Chapter 75
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: The Old Lord's Whim
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The people gathered in the grand training grounds shot up from their seats.
And then.
An old man with a stooped back appeared in the distance.
A frail, emaciated body, yet a man who possessed the power to overwhelm everyone present all by himself.
It was the Old Lord, Nordian.
* * *
The grounds fell silent.
The Old Lord exuded no particular aura, yet an oppressive pressure, swirling like a vortex, crushed the entire training ground.
The Majin couldn't even make the sound of a single gulp.
*Tap, tap.*
Only the sound of the Old Lord's cane echoed across the training ground.
“Kekeke, why is everyone so tense? This old man simply came to see how well his grandchildren have grown.”
But despite his words, not a single person sat back down.
“My Lord.”
Marquis Langham hurriedly descended from the platform and knelt before the Old Lord.
The Old Lord looked down at his kneeling son for a moment with an inscrutable gaze, then spoke.
“Rise, Marquis. This old man has already entrusted you with full authority. There is no need to be so deferential. How can you lead the Dark Magic House in my stead if you act like this?”
Chris's eyes widened in a flash.
His words had a bite to them.
*The Old Lord dislikes Marquis Langham.*
The reason Marquis Langham had not ascended to the position of Head was because of the Old Lord's will.
The reason the Old Lord made such a decision was simple.
Marquis Langham had failed to reach the 8-Star level.
The Marquis's level was Upper 7-Star.
He hadn't been able to break through the wall for ten years.
He had, for all intents and purposes, reached his limit.
That was why the Old Lord had not passed down the position of Head to Marquis Langham, instead declaring he would skip a generation for the succession.
*It's not an incomprehensible decision. Among the heads of the twelve noble families of the Demonic Path, there isn't a single one who hasn't reached 8-Star.*
Perhaps because of this, the gazes they exchanged were cold.
From Nordian's perspective, Marquis Langham was a son who had failed his expectations.
Conversely, from Marquis Langham's perspective, Nordian was the one who had crushed his long-held dream.
“Rise now, Marquis.”
“…Yes, I understand.”
“And tell those children over there to sit down.”
“…Yes. Everyone, be seated!”
The commotion settled, and Nordian sat not in the Head's seat, but among the elders.
A clear sign that he intended only to observe.
The Marchioness, Fresia, secretly let out a sigh of relief.
*It would have been troublesome if that old monster had interfered. What a relief.*
The content of the competition varied each time, and her influence, as the one responsible for the Dark Magic House's internal affairs, was strong.
She had chosen the competition's theme to be the field most advantageous to Maisac.
Destruction black magic.
It was Maisac's greatest strength.
*Especially since that brat Christian hasn't achieved anything in destruction black magic over the past three months.*
The instructor who taught Christian destruction black magic was her confidant from the Destruction House, and had taught him nothing.
*It's not just destruction black magic. I've also chosen the sub-topics to be fields where that brat Christian has made no real progress. He's going to suffer the worst humiliation in front of the Old Lord.*
Just as Fresia's lips curled into a smirk.
Something unexpected happened.
“Marquis, what is the format for this competition?”
the Old Lord asked.
“It will consist of the young lords demonstrating various subjects, including destruction black magic.”
“Hmm.”
The Old Lord made an unreadable expression, then said,
“A method befitting those Alliance fools. How do you expect to properly gauge their skills with such a clown show?”
“!!”
“Ah, I'm not saying you should do anything differently. I am merely here to observe. The Marquis must have had his reasons for choosing this method. Don't mind this old man and proceed as planned.”
The grounds fell silent.
After hearing such words, how could they possibly proceed as planned?
Fresia's face turned pale.
Her tightly clenched fists trembled.
*This damn old man. Why is he meddling unnecessarily?*
Meanwhile, Chris was inwardly surprised.
*Did he interfere for my sake? No way.*
If the competition proceeded according to the format Fresia had set, Chris would inevitably be at a disadvantage.
No matter how much of a genius Chris was, his proficiency couldn't compare to Maisac's, who had trained in destruction black magic for over ten years.
“…”
After a moment of silence, Marquis Langham spoke.
“We will change the format of the competition.”
“Hmm?”
“I was mistaken. Instead of demonstrations, we will proceed with duels between the young lords. There is no better way to confirm their actual achievements than through combat.”
The Old Lord nodded nonchalantly.
A reaction that showed he was displeased with Marquis Langham in many ways.
With a stiff expression, Marquis Langham addressed the waiting young lords and ladies.
“The matchups will be the First Princess, Yurian, versus the Third Prince, Maisac. And the Second Princess, Jupien, versus the Fourth Prince, Christian. The entire family is watching, so regardless of victory or defeat, do your best.”
The pairings were based on skill level.
Pitting Yurian and Maisac, who had a relatively small age gap, against each other.
And having Jupien and Christian duel suited their respective levels.
But Fresia and Maisac's faces turned white.
*No!*
The skill gap between the First Princess, Yurian, and the Third Prince, Maisac, was obvious. There was no way Maisac could win.
He was sure to be utterly humiliated.
