7 Curb Stomp

As the two walked away, I was left with a presumably asleep 'trainer'.

From my experience, people who laze around in nature are the dregs of society. 'I'm appreciating nature' is something you'll hear from a spoiled brat who's never seen hardship.

Go to a poorer country, one with tougher, smarter people. Will you see them trying to 'appreciate nature'? No.

Those people know that you'll be eaten alive and killed if you idle around in the wilderness - others do not, since they've lived in little palaces their whole life.

It's the most accurate representation of Protestants I can think of. Just look at Anglos, especially Americans.

I'll wake him up. No use in letting him hold me up for longer than necessary.

"I'm awake. Don't worry… This place just reminds me of home."

So he's a nature-lazer and a reminiscer? Those are the two worst traits to give someone; they synergize, creating a being of sloth.

Of course the first Protestant I meet is the embodiment of sin. There's a certain theory I've had ever since I read about the Protestant Reformation in my father's books, a theory that Martin Luther was an advocate of Satan, one trying to spread the Mark of the Beast amongst the people of Christendom for the Day of Wrath. It appears that it was true.

Looking at this, it's obvious that the Demons of Hell are hungry for more sinners to delight in, despite the fact that they've gathered billions already throughout the history of mankind. At least I can take solace in knowing Martin Luther is already with them.

Anyway, fishing for information is productive enough in the midst of this time wasting.

"Where's your home?"

"A farm in the north of Italy."

Strange.

"How are you not Catholic then?"

He glanced up at me. "I wonder the same thing every day."

I wonder what that means. The way he said it has a feeling that he means something other than 'I don't know'.

"Want to start, or is it okay if I stay like this for a few more minutes? This dirt is especially fertile. It's like a pillow."

"No. We can start."

"Fine. Now then," he jumped up, "you're Ioann, our newest recruit, right?"

"Obviously."

"Yes, well, we're supposed to say stuff like that in supernatural society. It's rude not to hide the fact that you already know everything about somebody else through alternative channels. Anyway, you have great potential as an asset for the Church; I'm supposed to determine whether or not that potential will be limited to just your ability or extended to you as a person."

Of course I'm a potential valuable asset. I've been given power by God himself. How many can say the same?

But I can't be sure of whether or not he knows that, so what happens if his idiocy prevails over common sense?

"So, I'll just be thrown out if I'm judged to be inadequate?"

He snorted. "No. Your Gear hasn't been seen for a few centuries yet is still recorded as one of the most powerful for the needs of the Church. Even if you have no value as a person, your ability will carry the weight. We just need to know your value."

"And when was it last seen?"

"Sometime during the Crusades. Let me check my notes." He knelt down and picked up a roll of papers, tied together with a rubber band. "These are just copies, don't worry," he said, opening them. "I'm not dirtying the original texts."

Copies of church records from hundreds of years ago? The 'original texts' would have to be something like that; he wouldn't have access to them otherwise.

Maybe records of more things copied down by English monks.

"Hmm, let's see… Name: Heretical Crusader. Ability: Holy Energy Absorption. How scary," he said, smiling to himself. "Appearance: Gloves with ornate designs. History: Has only been recorded once, during the Crusades against the Muhammadans. Formerly possessed by a Germanic Crusader named… never mind, it's redacted. Any other information is irrelevant or classified… good enough for you?"

I'm… not sure what to think of such a name. One one hand, it has the word 'Heretical'; on the other, it has the word 'Crusader'.

I suppose that its origins and name doesn't matter. What does matter is what I do with it, that being stamping out my own ability's alleged namesake: heresy.

It sounds like a peculiar modernization anyway. Crusaders were called crucesignati back then, crucesignatus in singular form.

"No, it's not good enough. There were dozens of Crusades. It doesn't say anything about when it last was."

"Doesn't matter." He rolled the paper back up and threw it to the ground. "Don't pull out the ability just yet. We need to test your ordinary combat skills. Come at me."

He wants me to beat him up? No buildup or anything? 'Come at me' isn't enough to signal a fight. There should be something more dramatic.

"First, what's your name?"

"My name is Vasco." He seemed to preen at the statement, proudly pushing out his muscular chest and flipping back his blond hair with his hand. "Vasco Strada. Now come fight me."

