The Last Place Hero’s Return - Chapter 141

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 141. Interlude – Legacy of Iron Fist (4)
After we successfully completed our exploration of the Ruins.
Our Party remained at Berald’s Mansion for the remainder of the break, both to monitor Gilbert’s condition and to digest the insights we’d gained from this expedition.
“Alright, let’s begin, Dale.”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Yuren, sword in hand, fixed me with an intense stare.
Yuren’s stigma blazed with light as an overwhelming torrent of mana poured forth in waves.
I exhaled softly as I observed him.
‘It seems to grow stronger every time I see him.’
While individuals varied, mana growth generally slowed dramatically once one surpassed a certain threshold.
Initially, one merely filled the ‘vessel’ of their stigma with mana, but after reaching capacity, expanding the vessel itself became necessary.
Yet Yuren’s vessel seemed to possess infinite capacity—his mana reserves visibly swelled with each sparring session.
‘It’s genuinely unfair how the heavens distribute their gifts.’
Though I had no right to complain.
“Hah!”
With a crisp shout, Yuren launched forward.
His silver aura (he never adjusted its color during our matches) traced an elegant arc through the air.
His swordplay was so fluid it drew gasps of admiration.
Clang! Clang-clang-clang! Clang!
Our blades collided, sending metallic reverberations across the courtyard.
“Ugh…”
A soft groan escaped my lips.
Since this expedition, Yuren hadn’t merely grown stronger in mana.
‘His swordsmanship has become sharper, more refined.’
In my past life, Yuren’s technique was unparalleled, but now he’d advanced several steps beyond even that—his skill had transcended what it once was.
‘And…’
I narrowed my eyes as I parried his relentless strikes.
I’d suspected it while watching him defeat the Guardians in the Ruins, but now, crossing blades directly, I could confirm it.
‘Yuren’s swordsmanship has fundamentally changed from my past life.’
More precisely, the form of the ‘Sun Sword’ he wielded was transforming.
Just as I had once wandered the Continent alone for millennia, reconstructing the Sun Sword to suit my own nature, Yuren was now adapting the Sun Sword that Reynald Helios had created to match his own essence.
‘He never did this before.’
Yuren had once replicated Reynald Helios’s swordsmanship with perfect fidelity, as though he were Reynald’s reincarnation.
Without the slightest deviation.
Without the faintest alteration.
As though compelled to do so.
He had mimicked the ‘Sun Swordsman’ itself.
But now.
‘He’s changed.’
Yuren no longer imitated Reynald.
Of course, given everything I had learned thus far, Reynald Helios’s shadow still lingered heavily over his blade.
But as time passed, that shadow grew fainter, and the sword was gradually becoming Yuren’s own—no, Yurina Helios’s sword.
‘If things continue this way… the eighth form of the Sun Swordsman might become something entirely different?’
Just as I had created the Ash-Fire Sword based on the Sun Swordsman technique.
It occurred to me that Yuren might be forging a swordsmanship all his own—something I had never witnessed before.
“…Heh.”
A soft chuckle escaped unbidden.
That electric thrill running down my spine—the kind you only feel when standing before a true genius—spread through me completely.
“Hm? What’s wrong, Dale?”
Yuren paused mid-duel, studying my reaction with his blade held steady.
I laughed lightly and shook my head as though it were nothing.
They say praise can make even whales dance, but excessive flattery can become poison instead.
‘Here, though.’
Yuren’s growth was remarkable enough to remind me why he was called a genius.
‘A bit more pressure would serve him better…!’
He still hadn’t closed the gap between us.
Clang! Clang!
“Kyaah…! D-Dale, you…! That’s dirty!”
Yuren’s eyes widened as I suddenly rushed forward, swinging my blade.
But his surprise was fleeting.
Yuren seemed to be enjoying the duel itself so much that he met my attack with a bright smile, his own sword flashing to counter.
“Phew.”
“Hah… hah….”
By the time Yuren and I were both drenched in sweat beneath the scorching summer sun.
“You two should take a break~.”
Iris arrived carrying two glasses of refreshing iced coffee with ice cubes floating on top.
“Ah, thanks Iris.”
“I’ll enjoy it.”
Yuren and I paused our duel and accepted the cold drinks gratefully.
“Here, dry yourselves with these towels.”
“…Iris.”
After the iced coffee, now dry towels as well.
The saint’s thoughtful consideration stirred emotions I couldn’t quite put into words.
“Hmph.”
For some reason, Yuren looked distinctly dissatisfied.
“Thanks.”
After wiping away the sweat, Yuren and I returned the towels to her.
“Berald should be coming down soon, so I’ll leave so as not to disturb your training….”
“Wait.”
Yuren caught Iris’s shoulder as she turned to head back toward the mansion.
Yuren’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the inner pocket of her priestess robes.
“Why did you keep only the towel Dale used to wipe his sweat in your inner pocket?”
“…Tch.”
In that instant, Iris’s gentle eyes twisted into something fierce.
But it was only momentary—Iris answered Yuren’s question with a bright smile.
“Well, Dale has rather strong body odor, so I thought I’d wash it separately.”
“If that’s the reason, I’ll wash it. It’s sweat from our sparring match, after all.”
“Oh my~ there’s no need for that. You’ve been so busy with your training lately, haven’t you?”
Both of them stood there grasping opposite ends of the towel that had dried my sweat, smiling brightly.
Their mouths were smiling, but their eyes held no warmth as the conversation continued.
