Chapter 172
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 172
It wasn't just the heads of the various families who were dazed by the deafening cheers.
In truth, the knights who had intended to challenge Felicia felt the greatest pressure from this roar of acclaim.
Until now, Felicia had been nothing more than a greenhorn to them—merely the disciple and adopted daughter of the Sword Saint.
A woman who had never properly demonstrated her skills in public, yet claimed the title of the next Sword Saint solely by virtue of her connection to the man himself.
That was what they had believed, but what was the meaning of this roar that bordered on worship?
It was then, as the challengers hesitated at the unexpected reaction of the crowd, that a sharp sound rang out.
Thrum—!
“...!”
A ripple echoed throughout the entire arena, spreading in all directions and swallowing the cheers whole.
Startled by the sudden phenomenon, the crowd fell silent all at once.
A beat later, the challengers realized with horror that the source of the ripple was Felicia.
Did she just cause this vibration by tapping her scabbard against the floor?
They wouldn't have been as shocked if she had leveled the castle with a single blow.
If one possessed a mindless amount of mana, increasing destructive power was something anyone could do.
But to propagate a vibration that lacked destructive force—one that merely made the body hum—this far?
It was a feat impossible unless one’s control of mana had reached the realm of the gods.
In the middle of the now-silent arena, Felicia spoke.
“My name is Felicia Brightner. Daughter of the former Sword Saint, Eisen Brightner, and the Sword Saint of the present age.”
The challengers bristled at her arrogant introduction.
No one had acknowledged her as the Sword Saint yet, and here she was, already claiming the title for herself.
The word 'How dare you' rose to their throats, but that was as far as it went.
No matter how hard they tried to spit the words out, they remained stuck, as if lodged in their windpipes.
It was as if their very bodies acknowledged that she had the right to say it.
“Come.”
As if further words were unnecessary, Felicia beckoned the challengers with a flick of her hand.
At that attitude—one that didn't harbor a shred of doubt that she was the Sword Saint—one of the challengers grit his teeth and shouted.
“Aserad Tolgrim of the Tolgrim family requests a duel with Sir Felicia!”
The order of challenges had been announced in advance, but that no longer mattered.
Those who were supposed to challenge her before Aserad were currently frozen by Felicia’s spirit.
Rather than watching the entire group of challengers be suppressed by Felicia alone, Aserad felt he had to step forward himself.
“...”
Felicia stared at Aserad silently without a word.
Her gaze seemed to interrogate him, asking why he was standing still after announcing his name.
Aserad leaped onto the arena and drew his sword.
“You draw yours as well!”
“I already have.”
“What nonsense are you—!”
Aserad, about to hurl an insult, froze.
Felicia truly had her sword drawn.
Seeing the blade shimmering with the unique luster of Fairy Light, Aserad swallowed hard.
When on earth did she draw it?
The sword had definitely been in its scabbard until the moment Aserad leaped onto the arena.
Since then, he hadn't seen her arm twitch, let alone any sign of her unsheathing the weapon.
...Don't be deceived. It's just a cheap trick.
Drawing a sword quickly was no proof of superior swordsmanship.
If he kept his head and observed his opponent properly, an opening would surely appear.
Aserad tried to suppress his wavering heart with that thought.
The problem was that no matter how many times he looked, he couldn't see a single opening.
No matter how he envisioned thrusting his sword, he only saw a future where he was blocked and struck by a counterattack.
Dammit, I feel like I'm standing before my childhood sword master. To hell with openings, should I just attack first?
“...”
Felicia watched Aserad, who stood frozen with his sword raised.
She was in a posture that seemed to be waiting for the challenger to attack.
However, when Aserad showed no sign of charging even after some time had passed, a sigh escaped Felicia’s lips.
“Enough. Step down.”
“What?”
“It is over.”
“Look here! What do you think you're doing?! I haven't even swung my sword once!”
“I have.”
“...?”
“Touch your neck.”
Aserad frowned and felt his neck.
He flinched as he felt something lukewarm.
When he pulled his hand away, he saw red blood trickling between his fingers.
When did she—!
Aserad’s eyes widened in shock.
The neck was a vital point among vital points.
Even a slight penetration of the blade could rupture an artery, making it a part of the body where holding back was almost impossible.
And yet, from this distance, while delivering an invisible strike, she had only grazed the skin of his neck.
It was a feat more nonsensical than striking a finger with a hammer and only breaking the tip of the nail.
“Step down. Your trial is over.”
At Felicia’s undeniable words, Aserad hung his head low.
At the hollow conclusion of the first challenger, the remaining challengers clenched their palms, which were damp with tension.
What they saw varied depending on their skill, but their impression was exactly the same.
I can't see an opening.
If even a sliver of an opening were visible, they could at least think of an approach, but even that was absent.
At this rate, they too would be unsightly defeated and chased out of the arena.
But the match, which had already begun, did not give them time to find an opening.
“Next.”
At Felicia’s calmly echoing voice, the challengers closed their eyes tight.
“Step down.”
The seventh challenger descended from the arena with slumped shoulders.
The challenger had changed seven times, but there was no significant difference.
Like Aserad, the first challenger, they all just dragged their feet before having their necks slightly grazed and being sent down.
For the spectating nobles, it was a frustrating sight.
If they drew their swords, they should at least swing them; what on earth were they doing?
In particular, the heads of the families to which the challengers belonged felt more than just frustration—they felt shame.
What a disgrace! To act like that with so many people watching...!
They shouldn't have challenged her at all. What kind of unsightly display is this after stepping forward so confidently?
