Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: The Final Wedge
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A deep violet aura blossomed from Beonald's body, merging with his sword as it began to thrash about like a berserk force.
An 'ultimate technique' is a form that embodies the dreams and ideals of a family. 'Hydra' was the symbol of the Neumel family—a sword that materialized the heads of a snake that, when one is cut off, two more grow, a creature that never truly dies.
The 'Tenth Form—Twin-Headed Snake' was merely a stepping stone to learning this 'ultimate technique'; the two heads were just the foundation for realizing the nine heads.
'So he's finally played his trump card, has he?'
A flash of violet light as the sword was swung.
Lloyd's eyes widened, and he focused his aura, trying to grasp the trajectory of the blade. As a result of his full concentration, he could see it.
It was eight sword beams, swooping down to cleave him in a single stroke. It was the sight of violet serpent heads flying menacingly towards him to bite.
'So, this is it? Well, it has to be at this level to be a trump card!'
Lloyd channeled his raised aura into his sword and swung, finding a trajectory that could smash through the majority of the powerful, simultaneously flying serpent heads.
The sword clad in brown aura shattered five of the eight incoming sword beams. The three that stabbed towards his arms, legs, and side, he had no choice but to parry.
'Tch! But with this, his trump card is…'
'There's still more left.'
A hydra is commonly known as a serpent with nine heads.
The ninth head's sword was a pure white blade hidden within the violet sword light.
The serpent family. It was an ultimate technique fitting of the Neumel family, with its cunning wisdom and the way, even if one plan fails, two new schemes appear.
'Damn it all! What a truly cunning serpent!'
'As I thought… I am a combat pragmatist! It never worked properly when I practiced alone! But meeting the right opponent makes it work!'
Beonald felt the joy of finally succeeding in his ultimate technique, and once again realized that his family's swordsmanship, forged from malice, cunning, and a complex of inferiority, could only be properly displayed when facing an enemy.
In the end, the ninth head's sword accurately aimed for the gap between Lloyd's armor and helmet, which was unprepared for it, and stabbed in…
*Crack!* …*Shatter!*
The single blade shattered into pieces just before touching his neck, as if glass had broken.
The sword's durability, already frayed from the exchanges up to that point, could not withstand the amount of aura Beonald had drawn up.
Beonald's ultimate technique had succeeded, and he had seized the perfect timing for victory, but it had failed.
"Truly… the ways of the world are laughable."
Beonald smiled bitterly, clutching the broken sword. Meanwhile, Lloyd, who had narrowly escaped death, quickly regained his composure and gripped his sword.
And before thinking, he first drew up his aura and swung his sword, pointing out Beonald's fatal flaw.
"You should have brought a better sword."
'Krmel Family Sword Style, Final Form—The Leaves Shall Bloom Anew'.
*Kwaaaaaa!*
The floor of the training ground was gouged, and a wave of brown aura swept over Beonald, blowing him away.
He raised his aura to protect his body, but even so, all his armor was shattered. The shattered parts, seemingly undefended, bore wounds as if slashed by small blades, scattering blood.
"Keugh!"
Beonald, sent flying high into the air and then falling freely to the ground, rolled across the dirt in agony.
He was confident he wouldn't die, and this was also one of the scenarios he had envisioned, but pain was still pain.
'Uwaaagh… It stings. Damn it! This doesn't suit my temperament, but…'
"No! Lord Beonald!"
"Aaaaah!"
"For the sword to break right at that moment!"
"He almost had it!"
"Lord Beonaaaald! Get up!"
'It's the best performance at the climax… I have to endure it.'
Even he thought it was the best performance.
While being pushed back one-sidedly, he played his trump card, using a splendid, desperate ultimate technique to seize the perfect angle for victory, only for it to fail precisely as his sword shattered, leading to a counterattack.
He hadn't expected everything to unfold like this, but even Beonald himself had to admit it was a magnificent spectacle.
'…But it would have been nice to have clinched it right there. This hurts too much.'
"It seems… the match is decided. It was cunning, but still an excellent sword."
"…Grrrugh!"
Beonald let out a pained groan in a wretched state, but deliberately did not get up, instead writhing on the ground in agony.
Meanwhile, Lloyd approached and pointed his sword before Beonald's eyes.
This duel was not a spar; it was something that only ended when one person's life was severed.
"…Do you have any last words before you die? I'll at least hear your final words."
"If that's the case… may I have a word conveyed to His Imperial Majesty? The reason I picked up a sword and came this far… was because I wanted to say one thing to His Majesty."
"Very well. If you have any foolish thoughts, I'll cut you down right here."
'As expected of a pure-blooded knight family. Predictable.'
Beonald struggled to his feet and slowly limped as close as he could towards the imperial family's reserved seating where the Emperor was sitting.
His handsome appearance was a mess, dripping blood and staggering step by step, evoking pity from the people.
Then, he knelt, performed a proper bow, raised his head, and spoke loudly to the Emperor in a voice the audience could hear.
"Before my defeat in this duel, I wish to make one request of Your Imperial Majesty! I beg you to grant it!"
"……."
Emperor Zelado Calem frowned deeply at the request.
