Chapter 17
Translator: True Detective
Chapter 17: Irion Will Be Free Soon! (4)
“Is there anywhere uncomfortable? Anything you missed?”
“Well, I said I’m fine.”
“Do you know how important today is! Check one more time!”
Bardick, pacing around me sweating profusely, with his usual cunning composure nowhere to be found.
His appearance is exactly like a mother of a child facing the college entrance exam.
Being pestered by his anxious voice, I feel like I’m becoming anxious too for no reason.
I’ve already checked several times that there are no issues, but reluctantly I checked one more time.
New leather guards, not rag-like guards. A small one-handed sword with a blade shining like a mirror fits me perfectly.
Truly my exclusive weapon.
It was provided by Bardick.
It meant I am no longer a disposable item to be used and thrown away.
“As expected, no problems.”
“I-Is that so? Then that is fortunate.”
“More than that, what about the Princess?”
“She arrived long ago and is sitting in the VIP seats. She is waiting only for the match to start.”
The person responsible for making this stage didn't even come to see me. Shouldn't she come and at least chant a spell for victory?
‘Perhaps cheerleading from the spectator seats?’
To think she prepared a surprise.
As expected of Renoa.
Oppa will be expecting a lot.
“Then I will go up now too, so do your best and make sure to win.”
Bardick squeezed my shoulder tightly until the end, then let go and left the waiting room.
I closed my eyes and took a calm deep breath.
The air touching my skin is chillingly cold. Even my heartbeat pounding faster than usual.
It was due to the tension of facing an important match and the sense of liberation that I would finally become a free body.
—Ding.
A fight between gladiators sponsored by nobles involves the pride between nobles. Absolutely do not be defeated.
“Hey, are you ready? It’s your turn to go out soon.”
“Yeah.”
“Do well. Don’t embarrassingly lose to a guy from outside.”
—Clank.
The iron gate opens.
Through the gap, cheers start pouring out like a bursting dam.
‘Just one step.’
Just one step forward.
“Let’s go.”
Spectator seats occupied by more people than ever before.
Perhaps because both Irion and Garner are gladiators sponsored by nobles, it is packed without a single gap to step on.
It was proof that it is that rare of a match.
Irion raised his head. Renoa was looking down from the position she always sits.
“Where is the cheerleader?”
Weren't you supposed to wear a cheerleader outfit and cheer? Anyone would have seen the picture of you doing it.
As much as the expectation was great, immense disappointment rushed in.
I turned my gaze to the front.
At a somewhat distant location, the gladiator I saw last time stood holding a saw-like greatsword.
Butcher Garner.
A gladiator sponsored by a noble.
What that means is clear. A predator occupying the top of the gladiator food chain.
Irion is also in a position receiving sponsorship, but he was fundamentally different from Garner.
While Garner won that position with skill, Irion’s case was largely due to Renoa’s whim.
Irion is also aware that he is not equal to the opponent. So he does not allow a shred of carelessness.
He engraves that into his mind like a brand.
“You. Kill. Head. Split. Brain. Crush.”
Whether there is a defect in his language function, Garner couldn't connect sentences and spoke chopping up words.
Even though he is an opponent he has to kill and be killed by soon, a hollow laugh came out of Irion.
“Hey. Do you work receiving proper pay? Aren't you getting ripped off?”
“Pay. Receiving. Meat. Delicious.”
“You receive meat as pay? That’s basic provision. You don't receive money?”
“Money?”
Garner tilting his head with an innocent expression unsuitable for his physique. He looks like he doesn't know at all.
Irion clicked his tongue. He felt genuinely sorry.
“I knew it. Rolling a lacking kid with cheap pay is the same everywhere. If you receive proper pay, you could eat dozens of times the meat you eat now. Sigh.”
“What? Meat? More than now? That. Really?”
“You, you were scammed, idiot.”
“S-Scam? Idiot? Uaaaaaaah!”
Garner grabbed his head and struggled as if in pain. Hazel, sitting across from Renoa, raised her voice forgetting her dignity.
“Garner! What on earth are you doing! Don’t listen to him!”
Then abruptly pointing her finger at Irion, she shouted.
“You! To use a cowardly mental attack! If you are a gladiator, fight fair and square!”
Psychological warfare before a match is also one of the fun parts of watching sports. If you don't like it, train your mental side too.
Irion shrugged his shoulders as if showing off.
“Now! The conversation between both players ends here! Now is the time to converse with swords, not words!”
The announcer holding a magic tool reminiscent of a loudspeaker shouted from the top center.
“The pride of Lady Valdemar! Butcher Garner who has made countless challengers prey for his greatsword!”
The announcer’s hand pointed to Irion this time.
“And the rising comet facing him. Rose to here with a slave status. Rookie, Irion!”
“Wooooaaaaah!”
“Hang in there, kid!”
“If you lose to a guy from outside, know that you’ll die by my hand!”
Cheers and curses burst out mixed from the spectator seats. But whether this or that, the meaning of cheering for Irion was large.
At some point, Irion had become the gladiator representing this underground arena.
“Hey, who do you think will win?”
A certain place in the spectator seats. One of the gladiators gathered together opened his mouth.
“Is that a question? Of course Garner. Even if he is a retard, his skill alone is terrifying, right?”
“As expected, right? Alex, you?”
“.......”
“Alex?”
Alex, who had his arms crossed, opened his mouth quietly.
