Chapter 287
Chapter 287
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 287
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family (287)
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I tore my gaze from the spectator stands at the edge of the island and looked to both sides.
Right beside me flowed the Isar River, and along the island's perimeter, there was nothing but low railings—no barriers, no trees, no lifeboats. For a dueling arena in combat magic, the island wasn't all that large, so one misstep could send you plummeting into the river.
I released my first strand of mana in a casting gesture, and a light whistle sounded. The spell came first from my opponent.
[Those who flee from fear will fall into a pit, and those who escape the pit will be snared in a trap.]
Darkness fled from the night sky as a bright blue light blanketed the heavens. Whether it was the artificial blue glow stirring fear, the spectators watching from behind the fences across the river in central Munich gasped and widened their eyes. At the same time, my opponent's mana surged from the ground, fluttering my clothes.
‘I should’ve bought a hair tie.’
Was that earlier comment from the Wittelsbach guy actual advice? One more reason to end this quickly.
More importantly, that ability—it felt like direct interference with the weather. Interfering with natural elements was innate territory. Could that insane power really be her true ability?
‘No way.’
Kwarung—!!
It was just a bluff. Mana rained down from the sky above like arrows. I raised my hand to block the cascade. For an attack from someone who could manipulate nature, it barely scratched me—far too easy to repel.
My opponent’s expression remained serene, and mine matched it. The moment I untied the ribbon bound below my collar with my left hand, her booming chant rang out.
[This shall be for Moab as a time of punishment—declares the Lord!]
The blue mana spread across the ground roared as it coalesced, clinging to my feet. It felt like sinking into a swamp, the sensation pressing on my mind. As the mana climbed my legs, a vise-like grip tightened on bone and flesh, blood flow cut off. She meant to shatter me.
‘To win, what wouldn’t one do.’
Blue mana blades gleamed from all directions, filling my vision with blinding light. The impacts were deafening. The way attacks followed every twist of my upper body screamed guided magic. Pinning me down and pummeling—that was an age-old tactic.
But there was one flaw.
Standing my ground was easy.
—Give to the Lord, you mighty ones, glory and strength!
Kwaang—!
I pulled the strength from my feet to my heart and slammed my staff down. The mana piled up to mid-thigh like a mountain scattered like dust. I saw her block my path and squeeze her eyes shut. Unprepared for divine power, she gaped in shock.
No matter how I sliced it, standing firm was easy. Had she made me move and executed that spell, she might’ve taken me down. Wasting the same opening like this was a pity. The opponent, refusing to accept defeat, quickly regained composure—but too late.
—Give to the Lord the glory due his name; worship the Lord in holy splendor!
I lifted the staff from the ground and swung it horizontally. Divine power coalesced into a scythe shape and bore down on her.
Kwaaaang—! Crash—!
At this point, most opponents would press the attack, fly right up to my face for close quarters. Those who cornered foes with ranged spells usually kept dominating from afar, denying any chance to follow momentum. Leo did it often; seasoned mages moved similarly. The moment I swung my staff to parry a counter—turning it into a sword—heavy splashing echoed, followed by a buzzer about ten seconds later.
Piiik—!
[Match end.]
“…….”
Hallucination? She might wield divine power too. Feigning a fall into the water, even faking the buzzer to lull me.
But the island ahead was empty. Dead silence everywhere.
Kingdom mages by the river pulled a drenched wizard from the water.
* * *
“There’s a divine power mage.”
The king closed his book and eyed the aide before him. The aide, flushed with excitement, hadn’t specified who or where—just waited for the king’s reaction.
The king nearly scolded him but shook his head slightly.
Tournament talk, obviously. He could infer that much.
“No one like that on the participant list?”
“Emmanuel Wittelsbach filled the spot for today’s forfeits, Your Highness.”
“His brother?”
The guy often brought useful mages, but never one with divine power.
“Name?”
“Lucas Everett. American.”
“Nothing registered in America?”
“Not that we know.”
“Age.”
“Twenty-three.”
Twenty-three, not thirteen? And no one had scouted him yet?
At that age, over a decade with divine power—and left untapped? Absurd.
‘Not that strong, then.’
Weak users popped up if you looked. Even as support, no loss.
“Wrapping up soon. After results, tell the Magic Bureau to open an apprenticeship slot.”
“Y-Your Highness.”
The king raised a brow at the aide’s hesitant reply. Undeterred, the aide pressed on.
“You should see for yourself. What do you think?”
“…….”
“Not your average talent. Prussia or neighbors might scout him. Best if you oversee.”
With no reply, the aide continued.
“First round: done in two minutes. Opponent dropped from one strike. Second and third under five each.”
“Two minutes.”
Impressive. The king nodded readily.
Still doubted it warranted a personal visit, but Prussia’s interest wouldn’t arise lightly. Two-minute finishes backed it.
No pressing schedule, last match anyway.
