Chapter 112: Who Are You to Act So Familiar? (2)
Chapter 112: Who Are You to Act So Familiar? (2)
“Begin!”
At the referee’s signal, Alex lunged forward.
Kboom!
From the very start, both combatants surged with Aura. Their swords collided, letting out a thunderous roar.
They both planted their feet wide, stabilizing their centers, and began a fierce exchange of blows.
Clang! Crash! Boom!
Sword against sword, or sword against shield.
A relentless clash unfolded at mid-range, with neither side yielding an inch.
“Oooooh!”
“Nice! Now that’s what I call a fight!”
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The audience erupted instantly.
While the tournament gathered the finest talents representing their respective nations, truly explosive matches were surprisingly rare. Because it was such a grand stage, most fought with extreme caution, prioritizing prudence over audacity.
This match, however, was exceptionally violent.
Both men stood their ground within a dangerous distance, moving incessantly as they traded strikes. To the spectators, it looked like two hot-blooded warriors had found their perfect match.
But the reality was different.
‘This crazy bastard...’
The man facing Alex was the representative of the Magellan Kingdom, an expert who had reached the maturity of the 4-Star realm. This was a tournament held in his own country, and his family had come to watch him. Naturally, he wanted to win at all costs and had planned to play the match carefully.
But those plans were shattered by Alex’s very first move.
Alex had charged in at high speed to close the gap, then unleashed a storm of savage, continuous attacks at point-blank range.
The Magellan representative was skilled enough to realize one thing: he couldn't back down here. If he did, he would lose the pace of the match entirely and let his opponent’s momentum soar.
In the end, he had no choice but to fight back.
Right now, it wasn't a mutual exchange; he was being forced to fend off Alex, who was lunging at him like a starving wolf.
‘I have to break his rhythm somehow.’
He thought frantically as they traded blows. Continuing this exchange on his opponent’s terms was a bad idea. He needed to create distance to bring the match back to his own pace. To do that...
“Haaaaah!”
With a powerful shout, the Aura coating his sword grew denser.
Clang! Crash! Boom!
Their swords collided violently, forcing them apart.
However, Alex was slightly slower in recovering his stance. He was being overpowered. Though the difference was marginal, the opponent’s Aura was superior in raw strength.
Kboom!
After a particularly powerful clash, Alex’s posture wavered slightly.
‘Good. Now!’
Not missing the opening, the opponent leaped backward to widen the gap. He didn't want to indulge in this dogfight any longer. He wanted to fight from a distance, calmly and—
“Huh?!”
It was then.
Alex made a move the opponent could never have imagined.
“You crazy bastard!”
He literally threw it.
Alex had boldly hurled his kite shield at the retreating opponent. For someone who thought they had safely gained distance, it was a terrifying sight.
A knight throwing his weapon? What about honor? What about dignity?
‘Does the academy of the Atronia Kingdom teach this kind of nonsense?’
In truth, he hadn't learned it from the academy, but from Patrick. To be precise, he had learned it during the hellish practical training Patrick had forced upon him.
Orthodoxy is good. It is excellent.
But in a real fight, you can only win by the book when you are stronger than your opponent. For the weak to survive against the strong, they have to do whatever it takes.
Having realized this truth, Alex did not hesitate to use the unconventional move of throwing his shield on the glorious stage of Arcana.
“Ugh...!”
Kboom!
The opponent managed to block the spinning shield with his sword, but the impact momentarily broke his balance.
Alex didn't miss the window and went for the finishing blow.
‘It’s still incomplete, but...’
It definitely felt like this.
Grip the sword with both hands. Never let the center of gravity collapse. Step forward with the left foot.
Three Talents Sword Method.
Mount Tai Crushes the Summit.
—Imitation.
“Haaaaah!”
This was the single strike he had seen when he first faced Patrick. The strike that had never left his mind, day or night. That damn Great Demon wouldn't teach it to him even when asked, but Alex had practiced it relentlessly on his own.
The result?
Though still unrefined, the best blow Alex could muster fell toward his opponent’s head.
“Not a chance!”
The opponent met Alex’s strike with an upward slash. And then...
K-boooooom!
A violent shockwave erupted as Aura collided with Aura.
Clang.
A moment later, the sound of a sword hitting the floor echoed through the arena.
“How... How could I...”
The one who had dropped his sword was the Magellan representative. He stared at his trembling hands in disbelief.
Alex, looking slightly pale, pointed his sword at him and spoke.
“The match is decided.”
“...”
The Magellan representative grit his teeth, his face flushed with shame. But...
“Alex Lowenski wins!”
It was as Alex said. The match was over.
*
“Whoa! Senior!”
“Alex, you punk! You actually...”
“Congratulations.”
As Alex returned, his teammates showered him with praise. Isabella had already secured one win, washing away the Atronia Kingdom’s previous disgrace. But Alex’s victory was no less significant.
Setting aside that monster Patrick who had appeared out of nowhere...
Alex Lowenski was the finest talent produced by the Atronia Kingdom’s academy. His victory carried great weight.
Even Professor Late approached Alex with a proud expression.
