Chapter 115: At Least It Wasn't Embarrassing (1)
Chapter 115: At Least It Wasn't Embarrassing (1)
"Hey! Calm down, man!"
"Calm down? What the hell is there to calm down about!? Our side losing is the fifteenth thing I hate most in the world!"
"Why do you have so many things you hate?"
"Ah! Whatever, get lost!"
Patrick kicked Alex away as he tried to restrain him and turned back toward the arena to scream.
"Yeah! That bastard is stronger than you! So what!?"
Gerard’s body flinched.
"Are you going to spend your whole life only fighting people weaker than you!? You moron! Are you going to give up every fight you can't win!?"
Gerard’s face flushed with shame.
Patrick’s words became a sharp dagger, stabbing straight into Gerard’s heart.
Without a shred of mercy, Patrick continued to howl at him.
"What kind of knight is that!? If you’re going to live such a pathetic, embarrassing life, just go drown yourself in a bowl of water! You... mmmph!"
"Please, just stop already!"
"Grab his legs! His legs!"
"Should I just stab him?"
His teammates swarmed him as a group, muffling Patrick’s mouth and dragging him backward.
However, Patrick’s shouting had already echoed throughout the entire stadium.
The spectators stared at Patrick in a daze.
"He’s insane."
"Where did a nutjob like that come from?"
"I didn't think he was normal during his match, but..."
"A real legendary madman has emerged from the Atronia Kingdom."
This was Arcana.
It was the most prestigious tournament on the continent.
It was a stage where the elite, handpicked from every nation, competed to carve great glory into their lives while others predicted their futures.
In such a place, to beat an opponent into a bloody pulp and then scream profanities at one's own teammate?
No matter how one looked at it, it wasn't the behavior of a sane human being.
And as for the person who had been the target of that crazy bastard's logic...
"That damn brat..."
Gerard spat the words out.
It was an undeniable fact that his annoying junior’s personality was so foul it would make a demon weep.
Every word and every action screamed 'lunatic.'
Sometimes, Gerard genuinely wondered if he wasn't human, but a member of the Demon Clan. However...
Dammit. I can't even argue with him.
Regrettably, every word out of that madman’s mouth was correct.
What is a knight?
They are those who take up the sword to protect the nation, remain loyal to the royal family, and defend the weak.
If one abandons that duty based on the strength of the opponent, they are no longer a knight.
That was the logic of mercenaries, who prioritized their own survival and gold above all else.
A knight is...
"One who must possess the courage to face any opponent for the sake of their convictions."
He forced the truth he knew in his head out through his lips.
As if to engrave it upon himself anew.
If he considered himself a knight, he could not shrink back in fear of the strong.
He would rather be shattered and broken into pieces than do that.
A fire of fighting spirit ignited in Gerard’s eyes.
He looked at Sierion and spoke.
"I apologize. And thank you for waiting."
"It is fine. It was well worth the wait."
Sierion saw the determination in Gerard’s eyes and gave a satisfied smile.
Not bad.
This was how it should be.
A knight of the East should have eyes like those.
Sierion glanced briefly at Patrick outside the arena.
Patrick, having shaken off the teammates who were holding him back, was huffing and puffing as he glared at the ring.
"I felt it at the banquet as well, but he is quite the character."
"It is true that he is remarkable. In many senses of the word..."
"I am almost tempted to take him as my own subordinate."
At Sierion’s words, Gerard’s eyes widened.
"He is a noble of our Atronia Kingdom."
Seeing Gerard’s dead-serious expression, Sierion chuckled.
"For now, yes."
"Are you planning to steal him away?"
Sierion gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
"It is not like that. What I am looking at is the bigger picture."
"..."
"There is no point in speaking of it now, I suppose."
Looking at Gerard, who was staring back with fierce resolve, Sierion lifted his massive two-handed sword onto his shoulder.
In that stance, he spoke to Gerard.
"Let us focus on the match for now. Show me your will."
"Gladly!"
With a roar, Gerard charged forward with all his might.
* * *
Reality is cruel.
Effort, grit, and willpower.
These are all good words and essential elements for anyone trying to achieve something.
However, there are walls in this world that cannot be overcome by those things alone.
Though Gerard fought with everything he had, the gap in skill between him and Sierion was simply too vast.
"Aaaaaah!"
Thwack!
He lunged with everything he had, but every time Sierion’s massive two-handed sword cut through the air, Gerard was sent flying like a ragdoll.
"Urgh... Gack..."
Gerard tumbled pathetically across the floor after being blown away.
Normally, the match would have ended there.
But Sierion did not follow up with a finishing blow, and Gerard forced himself up once more, lifting his head.
He shouted toward the giant enemy before him.
"I'm not done yet!"
Then, he charged at Sierion again.
Impressive.
Sierion marveled at Gerard’s grit.
Though he was striking with the flat of the blade rather than the edge, Gerard had taken powerful impacts that sent his body flying multiple times.
Naturally, his body was becoming a battered mess, but there was no sign of surrender in his opponent.
"Fine. Show me what you've got!"
Since it had come to this, Sierion wanted to see just how far that grit would take him.
Sierion sent the charging, determined Gerard flying once more.
BAM!
"Cough..."
Twenty-five times.
That was the number of times Gerard had blindly charged, only to be struck by Sierion’s attack and sent tumbling.
Even the spectators watching the scene were on edge.
"Are... aren't they going to stop it?"
"Isn't he going to die at this rate?"
"Crazy, he's getting up again?"
The difference in skill was crystal clear.
However, the people were feeling something from the sight of Gerard, who refused to yield to that overwhelming gap and continued to challenge until the end.
Anxiety, inspiration, pity, respect...
Under the complex gaze of the audience, Gerard stood up for the twenty-sixth time.