He had been on edge during the moment when it seemed Beonald might even defeat Lloyd, but breathed a sigh of relief the moment the sword broke. Now, not knowing what scheme this wretch was up to, he was even more irritated.
'What in the world is that damn bastard trying to do…?'
*Murmur murmur…*
He wanted to refuse the request outright and just order his death, but he couldn't do that now. The gazes of all the spectators and nobles gathered in this dueling arena were fixed on him, and they all had eyes that begged him to grant Beonald's plea.
The Emperor was not so foolish as to not realize that if he refused, he would undoubtedly be branded a 'tyrant' in the public eye.
Yet, if he granted it, he was too afraid of what Beonald might do to open his mouth.
"So… is he refusing the request because of the Princess issue?"
"No, it's a request made before death after such a desperate fight, and he can't even grant that?"
"His Majesty is really…"
*Murmur murmur…*
The gathered nobles, and even the commoners, thought the Emperor cruel for hesitating over the request of this beautiful youth who had fought so desperately. His reputation was being chipped away in real-time.
Would it be just his reputation? The situation had deteriorated to the point where trust in the Imperial Family itself was on the verge of crumbling because of this one wretch. The Emperor, who could no longer even consider the option of refusal, ultimately had to grant it, even though he didn't know what the boy would do.
"I do not know if I will grant your request… but I permit you… to speak."
"Yes. Thank you, Your Majesty. My request is… to bid farewell to Her Highness Princess Zelcy, who is not present here."
"Farewell… you say?"
"Yes. I myself am well aware that I, a half-blood of lowly status, am unworthy of Her Highness. Therefore, I wish to be the one to end this relationship first by bidding Her Highness farewell. I beg you… to permit this."
*Murmur murmur…*
This was the final wedge Beonald had prepared, the twist for the audience.
By stating that the reason he had fought so hard, shedding blood until now, was solely to 'bid farewell' to the Princess, everyone in the spectator seats began to feel sorrow for Beonald, who had fought fiercely for a heartbreaking love and parting that transcended status.
A fierce battle, then crisis and hardship, breaking through them, only for the 'sword' to shatter tragically at the last moment, leading to failure, and then his final request before death being a 'farewell'? It was a romance sad story that would be passed down through the ages with tears.
"Your Majesty… This seems to be a serious problem. To think that wretch's trump card would be that…"
"Uuuugh…"
"This is a grave situation."
Sir Legion, observing the situation, quickly read the atmosphere and offered counsel to the Emperor.
The Emperor was already the villain in this romance story. If he now ignored and dismissed the final request of this half-blood knight who fought so desperately just to say goodbye, thus creating a bad ending…?
It would be a given that public opinion of the Emperor would be shattered as the story spread throughout the capital. On top of that, it would spread from mouth to mouth by bards, reach neighboring countries, be recorded in history, and all the historical narratives of his reign would be negated, leaving him as the villainous emperor of this romance sad story.
"Zelcy isn't in the capital right now… Should I say that?"
"…That would be a disaster. If you say that, Your Majesty's name, not to mention…"
Sir Legion couldn't bring himself to say that it would tarnish the Imperial Family's honor.
The situation where the Imperial Family's honor was being shaken by the farce of a mere mixed-blood brat was beyond ridiculous to the Emperor. But now, he had to hold the hearts of many nobles and commoners, leaving him with no way out.
There's even a tale that in ancient Rome, a popular gladiator held power that even the Emperor could not touch, showing how the power of popularity could sometimes boast an overwhelming force greater than any authority.
Beonald knew that point very well. Conversely, the Emperor had looked down on it too lightly, which is why this situation had arisen.
"…Wh-what should I do?"
"Your Majesty?"
"…Your silence means you ultimately do not grant it. Yes, I understand… I knew it was a fleeting dream, but I did my best. If any of you gathered here happen to meet Her Highness later… please convey my gratitude to her."
Beonald's closing line, giving no time for deliberation. Then he obediently returned to Lloyd, knelt before him, and offered his neck as if asking to be cut down.
At that, pained sighs began to rise from the spectator seats. Noble ladies and women burst into tears, shouting 'Lord Beonald! You mustn't die!' and 'What is His Majesty doing?!' venting their anger at the Emperor.
A perfect finale of death, a sad ending.
If this came to pass, all of Zelado Calem's future historical achievements would be negated, and he would remain solely as the villain in the story of 'Knight Beonald,' while his lineage would be on the verge of being entirely marked as the children of a tyrant.
"Well then, please send me off cleanly in one stroke."
"Understood. Don't worry."
Lloyd, for whom his family's honor depended on victory in this duel anyway, began to focus his aura into his sword as if the Imperial Family's problems were of no concern.
The situation was now irreversible once this sword swung and passed through Beonald's neck. Sir Legion looked at the Emperor urgently, and the Emperor nodded, instructing him to handle the situation.
"Then, please…"
"Halt!"
*Clang!*
The moment the sword was swung towards Beonald's neck, Sir Legion, Captain of the Imperial Knights, leapt down from the imperial spectator seats in an instant, throwing his spear to block the sword and halt the execution of the duel.
At the sound, Beonald felt a surge of joy, knowing it would come to this. But as his performance wasn't over yet, he desperately suppressed a smile.