Chapter 373: How Much Stamina Does He Have?!
The moment Luca’s words settled in the air, one of the centaurs finally snapped.
"God damn it!" She muttered, stepping forward with a sword already in her hand.
"I really didn’t want to do this. But since you’re the one insisting, Hero...then there’s no need for me to hold back anymore."
Another centaur followed close behind, her expression pained.
"I’ll simply apologize to my ancestors later for what I’m about to do today. I’ll offer double the usual prayers."
She closed her eyes briefly, as though already composing the words of penance she would speak.
"Perhaps they’ll find it in their hearts to forgive me."
A third joined them, her voice firm despite the reluctance in her eyes.
"Protecting Sigrid is more important than our pride right now. That’s just how it is."
All three of these figures were older centaurs, who had watched Sigrid grow from a foal into the commander she was today.
They had trained her her, fought beside her, and seen her rise through the ranks. The thought of watching her lose this bet, of seeing her dignity trampled by a human sitting triumphantly on her back, was something they simply could not accept.
So they stepped forward.
Seeing that even the veterans were committing to this course of action, the other centaurs exchanged uneasy glances. Then, one by one, they nodded.
"It is what it is." One said, gripping her sword tightly. "We can’t do anything about it now. Let’s just get this over with!"
"We’re already in too deep to back out." Another added.
Sigrid watched her sisters-in-arms prepare to gang up on Luca, and a pang of guilt shot through her chest.
"Wait!" She called out, her voice strained. "This is—this is blatant bullying. We can’t just—"
But before she could finish, Thea appeared at her side, placing a calming hand on her shoulder.
"There’s nothing we can do about it now, Sigrid." Her voice was quiet, resigned. "The bet has been made. The queen has given her orders. We either follow through...or we watch you get humiliated."
Sigrid wanted to argue. Every fiber of her being screamed that this was wrong, that they were sinking far below the standards their ancestors had set.
But as she looked at the determined faces of her comrades, she realized that they were doing this for her. And that made it somehow worse.
—
The centaur who spoke first lunged forward, her blade singing through the air.
CLANG!
Sparks scattered like dying stars every time their swords connected, a rapid percussion of steel against steel that echoed across the highlands.
"Even though I know I cannot defeat you, Hero." She said through gritted teeth, a fierce smile playing at her lips. "I can certainly stall you!"
"Every second I last drains you further! Every exchange brings you closer to exhaustion!"
Luca brushed aside her attack with the same casual ease he had shown from the very beginning.
"Go ahead, then." His voice was light, almost bored. "We shall see how long you last."
The answer, as it turned out, was not very long at all.
She tried to press forward and force him to expend more energy.
But Luca would not permit even that small victory.
His blade flashed, and suddenly the cold steel was resting against her throat.
"...I yield." She admitted, the words bitter on her tongue.
But she had barely stepped back before another centaur surged in to replace her.
"Not so fast, Hero!" This one aimed lower, targeting his waist, thinking she had found a weak point. "I’m much stronger than her!"
"Hey!" The retreating centaur called back, clearly annoyed.
Luca merely smirked. "I wonder about that."
Three exchanges later, the boasting centaur found herself disarmed and staring at the point of his blade.
"Apparently not strong enough." Luca observed.
She retreated with a frustrated growl, and the next challenger immediately took her place.
Before another centaur stepped forward. Then another. And another. And another.
—
The battle quickly became a blur of clashing steel and grunting effort. Centaur after centaur threw themselves at Luca, each one determined to wear him down.
Some came with battle cries, hoping intimidation would give them an edge.
"You think you can face the entire brigade, Hero?" One shouted as she swung. "Your arrogance will be your downfall!"
"Let’s see how long that mortal body lasts against real knights!" Another bellowed.
"Even without your powers, you still act like you’re above us!" A third growled, her blade flashing. "We’ll teach you humility today!"
—
Others announced their techniques with pride, as if hoping the names alone would be enough to unsettle him.
"Gale Fang Sword Style!" One declared, her blade whistling through the air.
"Stormbreaker Technique!" Another bellowed, her hooves pounding the earth as she charged.
"Shadow Serpent Method! You’ll never predict where my blade is coming from!"
Luca parried every single one.
—
Some of the centaurs, however, proved far more cunning than their louder companions.
Rather than announcing their intentions with grand declarations, they studied his movements in silence, searching for patterns.
They chose angles of attack specifically designed to force him into awkward positions—angles that would require him to twist his body, extend his arms, use more strength than a simple deflection would demand.
They were playing the long game, trying to drain his stamina drop by precious drop.
But no matter how clever their approach—nothing worked.