“Let’s go.”
The king prepared swiftly and headed to the arena.
Round four ranked the last five from the initial forty. At this stage, only those ready for royal guard after a year or two polishing remained.
His sudden arrival in the stands jolted judges to their feet in greeting. He waved them off, sat in the prepared seat, and checked the bracket.
Lucas Everett: final round four match. The king watched the others patiently.
This year’s entrants were solid. Some who’d disappointed last year shone brighter now.
Time passed. The awaited names echoed.
[Mia Rothenhan, Lucas Everett.]
Rothenhan.
Bavarian noble house—not ruling, but famed for mages’ mana reserves. Excelled in combat magic.
The king eyed the familiar young noble warping in, then the newcomer opposite. Slender against the burly opponent, Everett wobbled but steadied with poise.
‘Warp form’s off.’
Not matching the hype. Gasping like a first-timer after a routine warp, long hair haphazardly tied with ribbon.
Handsome and neat enough to draw eyes, making the clumsiness stand out.
‘Reminds me a bit of Georg Ascanien.’
Young Georg had that face.
Now the perfect heir ruling Anhalt flawlessly, no one’d guess—but until the Imperial Academy, he’d been an awkward kid striving for perfection. That resemblance hit harder.
‘Commoner surname’s iffy, but maybe cadet branch.’
Piiik—
Buzzer sounded, but Rothenhan held her wand post-gesture. Yielding first strike.
Everett caught it, thrust his wand plainly. Vibrant blue mana shot fiercely.
‘Hm.’
Good output, but the issue was…
Wasting that golden opening? Not the time for basics.
The king glanced at his aide. Unfazed, eyes sparkling on Everett. King gave up, watched.
Rothenhan casually flicked her wrist, blocked, and intoned solemnly with force.
[When the storm has passed, the wicked are gone, but the righteous stand like an everlasting foundation.]
Everett’s attack reversed. Gale winds howled. Unaffecting seated watchers, battering only Everett. His barrier buckled. Arms shielding, he gritted teeth holding.
King stroked his chin. So far, Rothenhan stole the show. Target spell sparing all but him—advanced stuff, well-executed.
Paang—
Unexpected whoosh. King shifted to Everett.
Everett’s wand was now a sword. Mana-charged blade cleaved wind, advancing on Rothenhan. Reversed gale slowed him.
Despite looming victory, Rothenhan stayed cool, wand to sword, pushing Everett back.
Or precisely…
‘About to dunk him in the river.’
King gauged her feet and wrists, predicting path. Clanging swords deafening. Rothenhan’s controlled moves herded him. Swordplay favored her.
‘Skilled, but Everett seems lightly trained.’
Five years maybe. Rothenhan neared twenty.
Weight class gap: five-year beating twenty-year vet unlikely. Mana might offset sword weight, but prolonged favored her. Knowing it, Everett shifted left leg, spun from railing. In that instant chasing, Everett’s morphed staff boomed into ground. Rothenhan switched to staff, blocking.
Kwaaaang—!
Everett’s blue mana whooshed even to judges’ seats. Blast numbed ears, stung skin—king’s gaze locked on Everett.
“…….”
Blue flames. Radial mana bloomed fiery, devouring arena upward.
King flicked mana out. His proud superior force felt crude in Everett’s.
Purity unmatched. Suffocating yet soothing. Knowing vulnerability lethal, yet compelled to stay—pure essence of mana.
‘Not hype.’
No divine power yet, but aide’s fuss made sense.
Kwaang—!
Rothenhan gathered mana, staff-thrusted right. Everett’s blue veered right, slamming railing.
Still river-bound. Believing it her win. Everett ducked pressure; Rothenhan shoved opposite.
‘Divine power due now.’
Mental spells unused—miracle. Ignore her river obsession?
Rothenhan skilled, but her fixation irked.
River play gauged control: luring in, blocking out, recovery speed. Field included river unless mana-exhausted—no instant forfeit.
But obsession backfired.
Rothenhan’s voice.
[Fear will pursue him like water, storm snatch him at night, east wind hurl him from dwelling.]
‘Success, they’ll shrug.’
King watched blankly. Her voice swelled.
[God spares him not but shoots; escape his hand impossible! Men laugh in scorn, drive from dwelling.]
“…!”
“Wha—!”
Gasps rose. Hardened mana seized Everett’s limbs, hurling to river.
‘…Success.’
Kwaang!
Implausible sound for water plunge. Everett’s river barrier caught him unshaken.
Rothenhan arched brow. King too. Barriers quivered, submerged, shattered—norm. Unforeseen.
Everett’s arms cracked mana; he rose slowly, staff-swinging to shore. Gray river churned beneath.
“…Waaaaah!”
Delayed Munich cheers. Rothenhan nodded ambiguously, smile hinting respect, then hardened.
Gripped staff two-handed, aimed.
