Flames Before the Sun (1)
A centaur judge pointed straight at the warrior of radiant glory.
He described who the fighter was and what epic deeds he had already accomplished.
Even Vesta, listening, felt his blood burn with pure admiration.
“If you speak of the Radiance of the South, you honor this champion!”
The handsome young man waved lazily, clearly at home with this stage.
The roar of the women echoed like thunder, proving his fame had reached dizzying heights.
*No envy there. But now… the match itself is about to begin?*
The introduction of famous participants had ended. The real fight was about to commence.
Yet the referee silenced the crowd.
“Focus on the human on the left.”
If the champion of champions could prove himself even among humans, then here, in front of everyone, was the proof of his title.
“He is a talented swordsman boasting an unbroken streak of victories.”
They had not rushed into battle without any introduction at all. The sudden shift in regard felt like a thunderclap.
Vesta was no longer just another participant among many.
He was now one of the few standing as a candidate for ultimate victory.
“The boy—”
The judge’s gaze swept over Vesta once more.
“Has cut down dozens of orc riders while protected by centaur guards—”
*Arin! Altangerel warrior, Arin! That’s the name of the guard who once stood at this champion’s back!*
The referee’s voice cracked with shock at Uushun’s booming shout.
“—and, alongside the Khan of the Wilderness’s Keshik, he has swept away an entire legion of giant scarabs from the desert!”
*How can you put it so short?! You’re bought by someone!*
*Hey! If you say that, the old man won’t be happy! Those are centuries-old relics!*
*Giant scarabs?*
*They live for hundreds of years, they say. They’re supposedly big enough to swallow camels whole.*
Skeptical eyes fixed on him. But the judgment was no longer as plain as it had been in the first fight. They now judged while also waiting for miracles.
*Could there be a twist?*
The crowd always lived for the thrill of the comeback.
Vesta raised one hand.
The elves’ passionate cheers surged through him like fuel.
And more.
“Little one! I bet on you!”
“Don’t forget our promise!”
*That voice… I’ve heard it somewhere before.*
Centaur women had said they would bring humans.
“Among the centaurs, you have earned the highest respect.”
A strange warmth bloomed in Vesta’s chest. The opponent stepped closer and offered his hand without hesitation.
“First time facing someone eye to eye and exchanging greetings, isn’t it?”
“Yes, somehow it worked out that way.”
“The stories about you reached my little sister…”
*Vesta-nim! Don’t be fooled by that smiling face!*
Bia’s voice cut through like a whip.
It was the brother’s sister.
The brother’s expression flickered with surprise, then broke into a light laugh.
“Well, even if you try, it won’t do any good.”
There was nothing to say in response. He returned the formal handshake.
“Prepare for the duel.”
The referee demanded space between them.
The cold north wind that followed cooled the rising excitement.
“Fight with joy, my second-in-command.”
*Hmm.*
The young man’s luxurious mane whipped wildly in the gale, glowing like a golden prairie fire.
“Ready—!”
His hooves scraped the dirt.
“Strike—!”
*Grind… grind…*
“Down—!”
*Whip!*
“…!”
The impact landed like wildfire racing on the wind.
It was terrifyingly fast.
*I won’t blink. My weapon stays in my right hand.*
He studied the opponent’s hands carefully. He would shift his body toward the opposite side of the weapon-holding hand.
When the centaur was close enough, he moved with lightning speed.
*Boom.*
The centaur followed Vesta’s motion, twisting in a slip that looked almost liquid.
Vesta could not help but admire.
*His movement is so light. On a body like that, moving like a rabbit…*
He had recognized it at a glance. Same as Bia.
Not the heavy, clumsy stomps, but elegant and perfectly technical footwork.
It was the kind of movement only a combat engineer who had refined martial art to its absolute limit could produce.
No matter what noble horse it was, it could never match the centaur’s grace.
The centaur closed the distance to Vesta. The failed attempt to bind his limbs meant the price of shallow play would now be paid.
The centaur leaned his whole body forward, as if throwing himself onto the dirt floor.
*Shhhick.*
The angle of the sword swing was narrow. Vesta found it difficult to avoid the shoulder even though the blade had struck so close.
Vesta gritted his teeth and focused on deflecting the strike.
*Clang—ang!*
Despite almost perfect timing, pain shot through his wrist as if it would snap.
He had not seized the initiative.
*Here it comes.*
Eyes blazing through the acrid dust.
*Hup.*
Vesta’s spine felt on fire as he hurled himself sideways.