I was a fool to trust them. Just wait until we get back to the family estate.
The family heads grit their teeth at the challengers' pathetic performance, but the challengers had their own excuses.
They could only swing their swords if they saw an opening, so what were they supposed to do when they saw nothing?
Attacking blindly would only result in a more unsightly display than losing while standing still.
It was because they had the minimum level of skill to perceive the gap between themselves and their opponent that they could at least choose the option of not moving.
Of course, there was no way the family heads, who were not facing Felicia directly, could understand the challengers' feelings.
It was then that the eighth challenger stepped onto the arena.
“Biserk Elster of the Elster family requests a duel with Sir Felicia.”
“...Ho.”
Upon seeing the challenger, Felicia let out a small exclamation and shifted her stance.
The spectators murmured in surprise at Felicia’s first change in movement.
“The King’s Great Warrior changed her stance...!”
“She never did that even when facing numerous warriors!”
“Is that knight going to show us something?”
The spectators' eyes focused on the challenger.
However, contrary to expectations, the challenger hesitated and failed to move properly this time as well.
Felicia, too, unleashed her sword as soon as a certain amount of time had passed, just like before.
Clang—!
“Ugh!”
A groan escaped the challenger, Biserk’s, mouth.
As he took a step back from the stinging impact felt in his hand, he saw his broken blade flying off into the distance.
Though the process was slightly different, the result was not much different from the previous challengers.
“Step down.”
“...Before that, I have one question.”
“What is it?”
“Why did you only break my sword?”
Biserk was confused.
A sword was the symbol of a knight.
Deliberately targeting and breaking only the sword could be interpreted as an insult.
“Was it an important sword?”
“It was not. I am simply curious about the meaning behind this.”
“There is no particular meaning. I simply didn't think I could target your neck, so I targeted your sword instead.”
“What?”
“If I aimed for your neck and you dodged in an odd direction, wouldn't things get complicated?”
“...!”
The act of targeting only the outer skin of the neck carried the risk of killing the opponent if even the slightest thing went wrong.
In other words, it was a feat possible only when the gap in skill was astronomical.
To put it another way, it was also a feat difficult to attempt against an opponent with a certain level of skill.
Unless they saw it perfectly and dodged, there was a risk of killing them if the blade bit deep while they dodged clumsily.
Felicia had just acknowledged Biserk as such a 'competent expert.'
So she's saying I'm much better than those who challenged her before.
It was an evaluation that some might take as an insult, but Biserk felt joy instead.
It was an attack that others couldn't even properly react to.
Yet, she had changed her method of attack, saying that Biserk had the potential to react.
As a knight, how could he not be happy that the Sword Saint of the age had acknowledged his skill?
Biserk suppressed his rising smile and bowed to Felicia.
“Thank you for the explanation.”
After finishing his words and descending from the arena, Biserk suddenly felt gazes piercing him from all sides.
Turning his head, he saw eyes filled with the envy and jealousy of the other challengers.
Those who had challenged her first were jealous that he had been evaluated as better than them, and those who had yet to challenge her were afraid of whether they could even receive such an evaluation.
Before he knew it, Biserk had become the benchmark for distinguishing between the rabble and those with a minimum level of skill.
Walking proudly among the challengers with a sense of pride, Biserk soon realized something.
...Wait, the Sword Saint’s acknowledgment? Did I just consider myself to have received the Sword Saint’s acknowledgment?
Thinking about it, it was strange.
This contest itself was to determine the next generation's Sword Saint.
Until just a few minutes ago, he had been filled with the ambition to drag her down and take the seat of the Sword Saint for himself.
Yet, before even ten challengers had been faced, the challengers, including Biserk, were acknowledging her as the Sword Saint of the age.
Biserk, realizing that his perception had changed without him even knowing it, gave a bitter smile.
I think I finally understand a little bit of what the position of Sword Saint entails.
One doesn't need the acknowledgment of others to become the Sword Saint.
One simply needs to make it so that no one can deny them calling themselves the Sword Saint.
Biserk, realizing anew the weight of the name Sword Saint, looked back at Felicia and muttered.
“It is far too distant for me.”
“Hmph, I thought they were finally going to show us something proper.”
“I don't know what on earth they're doing.”
When even Biserk failed to show any significant activity, sighs escaped the family heads' mouths.
At this rate, forget the position of Sword Saint; the entire North was going to be disgraced.
At the very least, shouldn't one person show the spirit of charging in with the resolve to die?
“I'm afraid the mourners from outside will look down on the North.”
“Sometimes, one must charge even knowing they are no match.”
“Honestly, the youth these days...!”
Lucian chuckled at the sound of the family heads clicking their tongues.
They wouldn't be much different if they stood before Felicia, yet they were all talk.
Well, it's not good to keep showing them being defeated in a single blow. One or two experts who can actually clash swords with Felicia should show up.
No matter how great the skill displayed, it was meaningless if people lacked the capacity to properly perceive that skill.
It was better to have at least one expert who could provide some flashy spectacle.
It was just as Lucian was scanning the challengers for such an expert.
“Y-Your Highness. We have a problem. You must come at once.”
Raymond, who had quietly approached his side, grabbed Lucian while dripping with cold sweat.
He was so flustered that Raymond’s hands were as damp as if they had been dipped in water.
“What is it? Has an enemy attacked?”
“It's worse than that. His Highness the First Prince is currently in the White Castle’s dungeon.”
“...What?”
At the news that far exceeded his expectations, Lucian blinked with a dazed expression.