“Blackie.”
“Are you serious? Did you get hit in the head while sparring with blackie?”
“Wanna bet.”
“Really? Then I bet on Garner winning.”
“Me too.”
“Hanging out with a slave these days, even the mighty Alex has gone bad.”
Alex let the chattering sounds from the side go in one ear and out the other.
Because anyway, it was a realm that couldn't be explained with words.
He just stared silently at the arena.
“Indeed, whose gladiator will win! Whose insight will be superior! Valdemar, or Edelheid! Starting now!”
—Clang! Clang! Clang!
As the bell signaling the start of the match rang, cheers burst out.
“You. Kill. Me. Bullied. Teased. Called idiot. Forgive. Cannot.”
Whether the duration of the mental attack ended, Garner glares as if to kill Irion.
Ferocious spirit raged around such him; it was an airflow twisted by mana, needing no further explanation.
Irion also gripped his sword and took a stance.
“Ssssp, Huuu....”
Breathing technique used like daily life now.
The cheers that filled the arena as if to explode recede like the ebb tide.
The noise that made ears deaf grows distant and soon silence settles.
Accordingly, changing vision.
Nobles in VIP seats showing off flashy colors, figures in spectator seats shimmering grotesquely, all blur and smudge.
All backgrounds of the world lose color.
One color standing out clearly in that colorless world.
Garner rushing holding a huge greatsword.
The sand dust splashing at the steps the bastard takes, the wriggling muscles of his forearm, and even the pupils glistening with killing intent.
All of that comes into view at a glance like scenery.
‘...He comes.’
Huge body soaring into the air.
The magic stone lamp shining down behind Garner’s back creates a backlight and casts a huge shadow.
The greatsword as big as a house crushes the air and falls vertically.
—Whoooosh!
Heavy sound of cutting wind.
The blatant will of destruction to turn Irion into powder along with the sword.
Insisting on defending here is a crazy act. Irion gives up defense early and retreats greatly backward.
—Crash!
Explosive crushing.
Just before, the ground where he stood explodes. Sand soars high into the sky.
Dust fog spreading thickly.
—Whoosh!
Beyond that, Garner appeared cutting through the smoke with his greatsword.
Dust is sucked in following the sword path.
Irion lowered his head.
Wind grazing past above his head.
He didn't stop there. Irion dug into Garner’s inside while keeping his body low.
A greatsword has the advantage of long reach, but at the same time, it is also a weakness. Long reach and the resulting gap in the inner angle.
Inside here, Irion with a small physique and sword is much more advantageous.
He drew a line on Garner’s flank with the sword.
—Screech!
Sparks flew.
In an instant, Garner twisted his waist. The sword grazed past the iron plate padded on top of the leather guard.
Garner wearing a fishy smile pressed down with the pommel of the greatsword.
“......!”
Irion rotated his head to the side.
Pommel grazing past the bridge of his nose. At the same time, Garner kicked Irion’s abdomen with his foot.
—Thud!
“Kugh...!”
Irion barely managed to block by crossing his arms but couldn't endure. He rolled backward as if thrown.
—Drip.
Blood flowing down from Irion’s mouth corner. He blocked as best as he could, but the shock was transmitted intact.
The pain transmitted riding the forearm was heavy. Feeling like colliding with a rock lump.
Scattering dust smoke. Garner approaches dragging the sword on the floor drag drag.
“Me. Not idiot. You. Say sorry. To me.”
“Sorry to me.”
“No. To me.”
“Sorry to me.”
“Not to me, but to me!”
“Sorry to me.”
“You! Kill! Flesh! Crush! Painfully!”
Garner went berserk. Mana burst out from his whole body with explosive momentum enough to be visible to the naked eye.
Sand around him swirled spirally as if wrapping him.
Irion spat out sand wet with blood.
‘...As expected, it won’t work.’
I tried to use only swordsmanship and physical ability as much as possible, but it was insufficient.
No matter how much experience I accumulate and exercise sense, the difference in vessel was too large to fill the physical output.
My head became complicated. If the fact that a mere slave knows how to handle mana is revealed, I don't know what aftermath will rush in.
But.
‘Who cares.’
If I die, there is no aftermath or whatever. Living is important first.
Worrying anymore was a luxury.
Irion inhales again.
“Die——!”
Garner rushed in convinced of victory. Wrapping a vortex of mana, a defenseless charge pulling the greatsword back greatly over his head.
Garner’s enlarged upper body closed in right under his nose. Greatsword falling drawing a huge arc.
—Pak!
Irion kicked off the ground. At the same time as the leap, his vision shot forward.
Outside the trajectory the bastard’s greatsword draws, towards that narrow gap, he threw his body.
—Slice.
A cutting sound smooth enough to feel unpleasant flowed in riding the sword.
Irion was standing past Garner before anyone knew it.
“......Uh?”
Garner’s stupid voice rang out. He turned his head to his shoulder. A blank space was created where an arm should be.
—Thud.
A lump of meat fell to the floor. From elbow to fingertips.
Garner’s right arm still tightly gripping the handle of the greatsword.
Blood spurted like a fountain one beat late from the cut surface.
“A, Aaaaaaaack! M, My arm! My arm——!”
Irion looked calmly at Garner rolling on the floor crying like a child.
“I told you. Receive proper pay. Isn't life too precious to live being scammed?”