I Start with 13 Hidden Traits Chapter-301

Ch-301. **The Final Lesson**

—

Calling me a *“damn god”* the moment we met.

It seemed even Wilhelm was taken aback.

I let out a small chuckle.

“Wasn’t it a *dog*-like god?”

“…….”

As if struck right on the mark, Wilhelm didn’t answer.

A face utterly devoid of expression.

There *was* a change—one so minute you’d need a microscope to notice it.

Tremble.

The corner of his eye quivered ever so slightly.

But that was more than enough.

It was proof that Wilhelm—who never showed his emotions in front of others—was genuinely flustered.

Seeing Wilhelm shaken like that, I couldn’t understand why it made me so happy.

Besides, this was the first time the two of us had ever faced each other like this.

Either Wilhelm had been trapped, or I had been.

It was always one or the other.

A structure where communication was fundamentally impossible.

We had never even seen each other’s faces—let alone had a proper conversation.

Despite having been together for such an immeasurably long time.

*Shing.*

Lightly gripping my sword, I spoke.

“Well… it’s not like we’re in a position to chat about trivial things anyway.”

When had we ever truly exchanged words?

Never.

Not once from the very beginning.

And there wouldn’t be any such time in the future either.

Above all, there simply wasn’t enough time left to get to know each other.

《Remaining transformation time granted by the ‘Complete Golden Scale’: 7 minutes 32 seconds》

Less than eight minutes.

How much meaningful conversation could possibly fit into that?

Let alone resolving the long-buried, accumulated emotions between us—utterly impossible in such a short span.

So—

We began with swords, and we would end with swords.

For people like us, a single exchange of blades held more value than a thousand spoken words.

Wilhelm.

I have no doubt you think the same.

*Shing.*

Wilhelm, facing me head-on, raised his sword in response.

That was enough.

For our relationship.

“……The one who wins—will be the one who’s right.”

Let’s shake everything off.

You, me—everything.

And let’s find out.

Which of us is the more *dog-like* one.

*

*

 

Raiga stared at the scene unfolding before him as if bewitched.

The man who called himself the strongest in Pangaenia, known as the Empire’s greatest swordsman—

“…….”

Was now witnessing a battle that stood on a plane even higher than his own.

True, he had already acknowledged Wilhelm as *the strongest man*.

But not long after, yet another battle between the *strongest* had begun.

Wilhelm, who had reached the summit, clashed with Randolph, the Eternal God.

Their duel alone was enough to make even Raiga’s palms sweat.

“…This is ridiculous.”

Raiga could only find the situation absurd.

He had always been the one to lead, to take charge.

Never in his life had he stood by, holding his breath, watching someone else face a trial in his stead.

What’s more, Wilhelm—now standing at the summit—seemed several steps beyond the Wilhelm who had once fought Raiga.

That being the case—

Who, exactly, was this man called Randolph, capable of matching him?

“Randolph……”

No matter how much he thought about it, the name was unfamiliar.

With that level of strength, Raiga should have known him.

And yet—

What was clear was that the Tower of the Martial God had been altered because of this being called Randolph.

The mutated trials, the appearance of Baal.

The summoning of the Blade Dragon God, the Eternal Randolph who wielded the Ant King like his own body—all of it was surely connected to the Randolph standing there now.

At first, Raiga had thought of the vanished *Golden Goat*.

That mysterious figure who had risen to an executive position within the Reaper Cult in such a short time—he had suspected a deep connection between that being and Randolph.

“…No. He’s different. That wasn’t the Goat.”

He had crossed blades with the Goat once in the Empire.

The Randolph now swinging his sword at Wilhelm was completely different from that Goat.

Stronger beyond comparison—so different that comparison itself was meaningless.

Above all, the Goat was not a sinner.

Randolph, on the other hand, very likely was.

And more than that—

“Sir Wilhelm……!”

“Ah!”

Judging by the reactions of Isabella and the others, it was clear Randolph was not the Goat.

If he were, Isabella in particular would have been watching him with worried eyes.

But all their gazes were fixed firmly on Wilhelm.

Raiga turned his head once more, watching the clash between Wilhelm and Randolph.

And at the same time—

“…Was I the frog in the well?”

Clenching his fist with all his strength, Raiga bowed his head.

It was humiliating.

His face burned with shame.

So much so that he couldn’t lift it.

He had believed—confidently—that no one in the world was stronger than him.

And so he had devoted himself solely to abyssal exploration.

But it was a delusion.

Nothing more than foolish arrogance.

Unaware of how vast the world truly was, he had crowned himself king inside a well.

But a well was still just a well.

No different from choosing to stagnate.

*The world is vast. And the strong are many.*

Then—

*Thump. Thump.*

His heart began to pound wildly.

Watching the duel between Wilhelm and Randolph, a feeling long thought dead—his desire to compete—began to stir.

I want to reach it.

I want to win…!

To do that, he had to leave the well.

And the way out of the well was right before him.

A clash between two warriors who surpassed him.

To etch it fully into his eyes, to analyze and reconstruct it—

That was the rope dropped into the deep well.

He had to grasp it.

He had to take it in.

And to do so, he first had to acknowledge his own inadequacy.

