Chapter 210
Chapter 210
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 210
Chapter Title: Black Dragon's Horn (1)
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The suffocating silence dragged on for quite some time.
During that interval, Yuri slowly approached and finally stood before the fallen Quontar.
Thud.
Even after clashing with everything she had and bringing him down, Yuri didn't look particularly pleased.
"Quontar Raider..."
He had suddenly scaled the wall and manifested a holy sword, and he was plenty strong.
The perfection of his body, mana, and technique.
No matter how much ground Yuri had made up in a short time, she still fell short of matching his years of experience.
Thus, even though he had reached certified 6th dan later than her, his overall mastery surpassed hers.
That said, he didn't hold an overwhelming edge over her.
It was more like they were evenly matched, with Quontar holding just a slight advantage.
And that was precisely why Yuri couldn't bring herself to rejoice in this victory.
"If I get all excited over barely beating someone on my level... then what's the point of perfecting the Demon Style?"
The being she aimed for was a monster of unfathomable strength.
Moreover, those who had surged ahead of her, challenging that monster, would surely be overwhelming powerhouses themselves.
To compete with them, she couldn't afford to celebrate or settle for something like this.
"Well, at least confirming that 'Imprisonment' works as intended is encouraging."
It was the first real combat test for the Demon Style—Imprisonment technique she had devised.
Yet it had performed this well, proving that all her hair-pulling efforts hadn't been in vain.
Plus, today's success would serve as solid fertilizer for further progress.
Maybe she could allow herself a little joy in that regard.
For the first time, a faint smile tugged at Yuri's lips.
But as she looked down at the unconscious Quontar again, she wiped it away.
"Still... what to do about him?"
Gazing at the fallen Quontar, Yuri pondered.
Should she kill him or let him live?
"Given how he went berserk and charged at me today, maybe killing him is the better option..."
Who was to say he wouldn't lose it again in the future?
He might even get more deeply entangled with Quontar Raider from here on out.
The best way to preempt future headaches was to eliminate him right here and now.
Dealing with someone already on the brink of death would be child's play.
But she couldn't help hesitating.
If she chose to kill Quontar, there was no telling how Yoram and the Sword Lord would react.
"Would they treat Quontar's death the same as any other?"
Would the Sword Lord really brush off his son's death like it was nothing?
The whole situation felt unbearably murky.
In the end, Yuri reached a decision.
"If killing him is off the table, maybe just leave him with a light scratch?"
Of course, in the process of scratching him up, she might suddenly get dizzy.
He was already in rough shape from the poison in their previous match, and she'd pushed herself hard.
A dizzy spell could cause her sword to slip—"Oops!"—and sink just a bit deeper than intended.
That might leave him with injuries severe enough to sideline him for a few years, even if not fatal.
"Yeah... that'd just be an accident. An unavoidable mishap! If anyone's to blame for the accident, it's Susan for poisoning me in the first place, right? Exactly!"
It wasn't outright murder, and Yoram would surely tolerate wounds of that caliber.
Having brainwashed himself with that logic, Yuri reached for the hilt just as—
"Cease."
A foreign voice pierced her ear.
Her spine chilled, goosebumps erupting as Yuri reacted instantly.
Splat.
A mere 0.1 seconds after the voice registered.
Transforming into a bolt of brain lightning, she retreated backward, feeling cold sweat trickle down her back as she glared ahead.
Beside the fallen Quontar's head.
There stood an elderly man with white hair and blue eyes, hands clasped behind his back—no telling when he'd appeared.
He gave Yuri a slight smile.
"Choices must always be made with care."
His deep gaze seemed to say he knew exactly what she'd been about to do.
Thump.
The moment their blue eyes met, Yuri had a vision of gazing up at a colossal ancient tree.
"He's huge."
Not just big in some ordinary sense.
The tree towered so high it hurt her neck to look up, piercing the heavens.
"That's... a divine tree touching the sky."
A sacred tree so immense that even centuries of human axework wouldn't leave a single mark.
The vision seared into her mind so vividly that her head throbbed.
Then, she began bleeding from her nose.
Drip.
Too stunned to even wipe it, Yuri glared at the old man.
"What the hell is this geezer?"
