Chapter 132: Fine. Let's Just Use Our Blades (2)
Chapter 132: Fine. Let's Just Use Our Blades (2)
Boom! Crash! Bang!
The clash between Antorius and Sierion was as spectacular as one would expect from the semifinals of the Arcana.
The exchange was so swift and powerful that the audience could only see the remnants of exploding aura and hear the deafening roars ringing in their ears.
Publicly, Sierion’s realm was estimated to be at the 5-Star level.
However, the destructive power he was currently displaying was at least that of a seasoned 6-Star.
Antorius, who was holding his own against such a Sierion, was also manifesting aura at a 6-Star level.
The very fact that he could trade blows without being overwhelmed by Sierion’s assault was proof that his realm was at least 6-Star.
Two young men, standing on the very threshold of the supreme realm, were clashing head-on.
“Hoho… Ha…”
“They’re monsters.”
“In any previous Arcana, either of them would have easily taken the championship.”
No matter how prestigious the Arcana was, it was fundamentally a competition to test the potential of the youth. It was meant to be a contest for those who were still immature and had yet to reach their peak.
But the word ‘immature’ did not suit the swords of Sierion and Antorius at all.
They were at a level high enough to be ranked among the top-tier knights of any kingdom right this moment.
Every time their weapons collided and aura exploded, the audience was left spellbound. This was undeniably the highest-level duel in the history of the Arcana.
Kwa-aaaaang!
“Ugh…”
Sierion delivered a powerful strike.
Antorius blocked the attack with a shield concentrated with aura, but he was pushed back significantly.
Leaving deep gouges in the ground, Antorius skidded back over three meters and furrowed his brow.
‘Am I being pushed back in strength?’
No, it wasn't just strength.
It stung his pride, but he was also slightly lagging behind in speed and technique.
Especially technique.
It wasn't about the number of techniques or reading the opponent’s moves; he was being outplayed in the application of those techniques.
Even when they exchanged blows with the same objective, the flow of the battle ultimately went exactly how his opponent wanted.
Yes. This was just like…
“Do you understand now? Why I called you a hothouse flower?”
Antorius flared up at Sierion’s words.
He wanted to snap back and deny it immediately. But he couldn't help but acknowledge it.
“Why is there such a difference?”
“The difference in experience.”
“Don't make me laugh. How much of an age gap could there be for you to talk about a difference in experience?”
Sierion chuckled at Antorius’s words.
With a smirk that suggested he found the comment pathetic, Sierion spoke.
“Kid, how many times in your life have you fought someone stronger than yourself?”
“…What?”
“Have you ever charged into a pack of monsters ten times your number with only a handful of subordinates to save those surrounded?”
“……”
“Have you ever struggled to survive against assassins who come for you in the dead of night, using any means necessary?”
“……”
Looking into Sierion’s serious eyes, Antorius thought to himself.
Who is this man?
Isn't he the prince of a kingdom?
And yet he’s been through such harrowing experiences?
When he’s barely older than me?
Sierion spoke to the bewildered Antorius.
“While you and the Sword Saint’s grandson were growing up safely under a brilliant halo, we were forged in real combat for the sake of survival.”
“……”
“And yet, you feel wronged for being pushed back by me? Hmm? The precious young master of the Holy Kingdom.”
At Sierion’s mockery, Antorius grit his teeth and spoke.
“Fine. Your realm of the sword may be higher than mine.”
“Quick to admit it, I see.”
“But that doesn't mean you are stronger than me.”
Seeing Antorius’s determined expression, Sierion’s face also turned serious.
“Are you finally planning to get serious?”
“I will show you the true power and dignity of the Holy Kingdom.”
Antorius raised his right arm high and shouted.
“O Yupinel! Descend upon me. God Hand!”
In an instant, golden divine power concentrated in Antorius’s right arm. And then…
“Yupinel!”
Antorius thrust his right fist forward.
A golden fist as large as a human torso flew toward Sierion.
Kwa-ang!
The audience cheered as they watched the massive fist explode brilliantly.
“Oh… it’s a miracle (porténtum).”
“Is he finally going all out?”
“That’s a Holy Knight for you.”
Previously, he had only used divine power to push his enemies back.
But when divine power is truly used for combat, the method changes.
An Authority granted by the Goddess.