Empty himself completely—then fill himself anew.

“…It feels like I’ve gone back to those days.”

He hadn’t felt such yearning in a very long time.

So long ago that the memories were hazy.

Back when he was chosen by the Fang lineage and first took up a sword.

He remembered feeling this way then.

That he wanted to learn.

That he never wanted to return to being a slave.

That with power, he would live a life of agency.

…And now?

Had he truly upheld that intention—his original resolve?

*Ssshh.*

Raiga gripped his sword.

Could he follow those two?

Could he reach their domain?

Raiga did not move a single inch.

Yet sweat poured down his entire body.

Simply watching and absorbing was already overwhelming.

He held his sword, but dared not swing it.

“……”

“……”

Raiga was not the only one feeling this way.

Everyone watching shared the same sentiment.

Just witnessing their duel made hearts race and sent shivers down spines.

At the same time, a chill crept down their backs.

—What if the tower collapses?

—What if Randolph becomes the enemy?

The mere thought was terrifying.

If Wilhelm failed, it would all be over.

No one would be able to stop that monster called Randolph.

And yet—Randolph was a *player*.

Even if the tower had warped his state, how could someone wield such transcendent power?

—What have we been doing all this time?

—Why am I so weak?

What’s more, Randolph’s time in the game was far shorter than that of most other players.

No matter how rare his information or how fortunate his circumstances, without effort beyond measure, he could never have reached this point.

Still, many held pessimistic views.

“It’s just… too different.”

“This isn’t about effort anymore. That’s just… another kind of being.”

“Then how did the Grand Expedition even fail?”

Faced with strength of an entirely different dimension, many simply gave up.

No matter how hard they tried, it felt unreachable.

A realm beyond the beyond.

Since they believed they could never reach it, they abandoned the attempt.

“We *can* reach it.”

Raiga dismissed their resignation.

His voice, riding on mana, echoed into the ears of hundreds of thousands.

With a hardened expression, Raiga continued.

“We *must* reach it.”

Earnestly.

With a desperation that cut to the bone.

…Only two words.

But that was enough.

No one failed to understand what Raiga meant.

The realm of the sword that Wilhelm and Randolph were exchanging.

Their duel was presenting a possibility.

It was showing that there was a higher sky.

If they grew complacent in the present and failed to strive harder, the world—humanity itself—would perish.

So they had to reach it.

If they couldn’t, destruction was inevitable anyway.

That was when—

“What—what is that *sword*…?”

The sword summoned by Randolph.

A blade so enormous it seemed capable of swallowing the world swung toward Wilhelm.

Carrying with it absolute *death*.

The moment the Supreme Sword reached Wilhelm—

*KWA—AAAAAANG!!*

A colossal explosion erupted, shaking the entire tower.

*Ruuuumble—!*

Even the place where they stood rocked violently, unable to keep balance.

And yet—

Whether lying flat on the ground, or clinging to others—

No one could tear their eyes away from the broadcasted screen.

And soon, as the smoke cleared—

“Ah……!”

An unbelievable sight met their eyes.

Wilhelm was gripping that godlike sword with his bare hands.

And then came Wilhelm’s counterstroke—

“…?”

“……Huh?”

In that instant, the people were thrown into confusion.

The broadcast abruptly cut out.

“Of all times—now?!”

“What’s happening?!”

No matter how they checked, the screen no longer transmitted anything.

As everyone exchanged bewildered looks—

There was one man whose expression alone had frozen.

A man trembling as he recalled the last sword Wilhelm had swung.

Raiga.

In a low voice, barely a whisper, he muttered—

“That one…… is unreachable.”

…That final *sword* was something he could never reach.

*

*

“Messy.”

That was the first thing Wilhelm said after exchanging a few blows.

Messy.

My sword.

My technique.

No—he wasn’t limiting it to the sword.

Wilhelm was speaking about *me* as a whole.

About my very identity.

At this moment, I was messier than ever.

My branches were spreading in every direction, unrefined, chaotic.

Climbing the tower, meeting the Gods of Omen and Ash had only made it worse.

That was why he said it.

Messy.

This messy—unforgivable.

“Merge it into one. Are you doing it on purpose?”

The words scratched at my nerves in an oddly irritating way.

But I couldn’t understand what he meant by *merge it into one*.

Not pruning the scattered branches—but merging them?

Seeing my confusion, Wilhelm let out a small chuckle.

“Or is it that you *can’t*? O *dog*-like god.”

…This bastard.

He emphasized *dog*, clearly mocking me.

Mocking?

No.

He was definitely mocking me.

Scolding me for being a god who couldn’t even do that.

And yet—

I couldn’t refute him.

Wilhelm.

He was right.

I had become so messy that I no longer knew what to grasp, what to wield, or how to move forward.

Swinging my sword in the Swamp of Consciousness only made it clearer.

At this rate, I would never reach Wilhelm—this damn bastard.

But before I knew it, I had become utterly captivated by the path of the sword he was leading.

And through his sword, he was speaking to me.

Teaching me.

Things I had never seen.

Things I had never understood.

In a single sentence—

“Keep up. It’s about to get much harder.”

This—

Was Wilhelm’s final lesson to me.

 

 

 

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