Chapter 116: At Least I Wasn't Embarrassed (2)
Chapter 116: At Least I Wasn't Embarrassed (2)
The tournament continued.
As victories and defeats traded places, everyone gave their best, but only a handful left a lasting impression on the audience.
However, there were those who commanded the crowd's attention by their mere presence, even before their matches began.
Proven geniuses already touted as favorites to win.
One such name was finally called by the referee.
"Antorius Denar!"
The moment the name was announced, a massive stir rippled through the stands.
"Ooh! Finally!"
"He's here. He's finally here."
"I've been waiting all day for this."
The 12 Paladins—the invincible guardians who protected the Saint Louis Holy Church State.
This man was the next-generation candidate closest to that supreme title.
A man called the future of the Holy Church State, said to have been granted a miracle at the age of ten and to have already reached the 5-Star realm in pure swordsmanship.
That man was Antorius Denar.
With silver hair and golden eyes, he wore pure white armor without a single speck of dust. Standing firm, gripping a Holy Sword engraved with sacred script with both hands as it rested against the ground, he was the very image of a paladin stepped straight out of myth.
"Ohhh… how holy."
"As expected, he's just… different. Truly different."
"Praise be to Yupinel."
The deeply devout crossed themselves and clutched the holy symbols around their necks, naturally falling into prayer.
Who could possibly complain after seeing such a sacred and divine figure?
Who would dare?
"He's a total prick."
Ah, there was one.
The other companions sighed as they looked at Patrick’s face, which was twisted with blatant annoyance.
"What now?"
"He's annoying, isn't he?"
"How? What did he even do?"
"His entire existence is annoying."
Gerard patted the despairing Alex on the shoulder and spoke.
"Understand him. It’s only natural for a demon from hell to be at odds with a holy being, right?"
True. That made sense.
But the problem was…
"The problem is that the demon is on our side."
"Let's just give up on that part."
"You seem to have reached some weird sort of enlightenment lately."
"I've realized life isn't that big of a deal."
"……."
Alex felt pity for his friend, whose vibe had completely changed after getting the absolute crap beaten out of him.
What do you kids know? You brats…
Patrick continued to glare at the arena with an uncomfortable gaze. Seeing that white blob of a guy standing there with such a smug, holy aura…
"Seriously, it’s fucking disgusting."
Perhaps it was because he was reminded of similar types from his past life? Patrick’s mood was foul.
Those damn baldies.
Patrick—or more accurately, the Radiant Dragon Hero Jincheon—had a lot of pent-up resentment toward the Shaolin and Emei Sects.
[Ho ho ho. As a follower of Buddha, if I can achieve enlightenment and become a Buddha, what more could I desire? This humble monk merely seeks knowledge.]
[Amitabha! If I do not go to hell, who will?]
Did that even make sense?
The bastards who claimed they had to avoid meat, never marry, and focus on cultivation to become Buddhas would turn around and beat people to death, saying they were "going to hell" for them.
If Buddha actually saw what the Shaolin or Emei Sects were up to, he would have screamed, "Just pick one, you bastards!" before planting their bald heads vertically into the dirt.
In the end, they solved most of their problems with strength just like me, yet they justified every wrong they committed by calling it 'Buddha's will.' Ugh… thinking about it is making me pissed again.
[This is all Buddha's will. I hope the benefactor understands.]
[Buddha's will is vast and infinite, so this monk cannot grasp its true intent. However, is it not our duty to strive and seek it to the best of our ability?]
[Amitabha. This monk shall surely repay the Great Hero's kindness in the next life. The timing is simply not right at present.]
[Tsk, why is the benefactor so obsessed with material greed? Life is but a passing moment…]
"Ugh, my blood pressure…"
As Patrick grabbed the back of his neck and grimaced, his companions whispered among themselves.
"What's wrong with him now?"
"How should I know?"
"Let's just stop trying to understand a madman."
"Good point."