She had faced no shortage of powerhouses before, even meeting the vice-captain Duran, a certified 9th dan.
But this old man was on another level entirely.
She could sense something emanating from him.
"Something's been drilling into my head since earlier."
And that sensation felt oddly familiar.
It was...
"...An incarnation?"
No, not quite an incarnation.
More precisely, it was the afterimage of one this man had mastered.
Not his true form, merely the phantom of an incarnation.
In other words, the old man was a grandmaster.
And in Yoram, there was only one who could wander so openly.
"Black Sword Unit Leader, Gordon Crowden."
Gordon's eyes gleamed with interest as Yuri muttered through her nosebleed.
"Hmm?"
According to prior reports, Yuri Holland had once wielded an incarnation.
Yet his actions since showed no sign of it—not even once.
He hadn't even reached that realm.
"And it seems his spirit gate is sealed shut too."
His skills seemed so lacking that Gordon wondered if the reports were wrong.
To verify, he projected his incarnation's afterimage.
If Yuri had truly handled an incarnation before.
If his spirit gate had ever opened, he would surely recognize it.
The result?
"He has opened his spirit gate before."
The kid had definitely seen the afterimage he'd projected.
The other spectators were fine, but he alone was gushing blood from his nose—that proved it.
"Hmm, so for some reason, it's sealed now?"
Gordon could roughly guess why.
"What an intriguing find."
He glanced briefly at the high, clear clouds drifting in the sky.
Then he withdrew the afterimage.
Yuri's face eased somewhat, and with a splurt, she cleared her nose before shooting him a crooked glare.
"Isn't that a bit much?"
"A bit much?"
"Butting in like that out of nowhere?"
"Because a certain brat's eyes were gleaming with murderous intent."
Yuri's brow furrowed slightly.
"...Figures he'd have solid backing. The Black Sword Unit Leader himself stepping in to save one lowly cadet."
"If that bothers you, then get yourself some backing. Backing strong enough to outmatch that kid's."
"...Where am I supposed to find backing like that?"
Yuri made a face like it was absurd.
Quontar's backer was the Sword Lord.
Backing to surpass the Sword Lord?
Nowhere in the world did such a thing exist.
Gordon's expression didn't change amid Yuri's resentful stare.
"If you don't have it, quit complaining and accept the situation. That's the extent of what you can do."
"...Isn't Yoram supposed to judge everyone purely on merit, regardless of status?"
"Correct."
"Then what's this blatant favoritism?"
"I've never shown favoritism."
"......?"
"It's only natural."
"What?"
"The rules he set cannot bind him."
Yuri furrowed her brow slightly, piecing together Gordon's words before asking,
"...So in other words, the Sword Lord doesn't want Quontar dead?"
"What he desires must naturally come to pass."
Yuri glared at the matter-of-fact Gordon.
Soon, she let the tension drain from her eyes and chuckled softly.
"Must be some misunderstanding, but I wasn't planning to kill him anyway."
She had considered adding a minor "accident" to bench him for a few years.
As long as possible, ideally.
Watching Yuri posture and hide his true thoughts, Gordon summed him up succinctly.
"A crafty one."
Cunning, ruthless, decisive.
"The youngest losing twice... might have been inevitable."
And perhaps Quontar would spend his life chasing Yuri Holland's back.
"The guy who's always led the pack, suddenly running behind someone else..."
Could Quontar endure that long, hellish stretch?
Brushing off the question, Gordon scooped up Quontar.
At the same time, he declared,
"The winner of this Martial Dragonless Grand Tournament... is Yuri Holland."
Though he didn't shout, his voice instantly reverberated through the arena.
And then.
"I'll summon you once preparations to open the Black Dragon's Horn are complete."
With those words, Gordon vanished alongside Quontar.
Yuri remained alone in the arena.
"......"
No cheers or congratulations for the victor.
Instead, countless stares of shock and denial poured over him.
Yuri accepted them silently, recalling Gordon's words.
[If you don't have such backing, quit complaining and accept the situation. That's the extent of what you can do.]
Chewing on them, Yuri muttered softly.
"...I've never had backing to begin with, being a rootless bastard."
Even so, he'd always survived—and he would continue to do so.
