Chapter 110: It Doesn't Sound Right When I Say It (2)
Chapter 110: It Doesn't Sound Right When I Say It (2)
Arcana.
A dragon who, despite his race, fell in love with the blade. Through relentless self-refinement, he was the great Sword Dragon who established the system of Aura Blessing.
The Aura Blessing he developed was passed down from master to disciple, and then to the next. Eventually, it became the very foundation for every swordsman who wields Aura today.
This tournament was created to honor him.
“That is the essence of this Sword Dragon Festival Arcana!”
As King Magellan concluded his speech, a thunderous roar of cheers erupted from the spectators filling the Colosseum. They were beyond excited at the fact that this glorious competition was unfolding right before their eyes.
Standing before them were the representatives of various nations, lined up in orderly ranks across the Colosseum floor.
“The atmosphere is…”
“Ahem… Don’t let it get to you.”
“Senior, your legs are shaking.”
“Ugh…”
The representatives of the Atronia Kingdom were already being crushed by the solemn, suffocating pressure of the event.
Well, all except for one.
“Yaaaawn. He sure talks a lot.”
“Hey, hey! You crazy bastard!”
“Watch your mouth! Watch your mouth!”
“Just shut up!”
At Petrick’s blunt remark, the other seniors frantically tried to stop him, terrified. Even Professor Late, who stood at the very front as their guide, flinched visibly.
“Tsk. We’re just here to swing some swords; why is there so much formality? Honestly, high-ranking people have this obsession with trying to look important no matter what they do.”
“Shut up! Please, just shut up!”
“No, just die. Don’t drag us down with you—just die alone!”
Despite the fierce protests from his seniors, Petrick didn’t even bat an eye, letting out one long yawn after another.
Even the representatives from other countries, standing some distance away, began to frown at Petrick’s attitude. Naturally, their judgmental glares turned toward the Atronia Kingdom.
‘Disrespectful brats.’
‘How can people like that represent a nation?’
‘Tsk, tsk. No wonder they’ve never won a single match at the Arcana.’
Though they didn’t speak aloud, their gazes—filled with reproach and indignation—were felt clearly. For the Atronia representatives, it was a nerve-wracking ordeal that felt like it was draining their very souls, until finally…
“…And with that, I hereby declare the start of the Sword Dragon Festival!”
The speech ended with the King’s proclamation.
As soon as the declaration was made, the Atronia representatives hurried down from the training grounds faster than any other nation. And the first thing Alex did was…
“You… crazy… bastard!”
He grabbed his junior by the collar and shook him violently.
“What?”
“‘What?’ ‘Whaaat?’ How can you even ask ‘what’ right now?”
“I asked because I wanted to know.”
“Well, that certainly makes sense, you goddamn brat!”
How could someone be so technically correct yet so incredibly punchable?
And Alex wasn’t the only one who felt this way.
‘If only I had the skill…’
‘If only I could smack the back of his head just once…’
Could a human being truly be this irritating?
While they were discovering this new facet of human nature, Petrick spoke nonchalantly.
“Anyway, are you guys less nervous now?”
“What…? Huh?”
Suddenly, Alex realized something.
Because of Petrick’s insane behavior, his heart had been racing, and he felt like his lifespan had been shortened by about ten years. But in exchange…
‘The nerves… are they gone?’
Until just a moment ago, his entire body had been stiff with the crushing pressure of the Arcana finally beginning. But now, as he stood there shaking Petrick by the collar, he didn't feel nervous at all.
“Wait, did you do that on purpose just to help us relax?”
“Well, it was a bit of both. The speech really was boring as hell, too.”
“Ugh…”
Alex loosened his grip on Petrick’s collar. He looked at Petrick grumpily and muttered, “You absolute jerk.”
Petrick chuckled at the half-hearted reproach.
“Whatever. Let’s just watch the matches. They say watching a fight and watching a fire are the two most entertaining things in the world.”
