Chapter 133: Fine. Let's Just Stick to Swordplay (3)
Chapter 133: Fine. Let's Just Stick to Swordplay (3)
“…Cover me.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Immediately after his subordinates moved to surround him, shielding him from public view—
“Urgh….”
Sierion spat out a mouthful of blood.
“Your Highness!”
“Are you alright?”
His subordinates hurriedly checked his condition. His face was deathly pale, and having vomited blood several times, he looked to be in a dire state.
One of his men spoke with a face full of concern.
“You pushed yourself too hard.”
Sierion gave a bitter smile.
“My blood was boiling, you see.”
It wasn't supposed to go this far. By reaching the semifinals of the Arcana, he had already met the minimum requirements for his goals. If he considered his future grand plans, it would have been better to hide his true strength. But…
“I simply couldn't stand it.”
Antorius’s expression and tone—so full of conviction and confidence—had incensed him.
Did that man even know? Did he have any idea whose blood and death had been paid as the price for the peace and comfort he enjoyed?
He didn't. If he knew, there was no way he could have looked at Sierion with eyes so full of righteousness and self-assurance.
It made Sierion sick to his stomach to see an ignorant fool mindlessly praising the name of God, absolutely certain of his own righteousness.
So, he overexerted himself. He had tapped into a power he wasn't supposed to use yet. And the price was heavier than expected.
“It seems you will have to forfeit the finals.”
“I suppose so.”
Sierion wiped the blood from his lips at his subordinate's words. He knew better than anyone how serious his physical condition was. If he pushed himself further here, he might die or end up a cripple. Now that he had achieved his objective, he couldn't afford to waste his life for the sake of hollow honor.
“Inform the organizers of my decision.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
*
A short while later.
Just before the next semifinal match, someone stepped onto the arena holding a magical amplification tool. Looking like a high-ranking noble of the Magellan Kingdom, he addressed the crowd.
“Testing… I have an announcement to make before the next match begins.”
He gripped the magical tool and spoke toward the audience.
“Player Sierion Vyssus Yuzef, who emerged victorious in the previous semifinal, has suffered a serious injury to his Aura Hall due to his excessive use of force.”
The crowd began to buzz with excitement and confusion. Ignoring the noise, the announcer continued.
“Consequently, Player Sierion has expressed his intent to forfeit the final match. Therefore, the upcoming match between Player Garcia Reinardo and Player Patrick Schneider will serve as the grand final of this year’s Arcana.”
Having said his piece, the announcer hurried off the stage as if fleeing.
The remaining spectators broke into a loud commotion.
“What? So we don’t get to see a real final?”
“No, it means the next match is the final.”
“That’s the same thing! I was looking forward to seeing the Sword Saint’s grandson fight that Prince Sierion.”
“Was there really anything to look forward to? Even if he’s the Sword Saint’s grandson, how could he fight a swordsman who has stepped into the Supreme Realm?”
“No, you never know.”
“Hey, we’re talking about the Supreme Realm. Do you even know what a 7-Star knight represents?”
“If he were truly at the 7-Star level, sure. But didn't they say Prince Sierion injured his Aura Hall?”
“Ah….”
“He probably forced out an Aura Blade without actually reaching that realm.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Well… I don’t know, but maybe? If he’s a genius.”
“Hmm….”
“Anyway, if they had clashed properly in the finals, it would’ve been anyone’s game. To think it ends so anticlimactically with the Sword Saint’s grandson winning. Tsk, tsk. Two wins by default and now the championship on a silver platter.”
“Do you think the Empire is behind this…?”
“Even for the Empire, would they do that at the Arcana? Think of the humiliation if they got caught.”
“But two default wins and now such an easy path to the finals….”
“It is a bit suspicious.”
The spectators were disappointed. Some even harbored doubts. After all, the Sword Saint’s grandson had already advanced twice by default. And now his opponent for the finals was forfeiting? Honestly, it was a situation that invited suspicion.
