Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: The Fight Club
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The city of the Rana Guild.
In the city's underbelly, a fight club was thriving as it never had before.
A rumor is like a horse without legs. No matter how hard one tries to hide them, secret stories are bound to leak out. That agents of the great nobles participating in the ‘Black Market’ were gathering one by one in the Guild City, and that a power struggle was brewing to establish a pecking order before the market opened.
There was no better place for it than an underground arena with no rules.
The denizens of the Guild City, aware of this, also flocked there for the rare spectacle.
An arena for the strong, where mere mercenaries and third-rate thieves dared not tread. From the agents of great nobles to ambitious fighters seeking to prove their worth against them.
The back alleys of Rana’s city.
On the surface, it appeared to be a shabby slum, but a large cavern was carved out beneath it.
It was an underground tunnel built during the Unification War of the past, now expanded and renovated several times to become the ‘underground colosseum,’ a symbol of the Rana Guild's dark side.
Dale, too, was in that darkness.
“I’m here to register for the fight club.”
“...!”
At Dale's words, the man at the reception desk let out a quiet gasp. The eyes of the surrounding mercenaries and thieves turned toward them.
“Pal, do you know what that means these days?” the man asked cautiously, his concern belying his rough appearance.
“I am well aware.”
Dale nodded with a smile.
“Th-then, don't tell me…”
Seeing his composure, which lacked any hint of hesitation or doubt, the receptionist had a premonition. As a man of the underworld, his intuition was screaming at him. This man was one of the powerful fighters they had been eagerly awaiting.
“A-alright. Please sign the registration form here. As for the fee…”
The underground arena hosted several types of matches.
Among them, Dale's goal was the ‘Victor's Match,’ where he could test his skills against the powerful figures of the Black Market.
In a way, this was the real game of the fight club…
“Before the main event, I’d like to warm up a little.”
“I understand.”
Furthermore, there was the Winning Streak Match, where after a fight, the loser would leave the ring, and the winner would continue to take on the next challenger.
It would be a light diversion before the real competition.
Besides, there was no better place than the fight club to fatten one’s purse. Separate from the Sachsen family funds, he couldn't pass up the chance to line his own pockets.
With that thought, Dale crossed the underground cavern of the back alleys.
He took the back route for fight club participants, separate from the one used by spectators, volunteering himself as a gladiator who would risk his life in a bloody battle in the arena.
* * *
Dale’s turn came sooner than expected.
This was because most of the participants waiting ahead of him had forfeited their matches and fled.
‘What’s going on?’
Puzzled, Dale glanced at the arena from the waiting room. A moment later, he caught his breath. Blood, guts, and chunks of human flesh were strewn about chaotically. It was so gruesome it felt more like a slaughterhouse than an arena.
The reality of the underground fighting pit, where even the act of taking an opponent's life was done without hesitation.
Amidst the carnage, the victor theatrically raised both his arms. He was a heavily armored knight clad in black plate.
‘Black armor?’
A deafening roar erupted from the crowd.
The ecstasy of blood, a festival of madness. The golden empire where even human death becomes entertainment. This was the true face of the Guild City.
“Woooooah!”
“Butcher! Butcher!”
The man went by the name ‘Butcher.’
In his hand, he held a greatsword that looked similar to those of House Sachsen. And the flow of aura around his body was by no means that of a third-rate knight. It was refined, comparable to that of a knight who had received formal training.
Moreover, it looked incredibly familiar.
“Who on earth will be the one to stop the Butcher’s undefeated streak!”
“That’s nine wins already! He’s on the verge of his tenth!”
“Ah, what a shame. It seems everyone’s too busy running away after seeing that display!”
“The Butcher’s celebrations have always been notoriously brutal!”
“It looks like winning his tenth match by default isn’t out of the question!”
From a distance, the amplified voices of the commentators echoed.
“Y-you want me to fight that monster? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
The last person waiting in front of Dale bolted. A thousand gold coins are worthless when your life is on the line.
“Oh, my! Another loser turns tail and runs!”
“Booooo!”
“That leaves only one challenger! Does he have the guts to challenge the Butcher?”
“Well, judging by his suspicious-looking robe, he might not be an ordinary fighter!”
Finally, Dale’s turn arrived. Without a shred of hesitation, he walked toward the arena.
In the fight club, in the underground arena, ‘any means necessary to win’ are permitted.
There were only two exceptions: a mage could not use their ‘World of Ideation,’ and a knight could not use their ‘Avatar.’
The former was because it would ruin the ‘spectacle,’ and the latter was because the damage would be uncontrollable. In the first place, if fighters of that caliber were to clash with all their might, the safety of the audience could not be guaranteed.
This very rule was why Dale was confident of his victory in the fight club.
There were bound to be knights among the agents of the great nobles who had reached the level of Avatar. Even Dale couldn't guarantee a 100% victory against an Avatar user yet.
But under the restriction of ‘no World of Ideation and no Avatar,’ it was a different story.