Petrick and his teammates turned their attention to the training grounds in the center of the Colosseum.
The first match was between the representative of the Benator Empire and the representative of the Harbor Kingdom.
“It’s not that guy who’s the Sword Saint’s grandson.”
At Petrick’s remark, Alex, standing beside him, replied, “Even so, the Empire possesses the strongest knight force on the continent. They aren’t to be taken lightly.”
“Well, there’s definitely a gap.”
Petrick nodded as he looked at the two men on the platform.
In truth, the outcome was decided at a glance. Unlike the Empire’s representative, who maintained a natural posture with his body relaxed, the Harbor Kingdom’s representative was stiff from head to toe. It seemed the pressure of being in the opening match of such a massive tournament—and having an Imperial representative as an opponent—had completely overwhelmed him.
‘The Harbor representative is around the mid-to-late 3-Star level, and the Empire guy is at the edge of 4-Star?’
As Petrick gauged them, the difference in their realms was clear. And since the weaker one was also paralyzed by nerves, the outcome was a foregone conclusion.
The referee called both to the center and said something. After the two took their distance…
“Begin!”
At the referee’s signal, the Harbor Kingdom’s representative charged first.
“Aaaaah!”
Watching him rush forward with a desperate shout, Petrick covered his eyes with one hand as if he couldn't bear to look.
“I’m not watching. I can’t watch this.”
That wasn't an attack. It was the desperate struggle of a coward consumed by fear—like a cornered rat biting a cat.
And if a rat bites a cat? What happens next? The rat’s fate is already sealed.
“Dull.”
The Imperial representative muttered that single word and moved fluidly.
Boom!
A powerful strike. The Aura squeezed out by the 3-Star knight with all his might slammed into the floor of the arena.
But no matter how powerful it was, what use was it if it only hit the ground?
The Imperial representative’s sword, which had dodged the attack, was now resting precisely against the Harbor representative’s neck, even without the use of Aura.
Looking at his opponent, who stood frozen by the cold sensation against his throat, the Imperial representative spoke.
“Power is not everything.”
The referee, confirming the situation, shouted, “Winner: Patra Leofield of the Benator Empire!”
A single move.
The match was over in an instant, without even taking much time.
“Whoa! As expected!”
“The Empire is the Empire for a reason.”
“He didn't even use Aura just now, did he?”
“The level is just different. Completely different.”
The crowd was electrified by the swift conclusion of the first match. They had expected the Imperial representative to win, but they hadn't expected it to be this overwhelming.
The two representatives sheathed their swords, bowed to each other, and departed. On his way back, Patra, the Imperial representative, raised his sword hand high, prompting another round of enthusiastic cheers from the audience.
“Oh boy, look at him. He did such a great job. Look at how proud he is after getting a free win.”
Of course, Petrick was making comments like this.
Naturally, even if they had fought normally, that Patra or Patrasche guy from the Empire would have won. However, the reason it ended so absurdly was largely because the opponent couldn't even bring out half his skill due to excessive nervousness.
Petrick suddenly whipped his head around.
The seniors flinched as he addressed them. “Hey, seniors.”
“What?”
Seeing the fire burning in Petrick’s eyes, no one was brave enough to criticize his tone.
Petrick spoke through gritted teeth. “I can understand losing. I can concede that much. But…”
Petrick pointed his thumb at the Harbor Kingdom representative, who was walking back with slumped shoulders.
“If you lose like that, you’re dead.”
The four seniors nodded their heads in unison. They had just received a perfect example of what not to do from the very first match.
The tournament continued.
Unlike the first match that ended anticlimactically, there were several bouts that showed quite a close contest. In particular, the battles involving the Holy Knights of the Holy Kingdom or the Magic Swordsmen from the Tower of Truth were interesting even to Petrick.
“For Yupinel!”