“Well done. Truly... you did a great job.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
After receiving his teammates' gratitude, Alex turned to Patrick, who was watching him with a peculiar expression.
“Got nothing to say?”
“It was pretty pathetic.”
At Patrick’s blunt remark, Alex let out a small sigh.
“I guess so, huh?”
Seeing Alex’s bitter smile, Patrick thought to himself.
‘This brat actually put Intent into his sword.’
This was truly unexpected.
Sure, Patrick had shown it to him once. During their first meeting, he had demonstrated what it meant to imbue one’s will into a blade and project it. But honestly, he hadn't expected anything to come of it.
Think about it. If a sage with heavenly knowledge explains his wisdom to a child playing in the dirt, would the child understand?
For a martial artist, imbuing Intent is no simple task. To put it bluntly, even Professor Late, who had reached the 7-Star realm, could only do it subconsciously, not consciously. The level of martial arts in this world was still lagging.
‘But this brat actually did it?’
Of course, it wasn't perfect. Even if he had imbued Intent, it was a tiny, tiny amount. It was barely the size of a chick’s tear.
‘But then again, the fact that he did it at all is what matters... Ah, I don't know. Is this guy more of a genius than I thought?’
It was a strange feeling. He felt a bit proud, a bit annoyed, and even a bit pleased, yet deep down, a sense of mischief was bubbling up. What was this feeling?
As Patrick was seriously contemplating his emotions for the first time in a long while, Alex spoke.
“Patrick.”
“What? I’m busy.”
“No, but still.”
“I said I’m busy.”
“The referee is calling you.”
“Huh?”
Only then did Patrick snap out of it and look toward the arena. The referee was glaring in his direction with a deep scowl.
“Patrick Schneider! If you do not come out immediately, you will be disqualified!”
“Ah... I’m coming! I’m coming!”
Patrick hurried out. The Atronia representatives sighed as they watched his retreating back.
“Aha, sorry I’m late. I was lost in thought...”
Seeing Patrick grinning sheepishly on the stage, the referee let out a sigh of his own. Then, as if realizing something, he asked.
“Where is your sword?”
“My sword...? Ah! My swords!”
Realizing he had walked up empty-handed, Patrick turned back to his team.
“Senior, throw me my swords!”
“How can you throw a sacred sword?!”
As Alex shouted back in anger, Patrick grumbled under his breath.
“Why not? You threw your shield just fine.”
“Urgh...!”
His face turning red, Alex grabbed Patrick’s twin swords and threw them with all his might.
“Just die!”
Was that really something to say while throwing swords to a junior?
Snatch!
“Thanks.”
Seeing him catch them effortlessly, it seemed like it was fine after all. Patrick unsheathed both swords and turned to the referee.
“Alright, I’m ready.”
The referee thought to himself: It would be better for the dignity of this sacred Arcana if a frivolous fellow like this were eliminated quickly.
Fortunately, the opponent was the perfect person to fulfill the referee’s wish.
“Jeyton Rud Magellan!”
As the player’s name was called, the loudest cheer yet erupted from the stands.
“Wooooo!”
“It’s the Prince!”
“Long live the Magellan Kingdom!”
The grandson of the Sword Saint. The youngest Paladin candidate. The Magic Swordsman of the Tower of Truth. There were many strong contenders for the championship, but the crowd always favored their own.
With the Prince of the Magellan Kingdom appearing as a representative for Arcana, the thunderous cheers were only natural.
“Hoh... favoritism, is it?”
Though there was one person who couldn't accept that natural fact.
Inside Patrick, feelings of grumpiness and annoyance were steadily rising.
Unlike the sulking Patrick, Prince Jeyton entered while basking in the cheers directed at him.
‘Yes. This is it. This is exactly it.’
The audience chanting his name. The glorious stage of Arcana. For this moment, he, born of royalty, had swung his sword until his palms tore, dedicating himself to training since childhood. This moment would be talked about for ages, even after he ascended the throne.
<His Highness Jeyton Rud Magellan stood upon the stage of Arcana at the age of twenty-two and performed magnificently.>
‘Something like that.’
Just thinking about it gave him chills. Even the sacrifice standing on the stage right now was perfect.
“Heh heh heh... I didn't expect to meet you again like this.”
“...Hmm?”
“Don't be too frightened. I have no desire to stain the first chapter of my legend with too much blood.”
“...Hmm?”
“But you should be prepared to lose at least an arm, brat.”
Seeing Prince Jeyton draw his sword with a cold smile, Patrick raised a hand.
“Wait, wait a second.”
“What is it? Are you going to beg for mercy now?”
“No, it’s not that...”
Patrick pressed a hand to his forehead, his face contorted in a deep grimace. He looked like he was straining to squeeze something out of his brain. After a moment of groaning, Patrick spoke.
“I can't do it. No matter how hard I think, I can't remember.”
“...Hmm?”
“Who are you? Who are you to act so familiar? Huh?”
“...Hmm?”
Prince Jeyton Rud Magellan.
His legend began to derail spectacularly from the very first chapter.