[I, the Lord, bind you fast, hurl like warrior; roll you tight, toss to vast plain!]
Her golden mana flashed lightning in dark.
Unstable barrier on flowing river—keep him down, shatter or flood, end him. Everett angled staff down, crouched.
‘That assault should breach.’
Omnidirectional blasts blinded. Worried murmurs. Mages erected barriers before citizens.
‘Thought Rothenhans honorable; victory-obsessed.’
Safety secondary, fixated on breaking Everett.
Rothenhan masked smirks well. King noted arrogance, poker face. Unsated, she chanted on. Dozens golden spears arced near citizens, wheeled back—binding delay spell.
[You bring shame to master’s house; there you die, glory-chariot too.]
Binding hit; eyes gleamed satisfaction—then grimaced, clutched wand-arm.
Kwaaang—!
“…!”
[Fear not. I am with you.]
Dropped guard, calm voice; her gold pushed back by blue. Everett advanced wand-ready.
King chuckled lightly.
‘Taunt in this pinch.’
Pleased with Everett. Electrified binding to strike.
Intrigued how he broke free, but poise charmed more.
Rothenhan clung, defended retreating, repeated chant.
[I, the Lord, bind you fast…]
[Now we see a dim reflection as in a mirror; then face to face.]
Everett cut in, casual wand-swing. Reflection spell. Rothenhan’s escaped mana rocketed back.
Kwoong—
Pre-fall, river split. Bed exposed; she crumpled on dry land. King raised brow.
Parting waters? Unexpected power.
Still, self-hoist—major demerit.
[…Elijah took cloak, struck waters…. They parted, crossed dry-shod.]
Rothenhan sprang, staff-slammed leaning, chanted. Mana crushed river both sides.
No spare to block while holding partitions. Reassessing both.
Everett held chance but watched.
“Attack!”
Munich shout. Rude near king, but he smirked at Everett.
No thrust; left palm out, blew wind. Rothenhan’s held river crashed.
Kwaaaang—Poong—
Watched waves, murmured chant approaching shore.
[Peter stepped from boat, walked water, saw wind, feared sinking—cried, Lord save me!]
Dodged Rothenhan’s upstream barrage casually. Loomed, bent to empty railing spot, extended hand.
[You of little faith, why doubt?]
Everett’s face gentle.
“…….”
Tease encore. Crowd grasped, laughter-cheers. Nearby Munich-Prising Archbishop, amused by audacity, clapped lightly chuckling.
Rothenhan’s calm cracked, face rage-red.
‘Confidence off charts.’
Everett knew victory. King saw in eyes.
Overconfidence vs. earned—veterans spotted instantly.
Skill bred it. Aides’d scoff, but sarcasm shone with talent.
Rothenhan glared fiery, muttered low.
[Who these fly like cloud, dove to nest?]
Warped arena-opposite instantly. Light staff-tap.
[O Lord our God.]
Golden sunburst birthed divine-like light.
Munich eyes widened. King watched keenly. Trained, she could wield faintly. Scale suggested.
Prayer-grip staff, yelled. Barrier held Everett’s strikes.
[Pray deliver from his hand! Then nations know you alone Lord God!]
Blood trickled her face. Symbolic divine borrow—actually life-force amp beyond limits. Everett’s strike-attack showed horror. Aide urgent.
“Your Highness.”
“Let him.”
How far beyond? Tournament’s point. Hospital if dire—not yet. Her choice.
Maybe pushing seeing king here. Won’t next time. King tsked.
Eyes shut, staff-propped, calm voice.
[He sweeps away with flood-rush, drives foes to gloom.]
All eyed Rothenhan; king riverward. Mid-chant, depth shallowed, bed visible. Staff-slam, domed barrier before stands.
Kwoong—
“Whaaa!”
“Aaagh!”
Crowd recoiled. Everett startled wide-eyed. River lived, surged skyward waves. Vast volume weaponized—flaws galore, but talent. Fatal inflexibility. Good idea trap with river sans dunk, but rigid.
River time.
King eyed eclipsed sun, endless rise-plunge. Barrier or not, screams.
Shocked Everett watched descending deluge, raised hand.
—I establish covenant with you.
White sunlight shards flashed. Droplets halted midair. Water hush, silence.
Kwoong—
Exhausted Rothenhan collapsed. Gray river sparkled divine. Light rode water skyward. Night day-bright.
—No more destroy life by flood. No flood submerge earth.
Waters solidified, rewound, resumed flow. Cheers thawed frozen Munich.
“…….”
“Your Highness.”
Aide’s caution ignored; king stared unblinking. Teasing spell again? No bandwidth. Impossible daylight shattered from sky. Divine shards rained Munich-wide. Chilling essence seeped bones, mana-drain illusion gripped.
Unmatched any prior divine—even papal coronation.
King stared piercing Everett’s sky-blue eyes on power.
“Bring him.”