*Whoosh—!*
A heavy strike cut through the sand, like a hammer blow.
The centaur had driven his powerful foreleg forward, a strike strong enough to fell a man with ease.
“Your instincts are sharp.”
Vesta did not answer. He narrowed his eyes.
*Even if I blocked it, it would have floated away.*
But he had evaded it somehow. That was enough.
What mattered now was thinking three steps ahead.
*If he were human, he would have tripped my ankle and dropped me.*
But the opponent was a centaur—especially one of the heaviest built.
His weight alone was more than ten times Vesta’s. No wrestling technique could overcome that difference.
*In the end, it comes down to swords.*
Vesta swung his blade toward the waist, a decent arc. But the centaur reacted faster than expected. The attack failed.
*The blade had grazed.*
The centaur used his centaur strength to press Vesta’s sword down with his own. The steel bent with a sharp *huk!*
*It felt like being crushed by a boulder.*
Vesta, absorbing an unbearable pressure, twisted his neck diagonally. The opponent’s blade slid along the flat of his tilted neck.
*Stronger the force, the more it works.*
Vesta had successfully deflected the blade and now drove his own neck into the strike.
It was not a calculated move.
A purely instinctive counter-swing.
*Amazing.*
*Oh, I should have gone deeper.*
Given the enormous height difference, he had not plunged far enough.
Even as the neck-guard reached his opponent’s chest, the centaur did not blink.
Vesta saw those eyes and stepped back cleanly.
*Whoosh—!*
The centaur’s kick swept the spot where Vesta had stood.
If he had been greedy, both his legs would have shattered.
*He is truly different.*
Vesta felt a shiver of awe at the opponent’s strength. Power, speed, technique, and the ability to break every frame—everything was perfect.
*Not a single flaw.*
Vesta’s breath grew slightly rough.
The centaur nodded, genuinely impressed.
“Impressive.”
It was not mockery. It was pure admiration.
“Brilliant talent. I never imagined you could be this strong.”
The highest praise any young gladiator could hope for.
“You too—”
Vesta did not blink. His body, coiled in extreme tension, refused to allow even that.
“—are not bad at all.”
“Haha. A challenge?”
Vesta flicked his neck-guard. The centaur smiled with satisfaction.
“My little sister praised you so much that I wanted to test blades with you at least once. And I have.”
The man lowered his sword. Here it comes. Vesta tensed his ankle like drawing a bowstring.
“Remember this well.”
*Clack—!*
His attack came from the same narrow angle as before. The blade was hard to read in direction and intent.
Yet he also felt a sense of carelessness.
*He already showed that once.*
Just as Vesta had paid a steep price for his shallow play.
The centaur would have to pay for showing the same move.
It was time to play a trick.
He adjusted his head position while thrusting with the neck-guard.
*Pull my head back. Just a little, about one finger, no, maybe half a finger.*
*Swing.*
*Lift my leg.*
The blunt end of the neck-guard flashed in front of Vesta’s eyes.
*Lean my body.*
The sword tip vanished into the distance at the same moment he leapt forward. The insufficient distance was closed in one stride.
*Oh.*
Surprise flashed across the centaur’s face.
If it had not been the legendary fighter Vesta was, he would have thought it was his own mistake.
It was that dangerous an attack.
*It was not my mistake.*
He was the kind of person who swung with absolute conviction.
*That boy read my sword.*
Absurd distance sensing.
The blade flew in.
With a scowl, he jerked his head back.
*Spit—!*
*Did I dodge it?*
Thinking so, he turned his head again. His forehead burned.
*No, it just grazed.*
If it had been a true blade and not a neck-guard, a drop of blood would have formed.
*Ah. This is ridiculous.*
*Impossible to believe.*
*Baatar! Baatar! Baatar!*
The centaurs savored the high-level clash between the two warriors. The elves chanted the warriors’ names in their own style.
Vesta deliberately did not look that way.
He did not want to meet Ashtien’s eyes.
“Baatar. That is your name, isn’t it?”
The centaur spoke in a low voice.
“Altangerel, Tei.”
“Bestiarius Baatar.”
The warrior known by many names—the Radiance, heir of Altangerel, the young lord, and so on—was Tei.
He drew one more neck-guard from his waist.
At that moment, Baatar realized something.
*The one who taught Arin the twin swords is this man.*
Tei stood with the sun at his back. His golden mane blazed even more fiercely because of it.
In other words, like the Radiance itself.