Chapter 101 - [Hard Swing: Perpetual]

Perpetual (pərˈpɛtʃuəl)

adjective

1. Never-ending; continuous: Something that operates without interruption or cessation.

Example: The machine's perpetual motion defied the laws of physics.

2. Self-sustaining; infinite in duration: A state of constant activity or existence that requires no external input to persist.

Example: The flame was fueled by perpetual energy, never diminishing.

3. Unyielding and relentless in action or effect: Ceaseless in application or impact, often overwhelming in nature.

Example: The perpetual strikes of the knight's blade made escape impossible for his foes.

Philosophical and symbolic meaning: A representation of infinite potential, unstoppable force, or unending resolve.

Example: Perpetual determination drove the knight to overcome insurmountable odds.

Synonyms: Eternal, ceaseless, unending, uninterrupted....

.... infinite.

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Van grunted, his chest heaving as he glared at Kota, who lay amidst the rubble. Kota's expression twisted into a knowing smirk.

'Fuck... I can't even keep a poker face—no, a poker body,' Van thought bitterly. His breaths were uneven, ragged. Melted skin stuck painfully to the inside of his scorched armor, every movement sending fresh waves of agony through his body. He leaned heavily on his greatsword for support, his muscles screaming in protest.

[...I smell some shit all the way over here.] Kota voiced calmly, rising from the debris with ease. He dusted off Unicus's seamless armor, his cracked mana shield still faintly glowing, protecting him.

[That last attack hurt you more than it hurt me, didn't it, Hellix?] His voice was steady, almost conversational. [To the point where you can't even control your bodily functions. What a laughable side effect.]

Standing tall, Kota adjusted an energy mask over his nose, as though shielding himself from an unbearable stench.

[A side effect so flawed that it completely negates the benefits. Which were... what, exactly? Giving me a momentary scare?] His brow arched slightly as he approached Van, his tone almost curious.

Van's gaze darkened behind his helmet. 'He's right. I can barely move. That attack drained everything... It's taking all I have just to keep from collapsing.' His legs trembled, his battered form on the verge of giving out.

'Goddamnit... GODDAMNIT…!' His thoughts screamed.

[I bet you can barely move your arms, let alone your body.] Kota's voice cut through the silence with a calm, cutting edge.

Van didn't flinch—not because he wasn't fazed, but because his body ached too much to react. His legs quaked beneath him, barely holding him upright.

[And the best part?] Kota stopped just a step away, his voice lowering into a near whisper. [I know you could destroy me with one more hit like that...] He leaned in, his tone dropping further, laced with quiet malice.

[...But are you certain it will kill me?]

[CAN YOU RISK IT?] Kota's words carried a quiet venom, laden with confidence as though victory was already his.

[What if you miss? What if your arms burst open on the spot? What if I have a skill that triggers when I'm low on health?] He began to circle Van, his movements deliberate, his eyes scrutinizing every tremble, every sign of weakness.

[From the way you're struggling to stay upright, it's obvious. You just discovered this power, didn't you? You don't even know its limits.]

Van's teeth clenched audibly, a low growl escaping him as Kota's words coiled around his mind like a snake.

----- SOMEWHERE, ARATAXIA -----------

[Haaah... He gave me a scare. But such a result was expected. Don't you agree, Dauz?] Varolia said, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and boredom as she leaned back on her ornate throne. A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

|Yes, My Goddess. He was efficient in Hellix's downfall.| Dauz murmured, his tone steady, though his gaze faltered as he knelt before her. His voice trailed off as he spoke about Kota.

[Oh, it was far from efficient,] she sneered suddenly, her amused smirk twisting into one of disdain. Her gaze darkened as it lingered on the orb floating beside her, which displayed Kota's battle that she deemed already over.

[It was crude, stalling. He gave Hellix far too many opportunities. Slow.] Her words dripped with disgust as she waved her hand dismissively, turning off the orb's display.

[What I meant was, someone as lowly as Hellix doesn't need someone efficient to stop him,] she added coldly, her expression hardening.

|...Of course, My Goddess,| Dauz replied, keeping his head down before her. He hesitated briefly before asking, |Are you not going to see it through?|

[Hmph,] Varolia scoffed, rolling her eyes as if the question itself annoyed her. [There's no need. Defect or not, Kota is someone I molded into a proxy. He will finish the job.]

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. [Hellix is as good as dead. Once he dies in that cave, the Dark Soul passive will force him to respawn at a safe place. And a safe place is far away from there. That will buy Kota more than enough time to hunt down and slaughter his little party.] 

[Once that's done, he'll target Van's other party. And when Hellix returns, he'll find nothing but their corpses. When despair finally consumes him… I'll deliver the final blow through his precious Demon Lord.] Her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, her tone turning almost sweet.