Regardless of their chatter, Patrick was drowning in the "memories" of his past life, his blood pressure rising in real-time. There were countless incidents that made his blood boil to the point of near Qi Deviation just by thinking about them.
Patrick ground his teeth and muttered.
"Let's see just how good you are. Let's see if you actually have the skills to act that smug. Hehehehe. If you don't, things are going to get difficult for you."
Patrick was looking to vent the anger he’d accumulated against the Buddhist sects in his past life on an entirely different target.
* * *
Dammit, why in the first match…
The opponent facing Antorius was one of the Magic Swordsmen from the Tower of Truth.
His skill as a swordsman was only at the early 3-Star level, but he had been granted two Soul Weapons to use. With those, his actual combat power was arguably on par with a 5-Star Knight.
He had believed that with his strength, he could easily make it to at least the third round.
He never expected to run into a monster like this in the very first match.
His opponent stood tall in the arena, looking as if the Magic Swordsman wasn't even worth his notice.
"Arrogant bastard…"
As a promising talent raised by the Tower of Truth, his pride couldn't help but be wounded.
I won't go down easy. I'll show you.
Since it had come to this, he wouldn't lose gracefully. He prepared himself, intending to take at least an arm with him, and gripped his Soul Weapons tightly.
"Begin!"
The referee gave the signal, and the Magic Swordsman unleashed his power first.
"Canella! Sirios!"
As he shouted, the earrings and necklace he wore flashed with light, transforming into armor that encased his body.
"Ooh… so that's a Soul Weapon."
"The ones the Magic Swordsmen use…"
"It's my first time seeing one."
Soul Weapons handled by Magic Swordsmen were much rarer to see than a knight's aura. They were combat magical tools created by the Tower of Truth, requiring special training to use. Generally, the more Soul Weapons a Magic Swordsman could handle, the greater their power and versatility.
Having unleashed both Soul Weapons, he manifested a fireball and a whirlwind in the air. Then…
"Go!"
He pointed his sword at the target, and the fireball and whirlwind lunged at the enemy simultaneously. In the process, the fireball swallowed the wind, growing in intensity until it became a massive firestorm.
The surging flames lunged at the enemy like a writhing serpent.
K-Boom!
The heat was so intense that even the spectators could feel the scorching blast from the explosion.
"Incredible."
"Did… did he kill him?"
"To think such power exists…"
The Magic Swordsmen of the Tower of Truth had long been evaluated as having the highest offensive power among the Three Great Powers. The display lived up to that reputation.
It was the pinnacle of destruction, magic developed solely for the purpose of war. It seemed as though the opponent would be incinerated within that vortex of flame, which looked hot enough to melt steel. However…
"Praise be to Yupinel."
With a soft murmur, a flash of golden light erupted from Antorius’s body.
Flash!
The light instantly pushed back the flames and scattered them into nothingness.
As the fire cleared, Antorius was revealed, standing perfectly clean without a single hair singed.
"You broke my attack with pure Divine Power?"
The opponent’s face paled. To think his best opening attack was dispelled simply by the release of Divine Power…
"He really is a monster."
Then, the previously silent Antorius spoke.
"There seems to be no point in continuing. Do you still wish to proceed?"
In an instant, the Magic Swordsman snapped. Humiliation and rage surged within him as he screamed.
"Don't look down on me!"
Simultaneously, he wreathed his sword in superheated flames and wrapped his body in wind as he charged forward.
The wind made his movements swifter, and the fire wreathed his blade. In this state, his sword possessed power equivalent to a 4-Star aura, and his movement speed exceeded the average of a 5-Star Knight.
According to the Tower's analysis, engaging in close combat like this gave him a win rate of over 70 percent against an average 5-Star Knight.
"Take this!"
Having closed the distance, he swung his sword with all his might. His blade, saturated with flames, looked set to cleave through the opponent’s shoulder diagonally, but…
Clang!
"Urgh…"
The attack was neutralized by a powerful upward parry. He gritted his teeth at the sheer force of the counter, which had nearly sent his sword flying.
