Chapter 114: Who Do You Think You Are, Acting All Friendly? (4)
Chapter 114: Who Do You Think You Are, Acting All Friendly? (4)
“Mmm, what a sense of accomplishment.”
Patrick wore a satisfied smile.
As he wiped the sweat from his brow with a refreshing grin, he looked the very picture of fulfillment. It was a scene that could have been mistaken for a heartwarming moment of youth—a snapshot of a young man who had given his all.
“Ugh… Argh….”
That is, if one ignored the bloody pulp twitching beneath his feet.
Jayton.
Or rather, the thing that had once been called Prince Jayton, was groaning and twitching intermittently, though it no longer held any semblance of its original shape. Thanks to Patrick’s meticulous care in beating him evenly from head to toe, his entire body was swollen like a balloon.
“You… You… You monster…”
The referee stared at Patrick, who had reduced Jayton to such a state, and found himself at a loss for words. How could a human being do this to another? Even if this was a legitimate duel, Jayton was a prince of a nation. To tenderize a prince like that? Was he even sane?
“Aren’t you going to make a call?”
When Patrick asked nonchalantly, the referee finally managed to speak.
“Intentionally killing an opponent results in a loss by disqualification.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’s definitely not going to die.”
It was the truth.
Right now, Jayton was in enough pain to wish he were dead, but not a single bone was broken, and his internal organs were intact. In short, he had been beaten with agonizing precision—enough to feel like death, but not enough to actually cause it.
“I’m an expert in this field. Just give him two weeks of bed rest and he’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Guh… hhh…”
There was nothing to be done. The referee let out a long sigh and finally announced the result.
“Winner, Patrick Schneider.”
“Ahem!”
Having received his declaration of victory, Patrick puffed out his chest and stepped down from the arena. And as he returned to his comrades, he was met with their congratulations…
“Is he even human?”
“Why even ask? I was already convinced he was a demon from the start.”
“True. But I didn’t think he’d go that far.”
“He’s worse than a demon.”
…Or not.
Seeing his teammates’ disgusted expressions, Patrick pouted.
“Hey, I might have gone a liiiittle overboard. But I had my reasons. Once you hear them, you’ll understand that I didn’t actually overdo it.”
At Patrick’s serious defense, Alex suddenly became curious. A legitimate reason for meticulously mashing a prince into a bloody pulp right in front of his own people? If such a thing truly existed, he wanted to know.
So, he asked.
“And what was that reason?”
“He was being a total prick.”
“…That’s it?”
“Yep.”
Seeing Patrick nod with such confidence, Alex lost the strength to even remain standing. He leaned one hand against a wall, hung his head, and let out a deep sigh.
“Why is a guy like this… No, I suppose it’s better to have him as an ally than an enemy… But still, why?”
But what could he do? Life was inherently difficult.
The matches continued. Representatives from various kingdoms stepped up one after another to test their skills, and the representatives of the Atronia Kingdom continued their streak. Isabella, Alex, and Patrick had all won, and Karin Trinaldo, who competed after them, also emerged victorious. He had been lucky with the brackets, facing an opponent of a lower star level, and managed to win without much trouble.
With that, four out of the five representatives had won. As a result, the corners of Professor Late’s mouth continued to curve upward.
“Hehehehe. Four wins in a row. Four wins! Bwahahaha! How do you like that, you bastards? We got four consecutive wins!”
Seeing Professor Late, who seemed to have left his professional dignity back in their home country, Karin spoke up.
“Was the professor always like that?”
“Just leave him be. Can you imagine how happy he must be?”
“I suppose so.”
It wasn’t that they didn’t understand Professor Late’s feelings. Hadn’t the Atronia Kingdom suffered the unprecedented disgrace of three consecutive total defeats? The responsibility for that shame had naturally fallen on the professors in charge of the Knight Department’s education.
The constant interrogations they had endured. The ever-worsening budget cuts. The looks of pity that felt more like mockery. All of that was about to change.
“Hehe. I can’t wait to get back home and see the faces of the King and the nobles. They’re all dead meat!”
Was it really okay for a knight to act like that?
Just then, the referee called out the name of Atronia’s final representative.
“Gerard Teixeira!”
“Here!”
Gerard answered spiritedly and stepped up onto the platform. Before ascending, he looked back at his comrades, gave them a thumbs-up, and said, “I’ll make it five for five.”
“We’re counting on you, Gerard.”
“Good luck.”
“You can do it, Senior.”
Alex, Isabella, and Karin all gave him encouraging words. And Patrick…
“Senior.”
“Hmm? What is it?”
Is he going to give me some advice before the match? With that slight expectation, Gerard looked at him, only for Patrick to say:
“Don’t try to look cool. Just fight like your life depends on it.”
“…….”
Of course. What was I expecting?
With a sigh, Gerard climbed onto the arena. Behind him, Patrick muttered quietly.
“If you’re going to lose, at least lose without embarrassing yourself.”
At those words, Alex, who was standing nearby, frowned.
“Are you saying Gerard can’t win?”
“Yeah. He has absolutely no chance.”
“Gerard is strong. He’s at the very peak of the 3-star level; it wouldn’t be strange if he reached the 4-star realm any day now.”
“3-star this, 4-star that.”
Patrick let out a deep sigh. He was getting tired of playing along with these nobodies and their little pissing contests. Anyway…
“Whether Senior Gerard is strong or weak doesn’t really matter.”