[By then, he'll realize he has no home, no allies left to return to. If I'm lucky, he might even take his own life.]

|...Understood, My Goddess,| 

---------- BACK AT THE CAVE ---------------

[I'll let you choose,] Kota said, finally circling back to stand before Van.

[Either you give up now, or keep fighting… and I'll pummel you to death. If you give up, I'll let you see them one last time before I kill them. Your… party members.]

'Soon,' Kota thought, a glint of determination in his narrowed eyes, 'Soon, I'll be yours, Varolia. As you promised. Only I deserve to stand beside you.' The thought swelled his ego, reducing Van to nothing more than an obstacle, a stepping stone toward the Goddess's favor.

[I'd also like you to hurry with your decision,] Kota added, his tone sharpening like a blade. [Because I wasn't kidding—every second I stand here, my urge to hate you grows stronger. And it's getting harder to hold back.] He crossed his arms, glaring down at Van.

"...How long… until… you burn them…?" Van rasped, cutting through Kota's taunts. His voice was hoarse and strained, as if even speaking was an act of defiance.

[Hm,] Kota hummed, cocking his head slightly as he opened his status window. [Eight more minutes. Don't tell me you think you can do something to me in that time…?] His voice carried a note of incredulity, as though the idea itself amused him.

"...Can you…" Van swallowed hard, choking slightly as his parched throat fought against him. "Tell me… why… you're doing this…?" The words came out broken, but they were deliberate.

[Haaaah,] Kota sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as if the question itself was beneath him. With an air of exasperation, he stepped back and sprawled casually on the ground, resting his arms on his knees.

[Fine. I did say eight minutes. I guess I can spare some time. Consider it a form of respect from one Transmigrator to another,] He leaned back slightly. [The Goddess gave me a test. She needs me to kill you. If I manage that, she'll—]

Kota began explaining, his voice steady and controlled, as if recounting a task he was born to complete.

But Van didn't listen.

'I can't move… Not a finger, not a toe…' Van thought, scanning his battered body with what little focus he could muster. 'I could push myself for one last swing, maybe kill him...'

His gaze flicked toward Kota, sprawled so arrogantly, so sure of his victory.

'But no. He's sitting there because he knows. He knows I'm not in any condition to do anything. If I swing, it won't go the way I want. He has another trick up his sleeve, for sure.'

Van's body ached, his breaths shallow, but his mind churned. 'The only thing I can do now… is think.'

Kota's voice droned on in the background, [... I honestly hated my own mother back in our world. You know how that place is. Even more full of shit than you are right now.] He said with a scoff, [The Goddess, though—she was like the mother I never had. When she opened that portal, I didn't hesitate for a second…]

Van shut his eyes, tuning out Kota's words, forcing himself to block out the pain. Steam rose from the sweat trickling down his forehead, evaporating instantly as it hit the scalding metal of his armor. The stench inside—burnt flesh, charred fabric, and the unmistakable shame of soiling himself—was unbearable. Yet he didn't move, didn't falter. He let himself vomit where he stood, bile and blood dripping through the gaps in his helmet, pooling at his feet. His focus remained unshaken.

'Think.... Just.... think.'

Instinctively, Van replayed the fight in his mind. Kota's overwhelming flames. His new skill, [Hard Swing: Overdrive]. The sheer force of it had nearly torn him apart, overswinging far beyond what his body could sustain.

That was the essence of Hard Swing—it let him swing whatever was in his hands really hard.

But what was a swing?

Van focused on the question before. The memory of his attacks lingered. A swing could be anything, couldn't it? It didn't need to be a wide, sweeping arc. A swing could be as small as a pulse, a ripple, even on an atomic scale—as long as his hands moved something.

Stuff.

His fingers twitched.

Van froze. He hadn't noticed it before, but there it was—movement. Every time he moved, even without his sword, his hands still held stuff.

His armor—black-metal plating that also covered his palms.

Every piece of his dwarven armor started with his hands. His arms were covered. His chest. His legs. Everything was connected. His armor wasn't just protection—it was stuff that rested in his hands.

Just like a sword.

So… didn't that mean…

'…that all of my armor could be moved with Hard Swing? That… I don't even need to use my muscles as long as I can trigger the skill? And since there's no cooldown, or even a duration specification...'

Van's eyes widened, the weight of the realization freezing him in place.

'...It can be perpetually active, letting me move without me moving...!!!'