Luca would glance at them, calculate their movement in an instant, and strike at the perfect angle to send their swords flying.
He even called out their weaknesses as he fought, listing them aloud like a teacher correcting students.
"Your stance is too wide. You’re overcompensating for your lack of reach."
"You’re basically telling me your strikes. I can see your shoulder moving before you even swing."
"Your grip is too tight. You’re sacrificing speed for power, and it’s costing you control."
Each critique made the centaurs more frustrated, but also more determined.
They adjusted. They adapted. They tried new angles, new rhythms, new tricks.
But nothing worked.
Luca remained an immovable rock, planted in the same spot he had chosen at the very beginning.
He didn’t retreat. He didn’t advance. He simply stood there, redirecting their attacks with an almost lazy ease, as if he were swatting flies.
---
From her perch on Thea’s back, Poppy bounced with barely contained excitement.
Her voice rang out across the field, mixing genuine encouragement with playful jabs.
"That’s it! Keep at it! Wear him down!" She pumped her fist in the air.
"You can do it! Show that human what centaur pride looks like!"
"Watch his left blade—no, his other left blade! The one he’s—oh, never mind, you already lost it."
"You’re doing wonderfully! Well, not wonderfully, but you’re certainly doing something! "
Some of the centaurs appreciated the morale boost. Others wished their queen would be a little more...dignified about the whole situation.
But no one had the energy to argue with her.
—
The most shameful moment came when Luca actually paused for water.
Since both his hands were occupied with blade-arms, he had to bite down on the bottle and tilt his head back to drink all the while not stopping and continuing to push them back one by one.
"Godammit I’ve never felt so useless in my life!"
"He’s not even asking for a proper break!"
"Just where exactly did the Goddess find just a overpowered Hero?!"
Nonetheless, the battle continued.
One rotation became two. Two became three. The same centaurs who had faced him earlier found themselves cycling back to the front lines, their bodies still aching from their previous defeats.
Time blurred into an endless rhythm of clash, retreat, repeat.
Until finally—two hours had passed since the battle began.
—
By any reasonable expectation, Luca should have collapsed long ago.
Forty centaurs, attacking in endless rotation, giving him no quarter, no rest, no mercy—it should have been impossible. He should have been on the ground, gasping for breath, finally brought low by the sheer accumulated weight of their assault.
But the scene before them told a very different story.
Yes, Luca was sweating. His clothes clung to his body, completely drenched. His hair was plastered against his forehead in dark strands.
His breathing also came heavier now, his chest rising and falling with visible effort.
The signs of exhaustion were there, undeniable and real.
But those eyes...
Those dark eyes still burned with the same unwavering vigor.
That infuriating smirk still played at the corner of his mouth.
And despite everything was still standing in the exact same spot he had occupied from the very beginning!
He had not retreated a single step. He had not surrendered a single inch of ground.
The same could not be said for the centaurs surrounding him.
They were scattered across the field in various states of collapse, their bodies betraying them in ways both large and small.
Some had simply given up on standing entirely and lay sprawled on their backs, chests heaving as they stared up at the sky with glassy eyes.
Others sat hunched forward, elbows on their knees, heads hanging low as they struggled to catch their breath.
A few were rubbing their ankles and applying ointment to joints that ached from repeated impacts, their bodies pushed far beyond their normal limits.
And Luca? Luca was merely sweating. Breathing a bit heavily. And that was all.
"Monster." One whispered between ragged gasps. "The Hero is an absolute monster! There’s no other word for it. He’s not human—he can’t be human!"
"How the hell is he still going?! What kind of stamina does he possess?!" Another centaur threw her hands up in utter disbelief.
"Are we absolutely certain those Human Goddesses actually stripped his powers? Because this—this—is completely ridiculous!"
A third centaur, who had been watching Luca with sharp eyes throughout the entire ordeal, shook her head slowly.
"The Hero has no reason to lie to us about something like that. He told us his powers were removed, and I believe him."
Her voice dropped, tinged with something that sounded almost like fear.
"Which means everything we’re witnessing right now...this is simply what he’s capable of as a mortal."
"Even without his godly powers...even as a mortal...he could take on an entire army by himself."
"Now, imagine what he must be like when he’s at full power."
A shiver ran through every centaur gathered in the arena.
They had always known Luca was powerful, but witnessing this overwhelming display firsthand made that knowledge feel insignificant.
For the first time, they found themselves feeling genuine pity for the human forces opposing him.
—
But even though most of the centaurs had given in to their exhaustion, the battle was not yet over.
There was still one warrior who, despite everything, refused to stay down.
Sigrid.