This was not the picture they had envisioned.
But they couldn't protest.
The Old Lord was watching in person.
*Damn it, why on earth did that old man…*
Fresia gritted her teeth.
But then, an unexpected shout echoed across the training ground.
“I object!”
“!!”
It was Christian!
“…Object? What do you mean?”
Marquis Langham asked coldly.
Christian grinned and glanced toward the Old Lord.
As it happened, Nordian was also looking at Christian.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Seeing the interest in the Old Lord's eyes, Christian could read what he wanted from him.
“I would like to change my opponent.”
“What?”
“Please allow me to duel Young Lord Maisac.”
“!!”
The grounds stirred.
The skill difference between Maisac and Christian was significant.
The difference between a 4-Star and a 3-Star.
But Christian spoke in a bold voice.
“Of course, I know I am lacking. Still, shouldn't a Majin know how to challenge an opponent stronger than themselves?”
*This is a test from the Old Lord,* Chris thought to himself.
The Old Lord hadn't interfered merely out of consideration for Chris.
Quite the opposite.
He had given Chris an even more difficult task.
To try and defeat Maisac in a duel.
A far more difficult feat than simply showing superiority in a demonstration.
But Chris followed the Old Lord's intention.
Because Chris wanted the same thing.
In this competition, he would make Maisac kneel wretchedly before him.
“You…”
Just as Marquis Langham frowned.
“Do as the boy says.”
“!!”
It was the Old Lord's voice.
Was it his imagination?
His voice seemed to hold a hint of satisfaction.
“The boy is not wrong, is he? A Majin should possess the fighting spirit to challenge even those stronger than themselves.”
“!!”
At the Old Lord's words, everyone in the grounds widened their eyes.
It was almost unheard of for the Old Lord to speak so favorably of someone.
However.
The Old Lord's expression changed.
“But, the one who makes a presumptuous challenge must bear the responsibility. Christian, are you prepared to face the consequences of your reckless challenge?”
A stern question.
The duels of Majin were different from those of the Alliance.
It was common for combatants to suffer fatal injuries, or even death.
“Of course, my Lord. Above all.”
Chris's lips curled up.
“We'll have to wait and see who will be the one kneeling.”
“!!”
Maisac's face turned beet red.
In front of the Old Lord, he couldn't say a word and could only grit his teeth.
Nordian let out a chuckle and said,
“Still all talk, I see. We shall see if your bravado is limited to your lips. Marquis, proceed with the duel.”
“…Understood. Princess Yurian, Princess Jupien. Step forward.”
The first duel was between the two princesses.
Surprisingly, Yurian's main weapon was a bow.
And she was a master archer, hitting every shot.
*She's like a real elf.*
Chris watched their duel with his arms crossed.
He didn't think they were similar just because she was good with a bow.
Elves had a unique habit when shooting a bow.
Yurian's archery stance wasn't identical to that habit, but there were subtle overlaps.
Perhaps that's why her archery constantly reminded him of elves. Her aura, too.
*Did she learn by watching the archery of the Dark Elves?*
Because the skill gap was so large, the duel was completely one-sided.
Yurian kept Jupien in check with various black magic spells while gaining the upper hand with her bow.
But surprisingly, it was Jupien, not Yurian, who captured everyone's attention.
“…I won't lose.”
Jupien, who had been blocking arrows with her sword, suddenly stopped.
She had a premonition that if she continued like this, she would only be toyed with before being defeated.
Jupien disregarded her defense and charged straight at Yurian.
“It's useless.”
*Thwack!*
An arrow shot by Yurian pierced Jupien's shoulder.
Jupien's small body trembled as if struck by lightning.
Still, Jupien gritted her teeth and didn't stop.
Yurian wore a pitiful expression.
“Just give up, little sister. You don't stand a chance.”
*Thwack! Thwack!*
Arrows continued to embed themselves in her small body.
Contrary to her gentle appearance, Yurian was a Majin through and through, and she didn't hold back.
Arrows flew relentlessly toward vital spots like her heart, neck, and philtrum.
Jupien only dodged the life-threatening arrows as she closed the distance to Yurian.
Her body, completely soaked in blood, trembled.
Gasping for breath.
Yet with eyes that shone vividly.
At last, the distance between them closed.
Jupien murmured, blood trickling down her face.
“I… will not lose. On my father's honor.”
Her father was an honorable Majin who had died in battle against the Alliance fools.
Jupien's goal was to carry on her father's name.
*Fwaat!*
Jupien's secret technique, the Splitting Sword, unfolded.
It was the same sixteen swords as before.
But it was different.
Each sword seemed to move as if it were alive.
-Try to separate the illusion from the self.
For the past three months, Jupien had clung to the clue Chris had given her, and she had managed to reach a new level.
She had approached the level of 4-Star Illusion Art.
4-Star Illusion Art was a level where illusions moved so vividly they seemed to have a will of their own.
Each of the sixteen splitting swords flew as if wielded by a different swordsman, like real sword strikes.
“When did Princess Jupien reach that level?”
“That's not the level of a typical 3-Star, is it?”