‘To think things would get tangled like this….’
Garcia frowned. In his opinion, this was the worst possible scenario. He had already moved up twice without fighting. Now, his final opponent was forfeiting too? Even if he were in the audience's shoes, he wouldn't be able to help but doubt the situation.
‘This is exactly why I hated winning by default.’
Garcia let out a deep sigh. Now, even if he won, people would inevitably talk behind his back.
‘If only my final opponent had been that Sierion, it would have made for a good picture….’
A newly appeared 7-Star swordsman. Even Garcia had been startled in that moment. He hadn't expected anyone else to possess that level of talent besides himself. His blood had been pumping at the thought of facing such a man in the finals, but the man had forfeited.
“Tsk, it can’t be helped.”
Now that it had come to this, the only way to silence the rumors was to win the final match overwhelmingly. Fortunately, there was nothing holding him back. Hadn't his grandfather personally ordered him? To give his best from the very beginning.
‘It’s a bit unfortunate for my opponent, though.’
“Garcia Reinardo, step forward!”
“Yes!”
At the referee’s call, Garcia walked onto the arena with a spirited stride.
“Patrick Schneider, step forward!”
“Coming.”
At the call, Patrick also stepped up. Behind him, Alex and his other companions offered their encouragement.
“We believe in you, Patrick.”
“You can win.”
“Don’t get cold feet. Well, not that you ever would.”
“Good luck.”
Patrick smirked at his companions' earnestness. Who were these fledglings worrying about? Seeing these chicks, who hadn't even lost their down feathers yet, worrying about him was both amusing and endearing.
For some reason…
[Sahyeong, do your best.]
[You can do it, Sasuk.]
[Cheon-ah, don't push yourself too hard.]
Memories of the distant past surfaced. Patrick chuckled and spoke.
“Stop worrying about useless things and just watch. I’ll show you that we’re on completely different levels.”
With that, Patrick stepped onto the arena.
* * *
The two competitors stood atop the stage. Garcia reached out with a smile and spoke first.
“Let’s have a good match worthy of the finals.”
“Sure, whatever….”
Garcia felt a slight surge of irritation at Patrick’s indifferent attitude.
“I will be a bit different from your previous opponents. Don’t expect your luck to hold out in the finals.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the one who got two default wins.”
“……”
“What? Why are you looking at me like that? You want a piece of me, punk?”
“Ahem….”
Garcia was flustered. He found himself thinking the same thing most people thought when dealing with Patrick: What kind of person is this?
Patrick showed none of the dignity or honor expected on a glorious stage like the Arcana finals. How could someone with such a personality have made it this far?
‘Actually, this is better.’
Against an opponent like this, he felt he could crush him without any guilt. He could even take the opportunity to fix the man's attitude. Once Patrick realized there was always a sky above the sky, perhaps that bottomless personality of his would snap into place.
Both players took their positions and drew their swords. The referee shouted.
“Begin!”
The moment the word left the referee's lips, Garcia lunged forward. His footsteps were light, barely making a sound as they struck the ground. Yet, his body reached his opponent in an instant, moving with the speed of a gale.
The audience gasped at the incredible move. Garcia’s opening gambit began.
‘First, a light probe.’
Garcia’s sword thrust toward Patrick’s throat. It was a remarkably fast and precise attack. However, Garcia didn't expect it to succeed. His opponent was, after all, a skilled fighter who had reached the Arcana finals. He should be able to dodge this much.
The real aim was the follow-up. An opponent whose distance had been closed and who had been caught off guard would have extremely limited options for a reaction. Garcia had already prepared more than five different attack patterns to pursue him, depending on how he dodged.
Once the momentum was seized, it was over. From then on, he could control his opponent like a game of chess leading to a checkmate.
And Garcia’s sword…
Whoosh!
…passed right through Patrick’s throat.
“Huh?”