"Heh... cough..."
His leg was broken.
His shield was half-destroyed, and his armor was little more than rags.
His wrists were swollen, his vision was dizzy, and though he forced himself to swallow the blood rising in his throat, his mouth was already filled with the taste of iron.
Forget a chance of winning; even the possibility of doing anything had completely vanished.
Even in that state...
"Not... yet..."
He stood.
And he raised his sword to face his opponent again.
"Magnificent."
A sincere word of praise escaped Sierion’s lips.
It wasn't that Gerard’s skill was great.
Sierion had plenty of subordinates stronger than Gerard.
But that grit and will were so impressive that he wanted to tell his own men to learn from him.
"What are you... doing? I can... still... cough... keep going."
Gerard, limping on what was likely a broken leg and holding a half-shattered shield, did not look pathetic at all.
Anyone who held a sword and walked that path could never mock that sight as pathetic.
Sierion spoke.
"Gerard Teixeira."
He gripped his two-handed sword with both hands and raised it above his head.
"I shall remember your name."
"Hehe..."
Gerard let out a hollow laugh.
And for the first time in this match, a brilliant blue aura began to coat Sierion’s blade.
Is it coming?
Seeing this, Gerard grit his teeth and concentrated his aura into his half-broken shield.
He couldn't dodge with a broken leg anyway.
Then I'll just have to endure it.
Gerard gathered every ounce of his strength to prepare for the coming impact. And...
"Come!"
He screamed it with his soul, not his mouth.
And Sierion answered.
"Take this."
In an instant, Sierion’s massive two-handed sword fell with terrifying momentum.
A blue aura exploded forward from him.
Rumble! Crash!
The shockwave of blue aura tore through the floor of the arena as it flew.
It was a raw, powerful aura that lacked any sense of sharpness or refinement.
It was like a storm.
And that storm of aura engulfed the battered Gerard.
"AAAAAAAGH!"
Gerard was swallowed by the storm of aura like a small boat caught in a tsunami.
The storm did not stop there but continued forward...
"W-Whoa!"
"Run!"
"Noooo!"
It sent the spectators in its path into a state of total panic.
BOOOOOM!
Fortunately, the aura did not hit the spectator stands.
"A bunch of cowards..."
Sierion had adjusted the range and power of the aura from the start.
Besides, the outer walls engraved with defensive spells made by the Tower of Truth weren't going to crumble that easily.
And after the storm of aura vanished, what the people saw was...
"Whoa..."
"Oh my god."
"Just how powerful was it..."
There was Gerard, embedded into the wall as if he had been executed on a cross.
Seeing this, the referee shouted loudly.
"Winner, Sierion Byssus Yuzef!"
The match was over.
Admiration and shock.
And a hint of fear.
The spectators watching Sierion descend with a dignified stride were in an uproar.
"Whoa..."
"Unbelievable."
"Is he a monster?"
"What is wrong with this year's Arcana?"
"Aren't there too many monsters?"
The grandson of the Sword Saint, the youngest Paladin candidate, and so on.
It was a common occurrence for the representatives of the Three Great Powers at Arcana to be monsters.
But this time, even from places outside the Three Great Powers, experts who far exceeded the average for their age were appearing.
Jeyton, who had been the Magellan Kingdom's secret weapon.
Patrick, who had beaten that Jeyton into a bloody pulp.
And now, even this Sierion, who was walking down with such presence...
There had almost never been a time in the history of Arcana where such high-level experts emerged from outside the Three Great Powers.
"Maybe, just maybe, the winner will come from somewhere other than the Three Great Powers this time?"
"Eh, no way..."
"You never know. That crazy... ahem, young man named Patrick from the Atronia Kingdom and Prince Sierion of the Yuzef Kingdom aren't showing skills typical for their age."
"Still, it's the Three Great Powers. They've swept all the championships for the past few decades."
"That's in the past. We don't know about this time."
"No. If anything, this year is the most dangerous. The Sword Saint's grandson is competing."
"Ah... come to think of it..."
"Plus, a genius who is the youngest Paladin candidate in history has joined from the Holy Kingdom. I don't know about the Tower of Truth, but they surely have some ace up their sleeve."
"True, the Tower of Truth was always like that."
The debate was fierce between those cautiously predicting a winner from outside the Three Great Powers and those arguing that the established giants would still hold the crown.
In fact, the very existence of such a debate was encouraging.
Considering that the main point of interest in previous Arcanas was which of the Three Great Powers would win, this year's tournament could truly be called an upheaval.
"I am sorry. Because of me, our kingdom's chance for an undefeated streak is gone."
Having regained consciousness, Gerard apologized first.
At that, Professor Late gave a gentle smile and spoke.
"No. You fought a match that brought no shame to you as a representative of the kingdom. Hold your head high."
As Professor Late offered comfort, the other teammates joined in.
"You were magnificent."
"That's right, Senior. Honestly, you just had bad luck with the bracket."
"I wouldn't have done any better than you if I had gone out there."
Gerard felt a bit better at his teammates' consolation.
However, he still couldn't relax.
Because the final hurdle remained.
"Ahem, Patrick?"
Seeing Patrick standing there with a grumpy expression and his arms crossed, Gerard spoke cautiously.
"Look, I did try my best, you know."
"Did you give it your all?"
"...I think so."
"Either you did or you didn't. What's with 'I think so'?"
Gerard’s shoulders slumped at Patrick’s blunt words.
To that Gerard, Patrick muttered casually.
"Well, at least it wasn't embarrassing."
"..."
"So I'll let it slide this once."
"..."
It was by no means a compliment.
But for that guy, who was worse than a demon from hell, to acknowledge him even this much was a huge deal.
"Patrick."
"What?"
"Thanks."