That supernatural power, called a miracle because it brought about phenomena that transcended logic, was their true strength.
“It’s a bit similar to the Hundred-Step Divine Fist those baldies use… but this is different. Very different.”
Patrick, watching the scene from the waiting room, remarked.
Alex, who was beside him, asked, “Don’t tell me you can copy that too?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Really?”
“Why? Did you think I could do everything?”
“……”
This guy really thought so.
Patrick spoke as if he found it pathetic.
“If you just want me to mimic the shape, I could do it by consuming a massive amount of aura. But a technique without its True Essence is just a hollow shell.”
“…Huh?”
“Forget it. Just keep living like that.”
Patrick ignored Alex and turned his gaze back to the match.
‘Even the monks of Shaolin probably couldn't copy that, right?’
The evil-purging martial arts used in Shaolin were ultimately the result of Intent forged by humans from the righteousness of the Buddhist Law.
Even if it had the function of destroying evil, the power itself was man-made.
One could call it a refined technique of mental intent.
It was something possible because the first ancestor of Shaolin, Bodhidharma, was an absurdly powerful master.
‘The baldies of Shaolin are just riding his coattails and reaping the benefits.’
But this was different.
The quality of the power he felt was not human intent.
It was being used by borrowing the power of a much higher-dimensional being.
Not human intent, but the principles that composed and operated the world.
He felt a power that deserved to be called a Law.
Seeing that, he couldn't help but admit it.
“Certainly, gods do exist in this world.”
His companions looked at Patrick as if he were a weirdo.
“Huh? Isn't that obvious?”
“Why are you talking nonsense all of a sudden?”
“Did you eat something wrong?”
“You’re crazy… Oh wait, you always were.”
His companions, born into a world where the existence of gods was 100% certain and proven, could not understand Patrick’s sentiment.
They didn't understand the difference between themselves and Patrick, who was born in a world where the existence of gods could not be felt.
‘Yeah, what would you guys know?’
Patrick focused on the match again.
He had thought the match would end quickly, but now he wasn't so sure.
Antorius’s God Hand was powerful, but its attack range was too predictable.
Sierion circled around Antorius while dodging the attacks.
In response, Antorius changed the miracle he was using.
“O Yupinel! Your servant prays, grant me the Holy Fire to repel the enemy before me!”
Fwoosh!
White flames ignited on Antorius’s sword.
Holy Fire.
It wasn't fire that borrowed the power of the elements handled by mages, but a sacred flame kindled by the power of God.
“Receive the power of God!”
As Antorius swung his bastard sword horizontally, the sacred flames swept out in a wide arc.
“Tsk.”
Sierion grit his teeth as he watched the wave of sacred fire rushing toward him.
The attack range was wide.
It was unavoidable.
In that case…
“Hyaaaaaah!”
Kwa-ang!
Planting his front foot firmly, he swung his two-handed sword with all his might.
The blue aura extending from his blade collided with the wave of divine fire.
The result seemed equal, but there was a decisive difference.
“You look like you’re struggling, Prince Sierion.”
“……”
Sierion did not respond to Antorius’s words.
He had to conserve even his speech to regulate his breathing.
Antorius, with sacred flames wreathed around his sword, walked forward and said, “Your skill and talent are remarkable. I admit that as a swordsman, you are superior to me.”
“……”
“But the omnipotent Goddess of Harmony is with me. With the infinite blessings and protection of God, how could I lose to a mere human?”
“……”
“You, with your finite strength, and I, who borrow the infinite power of God. It is obvious who will win.”
“……”
“If you realize that further combat is meaningless, sheath your sword and withdraw.”
Antorius’s words were logical.
The audience all agreed with him.
“Well, since he’s made it this far…”
“As expected. No surprises here.”
“The finals will be a stage for the Empire versus the Holy Kingdom again.”
The only ones not siding with the audience’s opinion were the members of the Yuzef Kingdom, including Prince Sierion’s party.
Professors and students alike were watching the arena with clenched fists and gritted teeth.
“Prince…”
As a pained groan escaped someone’s lips, a professor barked out.
“Have faith!”
“Professor Chaplin.”
“Antorius Denar of the Holy Kingdom is strong. He is undoubtedly a powerhouse beyond the rumors.”
It was an undeniable fact.