In that instant, Garcia was shocked for two reasons. One was that his opponent had failed to dodge such a simple thrust. The other was…
‘There’s no sensation.’
He had clearly pierced his opponent, but there was no feeling of impact. It was as if he had stabbed a ghost. How could this be—
“Hey.”
“Huh?”
A voice suddenly came from his side. The moment he reflexively answered, he heard Patrick’s bored voice.
“What are you doing, moron?”
It was a reflexive reaction. Sensing danger, Garcia hurriedly raised his shield. That nimble reaction saved him.
BOOM!
“Ugh….”
Despite blocking with his shield, a dull ache vibrated through his bones. Garcia was pushed back several paces by an impact that felt like hitting a boulder.
It had been dangerous. If he had taken such a powerful blow with his bare body, the match would have ended right there.
‘He really does have the skill to be in the finals.’
Regaining his posture, Garcia spoke to Patrick.
“That was quite a… foot?”
He stopped mid-sentence. Looking in the direction he had been facing, he saw Patrick with one leg raised to knee height. When he looked down at his own shield, there was a clear footprint stamped onto it.
Garcia’s face flushed with humiliation.
“A kick?”
“Why are you so worked up?”
“You just kicked me?”
“You’re really overreacting. Anyone would think you’ve never been kicked before.”
“……”
“Wait, have you really never been kicked?”
Of course he hadn't! Who in the world would dare kick the grandson of the Sword Saint? There weren't many lunatics crazy enough to try.
“Ahem, anyway….”
Patrick cleared his throat to change the atmosphere.
“Do this properly.”
“…Hmph.”
“Like you said, it’s the finals, right? Even if you lose, you shouldn't make a fool of yourself. Don't you agree?”
Garcia frowned and replied.
“You speak as if you’ve already won.”
“Oh? And you don't?”
“……”
How could every single word out of this man's mouth be so infuriating? Garcia composed his wavering calm and spoke.
“ I’ll admit your skills are decent. But it’s impossible for someone of your level to defeat me.”
“Listen to this guy talk, when he was just dazed like he was possessed by a fox after seeing a single Afterimage Step.”
“Afterimage…? What?”
“The illusion I just showed you.”
“Ah….”
“Didn't you feel anything when you saw it?”
At Patrick’s question, Garcia smirked.
“I already knew you were a Magic Swordsman.”
“……”
“It seems you’re an ancient-style Magic Swordsman who trains in both sword and magic simultaneously without using a Soul Weapon, but why such an inefficient— What are you doing?”
“No, it’s… forget it. Keep talking. I’ll just be over here despairing for a moment.”
The strength drained from Patrick’s shoulders. Covering his face with one hand and shaking his head, he looked truly pitiful. In that state, Patrick spoke in a hollow voice.
“Your name was so loud that I actually had some expectations.”
“What are you saying…?”
“Why did I even bother? Why?”
“……”
“Sigh, I might as well be reading scriptures to a cow.”
It wasn't just a simple illusion created by moving fast; it was an ultra-high-level technique that left a trace of energy in the afterimage to deceive even the opponent's senses. In terms of martial sophistication, it was a supreme technique that made something like an Aura Blade look like child's play.
Even in the Martial World, the Afterimage Step of the Radiant Dragon Hero, Jincheon, was renowned for its high level. It was praised as a perfect technique that those who hadn't awakened their seventh sense—beyond the basic six—could never detect.
And yet, this fledgling’s reaction was merely that.
‘Magic Swordsman, my foot.’
There was no joy in showing off if the other person didn't even recognize what they were seeing. He had hoped to show a few more moves and see the kid’s eyes fill with respect so he could act the part of the grandmaster.
[Hohoho. To see a junior with such outstanding talent is a blessing for the Martial World.]
He wanted to indulge in that kind of vanity. But this was truly casting pearls before swine.
Patrick spoke in a weary voice.
“Fine. Let’s just stick to swordplay.”