Reading Memories

[‘Sigh, so boring.’]

Though facing the training field, Elia’s mind had wandered off to some distant galaxy.

Unlike the audience, once Charlie rejected her buffs, she lost all interest in the outcome.

She hadn’t bothered gauging Charlie’s strength—he was fodder to her, like everyone else.

As for that bastard Hero, by reputation, he was maybe two or three times Charlie’s level. Beating a puny Charlie? Child’s play.

So she was already plotting the next way to humiliate Luke.

But after a while, the nonstop cheers dragged her back to reality. Glancing at the field, her heart bloomed with joy.

[‘Hahaha! Who knew you were such a weakling Hero? Dumb Charlie… No, Big Brother Charlie, go! Crush him!’]

In the arena, Charlie wielded his greatsword with effortless grace, repelling Luke’s assaults one after another.

Luke, facing Charlie’s attacks, could only dodge desperately. His rare blocks sent him flying backward.

Clearly, Luke was on the back foot.

[‘Impressive indeed.’]

Messiah, a middling nation at best, was riddled with corrupt, heartless nobles and officials.

Rebellions erupted constantly; a quarter of its territory had once fallen to rebels.

Yet the kingdom endured, rebels reduced to scraps, unable to stir waves… All thanks to one man holding back the tide.

From his debut, others labeled Charlie brutal, mad, a battle maniac—his demeanor seemed to fit.

But as stated before, Luke’s SS-tier mind-reading wasn’t shallow.

It wasn’t just reading thoughts. “Mind-reading” was a shorthand; people think with their brains, so it read active cognition.

Luke’s went deeper: thoughts, memories, traces—he accessed them all. Less “mind-reading,” more “intelligence extraction”—skipping the hassle of turning bodies into books.

When doubting someone’s thoughts, he could lock on and trace memories for more intel. After scanning a dozen people, Charlie’s truth surfaced.

Efficient and impartial, treating nobles, commoners, and slaves equally.

Defiers of law and justice faced his fists—regardless of rank or jurisdiction.

How had this thorn survived the nobles? Like Ming Dynasty general Sun Chuanting: offending the emperor got him jailed, not killed.

Charlie irked many, but he was loyal and patriotic.

In rebellions—suicide missions for most—sending him guaranteed victory.

Of course, problems arose: he’d execute leaders but spare masses, then loot local elites, framing them as ringleaders, striking first and reporting later.

Eventually, the king confined him to the palace (Saintess’s plea spared prison), unleashing the “mad dog” only when needed. Outwardly, they hyped his cruelty to curb his growing fame and prevent coups.

To Luke, the king overthought it. Charlie never plotted betrayal—or blind loyalty.

“Hero Luke, is that all you’ve got?” Charlie roared, sending Luke flying again. “With this level, you think you can take Her Highness away?”

Charlie’s uprightness and justice weren’t fake.

Precisely because he possessed them, he saw how irredeemable the kingdom was.

Thus, he spared coerced rebels, mercilessly slaying vile officials. He hadn’t rebelled because hope remained.

Saintess Elia. He believed this beautiful, kind-hearted Saintess could reform the nation—that with her, all would improve.

[‘This scummy pinkette is pure poison, bewitching everyone around her.’]

Even desensitized, Luke couldn’t help mentally griping.

In Messiah’s hearts, she rivaled the Goddess.

Her current chibi, hopping outside, wishing for bloodier carnage—Luke wished Charlie and the rest could hear it, to rethink their judgment.

“Don’t worry. Time to get serious.”

From memory traces, Charlie had long suspected Luke was holding back.

He’d proposed the duel to gauge Luke’s character through style and details.

Common among elite warriors—like the southern sword saint Luke met, who “knew men through steel.” Charlie’s prowess matched that saint’s—top-tier in strong nations—yet Messiah wasted him as a mere vice-captain.

To earn Charlie’s respect, Luke needed a fair, convincing win—crushing him in his proudest domain. After probes, Luke admitted: without mid-tier magic, a frontal win would be tough.

Mid-tier unrestricted? Simple: Charlie’s magic was weak—low-tier body enhancements only. Against that, using mid-tier felt unfair.

Necessary? He respected Charlie, but ordinarily. This was excessive—like deliberate recruitment.

Exactly his goal.

Glancing at the pinkette outside, Luke’s lips curved. His hoped-for minion, swayed by the enemy, singing praises… What face would she make seeing that beautiful sight? Just imagining it filled Luke with anticipation.

He charged again, unleashing a flurry—then got repelled.

But Charlie slowed, eyes widening in surprise: “This is… my technique?”