What a strange little man.

But fine. I'm a little bigger than him anyway; surprisingly, he almost reaches my height.

Unfortunately for me, I'm not good at fighting under such circumstances. Russian streetfights consist of a random nimrod, thinking he's tough, deciding to start a fight to entertain himself; I never have to get close myself. My lumbering build makes me slow when not already in someone's face.

I'll just turn it into a wrestling match by tackling him. He can't be much stronger than me, even if he is a supposed combat instructor; my unique biology made my muscles develop much more than they should've, despite me not being a farmer or metalworker.

With these thoughts in mind, I ran at him.

Only to get flipped onto my back before I could even blink.

"I won't try as hard as I can - that won't accomplish what we want with this - but at least be a little creative."

The back of my head landed on a rock. Fuck. Ouch. Thankfully, it wasn't particularly sharp, but it's agonizing to try and even think now.

I slowly rose and began revising my strategy to get close up.

He's extremely quick… so I have to… counter that speed? Render it irrelevant? It still wouldn't change the fact that he's also strong enough to shove me over without even trying.

I'm not meant to win here. It's apparently a test, so I just need to show off some ingenuity and strength to pass. I'll have to put aside my aspirations of humiliating a Protestant for another day.

Throw dirt in his eyes? He'd see it coming. Throw dirt in his eyes as a feint and then throw something else or just charge him? Wouldn't work.

I'm not good at brawling.

"...Looks like I had unrealistic expectations. Maybe this can help."

He sprinted over to the main building, grabbed something off the ground, and ran back. All within the span of ten seconds. That house, which kind of looks like a plantation slaver's, is nearly a hundred meters away.

I can't do anything, I suppose. Just look at that speed. The rope he grabbed and threw at my feet isn't going to do anything meaningful either.

I can only futilely try to win, so I will. I'll suffer any humiliation for the prospect of exterminating enemies of God.

My dream is to mock sinners from behind Heaven's gates during Judgement Day, as I will inevitably become a Saint as a reward for my contributions to Satan's suffering.

I grabbed the rope and tied it around my right wrist, grabbing the other end with my left. Looking down at the ground, I saw the rock I'd fallen onto before and dug it out with my bare hands, finding that it was about half the size of a football.

I securely tied the other end of the rope around it, making sure it was firm and taut.

That left the rope at a meter or two in length, allowing a comfortable swinging distance between my and my tormenter.

'And the Philistine said to David, Come to me, and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field. Then said David to the Philistine, Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied. This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand; and I will smite thee, and take thine head from thee; and I will give the carcases of the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to the wild beasts of the earth; that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth not with sword and spear: for the battle is the Lord's, and he will give you into our hands.

'And it came to pass, when the Philistine arose, and came, and drew nigh to meet David, that David hastened, and ran toward the army to meet the Philistine. And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth. So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and with a stone, and smote the Philistine, and slew him.'

Samuel, chapter seventeen, verses forty-four through fifty.

Upon regaining my senses - as my skull is throbbing less than before, and the feeling of my brain bleeding has disappeared - I notice that this is quite the David versus Goliath situation. Except that the David of this situation - me - is taller than Goliath, if only by a few centimeters.

I swung the rope around my head and began cautiously walking towards him, making sure my makeshift weapon was gaining enough momentum. Upon reaching an appropriate attacking distance, I swung at Vasco.

I should've known that something was off about how he was smiling throughout that entire time.

His palm lightly smacked the rock away as soon as it came close, but, despite his apparent lack of effort, it sent the rock back to me with stronger force than that which I swung it with. I was promptly hit in the forearm with my own weapon.

I think I heard a crack. Thankfully, adrenaline is still flowing because of my former injuries and inner panicking beforehand; it doesn't hurt much now, but it will later.

"Pretty clever. I wouldn't have thought of that… mostly because I wouldn't have needed to, but still. You saw the fact that you couldn't get close to me without getting demolished, so you created a weapon that allowed you to fight without getting close to me, basically invalidating my advantages. When I saw you wrap the rope around your hand, I thought that you were going to charge me and then try to trip me using it, or maybe try tying up my hand, but this was much better. You pass."

