NoveLight ™
When was it, I wonder.
While I was on duty, a superior I'd known for nearly a decade asked me that. He wanted to know if I didn't get bored reading martial arts novels every day on duty.
They say birds of a feather flock together. Looking back now, we both must have been a bit eccentric.
Still, I thought I was better off than my superior. After all, I didn't just read martial arts novels; I enjoyed a bit of everything, from webcomics to romance novels. Meanwhile, he only focused on those first-generation cards as if he could never get enough. In his words, only the classics and maybe the second-generation stuff were worth anything.
Nevertheless, as my superior had pointed out, I did have a preference for the martial arts genre above others. And if I had to explain why…
Exhilarating. People often envy what they lack, and I admired those uninhibited, bold heroes in martial arts novels.
They don't worry. They just go straight ahead and do whatever they want. Instead of worrying about tomorrow, they live in the moment, facing each day without fear, without regret. Living every minute to the fullest, even if it means they'll face death without hesitation.
How bright and thrilling that life must be.
…But I couldn’t be like that.
I was always timid, lacking confidence, a life constantly battered and bruised by others.
How pitiful a life, swaying like a reed.
And so, I envied the lives of those martial arts heroes, the warriors living for righteousness in those novels. Their lives were free from trivial excuses.
Yes, it wasn’t the main character I admired. I longed for the life of the hero, an ideal that had always existed deep in my heart.
And so I would often murmur to myself.
If there were a next life, I wouldn’t live like I do now.
Well…
"Hmm, is assaulting a superior considered thrilling?"
At the end of his life, I wonder if he had, in his own way, achieved his ideal.
Now, he—Ihan, who had unknowingly reached the same age as his former self—marched forward, pondering.
Was he truly living as his past self had wished, following his heart?
"…Who cares."
But Ihan quickly dismissed this thought as useless. The mere act of contemplating it felt uncharacteristic of a hero. There was only one thing he needed to remember.
‘I will act as I believe is right, without needing the approval of others.’
In the end, there is no correct answer.
Who can predict what impact these actions will have, except for the gods? So, this is an act of pure self-satisfaction.
And responsibility lies solely with him.
Clank.
Ihan finally stopped.
It wasn’t because he intended to halt his advance. It was because he saw a wall before him, towering like a fortress, with an iron gate that seemed sturdier than the wall itself, making him wonder how to proceed.
He had two choices.
Scale the wall, or call out. But neither option appealed to him.
Provoking a noble family, after all—shouldn’t he go about it in a bolder way?
And so, he…
Step, step.
"Huh?" "Who’s that?"
"Stop right there and identify yourself. This is the Tristan estate."
The guards standing by the iron gate exuded a sharp aura as they issued their warning. As expected from a renowned family, even the guards were elite, their presence intense, ready to strike at any moment.
But still…
"W-weren't you told to stop?!"
Ihan did not stop and continued straight ahead. Like a runaway truck with no brakes.
As his pace quickened, and he began to run…
"Shoot! Intruder!!"
Clang, clang!!
The sound of bells echoed through the night, alerting the household as soldiers raised their bows. No hesitation in their aim.
Impressive. If they were under my command, I’d grant them leave as a reward. Unfortunately, he had nothing to give them at this moment, for now he was merely…
Thud! Thud!
"W-what the—arrows?!" "What… what is that?!"
…a mere intruder, ready to tear through them.
The arrows aimed directly at him were all deflected. Not because they hit armor.
No, the arrows bounced off due to the intense pressure generated as he sprinted forward with all his might.
He tore through the wind, and then…
Whoosh!
…he took flight.
“━!”
Soaring like a high jumper, he spanned five meters in a single bound, thrusting his fist toward the iron gate in front of him.
Not some sophisticated technique—just a straight punch filled with his full strength.
And that punch…
CRAAASH!!
…obliterated the iron gate made of solid metal.
KA-BOOM!
“….”
“Am I… dreaming?”
The guards, mid-attack, stopped in shock, their jaws dropping.
No…
How could the gate shatter from a mere punch?
“…Huh, guess the hinges were rusty. They should take better care of it.”
“…..”
“What?”
“Pfft…”
Ihan, shamelessly flexing his wrist, offered his advice, and the guard chuckled dryly.
A frontal assault. Ihan’s third option had certainly left a memorable impact.
