Chapter 27
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Duel Arena (4)
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Whoosh!
The axes in his hands scattered eerie glints in all directions as they slashed horizontally and vertically.
Blake pulled his foot back, narrowly dodging the axe blades.
"Ooh!"
The crowd erupted in admiration at Steven's powerful onslaught.
At a glance, his axe swings were far faster and more ferocious than anything Biliet had shown.
Moreover, with Blake retreating from the start, it was only natural for expectations to build.
"Go, Mad Axe!"
"Woooah!"
As if responding to the crowd's cheers, Steven swung his axes even more fiercely.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
With the sound of air tearing, flashes of light flickered endlessly as the axe blades flew in from every direction.
But Blake evaded every attack with light footwork that belied his massive frame.
To an outsider, it might have looked like a rehearsed spar with predetermined moves.
Then, perhaps due to Blake's constant evasion, the speed of the incoming axes slowed for a moment.
A cold gleam flashed in his eyes as he spotted it.
Swoosh!
His short staff shot out with a sharp hiss, curving like a venomous serpent toward Steven's wrists.
"Gasp!"
Startled by Blake's thunderous momentum, Steven hurriedly tried to twist his wrists away.
Crack!
"Argh!"
One strike.
Just one strike shattered his left wrist, forcing him back in agony.
He barely dodged with his right, but blocking the staff with the axe haft meant both axes slipped from his grasp.
"Urgh! Shit!"
Steven quickly reached behind his waist with his right hand and gripped a dagger.
But...
Swoosh!
Blake didn't let up, charging forward and thrusting the staff up through Steven's armpit.
Thwack!
"Gaaah!"
His shoulder jolted up nearly to his ear, and Steven staggered, howling in pain.
Swoosh!
Not missing the opening, the staff flew back in, mercilessly battering his limbs.
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
In the blink of an eye, without a moment to breathe, his arms and legs were pounded by the staff, twisting into grotesque shapes.
But that wasn't the end.
"Ughhh."
Swoosh!
As he crumpled like a puppet with cut strings, Blake merged his two staffs into one and swung at his waist.
Thud!
"Guek!"
Steven's massive body twisted sideways, floated into the air, then flew off the arena platform and slammed headfirst into the mud below.
Thud!
He twitched like a bug for a moment before going limp and still.
"Hurry!"
Soldiers rushed over, pulled Steven's head from the muck, and loaded him onto a stretcher.
Foul mud mixed with dark red blood spewed from his half-open mouth. His mangled limbs dangled off the stretcher as they carried him away.
"Ugh!"
Many in the crowd squeezed their eyes shut and turned away from the gruesome sight.
But most kept their fearful gazes fixed not on the pitiful Steven being carted off, but on the arena.
"Hmph."
Blake shook off his staffs casually, as if finishing a light workout, his expression impassive.
Blood and bits of flesh flew off.
He turned an indifferent gaze toward the Lancaster side's waiting area and uttered the words everyone now expected.
"Next."
"......"
Even though something unimaginable had become reality, Mia and Christine stood frozen, speechless.
Their faces showed shock more than joy.
The brutality they couldn't bear to watch had been so overwhelming that it drowned out any thrill of victory.
But the men, hardened by witnessing death countless times, paid it no mind.
"A-As expected, amazing!"
"Haha! Of course!"
Lindelmann chimed in with Guard, who had somehow joined the White Family group.
Though they hadn't overcome the Lancaster baron's coercion, the White Family welcomed Guard for trying to help them.
"Great! Now just one more win, and we're done."
Lindelmann clenched his fist.
Brick nodded excitedly, unable to hide his thrill.
"Then the White Family wins! What a stroke of luck! Right...?"
Brick's expression turned puzzled as he looked at the White sisters.
"Why are you all... Oh."
Finally realizing, he clicked his tongue softly.
No wonder—even he had felt chills for a moment at the brutality. For these delicately raised girls, it must have been worse. Lucky they hadn't vomited up breakfast.
Still, Brick hardened his gaze.
No matter what others thought, White Family members couldn't react like this.
"They're enemies targeting our White Family. And Sir Blake is fighting in our stead, crushing our foes."
"...Ah!"
The girls snapped to attention at Brick's stern words.
That's right.
The man standing like a black statue in the arena was their savior.
"Lift your heads. Watch straight ahead. Don't take your eyes off the man fighting for us, bearing the White Family's honor."
"Yes."
Mia's lips pressed tight, her expression returning to normal.
"Y-Yes!"
Christine lifted her head hurriedly.
Though their eyes trembled and bodies shook, the two White sisters kept their gaze fixed on the arena.
"Ugh!"
