“Kenbel.”

While glaring, Lark said someone’s name.

“Rahuirm. Betel. Alken. Titos. Alain. Yubel.”

Those who have never been forgotten.

These people remain as symbols of powerlessness to Rak.

“Oyakal.”

Lark said with force.

“Eagle Eye, Oyakal.”

Lark spoke in a boiling voice as he mentioned the names of those who were his teachers, brothers, and warriors he admired.

“Here, I ask you for their pride that had to be trampled upon by you. King of Demonic Beasts.”

He aimed the tip of his raised sword at the King of Demonic Beasts.

Barta closed his mouth as he looked at the blade pointed at him.

···Because I felt like I could see something.

‘is it.’

Barta’s eyes sank.

The warriors who trampled and humiliated them before they could regain their pride. Was that what led to the growth of that young man? Did they make that young man stand in this position so quickly?

‘Is that what brought out that brilliance?’

Barta laughed inadvertently.

Yes, that’s what humans are like.

Humans are entangled with others. They catch each other. It is human to be angry for others and try to prove something on behalf of someone else’s life. Something animals cannot do. Was that truly the value that humans had?

“···Is that why you are here?”

“That’s right. King of Demon Beasts.”

Barta took a long breath and looked around.

The northwest tip of the continent.

The land has become a wasteland where everyone has died or left, and hundreds of years have passed and it has become a wilderness. No one knows that there was a country here in the past. I don’t know why this country fell.

Why did it perish?

Why is this land dyed red?

The reason was simple. In the distant past, this country was destroyed because a woman could no longer smile, and because there was a beast that wanted her to smile. The only traces left of the fallen country are these abandoned ruins.

The name it is now called is the Temple of Fortuna.

However, Fortuna is not the name of this temple. It is not even the name of the god the temple serves. Fortuna was simply a nickname for a woman who smiled for someone… It was just a nickname for a woman who sacrificed her life for others.

“Someday you will find out.”

“Why can I smile?”

And, more than anything else, it was just a space that she cherished with her beautiful smile.

‘Now I realize it.’

Why did he want to see her smile?

That’s because I could see her radiance every time she smiled. Because she showed something that only humans have… something that she herself could not have.

“Lark Van Grace.”

The King of Demonic Beasts, who achieved enlightenment, laid down himself.

He reached out and ripped off half of his body. He opened his mouth, tearing off his tattered right arm and tearing off the part that was used as a magic beast.

“I am Barta.”

Barta.

“It’s not the King of Demon Beasts. It’s the swordsman, Barta.”

A beast named after a woman took up a sword.

“I wish you could call me that.”

Barta adjusted his sword and held it.

Half of his body was torn off, but Barta’s posture became more stable. He became sharper. Lark felt every nerve in his body tense up.

Something is different from before.

The beast that I had barely beaten into a whistle felt like it was standing far away at this moment. One step. As if he had made up for the one step he had been lacking, the appearance of Barta holding the sword was even aloof.

Barta took a step forward. lightly.

Barta hung his right shoulder, dripping blood, and raised his sword with his left hand. heavily.

Because it was unbalanced, it was rather balanced. The moment the contradiction was established, Barta’s eyes sank. Clearly, what was standing before his eyes was a beast, but at this moment, Lark saw someone else’s appearance on the beast.

“Look.”

“This is the sword’s limit.”

Ganichalt van Galatric.

It was the moment when the image of the proud swordsman overlapped with that of the beast in front of him. Lark’s extra senses, intuition, and instinct all sounded the alarm.

come.

Death.

Coming, inevitable death.

fantasy,