The Marquis Tristan estate was vast.
Not just vast, but a jaw-dropping mansion with five separate farms around it, a spacious garden for horses to roam, and more.
It was practically a village of its own, housing over two thousand staff members.
And even more impressive was that this was a mere fraction of the Tristan family’s wealth and influence.
After all, the Tristan family operated several lucrative jewelry mines and trading companies. For them, managing a mansion of this size wasn’t even a splurge. Given their immense resources, the estate was as secure as a fortress.
A mansion resembling a fortress.
Dozens of elite soldiers were always on standby, patrolling the grounds in shifts. Archers lined the high walls, ever ready to shoot, and each entrance was fortified with dwarf-crafted iron doors.
Even if one were to overpower the soldiers, breaking through the front gate was considered impossible.
…Yet now, that notion had crumbled.
Thuuud…
The iron gate, pulled entirely from its hinges, lay in ruins.
The gathered soldiers, gradually illuminating the area with torches, took in the scene.
“What… what is this?!” “Is it a giant beast?” “Watch for ballistae! There might be one nearby!”
The soldiers, responding as expected, readied themselves. A ballista or some colossal creature must have torn through the gate.
Because, otherwise, there was no way the gate could have been breached.
They were reacting sensibly, not suspecting that a single man had done this.
But soon…
“…No, this isn’t right.”
“??”
They would come to learn who had committed this unimaginable act.
The intruder’s mumbling, although unintelligible, hinted at his dissatisfaction. Could he possibly be regretting his assault on the Marquis’s residence? If so, they would gladly accept it, perhaps even considering leniency…
“If you’re going to pick a fight, do it properly.”
“….”
Apparently not.
The guard, catching the intruder’s muttering, looked into his eyes. They were sharp, clear.
Flinch!
A sudden chill ran through the guard, a primal instinct urging him to flee.
Sure enough.
Crash!
“Move if you don’t want to die.”
“…..”
The soldiers stared, dumbfounded. The man lifted that colossal iron gate single-handedly!
One of the guards, recalling how over ten men were needed to install that gate just yesterday, turned pale.
More of them began questioning if this was all just a dream, but unfortunately, this was their reality.
"Hoo…"
Breathing in and out, Ihan gripped the gate, his body twisting slowly.
Swoosh!!
Lifting something this massive should have dislocated his shoulder or arm, but Ihan set aside the limitations of human anatomy, just for now.
He finally…
Whhhooosh!
…twisted his body, as if about to hurl the gate like a shot put, creating chaos all around.
“Aaargh!” “Run!!” “Grrr!”
At 2,550 kilograms—about 2.5 tons—the rotating gate alone was a threat and a force of destruction.
Though moving slowly, it generated violent air pressure, tearing through everything, and the soldiers, forgetting their duties, scrambled for their lives.
While Ihan’s power was terrifying, none wanted to meet their end as shredded meat caught in that spinning gate.
It was pandemonium, and soon a thirty-meter radius around Ihan had cleared.
Crack!
Gaining a sufficient running start, Ihan braced himself.
Grind, creak!
The cracking sounds emanating from his arms, shoulders, waist, and legs would have crushed him if not for the elixir he’d taken.
“Grrr!”
But Ihan endured it.
His newfound strength and deeper understanding of his aura granted him the might to hurl such a massive object.
Yet he had only one chance. There wouldn’t be a second attempt.
One wild, reckless act.
But one was enough; he gathered his strength, timed it, and calculated the distance perfectly.
“Raaagh!!”
With a guttural cry that was half resolve, half desperation, he hurled the gate.
Whoosh-!
It arced slowly.
Though it was thrown, spinning such a heavy mass was no easy feat.
But what mattered was that it was airborne.
A 2.5-ton chunk of metal was barreling toward its target.
Which meant…
KA-BOOOM!
…a disaster capable of collapsing buildings and shattering the ground was now descending.
Rumble!
The iron gate, launched by Ihan, struck the Marquis’s mansion dead on, shaking the earth.
“…Yes, that’s how you properly start a fight.”
If he’d just broken down the front gate and called it a day, where would the impact be?
Though Ihan now bled from his eyes, nose, and mouth—every pore spilling blood—he merely wiped the dust off his face with satisfaction.
It was a small(?) injury, insignificant next to such satisfying results.
CARALHO PAI, BRABAO!!!!!!