Chapter 197
Chapter 197
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 197
Chapter Title: Muryong Grand Tournament (6)
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The moment Arin released her bowstring was precisely when the two axes crossed in an X.
Along with it, a single arrow shot forth.
Shk-!
One pace apart.
The axe swung first.
The arrow launched a beat later.
By any measure, no one could deny that Arin was in danger.
Just as the startled Goetz's eyes widened and he shot up from his seat—
Flash-!
A blinding white light, like a bolt of lightning, engulfed the arena.
Everyone was stunned by the sudden turn, but no one more so than Michel.
Time seemed to crawl.
'What... what the hell?!'
The full-force swing of his axe wasn't advancing.
No, the axe was being pushed back.
Kwaduk-.
A lone arrow wrapped in silver energy was shoving his axe aside.
That slender arrow was overpowering his own axe cloaked in tempered qi.
It defied Michel's common sense entirely.
'What is this thing?!'
Especially that silver energy—it was something he'd never seen before.
Rigid, tempered, blazing, demonic, sacred.
It belonged to none of those categories. A unique form of energy.
Unknown, yet incredibly solid and heavy, fierce and destructive.
Enough to slowly crush Michel's axe.
Tuduk- tududuk.
The blade infused with tempered qi shattered.
Seeing this, Michel poured every ounce of mana he had into it.
"Hraaah!"
Was it thanks to his desperate effort?
The silver energy around the arrow eroded rapidly.
But the problem was...
Zuzuk-.
The axe crumbled even faster.
Jeok- jeok-.
Cracks spiderwebbing across the entire axe.
And finally.
Crack-!
With a sound like splitting rock, the axe exploded into fragments.
Then, as if fulfilling its purpose, the silver energy split open like a blooming flower bud, scattering in all directions.
Michel, exposed to the fragments of that silver energy.
"Ah..."
His face showed realization.
"This..."
The silver energy that had shattered his axe.
It wasn't anything special.
It was simply...
"Just... a lump of mana?"
...a densely compressed mass of mana, nothing more.
As Michel grasped the true nature of the energy that destroyed his axe.
The arrow, still shrouded in silver energy until then, flew straight toward the now-defenseless center of Michel's chest.
Puk-.
Still brimming with power, the arrow pierced through the dispersing silver energy.
Past the wreckage of the shattered axe.
Shik-.
The sharp arrowhead punctured skin.
Jijik-.
Tore through muscle.
Puk-.
And embedded in his heart.
All this unfolded in the mere 1-2 seconds of that flash.
As the light faded, the crowd saw Arin standing poised with her bow drawn.
Thud-.
And Michel staggering backward from the backlash of blocking the silver energy.
Thud- thud-.
Michel's rapid retreat slowed to a halt.
"......"
He stared blankly down at the arrow lodged in his chest.
Then his knees buckled.
Thump-.
Michel collapsed to his knees.
The flames that had enveloped his body were gone, spent in the clash.
Only that single arrow remained in his chest.
Cough-.
Spitting blood, Michel lifted his head.
His gaze met Arin's as she slowly lowered her bow.
Her eyes were impassive.
Emotionless, unreadable—what was she thinking?
Faced with that, Michel let out a scoff.
"What..."
An incredulous voice leaked from his twisted lips.
"...You... did pretty good?"
With that faint whisper.
Sruk-.
Michel's head drooped toward the ground.
"......"
Arin stared silently at Michel, who showed no sign of stirring.
Meanwhile, two Black Sword soldiers arrived with a stretcher.
One glanced at the arrow in Michel's heart, then silently checked his carotid without a word.
"......"
After a moment, he withdrew his hand, gave a subtle nod to his comrade, and the two loaded Michel onto the stretcher.
The 50th Cohort watched this from the stands, their faces rigid.
Everyone else looked grim too.
But the reasons for their grim expressions differed starkly.
For the 50th Cohort, there was one reason.
"He's... really dead?"
Michel Ahn was dead.
"Dying... like this...?"
"He's a third-year..."
Yet he went down like that?
They already knew life in the Cradle was dangerous.
That you could die during a quest.
Indeed, members of their cohort had vanished overnight, later reported dead on quests.
But in public like this...
A third-year rider dying before everyone's eyes.
Knowing death was possible from hearsay was worlds apart from witnessing it.
A massive shock for the 50th Cohort.
The others, excluding the 50th, were shocked too—but not just that Michel died.
It was *how* he died.
"Tch, the third-ranked in the 48th Cohort, dying to a mere first-year?"
"Even for a first-year, that archery was seriously threatening."
"It was scary, yeah. And bad matchup for Michel's style."
"Michel was always the type to throw himself in recklessly, relying on his physical arts. Figured he'd go out like this someday... but to a first-year? If you're gonna die, at least go out in flames."
The 49th Cohort, on their second Muryong Grand Tournament, and Michel's own 48th kept it somewhat restrained.
But the fourth- and fifth-years mercilessly mocked the outcome.