The Lancaster baron's face twisted in utter ugliness.
He couldn't believe it—not Biliet, who pocketed hundreds of silvers monthly, nor the trusted Steven. All defeated.
And each in the most humiliating, wretched way.
Win or lose, they'd be the laughingstock of Northway for years.
The sidelong glances from the VIP seats already felt ominous.
'Th-There has to be a way...'
The baron whipped his head around.
Only one lifeline left to slay that monstrous discharged soldier and turn the tide.
"S-Sir Swent."
"Yes. Speak."
Roderick's voice was as smooth as ever.
"Can you w—Guh!"
The baron clamped his mouth shut before finishing.
Violet flames flickered like they could pierce his lungs.
Seeing Roderick's terrifying glare fixed on the arena, even the baron—who'd survived over twenty years as a merchant through every ordeal—fell silent.
"Sir Swent."
"Hm? Oh."
Jonathan's voice softened Roderick's eyes back to their gentle glow.
"My apologies. I got a bit carried away without realizing. His skill surprised me more than expected—forgive me."
"Ah? Y-Yes!"
The baron wiped sweat from his brow and nodded frantically.
"If even you think that, then your c-cousin...?"
Suppressing his burning gut, the baron forced the question.
Roderick smiled his usual bright, gentle smile.
"Craig won't lose."
"R-Right?"
Still anxious, the baron mustered a relieved expression.
"He won't lose. The wings of the Blue Falcon don't break so easily."
As if affirming it to himself, Roderick repeated it and turned back to the arena.
"Ooh!"
Finally relieved, the baron nodded repeatedly.
But he didn't know.
That Roderick Swent had repeated himself for the first time in his life.
Or that Jonathan, aware of it, stared at the arena with utmost tension.
Craig stepped into the arena with steady, unhurried strides.
Blaaare!
The trumpets blared long, silencing the crowd and signaling the final duel. The arena fell quiet as if doused with water.
In the suffocating silence, Craig grinned.
"You're really something. Honestly, I'm impressed."
"......"
Blake said nothing.
He just stared at his opponent with the same gaze as when he'd first entered.
"Oh, right! I'm Craig Cadwell. Ever heard of the Blue Falcon Knights? I'm from there. Been training with real swords for about ten years."
"......"
Craig chattered like old friends, but Blake remained silent.
Who the opponent was or what they said didn't matter.
Only one thing on his mind.
He just wanted to end it quick and leave.
"But seriously, first time in this town seeing someone as strong as you. I worried you might not make it to me since you went first, but that was needless. You okay? Need a break?"
Craig kept asking, playful or sincere, his smile unwavering.
Blake, who'd listened silently, extended his right arm.
"Huh?"
As Craig blinked curiously, Blake flicked his staff toward him and spoke in his usual gravelly voice.
"Come."
Craig's lips curled slyly.
"Haha..."
With a strange smile, he drew his sword.
Shing!
A chilling scrape echoed as the blade emerged.
The Blue Falcon Knights' famed sword, etched with hawk-feather patterns rippling along the blade, gleamed with silver light.
"Ooh!"
"It's starting!"
A bit boyish-looking, but from one of the midlands' top knight orders. As he drew his sword, the crowd buzzed with excitement.
The promising young knight of the famed Blue Falcon Knights—maybe this monster would finally fall.
Or conversely, the thrill of that renowned knight possibly toppled by a frontier discharged soldier.
"Here I go."
Feeling all eyes on him, Craig stepped forward.
Swoosh!
His body moved, yet it split the wind audibly.
At once, his sword unleashed multiple beams of light toward Blake's chest and waist.
'Momentum...!'
Surprised a youth like Craig could infuse his strikes with such momentum, Blake stepped back and swung both arms.
Clang-clang-clang!
The two staffs crossed, clashing with the sword in sharp metallic bursts.
But most spectators heard only sounds, unable to follow the movements.
The speed of knights wielding momentum was that blinding.
Having blocked all attacks, Blake dipped his waist slightly and thrust his left hand.
Swoosh!
The staff streaked like a black lightning bolt.
Craig stepped back, twisting his torso. The black streak grazed his waist by a hair.
"Hah!"
From the twisted pose, Craig swung his sword upward.
A silver arc trailed the tip, colliding with the staff aiming for his shoulder.
Clang!
A clear ring echoed as sword met staff.
He'd blocked it.
But he hurriedly retracted his sword and leaped back.
Boom!
The staff smashed the arena floor with full force, splintering wood everywhere, shards flying into the air.
Scatter!
Dozens of large and small splinters rained between Blake and Craig, clouding vision.
"Gah!"
Roderick shot to his feet unwittingly.
(To be continued...)