"Even against the Sword Lord himself."
Gripping his sword tighter with that resolve.
Creak.
Thus, the Martial Dragonless Grand Tournament, which had spanned a week, drew to a close.
* * *
Though the tournament had ended, its aftermath was profound.
Quontar, who had reached certified 6th dan.
No one had thought he'd lose—to a mere first-year, no less.
Yet his defeat was so convincing that the first-year's prowess seemed utterly dominant.
The black tidal wave that had submerged Quontar at the end was one thing.
But the unimaginable speed even the cadets' eyes couldn't follow.
And the radiant holy sword scattering golden light.
Yuri Holland, who had racked up such feats—truly worthy of a first-year?—to claim the tournament crown.
Beyond that, those around Yuri drew attention too.
Teresa Winchester, who had toppled a fourth-year.
Gunter Irons, who reached the quarterfinals despite a hollow loss to Susan.
Arin Helga with her astonishing archery, and Bobikurtankapurtavi, who crushed foes with the Wym clan's brute strength.
Setting aside Teresa as a second-year exception.
Excluding Yuri, three from the 50th cohort had made the quarterfinals.
All of them Yuri's allies.
And coincidentally, all three had beaten 48th cohort members.
Yuri Holland, who beat Quontar.
And Yuri's allies, who beat Quontar's cronies.
The public now declared the golden generation had shifted from the 48th to the 50th cohort.
They were certain factional power struggles, once centered on the 48th, would now revolve around Yuri and his circle.
Thus, some moved swiftly.
"Hmm..."
The day after the tournament ended.
Seeing the figure blocking the entrance to their residence in the castle, Yuri's face twisted into a scowl.
So the words from his mouth were hardly welcoming.
"Who the hell are you, blocking someone's house like that? Suicide seeker?"
He jerked his chin toward the sign.
[Hobby: Suicide? You're very welcome—in the extreme.]
[But bring plenty of pocket change for the afterlife.]
[It'll cover corpse disposal fees.]
The man had already seen it and replied nonchalantly.
"So this is the infamous Northern Demon King's Castle."
"Demon King's Castle? Where do you get that from!"
The indignant shout at the man's words wasn't Yuri's.
All eyes turned behind him.
There stood Gunter, huffing furiously.
"Our blood, sweat, and tears—the crystallization of our exploitation...! The symbol of our triumph over hardship and adversity—how dare you call it a Demon King's Castle! I cannot forgive this!"
The man's head tilted at Gunter's impassioned cry.
"Is that so? I just heard everyone calling it that."
"Who the hell's spreading that ridiculous nonsense?!"
As soon as he spoke, Arin subtly ducked behind Poppy.
But her movement was too obvious, drawing all eyes to her.
Noticing, Arin peeked out from behind Poppy with a sheepish grin.
A smile screaming guilt.
Gunter bellowed,
"It was you!"
As he lunged for her collar, Arin dodged backward, yelling,
"I-I only said it once! Just once, and suddenly everyone was calling it the Demon King's Castle!"
"How could you name our shared symbol of trials, forged in blood and sweat, like that? This is betrayal!"
"I-I get what you're saying to some extent, but honestly, doesn't it look exactly like a Demon King's Castle? Right?"
"You!"
"Whoa, why's this guy suddenly so hot-blooded? Is the poison still messing with you?! Snap out of it, goody-two-shoes!"
Arin and Gunter spun around Poppy like a game of tag.
Ignoring them, Yuri turned back to the man blocking the door.
"So, what brings you here? And...?"
Yuri scrunched his face like he couldn't recall, prompting the man to introduce himself.
"Andres Cheishuda."
He gave a light nod to Teresa standing behind Yuri.
Andres, who had faced Teresa in the quarterfinals at this Martial Dragonless Grand Tournament.
Teresa shot him a puzzled look at the sudden visit.
Noticing, Andres smiled brightly and turned back to Yuri.
"You asked why I'm here?"
"Man, prying your purpose out of you is like pulling teeth. Asked twice already. No third time."
Despite Yuri's thuggish grumbling, Andres kept his calm smile and replied evenly.
"The reason I came here... Yuri Holland, is to invite you to the Circle of Primordials."