He's just brute strength…
But with the power of the wind Soul Weapon, Sirios, he should still have the advantage in speed. He just needed to create some distance and—
"Huh?!"
When did it happen? He thought he had retreated to open up space, but Antorius was already right in front of him. Then, Antorius’s hand reached out and gently touched his body.
"N-Noooo!"
"Farewell."
In the next instant, a sound like a massive drum bursting rang out.
Boom!
Simultaneously, the opponent took a massive impact to his body and was sent flying out of the arena, slamming into the far wall.
"Antorius Denar wins!"
As the referee declared the victory, cheers erupted from the stands.
"O-Ohhh…!"
"Whoa! As expected of the Three Great Powers."
"Did you see that last part?"
"He just barely touched him, and the guy flew away?"
"Is that a miracle of God?"
"Amazing. Truly amazing. How can he perform a miracle at such a young age?"
Among those excited were the other contestants from Arcana, as well as the representatives of the Atronia Kingdom.
"Incredible. The miracles of the Holy Knight Order are on a completely different level."
"It defies common sense, doesn't it?"
"Hmm…"
Alex and the others were swept up in the emotion and presence of witnessing a miracle firsthand. Karin, who was quite devout, watched Antorius descend from the arena with a reverent gaze.
And Patrick…
"Sigh… what am I going to do with these pathetic fools?"
He was looking at his companions with eyes full of pity.
Alex snapped at him.
"What's your problem now?"
"Clean your eyes before you speak. 'Miracle' my ass."
"You saw it too! He just touched the guy and sent him flying. Even after seeing that—"
Thud!
Alex’s jaw dropped. Patrick had just demonstrated the exact same thing right in front of him.
He had placed his fist lightly against the wall, and with a sharp impact, a crater the size of a human head was left in the stone.
As Alex stared blankly at the falling stone dust, Patrick spoke.
"This isn't a miracle; it's a technique. You pathetic humans."
"…A technique?"
"Yeah. It's just a bit of Explosive Force. What 'miracle'?"
At Patrick’s dismissive words, the faces of Alex and the other students turned bright red.
Inch-force, Explosive Force, Penetrating Force.
Though the types varied, the techniques of 'Force' were hand-to-hand skills widely spread across all sects in the Central Plains. The principle was simply to exert physical force by transmitting internal power at point-blank range.
While the power varied wildly depending on the user, the technique itself was something anyone could use once they knew the trick.
"And yet you're calling it a miracle or the power of God. Tsk tsk, you ignorant lot."
Stab, stab, stab.
Patrick’s words felt like daggers in the hearts of Alex and the others. Why did it feel so unfair to be called ignorant by this guy?
And do you know what was even sadder? At this moment, they couldn't even argue against Patrick’s point.
It hurt. It hurt so much. As expected, nothing stung quite like being hit with the truth.
Just then, Professor Late approached with a bitter smile.
"It's no wonder you didn't know. That is a hand-to-hand technique used by the temple nuns in the Holy Church State."
"You know about that, Professor?"
At Alex’s question, Professor Late nodded.
"As you know, the temple nuns are not permitted to use weapons."
"Yes, we know that."
Alex and his companions nodded like good students. Professor Late continued his calm explanation.
"However, they still need a way to protect themselves during outside activities. So, I heard they train in unarmed martial arts."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. While not common, a nun who has trained her unarmed martial arts to the limit is called a Monk."
"Ah… so that's what it was."
"They aren't common. I heard there are fewer than ten of them in the entire Holy Church State."
Hearing Professor Late’s explanation, Alex and the others nodded as if they had learned something new. Seeing this, Late secretly pumped his fist, delighted to have finally reclaimed some dignity as an educator.
This is what experience looks like, you brats.
Patrick spoke to Professor Late as if impressed.
"Professor Late."
"What is it, Cadet Schneider?"
"You actually sound like a real professor right now."
"……."
I am a real professor, you brat.
Professor Late looked off into the distance, wiping away a stray tear.