It was questionable whether a Holy Knight with such skill at that age had ever existed even in the history of the Holy Kingdom.
He was undoubtedly an out-of-the-box genius. However…
“Even so, have faith. He will win.”
“Why do you think so?”
A student asked the professor, hoping for even a shred of evidence. The answer that came back was…
“Because he is our King.”
The answer was not based on evidence or logic.
It was simply faith.
It was an absolute and one-sided faith, much like a child blindly trusting and following a parent.
“He will win. Our King will win!”
“That’s right. There’s no way he could lose!”
“My King!”
“My Lord!”
Every member of the Yuzef Kingdom drew their swords and held them before their hearts.
In a one-on-one duel where they could not stand beside him, the only thing they could do was offer their full faith to their King.
And that faith…
‘It reached me.’
Sierion grit his teeth.
Even without looking back, he could feel the gazes on his back.
He could feel the faith of his comrades, who were shedding hot tears, believing in his victory.
‘Right. This is no time to be struggling.’
Creeeak.
He clenched his jaw.
Even as he groaned from the bone-searing pain of the sacred flames engulfing him, he gripped his sword tight.
This kind of pain was nothing.
Even at this very moment, his people were dying from the monsters pouring out of the Great Forest.
Someone’s father.
Someone’s son.
Someone’s husband.
The countless blood and tears they had to shed simply because they were born in a weak country.
Had he not resolved to change that?
Was that not why he stood up as a King?
To keep that oath, he could not fall here.
‘He’s forcing himself to endure.’
Watching Sierion stubbornly hold his ground even while wreathed in Holy Fire, Antorius thought to himself.
There was no point in dragging this out any longer.
It was time to finish it.
“O Yupinel! Descend upon me. Burn away your enemy!”
The brilliant, sacred flames grew even more powerful.
The intense fire surged toward the already burning Sierion.
As if to incinerate everything without leaving a single speck of ash behind.
‘So what?’
Sierion opened his mouth as he watched the wave of pure white fire rushing toward him.
“O Yupinel…”
I am the King of those you have turned away from.
I am the sword that protects those you have not cared for.
If a being called a God intends to block my path…
“Then I have no need for such a God.”
Sierion’s heart throbbed.
Power that had been sealed until now flowed in, not from the aura hole in his lower abdomen, but from the one above it.
A power twice as vast as what he usually used, and ten times more dangerous.
At the same time…
“Ooooooh!”
A vivid Aura Blade erupted from his sword.
“Gasp!”
Antorius saw it.
A chillingly bright blue Aura Blade was slicing through the miraculous power he had unleashed, flying straight toward him.
And that was the last sight he beheld in the Arcana semifinals.
Silence.
A cold silence, as if doused with freezing water, enveloped the arena.
Antorius had been blown outside the ring.
Sierion stood tall, holding his greatsword in one hand.
The victory and defeat were clearly decided.
But what mattered now wasn't just the outcome.
“Just now… was that?”
“No way.”
“But still…”
“Aura Blade.”
Someone among the hesitating audience uttered the word.
Then, though others were still buzzing, they began to acknowledge what they had seen with their own eyes.
“It really was an Aura Blade, wasn't it?”
“It perfectly sliced through the Holy Fire. Isn't that proof enough?”
“My god, an Aura Blade in the Arcana.”
The audience was in an uproar.
“The winner, Sierion Byssus Yuzef!”
And the moment the referee, who had regained his senses a beat late, confirmed the victory…
“Waaaaaaaah!”
“This is insane! This is crazy!”
“An Aura Blade? The 7-Star realm?”
“Hahaha… This is the best. The absolute best!”
The audience’s cheers, bordering on a frenzy, reached their peak the moment Sierion thrust his sword high into the air.
“Sierion! Sierion! Sierion!”
“Sierion! Sierion! Sierion!”
“Sierion! Sierion! Sierion!”
In the Magellan Kingdom, clearly a foreign land, cheers praising the name of the Prince of the Yuzef Kingdom echoed incessantly.
Nationality? Race?
Those were trivial matters.
A man who displayed innate charisma and overwhelming ability, making the masses boil with excitement.
The world calls such a person a hero.
Sierion Byssus Yuzef.
Winner of the Arcana semifinals.
And it was the moment his legend began.