That was the worst test I've ever seen in my life, and my supposed examiner is an incompetent monkey who judges someone fit to battle Devils after a single move.

Martin Luther truly was trying to sabotage humanity's acceptance into Heaven, and it seems his ideological follower has adopted the same thought process.

As if he read my mind, he shrugged. "It was a genuinely good move; most fighters without supernatural strength couldn't have done anything. Also, I've never done something like this before. I only joined the Church a few years ago."

"And how old are you now?"

"I'm nineteen."

…Yet he hits like a train and can crack rocks with a casual push? He only joined the 'world of the supernatural' a few years ago?

Well, my sense of strength is disproportionate and still based upon human standards, not supernatural ones. Maybe I'll also be able to sprint across an entire field in four seconds soon enough. Breaking rocks without even trying sounds nice.

"Alright, time for the Sacred Gear version of the test. Pull them out."

"...How?"

He raised his hand to speak, then faltered and put it down. "I don't know."

Well, what's your use then? Aren't you supposed to train me in the future as well?

Everyone I've ever met is so incompetent. Is this what it feels like to be an intellectual genius, so far above everyone else that they feel dumb?

I get what those philosophers mean now. It really is lonely at the top.

"Hmm… yours is a fighting type, I think, so… try visualizing something you really want to fight and kill. I heard strategies like that are effective for combat-oriented Gears."

Well, I'm literally looking at someone I 'really want to fight and kill', but they're not appearing.

I imagined a woman with brown hair, a polite guise, and haughty eyes.

An Eve who wishes to sabotage humanity by trying to get rid of its Chosen One.

Instantly, they appeared.

"That was fast. Oooh… interesting." His eyes gleamed with excitement on seeing my gift. "'Heretical Crusader'... I wonder if it'll work on me."

What does he mean 'work on him'? Doesn't it supposedly absorb 'Holy Energy'? And what even is Holy Energy?

I clenched my fist to get a better feel for the material, feeling that it was extremely comfortable while simultaneously being a perfect fit, but there was another feeling on doing so.

A feeling of oppression. The gloves' design lit up slightly, apparently signifying that they're 'active', and it let me peer into what felt like a fourth dimension.

It was overwhelming.

The very air around me was supercharged with an apparent golden glow, but the greatest source of all came from the man in front of me.

If just existing in the world around me was like standing in an oven, being near him felt like I was putting my hand a few centimeters from a bonfire.

I'll be honest. I panicked at the sudden assault on my senses, apparently setting off alarm bells in my head, which therefore triggered the gloves in a similar fashion to that time when I had a little amber jewel thrown to me. The slight yellow glow in the patterns changed to a bright gold, so blinding that it was hard to think.

This 'activation' apparently absorbed what I presume to be the 'Holy Energy' in the air so quickly that it went from blisteringly hot to freezing cold in a sixty meter radius around me - at least in that sixth sense I had received.

"Fuck."

That was the only word I heard from Vasco before the gloves erupted again, this time having such an impact that I wasn't even left conscious afterwards.

Either my ability is too strong, or I'm just ridiculously unlucky. [1] Is fate constructed to be as destructive for me as possible?

This is the second time, after all.

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[1] I assure you that it's the latter. The ability is strong, but it's not a wish fulfillment MC's cheat kind of strong. This stuff will be explained in maybe the next chapter.

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Yes, I know that the fight scene at the beginning was the most pathetic thing anyone's ever read; that's the point of it. MC never stood a chance, even when Vasco wasn't trying at all.

Imagine a fight between a toddler and a bodybuilder… does it sound thrilling? No? Exactly. It's meant to show that no matter how much he calls them filthy heretics or no matter how many Bible verses he throws around, MC will get ragdolled by anything especially stronger than him if he can't fight back or be clever.

And yes, it's Vasco Strada from canon DxD. He's young right now.

Also, MC's ability was revealed. Kind of. There's not any details about it yet, so while it probably looks overpowered, just keep in mind that its past two appearances have been its first two times being actually activated (when a Sacred Gear is most unstable) and have been under the most unlucky circumstances possible. Its limits and actual power will be revealed soon enough, so don't assume that it's a disgustingly overpowered ability just yet.

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