“You’re not exactly idle yourself, Iris. I heard you’ve been training that ‘Seven Eyes’ separately recently?”
“Hehe. But that’s nothing compared to you, who moves your body directly.”
“No. These things aren’t always about what you can see with your eyes.”
“But you can’t pursue what you can’t see with your eyes, can you?”
Their gazes crossed.
“….”
“….”
After an awkward silence.
“Give it back! Hand it over!”
“Not until you tell me exactly what you’re going to use it for!”
Iris and Yuren bickered like children fighting over a toy, their voices rising.
“….”
I was lost in thought about how to break them up.
“Brother! Are you done training with Yuren?”
The mansion door swung open roughly as Berald stepped out into the courtyard.
“Ah, yes. Just taking a break.”
“Hehe. Then could you spar with me next?”
“Of course.”
Since I’d decided to focus on helping my companions grow during this break period, there was no reason to avoid sparring.
‘It’s not like it doesn’t help me either.’
As the old Republic saying goes: teaching and learning promote each other.
The experience I gained from sparring with Yuren, Berald, and Camilla was becoming excellent nourishment for my own growth.
Especially now, when I couldn’t perfectly control the power I’d recently acquired.
“Hehe! Excellent!”
Berald clenched his bandage-wrapped fists tightly and exhaled with vigor.
“Are you planning to keep wearing those filthy bandages?”
“Hehe. But this is the legacy my ancestor left for his descendants, isn’t it?”
Berald grinned and repeatedly clenched and unclenched his bandage-wrapped hands.
“And these actually have pretty good performance.”
“Performance? What do you mean?”
No matter how I looked at it, it was nothing more than a filthy scrap of cloth.
“Hmm… how should I put it… my fists feel a bit lighter? That’s the sensation I’m getting.”
“You’re probably just imagining things because it’s called the Legacy of Iron Fist.”
“Hehe. That could be it. But well, it doesn’t feel bad, so there’s no reason not to use it, right?”
“Fair enough.”
If he was satisfied with it, there was no reason for me to object.
“Alright then, let’s begin!”
Berald shouted as he drew up his mana.
I sheathed my sword and fastened it at my waist, then made a beckoning gesture with my hand.
“Let’s see if you can live up to that name as the successor of Iron Fist.”
“Ahahaha! Excellent!”
Berald let out a hearty laugh and planted his feet firmly.
A deep earthen aura blazed from both his fists.
Boom! Boom-crack! Rumble!
A thunderous sound that couldn’t be described as merely the collision of fists echoed across the wide courtyard.
‘Berald’s movements have improved significantly.’
Though it was unfortunate to lose such a powerful artifact, Berald’s personal growth had been nothing short of remarkable.
Whoosh! Huff!
Perhaps because I had heard Gilbert’s story.
As I watched Berald swing his fists ferociously, the image of Iron Fist Ryu Jinseong suddenly overlapped in my mind.
‘That was truly an extraordinary person.’
To think he fought the Demon God with nothing but fists wrapped in worn-out bandages.
I could now truly appreciate just how remarkable Iron Fist Ryu Jinseong had been.
‘Normally, at that level of power, a strong artifact becomes not a choice but a necessity.’
There’s a saying that a master craftsman doesn’t choose his tools, but that certainly didn’t apply to heroes.
The stronger a hero’s power became, the more a weapon capable of withstanding that power became essential.
‘Otherwise, just pouring mana into it would cause it to shatter repeatedly.’
Of course, it was possible to increase a weapon’s durability by channeling mana into it, but expending effort on that was wasteful.
It was obviously more efficient to simply use an iron sword rather than pour mana into a wooden branch to give it iron-like durability.
‘Well, in Iron Fist’s case, he fought with his fists rather than a sword.’
Still, considering that the Sun Swordsman Reynald Helios wielded a legendary sword called “Dawn” and the Spear Saint Baek Seung-hyuk used a powerful artifact called the “Dragon-Slaying Spear,” Iron Fist was certainly an exceptional existence.
‘Such weapons don’t suit me, he said….’
Recalling Iron Fist’s words, I smiled faintly.
‘He’s someone with much to teach.’
Though I didn’t agree with his philosophy, I could respect the conviction he held.
A hero who fought the Demon God trusting only in his own fists.
A being who could truly be called a ‘martial artist’ in the truest sense.
No matter how differently we thought, I couldn’t diminish such a great warrior.
“Huff, huff…!”
As the sparring continued, Berald’s breathing grew increasingly ragged.
“Shall we wrap this up?”
“No! I can still go on!”
Berald charged at me with those words, his fists clenched tight.
‘This guy’s persistence is absolutely ridiculous, I have to admit.’
I thought the title “Legacy of Iron Fist” suited him perfectly as I moved to intercept his punch.
A brilliant light erupted.
The stained bandages wrapped around his fist transformed into jet black, radiating luminescence.
“…Huh?”
Golden characters materialized across the obsidian bandages.
The text was written in the ancient language of the old Republic.
‘Heavenly Destruction Asura Fist Gauntlet…?’
What the hell was that?
A deafening explosion tore through the air.
Before my thoughts could fully form, Berald’s fist slammed into me, sending my body hurtling backward and obliterating the mansion’s stone wall.
“Cough, hack…!”
Blood spilled from my lips as I stared at the black gauntlet enveloping Berald’s fist.
“So… Iron Fist, you bastard…”
Did him saying such a weapon didn’t suit him mean what he possessed was far superior?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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