Somewhere, just beyond his awareness, a message flickered into existence:

[̸̮̼̐͂̄∞̶̧̨̛̳̀̾̔]̵̨͔̜͒.̸̦͚̺͆.̷̣̬̠̏̔̅̚.̶̦̪͍̮̍̀͐T̷̠͖̲͆̂͑ḧ̶̬̲́̃͊̒e̶̟̞͑ ̴̭͎̰̒̕Ȇ̸̪n̴͙̾͜l̵̟͍̘̤̕i̸̢͙̼̎̍͜g̸̨̯̗̑ͅh̴̨͕̭͔̑̊t̷͚͕̻͓̑̒͑͋͑ȩ̸́͆́͝ń̷̡̢̢̼̓̆ę̷̯̲͚͔͐̒͝d̴̞͙̊̂ ̷̡͛͌O̸n̵̨̒e̸̖̓̐̑̈́ ̸̬̔̆̔̚̚t̸̨̢̺̬̥̐̈a̷̖̘̜̲͋̌̎͘͜͠k̷̨̼̱̈͆ê̵̠̞̫̰͖͂͠s̷̱͓͖̈́ ̴̡͉̻̂̄̓̏n̷̛̗̞̱̹̬͝o̸͇͎͚̗̐̅̌t̷̨̲͔͈̀͛̕ḭ̴̱̹͍̩͌͝c̷͔̖̀̃̐̓è̸̹̠͜ ̴̧̳̀o̴̡̼̍̽̈́͘f̵̝͓̦̈́ ̶̦̠̱͛ŷ̷̞̍̊̐̕ő̴̞̣̳̍̍̒u̴̧͆̑̆́͝.̶̠̀̀[̷̧̧͉̆͌͝∞̶̫̽̈́]̴̢͙̫͙̍̈́́̚͘ 

The armor shifted.

'All I have to do is will it…!! After all, I don't have to say a skill's name aloud to activate it…!!'

His whole body could move.

His whole body could swing.

He'd never tried it before, but he knew. It had to work.

No…

...it will work.

And so, every twitch in his body triggered a [Hard Swing], the armor propelling his movements in one direction and creating momentum for the next [Hard Swing] to activate. Thousands upon thousands of [Hard Swing]s fired with each near-infinitesimal motion, a cascade of micro-swings chaining seamlessly with every twitch, every subtle shift in stance. Each tiny movement carried him forward—a relentless, perpetual force forged from a skill once deemed useless.

And thus, a new skill was born.

[...So that's why I have to kill you. Don't take it personally—]

"[HARD SWING]!!!" Van growled, his voice cutting through the cavern like a blade. His entire body glowed with the radiant aura of the skill.

[W-what the...!?] Kota stumbled back, his composure cracking as Van tore his sword free from the ground.

"[...PERPETUAL...!!!]" Van roared, his voice filled with determination.

The black-metal dwarven armor moved with him—no, it moved because of him. Every piece of his body was in constant motion, guided by the useless skill he had once dismissed. He no longer needed his muscles to move.

[Hard Swing: Perpetual.]

Van advanced, his greatsword aimed directly at Kota.

"Round… 3… fucker…!" Van growled, his voice low and strained, but unwavering.

[...So, you've chosen death.] Kota grimaced, his calm expression faltering into a snarl.

[I offered you a way out, and you chose defiance. Fine. I'll enjoy breaking you.] He stepped back, raising his arms dramatically.

"[Come forth, CLONES!]" he roared, and in an instant, 10 clones materialized around Van, encircling him.

As one, the clones chanted, "[Demon Speed.]" Their movements became a blur, the air around them rippling with the sheer velocity of their activation.

Kota's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Van. 'His body's glowing… just like his sword did when he activated that useless skill… Tsk. Whatever. I don't need to figure it out as long as I kill him,' he thought. With a sharp shout, he ordered, [ATTACK!]

Two clones rushed at Van simultaneously—one from behind, one from the front—moving too fast for him to evade. One aimed a fist for his head, the other for his back. There was no time, no room to counter. No escape.

Kota hadn't used his sword. He wanted to hurt Van.

'He either makes that explosion swing again or accepts his demise…!! It's over!!' Kota thought with a sneer.

But before the clones could land their blows, in a flash, Van was gone, the air exploding in his wake.

A deafening sonic boom erupted, the sheer force of it sending the two attacking clones hurtling backward. The pressure wave staggered the rest, and Kota instinctively raised his arm to shield himself from the shock.

Van reappeared outside the circle of clones, his glowing body steady as he stood, his helmet tilted slightly toward Kota.

'…What the fuck did he just do now?' Kota's mind raced as he locked eyes on Van.

Van's arm rose slowly to his face, the movement guided by the perpetual force of [Hard Swing].

'I see,' Van thought, his gaze unyielding as he tested his newfound realization. 'I can use [Hard Swing] to apply force in the opposite direction, halting my motion instantly.'

He turned his head toward the real Kota, singling him out easily from his clones; his eyes burning with determination beneath the helmet. 'Indeed, I'm slower than him, but before he could land a hit, I amplified the force of [Hard Swing] on my armor, propelling me faster than his clones.'

Van shifted his stance, his sword gleaming as his glowing figure radiated unrelenting defiance.

'I can do this.' Van resolved.