Chapter 89
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: The Upset Victory
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Abel could feel it.
The sensation that time was flowing slower.
A lightning-wrapped sword flew toward his opponent, and he could see Jackal's blade weaving in a complex trajectory.
Clang-!
But seeing it didn't mean he could respond to it.
He could only watch the outcome unfold.
When that advancing sword finally struck the opponent's Gigant.
Boom-!
With a deafening roar, time resumed its normal speed.
-Ah...
Doyle's belated sigh—or perhaps gasp—pierced Abel's ears.
Abel let out an involuntary chuckle.
“Didn't expect you to dodge in that split second.”
Abel's straight thrust had pierced clean through the opponent's head and out the back.
The head wasn't a vital spot on a Gigant.
He had aimed right above the cockpit to begin with, but the opponent had ducked.
-The result is in!
Meanwhile, the opponent's sword was half-buried in Abel's cockpit.
A clear defeat for Abel.
-An upset! Player Abel wins-!
But Doyle shouted the exact opposite.
He had no choice.
-Player Jackal's sword has pierced Player Abel's cockpit.
-A blatant disqualification!
That was the rule for this match.
Directly attacking the opponent's 'cockpit' resulted in disqualification.
But even with Doyle's victory declaration, Abel couldn't celebrate purely.
Having faced him head-on, he had felt the clear gap in skill.
Then.
-Well done.
Jackal spoke directly to him. Abel replied in a bitter tone.
-This is my loss.
-This isn't real combat. It's a match with strict rules.
Jackal carefully released his grip on his sword as he spoke.
-Your victory.
Abel maneuvered his nearly powered-down Gigant to give a slight bow.
-Wow-!
The crowd's cheers erupted a beat late as they grasped the situation.
Safety personnel then climbed into the arena to assist both Abel and Jackal in dismounting their Gigants.
Jackal approached Abel immediately after stepping down and extended his hand.
"Good match."
"It was a great experience for me too."
"Hah. Your attacks were so ferocious, my hand moved on instinct."
Jackal smiled as he said this, then clapped Abel on the back.
"Can't have the champion looking so down. Chest out."
Right after those words.
Announcer Doyle climbed onto the arena and started chattering away.
Abel gazed blankly up at the spectator seats in a daze.
-In a grand upset! Player Abel claims the final victory!
Doyle's voice buzzed in his ears.
* * *
A few hours later.
It was only around sunset when Abel finally returned to the waiting room.
"Man, never thought you'd actually win it."
Doyle laughed as he patted Abel's shoulder.
Abel smirked and said,
"Told you, it was luck. My skill was nowhere close."
"Luck's part of skill. And what Jackal said wasn't wrong either."
Doyle leaned against the wall as he spoke.
"That guy's only recently retired. He's spent nearly his whole life in real combat, that's all."
"A veteran, huh."
"Yeah. That's why he instinctively went for the cockpit when he saw your attack."
"So I... almost died?"
"If his skill was even a bit lacking, maybe not."
Abel chuckled at that and stretched.
"Then I guess today's luck kept me alive. Even won the whole thing."
"Yep. Even people who didn't care about the tournament will know your name now. Second time a first-year's taken the title."
"The first was that guy, right?"
Doyle nodded at Abel's question.
"The Knight of the Skies. Mikhail. The pinnacle of Gigant riders, a once-in-a-generation genius."
"Feels good to stand in the same league as him, even if by luck."
"Told you. You're gonna go far."
"You also said don't dream and just run laps on the field."
"That was just a joke."
Abel giggled at Doyle's words.
Right after the match had been decided, he'd felt a crushing sense of defeat, but now his mood was pretty good.
'Anyway, I won.'
Far better than he'd expected.
He hadn't fought planning to lose, but objectively, his odds of victory had been low.
"But didn't you say you were aiming for third place prize?"
Lost in thought for a moment, Abel grinned at Doyle's question.
"Already handled that."
"Handled?"
"Yeah. My friend got third."
Iolin, who had lost to Jackal in the semifinals, easily won the third-place match.
In a way, it was only natural.
Her opponent had already depleted nearly all their stamina fighting Abel.
Not something a short break could recover.
"Talked to her before she left, paid full price to buy it off her. She didn't really need it anyway."
"Nice. So what's the grand prize for?"
"This?"
Abel held up the round orb.
The championship prize was a high-grade core.
Fully processed already—just a few finishing touches, and it could be implanted into a Gigant right away.