Even if his opponent were an ‘Aura Master’ knight, the current Dale was confident he would not lose.
Against that Butcher, who hadn't even reached the level of Avatar, it was a foregone conclusion for the one with the Hero's Sword and the Fourth Circle.
The eldest son of the ducal house stepped into the arena where lives were on the line.
If his mother, Elena, found out, she would surely faint. Dale thought with a bitter smile.
“Hoh.”
In front of Dale, the Butcher readjusted his grip on his greatsword.
‘Just as I thought.’
Dale's suspicion was correct.
The black armor, its affiliation painted over, and more importantly, the shape of that greatsword… although it had been modified in various ways, he couldn't mistake its foundation.
It was the greatsword bestowed upon the Night Raven Knights of House Sachsen, specifically to those of Aura Knight rank and above.
A Zweihänder.
“Why is a Night Raven Knight, who should be loyal to House Sachsen, in a place like this?”
“...!”
Dale’s question made the Butcher’s expression flicker with unease for a moment.
“D-don’t tell me…”
As he faltered, a black aura coiled around his greatsword. The Black Sword of Sachsen, the jet-black Aura Blade that was the symbol of a Night Raven Knight.
“Woooooah!”
The moment the aura appeared, another roar erupted from the crowd.
“And there it is! The Butcher has finally drawn his Aura Blade!”
“The man in the robe… uh, what should we call him?”
“Well, maybe we should worry about whether the fight will end before we can even name him!”
“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
“Please win! I bet my entire fortune on your tenth victory!”
Cries of madness echoed from all corners.
“...You should pray the river is warm.”
Dale replied, and the Butcher charged. The Black Sword of Sachsen swung. And in a place with not even a breeze, Dale drew the knight’s sword hanging diagonally at his waist. It was a draw so swift it was unbelievable for a mage.
Clang!
The sword, wreathed in an Aura Blade, was blocked cold.
“W-what just happened?!”
“The man in the robe just blocked the Butcher’s Aura Blade with a mere steel sword!”
“I can’t believe my eyes!”
When an ordinary steel sword clashes with an Aura Blade, even if it doesn't break on the first strike, it's inevitable that the sword itself will suffer critical damage. Yet, after meeting the Butcher’s black sword, Dale’s blade still gleamed with a sharp, blue edge.
There wasn't a single scratch on the blade.
The ideation now projected onto Dale’s knightly sword was something far beyond mere aura.
—The result of a mage’s absurd idea to project his ideation onto his own weapon.
The Hero’s Sword from his past life, Peacemaker.
An act of linking his past self with his present self, using the projection of his old, beloved sword as a medium.
And now, Dale possessed more than just the martial prowess of a hero. Four circles began to rotate around his heart. Dark azure magic swirled like a vortex, and his shadow cloak began to exult.
After a single clash, the Butcher retreated as if fleeing. Seeing this, Dale spoke.
“I’ll ask again, oath-breaking knight.”
“D-don't tell me you’re…”
“Why have you forsaken your oath to Sachsen?”
He couldn't know why the man had left House Sachsen to be here.
He could be a deserter, or he might have simply given up the Sachsen sword of his own will and left. Leaving a lord's service was a knight's prerogative, after all.
But for someone who did not serve Sachsen to use Sachsen’s black sword was another matter entirely.
Dale finally threw back his hood and spoke.
“Why does one who has abandoned the name of Sachsen wield the black sword of ‘our family’?”
The shadow cloak billowed at his feet. A genius mage who had reached the Fourth Circle at the age of twelve.
Only one title could adorn the fame of the empire’s greatest talent.
“The… Black Prince…”
As the Butcher muttered the name, the clamor in the arena momentarily ceased. The silence was brief.
“The Black Prince!”
“It’s the Black Prince of House Sachsen!”
“The Black Prince has appeared in the fight club!”
Soon, a roar filled with madness erupted.
“Am I seeing this correctly?!”
“The empire’s greatest genius, the eldest son of House Sachsen himself, has appeared in the arena!”
The commentators’ amplified voices thundered. No one was chanting the Butcher’s name anymore.
“You… you arrogant Sachsen brat…”
Gripping the black sword of Sachsen, the Butcher spat out with a murderous voice.
“You hypocrite, looking down on us from on high! What do you know to dare say such things?!”
At the Butcher’s words, Dale let out a cold sneer.
“I know, at the very least, that your sword will never reach the heavens.”
He spoke as if he himself were a being from the heavens. Along with his shadow cloak, blades of pure darkness materialized, beginning to orbit Dale like satellites.
At the same time, Dale readjusted his grip on the hilt of his main sword, Peacemaker.
The Butcher charged, and Dale charged as well. Without aura, against a knight using his aura at full power.
Two swords clashed. Immediately after, the six shadow blades orbiting Dale shot forward.
A festival of blood where even human death becomes entertainment.
Within this festival of madness, he would prove the infamy and cruelty of the ‘Black Prince,’ who shows not an ounce of mercy.