Patrick pointed with his chin toward the man already standing on the arena.
“He can’t beat that guy.”
The man Gerard faced upon the stage had hair as red as a roaring flame and piercing blue eyes. He possessed a rugged, powerful impression and smiled as he looked at Gerard.
“The progress of the Atronia Kingdom is quite surprising.”
“I appreciate the compliment, Prince Sierion.”
Sierion Byssus Yuzef.
The Prince of the Yuzef Kingdom and a representative of Arcana stood before him. He wore a faint, friendly smile, as if he held a favorable opinion of Gerard.
“It was truly impressive. Well, though there was one person in the middle who was a bit… excessive. Heh…”
“What’s so funny?”
“Ah, my apologies. It’s not that it’s funny, it’s just… satisfying. I was planning to crush that Jayton fellow myself if I ran into him, but I didn’t expect someone to beat him so thoroughly first.”
“…….”
“It was quite cathartic. Please tell your junior that he did a fine job.”
“I’ve lived long enough to hear everything…”
Gerard shook his head. He never imagined someone would see that atrocity and call it "fine work." Come to think of it, this man was strange too. Back at the banquet, when Patrick was running his mouth, this man was the only one who had laughed and seemed to relate to Patrick’s behavior.
‘Like attracts like. There’s no way a person who’s on the same wavelength as that bastard is normal.’
Having reached that conclusion, Gerard spoke bluntly.
“Even if a blade were at my throat, I wouldn’t want to compliment that damn brat. So if you want to do it, do it yourself.”
“Is that so? Then I shall.”
“…….”
Why was he being so compliant? Wasn’t he supposed to be a lunatic? This was making Gerard look like the bad guy.
As Gerard stood there awkwardly, Sierion gave a confident smile and said, “Well then, shall we begin?”
Then, he drew his weapon.
“Ah…”
In that moment, Gerard couldn’t help but marvel. The weapon Prince Sierion used was a two-handed sword. It was a greatsword meant to be wielded with both hands, but it was far larger than any standard two-handed sword. It was of such an absurd size that it looked as if he had ripped a support pillar out of a small house and brought it along.
“Do you really intend to use that?”
“Of course. Why? Do you think I can’t?”
Sierion gave the two-handed sword a light experimental swing.
Whooooosh!
The pillar-sized sword swung with massive weight. It was so fast that Gerard could feel the wind pressure even from a distance.
‘Incredible.’
He had seen many knights who used two-handed swords, but never one this massive. Yet, Sierion was handling it as if it weighed nothing. Gerard was certain: this man was powerful.
“Gerard Teixeira of the Atronia Kingdom. I will give my all.”
“Sierion Byssus Yuzef of the Yuzef Kingdom. I shall be your opponent.”
“Begin!”
At the referee’s signal, Gerard immediately thrust his kite shield forward, taking a cautious stance. No matter how well the opponent handled it, that weapon was a massive, heavy piece of equipment. If he could read the first attack and parry it, he could close the distance and fight from the inside.
Fortunately, the weapon Gerard used was a broadsword, which was shorter than a longsword. Considering its characteristics—being thick and short to excel in close-quarters combat…
‘If I can just close the gap, I have a chance.’
Having finished his calculations, Gerard focused all his mental energy on responding to the first strike.
Step by step…
Gerard closed the distance slowly, without rushing, focusing on when that massive sword would come flying at him. And then…
“Here I come.”
“Hmm?”
He was momentarily flustered by Sierion’s quiet voice. Was he announcing his attack? He must know exactly what I’m aiming for, yet he’s giving me a warning?
“Are you mocking m—Guh!”
The anger that had flared up inside Gerard instantly turned into shock. Sierion’s two-handed sword came flying toward him. Or rather, it flew toward him and then simply vanished. At least, that was all Gerard could perceive.
BOOOOOM!
“Cough!”
When Gerard was a child, he had once played recklessly in the stables and been kicked by a horse. He had suffered broken ribs and internal injuries, hovering between life and death for days before barely surviving.
‘Why am I remembering that now…?’
Gerard realized it then. He was currently flying through the air. Just like when he had been kicked by that horse as a child.
“Kh!”
If he kept going like this, he’d be out of bounds. Gerard hurriedly twisted his body and slammed his sword into the ground.
Screeeech!
Though he used the sword as a brake, his body only came to a stop at the very edge of the arena. A long gouge was carved into the floor where his blade had dragged.
‘If I had been just a moment later…’
As Gerard swallowed hard, Sierion approached him leisurely.
“You’ve got grit. Tsk, I was hoping to win without causing any injuries.”
At his regretful tone, Gerard’s face flushed. He hadn’t even seen the attack coming. Yet, despite being hit, there was almost no pain. It was because the opponent had struck him with the flat of that massive blade rather than the edge.
‘If he had actually cut with the edge…’
The match was already as good as over. Even without Aura, a weapon of that weight would have had no trouble splitting his body in half.
‘There’s nothing I can do.’
Gerard realized the truth. There was a massive gap in skill between him and his opponent. For some reason, Sierion liked him and had even shown him mercy. What would change if he pathetically clung to a match he only survived because of that mercy? A more humiliating defeat? If so, was there even a reason to keep fighting?
Gerard let out a sigh, raised his hand, and spoke.
“Refere—”
“Hey! You goddamn… pathetic… excuse for a senior!”
It was then. Patrick’s enraged voice thundered into Gerard’s ears.