Virgin Knight Who Is the Frontier Lord in the Gender Switched World - Chapter 222

For some time now, I have been mercilessly toying with my opponent.

However, it’s unclear who is truly being cornered.

My hand chops, sharper than a clumsy sword, effortlessly overwhelm Faust’s fists.

Faust clenches his fists, gingerly protecting his right ring finger, broken along with the bone.

The sound of breathing.

A continuous, dragging sound, like someone heavily inhaling through their mouth.

Ah, there it is again.

Every time I hear the sound of his breath, I realize my attacks have been in vain.

That blow was meant to have enough force to shatter bone.

Yet Faust spreads his right hand wide, showing it works without any issues.

A blood-stained palm.

A blood-stained palm with no visible wound.

—Childish provocation.

Ah.

No, no.

I must not get carried away.

I need to devise a new strategy.

My skills are not sufficient.

It will only take one strike.

This enemy, Faust von Polydoro, must be defeated in a single blow.

It’s like I’m dealing with a creature from fantasy.

No, there are other ways.

I could tear off a leg.

Or an arm.

Or gouge out an eye.

I should inflict catastrophic damage to the fingers and toes—irreparable damage.

Once they’re lost, they can’t be replaced.

It’s not as if this creature can simply reattach a severed finger and heal.

Even a superhuman can only heal wounds and fractures, not regrow lost parts!

Although unarmed, Raikuya could easily sever steel with his bare hands.

But that armor…

That meticulously magic-etched armor, known in our empire as “Fluted Armor,” is a troublesome obstacle.

Even with penetrating force, delivering a fatal blow through that armor is difficult.

And there are several secret techniques…

To strike vital points—pressure points—and temporarily immobilize Faust is…

Normally possible with ordinary clothing, but difficult to pinpoint with that special armor.

From a distance, it’s almost certain to miss.

“——”

I lower my stance momentarily.

Calm down, Raikuya.

I tell myself inwardly.

My skills are lacking.

Why did it come to this?

It’s not because I was careless.

Nor because the enemy is too strong.

“The reason for all of this is that Raikuya is weak.”

I spat out those words, acknowledging my own weakness.

Was I envious of my opponent’s natural talent for just a moment?

Breaking bones, healing wounds—such things come easily to a superhuman.

The opponent is simply abnormally fast.

Know your shame, Raikuya!!

It’s all because my skills are inadequate.

That’s why I haven’t won yet.

That’s all there is to it.

I recall the paradox of the “Spear and Shield.”

A merchant was selling two items: “a spear that could pierce anything” and “a shield that could block any attack.”

Someone asked him…

If the two were to clash, which would prevail?

If one is true, the other must be a lie, and they cannot coexist.

That is the “paradox.”

—Now, is the man before me the ultimate shield?

No.

Faust von Polydoro is not the ultimate shield.

He is not an invincible defense that can deflect anything.

Therefore, if that’s the case…

The fact that I cannot defeat him means I am not the ultimate spear.

“Ah.”

No, that’s not right.

It cannot be so.

Raikuya must be the unrivaled, unparalleled, most powerful rogue.

As a child, I had a dream.

During tax collection, a small village was burned down.

In the fields scorched by the official army of the Feron Dynasty, a child harbored a small dream.

After losing his father, who was taken away, and his mother, who resisted and was killed, he was separated from his sister by death, and his younger sister died in front of him. He became a solitary figure with no one to rely on.

The dream of a child, not even ten years old, was to become the strongest.

Not for revenge against the Feron Dynasty.

Not to use superhuman powers to serve as an official and die a wasted life.

But to never cry again.

To never complain to anyone again.

Raikuya, who had become an apprentice to his master mother, wished to become the most powerful rogue.

Why did I even travel to this strange land in the West, where it’s unclear what is sacred and what is empire?

For one reason alone.

To transform myself into the ultimate spear.

So no, it’s different.

What I must now proclaim is not hatred towards Faust for his gifted talents.

“A good handicap.”

I must truly say this from the depths of my heart.

Raikuya must be this way.

I tap my bound silver hair with my finger.

Regain your focus.

Rethink your tactics.

“——”

Faust is clad in powerful armor.

His feet are shod in iron boots, his hands armored to the fingertips.