Reading the seniors' attitudes, the 50th Cohort finally fully understood why the 49th's 7th and 8th Squads had forfeited.
"...So even though they forfeited, the other seniors didn't mock them."
"Damn, if the skill gap's that clear, I'd forfeit too. I don't wanna die."
High said something like that before his first match against Gunter.
The only rule in the Muryong Grand Tournament is to win.
Even if it means killing your opponent.
It wasn't just to scare Gunter.
It was all true.
Severe injuries were par for the course, and in a blink, like now, someone could die.
That was the Muryong Grand Tournament.
As the crowd reacted variously to Michel's death.
The man himself was carried off on the stretcher in a pitiful state.
Arin watched impassively.
Even after the stretcher vanished from sight, she stood there a while longer before leaving the arena.
And so, the 9th Squad's match concluded.
Meanwhile, Yuri rubbed his chin with a finger, thinking of the carried-off Michel.
Among everyone in this arena.
No one was more familiar with death than Yuri.
So he showed little reaction to Michel's demise.
Instead, he focused elsewhere.
"That looked useful too..."
Whether others were shocked by Michel's death or not.
Yuri alone smacked his lips in regret.
It was like staring at an empty plate after barely touching the food.
* * *
The 9th Squad's match, a huge shock to the 50th Cohort, ended, but Arin didn't return to the stands.
And before Michel's spilled blood could dry.
The 10th Squad's match began.
The fighter this time: none other than Poppi.
"I'm hungry!"
Had he gotten worked up watching Arin's fierce battle?
Strangely excited, he entered the arena and raised his shield, bellowing loudly.
Yuri, watching, muttered shortly.
"What's with that guy?"
Poppi kept shouting "I'm hungry!"
Yuri and his friends could guess its meaning by now, but they weren't his personal interpreters.
"Is he mad?"
"Hmm... maybe he really is hungry, Senior."
"Probably needs to shit. Wants to end it quick and hit the bathroom."
As Teresa, Gunter, and Yuri put their heads together with theories.
"I'm huuuungry!"
His booming roar left those unfamiliar with Poppi wondering why he kept yelling about being hungry.
His opponent, Aris Moore, felt the same.
"...What a weirdo."
Entering the arena, she found a gorilla bouncing around furiously.
Face flushed red, twisted in apparent rage.
Though bizarre, aware of what happened to Michel in the previous match, Aris eyed Poppi cautiously.
'He's one of the guys who hangs with Yuri Holland.'
No room for complacency just because he was a first-year.
She had to go all out.
Sring-.
The moment Aris drew her sword, resolve firm, glaring at Poppi.
"......"
Not just the resolute Aris, but the entire crowd deflated at the scene.
Poppi, who seemed ready to go berserk any second.
Kujik-!
He suddenly slammed his shield into the ground and started stripping.
Bewildered, the audience just blinked.
Except one.
Tok-.
Only Yuri dropped his jerky in shock.
"That bastard... that?!"
Only Yuri and Arin likely knew why Poppi was undressing.
They were the only ones who'd seen him use it.
"I begged to see it, and he never showed me!"
Even after seeing it once, he'd pleaded multiple times, but got cold refusals.
[I'm hungry.]
[No.]
[I'm hungry!]
[It leaves me drained for days after.]
[I'm huuuungry!]
[And worst... it wastes precious muscle.]
Muscle loss as the excuse—he'd never shown it despite endless begging.
Recalling this, Yuri's eyes went wide.
'He's really doing it... here?'
In this era, those passing abilities down bloodlines were called noble houses.
But before them, there were tribes who did the same via blood.
The Lin Tribe's affinity.
The Bone Tribe's dexterity.
And the Yum Tribe's strength and physique.
Tok-.
As Poppi tossed his clothes aside.
Guduk- kuguduk-.
The power of the ancient giant tribe, said to rival dragons in mythic times, reawakened.
"Uh... uhh?!"
Guduk-.
Under everyone's gaze, Poppi's body slowly grew.
The crowd's eyes bulged at the transformation.
And amid the focus, a monstrous behemoth appeared.
Five meters tall.
Bulging muscles and dark red skin.
Black sclera overwhelming the whites of his eyes.
"My god...!"
"C-Crazy..."
Even Teresa and Gunter gaped at Poppi's change.
"I'm huuuuungry!"
His voice, thicker and hoarser, boomed like it could rupture eardrums, echoing through the arena.
---Pwaaaaa-!
Overwhelmed by the shadow of the dark-red giant looming overhead, Aris retreated.
Fear flickered faintly in her eyes at Poppi.
"A Y-Yum Tribesman?! N-No way! Even among Yum, not many can do that?!"
Poppi's certified rank was 1st Dan.
Normally, he'd have put up a decent fight against Aris, a 2nd Dan.
In human form, that is.
But just as Arin had overturned the level gap with astonishing archery.
Poppi had something similar.
"I'm hungry!"
...The world called it gigantification.