Chapter 12

How stupid. ‘Rounds’. I retain memories of my ‘rounds’.

To survive, I need to be strong.

So why haven’t I done this already?

Because I needed to be insane.

Insane to think of my own life as a tool.

I was so uselessly naïve.

So ignorant.

The ugliness of this world, the ugliness of humanity.

The cruelty of it.

The painful deaths I have. They are daily occurrences.

For a moment I even thought, good, suffer more. Feel what I feel.

Perhaps that was what shook me back to what little sanity I have left.

Although I am no longer the old Kannon, I am not crazy, or mad.

It doesn’t have much effect if I say it but, I think I am much more dangerous the way I am now than ever before.

Because I’ll do anything.

For now I just wait.

When I became old enough, I started to train my swordsmanship.

I did so madly.

Even when my hands were bloodied, I continued.

When the maids stopped me, I continued secretly.

I swung my sword over and over.

A single movement, on and on.

When the crimson-eyed assassin came, I simply let him.

The next round. I swing my sword again.

Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again….

When a mage sends summoned creatures after me, I let him.

I grinned like a madman as the beasts ate me alive.

I truly became mad, but not insane.

The next round, I lift up the sword. And swing it once again.

How many rounds did I do this I wonder?

I stopped counting.

I think I obtained some sort of mental resistance against pain.

The deaths don’t hurt as much as they did. Or am I simply getting used to it?

When I no longer gained anything from swinging the sword, I changed to the spear.

Stabbing it, using it as a pole, using the length of the spear properly, cutting with the spear, piercing with the spear, throwing the spear.

Like the sword, the spear had many options.

When I could no longer learn with the spear, I changed to blades. Daggers, knives, everything.

I mastered it, quicker than the sword as well as the spear.

So the next rounds, I trained the bow.

Then the shield.

Then, I began my countless rounds of combining them.

How many litres of blood did I lose? How much time did I spend?

I do not know. Perhaps the old man does.

But I don’t ask.

Because of all this, many already assumed I was the Saint. My siblings acknowledged this. The protection I received increased exponentially, after all, the excess security which was placed on my siblings were transferred to me.

But so did the hostile forces. They targeted me specifically now.

However, I don’t care. All I must do for this round is practice.

Once I was finally done, I moved to training secondary weapons. Staff, scythe, chain, thread and so on.

This is, using my own life as a tool.