"Gotta use it on my Gigant, obviously. Got work lined up for break anyway."
"You're so diligent. Take a vacation trip or something during break."
"Planning to. Not for long, though."
Abel put the core back in its box and stood.
The tournament, including all post-match events, had wrapped up.
If it were during term, he'd head straight back to the academy, but with break ongoing, he planned to stop somewhere else and crash outside.
"Right, right. Off to the workshop?"
"Yeah. Gotta drop off the commission there. My Gigant's already stashed there too."
Abel's Gigant, Lupus, was currently at Vulcanus's workshop.
For the final modifications, and he planned to handle the core implant there too.
'Lupus'll love it.'
A bigger, sturdier home—bound to make him happy.
"Got it. Carriage is prepped outside, so head to the rear exit. Oh, someone's waiting for you when you get out."
"For me?"
"Yeah. See for yourself who."
Doyle grinned and slapped Abel's back.
Abel rubbed the stinging spot but smiled and bowed.
"See you."
"Yep."
Outside the waiting room was a corridor bathed in soft lighting.
Abel followed it to the rear exit. Near the door, he spotted a familiar face.
"Abel."
The man with a scar over his left eye. None other than Jackal.
"Ah, yes."
He hadn't expected Jackal to be the one waiting, but Abel quickly composed himself.
"The match today was a fantastic experience."
"Same here. Honestly, I was a bit complacent."
Jackal said with an awkward expression.
"Academy cadets... no matter how talented, I figured there were limits. Ah, not criticizing. Just talking experience."
"I get it. We definitely lack real combat experience."
"No. If I still felt that way after the match, I wouldn't be waiting here."
Jackal waved off Abel's words.
"That last attack—regardless of technique or power—was truly astonishing."
He spoke with a serious look.
"For a split second, exaggerated as it sounds, I thought I might die if I didn't counter."
"R-Really?"
"Haha. Impressive as hell. To pull that off with so little real combat under your belt."
Jackal grinned, then hesitated before speaking again.
"So, uh, about that..."
"Please, go ahead."
At those words, Jackal seemed to steel himself and pulled a metal card from his pocket, handing it to Abel.
"If you ever have questions or whatever, come find me anytime."
Abel examined it.
A business card of sorts, with "Jackal Mercenary Corps" and a building address inscribed.
"Started a small merc outfit after retiring."
"Ah, I see."
Mercenary leaders were often imagined as frontline fighters, but reality was different.
Most captains were those who'd stepped back from the front lines.
'Veteran mercs often start corps after retiring.'
Mercs trusted intact retirees over green rookies.
Especially Jackal, with his elite Gigant piloting— no issue setting up shop.
"I'll definitely drop by."
Asking to talk was likely Jackal's way of building a connection.
Networking was key for running a merc group.
"Haha, I'll prep something good."
Jackal beamed and nodded at Abel's words.
For Abel too, linking up with a skilled merc's outfit was a win.
'My range of activities'll expand from here on.'
Might even help with break plans.
Money permitting.
"Kept you too long. Gotta head in—business inside. See ya."
"Yes. Take care."
Abel parted on warm terms with Jackal.
After Jackal headed off, Abel pulled the rear door's handle.
Cool evening air rushed in as the door opened.
After hours in the sweltering arena, the contrast hit hard.
'The crowd was on fire.'
The insanely dramatic win had turned the stands into a frenzy.
Sure, some yelled it was bullshit or cursed after losing bets, but it didn't faze him.
Compared to the underground fight pits.
'Back then, knocking out a favorite in round one got me death threats.'
Someone had even shown up with a knife once.
Managed to sort it out, somehow.
Lost in old memories, Abel descended the stairs and scanned for the carriage.
Luckily, it was parked nearby.
As he started toward it naturally, he froze.
Someone stood in front of it.
"Lady Deborah?"
"Lord Abel."
She smiled brightly at him and nodded.
Abel greeted her politely, flustered.
"What brings you...?"
"You seemed busy, so I waited."
That only deepened his fluster.
Anyone else, maybe—but Deborah waiting outside like this?
'Here to rob me blind?'
The thought crossed his mind; it felt that surreal.
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
"No, no. I waited without a word. Sorry for startling you."
Deborah spoke with a faint smile.
"I waited because there's something I wanted to tell you."
"Something to say?"
"Yes."
She closed the distance abruptly.
"Would you ever consider working with me, just once?"