Petrick showed interest in the battles of the Holy Knights, who overwhelmed their enemies with the sheer momentum of the Divine Power radiating from their bodies.
“Ho… they use the energy of Purging Evil. Is it similar to Shaolin’s Buddha’s Light Shines Everywhere?”
The Magic Swordsmen representing the Tower of Truth also struck Petrick as quite novel.
“Fire Storm!”
As a sword was swung, a blazing torrent of flames erupted from it, engulfing the enemy. The opponent tried to advance while blocking the attack by coating their shield in Aura, but they seemed to be struggling.
“Oh, even the kids from the Sun Palace can’t do it like that.”
While there were masters in the Murim who could coat their attacks with heat by practicing Scorching Yang Energy, attacks that actually spewed flames like that were rare even there.
Seeing Petrick marveling at the sight, the other representatives whispered among themselves.
“What the hell is he even talking about?”
“How should I know?”
“You’re not supposed to understand crazy people.”
“True.”
* * *
The matches continued in that fashion.
And finally, it was time for the first representative of the Atronia Kingdom to compete. That person was none other than…
“Isabella Black Atronia!”
Upon hearing her name called, Isabella stood up with her sword. Before stepping onto the arena, she glanced at Petrick and said, “I’ll be back.”
“Yeah, give it your best shot.”
As she ascended the platform, her opponent stepped up before her.
“Petrick Enobier!”
The moment the name was called, the Atronia representatives were stirred into a commotion.
“What-trick?”
“I didn't hear that wrong, did I?”
“They said Petrick, right?”
Their gazes landed on the original Petrick. Petrick simply shrugged his shoulders.
“What? It’s a common enough name. People can have the same name, can’t they?”
True. It was possible. Setting aside why they had to encounter someone with the same name at a grand stage like the Arcana, it was certainly a possibility.
Their eyes turned back to the arena.
There stood Isabella, her usual cold expression replaced by a face full of fighting spirit.
‘Hmm… I understand.’
‘I’d feel the same way.’
‘She probably feels like she’s met her parents’ murderer.’
The Atronia representatives fully empathized with her feelings.
Petrick Enobier.
He was a promising man who had reached the edge of 3-Star and was selected as a representative for the Caesar Kingdom. Of course, he knew that winning the whole thing was impossible with his current skills. The world was full of geniuses who were on an entirely different level from someone merely "talented" like himself.
However, depending on the brackets, couldn't he aim to pass the second round?
Passing the second round of the Arcana. That alone would be a sufficient achievement to pave a solid path for his future.
Having entered with such a modest yet realistic goal, his lips curled into a smirk when he saw his first opponent.
‘The Atronia Kingdom. Talk about luck.’
What was the Atronia Kingdom? Was it not the officially recognized weakest nation on the continent, having failed to secure a single victory in the Arcana for the past ten years?
The moment he met a representative from that place, his first win was practically guaranteed. Furthermore, seeing his opponent made him feel even better.
Who knows? Perhaps this was fate, and he might even strike up a romantic relationship with this beautiful princess later on.
Thinking so, he put on his best possible smile and spoke in a smooth voice.
“Haha. It is an honor to cross blades with such a beautiful lady, Princess Isabella.”
It was Petrick—no, Fake Patrick—greeting her elegantly as if he were meeting a beautiful lady at a social gathering.
To have a guaranteed first-round win combined with a meeting with a beautiful woman…
‘This must be because I’ve lived a virtuous life. Thank you, Yupinel.’
Well, who knows? It’s hard to say if Fake Patrick had actually lived a virtuous life or not. But one thing was certain…
“You.”
“Yes?”
“You’re dead.”
“…Pardon?”
Why? Why would you suddenly say that?
“Draw your sword and clench your teeth. I’m going to kill you.”
“No… why? Just why?!”
It’s a mystery how Fake Patrick had lived his life.
But one thing was for sure: in this world, there was another Petrick who hadn't lived a very virtuous life at all.