There’s only one thing—perhaps because of his role as a guard—that he dislikes: having his view obstructed.

He does not wear a helm.

I consider Faust’s weaknesses.

Though wounds heal, pain is clearly present.

Like any normal person, he has limits to joint mobility, and his bodily structure remains unchanged.

Though strong, his movements are sluggish compared to mine.

If I get in close, striking his pressure points with precision is possible.

His head is exposed.

Faust hasn’t yet had the chance to pick up a sword.

Good.

I can see a path to victory.

“I could even slay a dragon if I put my mind to it,” Raikuya muttered to herself.

Faust responded to that.

“A dragon… Are there any in Feron?”

There was a curious excitement in his tone. I gave him an answer.

“Unfortunately, none have been found, so I have yet to slay a dragon. What about you?”

“Unfortunately, there are no dragons in the West either. If there aren’t any in Feron, I guess they really don’t exist.”

Faust murmured with genuine disappointment, as if another childhood dream had been shattered. I thought to myself, What a strange man he is for a male.

“Would you have challenged a dragon if there were one? Like Saint Georgius, would you have attempted to slay it?”

“No, just seeing one would have been enough.”

Our conversation continued casually, each of us watching for an opening.

“I could boast to my subjects that I’ve seen a dragon,” Faust said with a laugh, reminiscent of the smile my mother gave me when I was a child.

A dragon…

“Unfortunately, they probably don’t exist. So, if you were to boast,” I prepared my stance. It was merely a feint, a gesture without meaning, adopting the Youshia Shindouri stance.

“You should boast that you’ve defeated the strongest woman in Feron,” I suggested.

“I will,” he agreed.

With a loud stomp, I kicked off the ground, lunging forward with various feints, but Faust didn’t flinch.

He remained still, though his eyes tracked my movements, reacting with just his pupils.

And that was all.

In close combat, I moved without a sound, leaping onto Faust’s body, tapping his abdomen lightly with the fingers of both hands.

I struck his pressure points with penetrating force, momentarily dulling the movement of his muscles. Of course, I didn’t expect this alone to suffice against Faust.

I kicked off the vulnerable Faust, using him as a stepping stone to ascend to shoulder height, where his face was unprotected.

Normally, I could crush an opponent’s skull and kill them—superhuman or not—if they suffered significant damage. That would end the fight.

But this method wouldn’t work on Faust.

So instead of kicking his head, I curled up and grabbed Faust’s neck with both hands.

This was it!

I delivered a powerful slap to his neck, trying to break it with all my might.

This should have been my moment of victory.

“I’ve been waiting for this.”

For what?

A barely audible chirp reached my ears, snake-like, with the hardness of oak.

I felt Faust’s hands on my stomach.

Creak.

The sound of Faust’s neck bones grinding was audible in my hands.

Ah, it’s no use.

I couldn’t kill him.

My movements continued, but a sweat of despair ran down my back.

Faust was indeed slower than me.

But he had trained like a madman, blindly and incessantly, using his healing ability to become the strongest shield—ensuring he could never be killed.

Surely, since childhood.

What kind of mad, foolish parent trained their child so relentlessly?

I realized that the wish of this man’s mother must have been that “her child should not die, no matter what.”

The thick muscles and bones of his neck were all I could strain against, even with all my might.

Faust’s neck would not break!

I couldn’t cut off his breathing!

The veins I held in my palm were thick, pumping blood.

It seems that Raikuya is indeed physically inferior to this man!!

“Here I go.”

Faust spoke, then swung me up with his snake-like hands, hard as oak.

Grabbing my abdomen with both hands, he arched his massive, muscled back, creating a spring.

Faust leaped.

I resisted, but in this situation, I could only focus on protecting myself.

I circulated qi throughout my body, assuming a defensive stance.

Light skills, inner skills, external skills—whatever I had at my disposal.

I knew what was coming.

At the apex of his jump, Faust used his entire body as a spring to slam me into the marble-hard floor.

It might be called a technique, but as far as I could tell, it was nothing more than a display of brute force.

The moment my body hit the floor, I felt an impact as if I were shattering like pottery.

I understood.

If I didn’t get up immediately, Faust’s iron boots would crush my face and break every bone.

But I couldn’t even manage to rise properly.

At this rate—I can’t win.