Chapter 300: Let’s Have a Go (1)
Chapter 300: Let’s Have a Go (1)
Arrogance that transcended mere confidence.
Patrick’s remark, delivered from the perspective of a superior looking down on his inferiors, incensed the knights of the Empire.
“Double Dragon!”
“Do you truly wish for death?”
“Do you think you can walk away from this alive?”
They bared their blatant fury, their killing intent exploding outward. However…
What?
Huh? Why?
Urgh…
They soon realized something.
Though their fury reached its peak, not a single one of them could force their feet forward. They found themselves hesitating to even reach for their weapons.
Their minds and bodies were reacting separately.
This was true even for those who had pioneered the Supreme Realm. In fact, it was precisely because they had reached such heights that they felt it more keenly.
The single move that had sent two of their own flying just moments ago—they hadn’t even seen what happened. Patrick hadn’t even risen from his seat; the sword drawn in his hand merely suggested that he had done something.
The only one who had managed to see anything at all was the Sword Saint.
He’s grown even stronger.
Patrick had been a monster when they met back in Arcana. But now, looking at him again after several years, the Sword Saint couldn’t even begin to fathom the depths of his power.
Even for him, the Sword Saint.
Could it be? Perhaps?
As a certain hypothesis formed in the Sword Saint’s mind, Patrick spoke.
“I guarantee you, regardless of who wins or loses, if I get involved in this war, the Empire won’t come out of it unscathed.”
“Mmm.”
Having seen that single move, the Sword Saint couldn’t deny it. However…
“And? Are you trying to threaten me into stopping the war because we want to avoid the damage?”
“If that would work, I’d do it. But…”
“……”
“Tsk, you people are so stubborn. You just don’t listen.”
Patrick knew this type of person well. Once they established a conviction and made up their mind, they never changed their stance. Therefore, threatening the Sword Saint into retreating was impossible. However…
“Let’s make a bet.”
If he twisted the narrative slightly, the situation might change.
“A bet?”
“Yes. If I lose, I will completely wash my hands of the Holy Kingdom and stop interfering.”
“And if you win, I withdraw the army?”
“Yes. I don’t know what the Emperor is thinking, but surely someone of the Sword Saint’s stature has the authority to make that call on his own?”
“……”
“Oh? Don’t tell me you can’t? Do you not have that much clout? Even as the Sword Saint?”
“Sigh…”
The Sword Saint let out a long breath.
True. Strictly speaking, he did have that much authority. Since he was the one who had advocated for this large-scale offensive in the first place, he was also capable of calling it off.
The problem wasn't that.
“I’ve been completely played.”
The Sword Saint was currently in a position where he couldn’t refuse this bet.
If he refused Patrick’s bet here, he would have to face Patrick on the battlefield. The resulting damage would be truly horrific. No, perhaps the Empire might actually suffer a defeat.
The Schneider Duchy’s military strength is nothing to scoff at. Besides, I hear the Tower of Truth is on his side as well…
On the other hand, if he won the bet, he could completely exclude Patrick from this conflict and proceed with his original goal of toppling the Holy Kingdom.
In the end, it was impossible for the Sword Saint to refuse. He had to accept. Even in the worst-case scenario where he lost, it wouldn't cause any physical damage to the Empire.
As the commander-in-chief of the Imperial Army, it was a proposal he simply couldn't turn down.
“Sigh…”
He covered his face with his hand and let out a deep sigh.
“The ground’s going to cave in at this rate.”
The Sword Saint looked at Patrick through the gaps in his fingers and spoke.
“You cunning brat.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“How shall we settle the bet?”
“What I’m most confident in is a drinking contest, but…”
Patrick glanced around the surroundings.
“If I suggest we compete by drinking capacity right here, will people call me a villain?”
Would he only be called names? He’d probably be stabbed.
“You’d likely die.”
At the Sword Saint’s dry remark, Patrick shrugged.
“Well, I guess it can’t be helped then.”
“……”
“A warrior speaks with his blade.”
“……”
“And since I’m here, I’ve been wanting to see who’s truly the strongest on the continent…”
A flicker of excitement and anticipation appeared on the Sword Saint’s face. He knew he shouldn't feel this way given the circumstances, but his heart began to race.
Then, Patrick uttered the words the Sword Saint wanted to hear most.
“Let’s have a go.”
“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I actually like.”
And so, the duel to determine the strongest on the continent was settled.
* * *
The time for the duel was set for tomorrow morning, at the exact moment the sun rose.
In truth, Patrick didn't care if they started immediately, but the Sword Saint insisted on that specific time.
[I don’t want to leave any room for regret.]
He meant he wanted to avoid a situation where he couldn't display his full power because they were fighting in the dark. It was a surprisingly cautious thing to say for someone of the Sword Saint’s caliber.
But looking at it another way, it showed just how seriously the Sword Saint was taking this duel.
For that reason…
“You can wait here until sunrise.”
“Oh, this is nicer than I expected.”
The barracks Patrick was led to were fully equipped, to the point where it was hard to believe they were in the middle of a war. Soft carpets covered the floor, a bed had been brought in, and there was even a bathtub on one side.
“Tsk, tsk. This is why high-ranking nobles are… It’s not like they’re on vacation at a battlefield. What a joke.”
At Patrick’s comment, the knight escorting him flushed red.
“Do not misunderstand. These facilities are for when an envoy visits during the war for negotiations or diplomacy.”
“Ah, is that so?”
“Indeed. Everyone in the Imperial Army, from the lowest soldier to the Duke who serves as commander-in-chief, uses standard military equipment for their food and lodging.”
“Sure. I’ll believe you.”
It was the classic tone of ‘I don’t believe you, but I’ll pretend I do.’
How can every single word he says grate on a person’s nerves like this?
The answer: because he was Patrick Schneider.
The knight, clearly wanting nothing more to do with him, turned around sharply and left the barracks.
“I will call for you when the sun rises tomorrow. Don’t even think about running away until then…”
“Ooh, there’s even hot water.”
The knight turned back to see Patrick already stripping off his clothes and filling the tub with warm water.
Right. He was going to wash.
In the middle of an enemy camp, with a duel scheduled for tomorrow against the Sword Saint, he was going to leisurely soak in hot water and take a bath.
“……”
Let’s just stop caring.
The knight had a mountain of things he wanted to say, but he simply walked out, unable to deal with Patrick any longer. The Sword Saint would make him pay for that arrogance as soon as day broke.
* * *
“So toasty.”
Patrick stretched his legs out comfortably in the tub and enjoyed his bath. Because the Holy Kingdom had tried to stop him from coming to the Imperial camp, he’d had to persuade them (physically) and rush over, so he hadn't had a chance to wash.
This worked out well.
As he soaked his body in the large, relaxing tub…
“I’m craving a drink.”
Of course he was.
“Ah… it was so nice when I went to the hot springs with my wife in my past life.”
Patrick interlaced his fingers behind his head and reminisced about the past.
A secret hot spring he had discovered during a mission. Occasionally, he would go there alone with his wife to nurture their bond.
“My wife looked so beautiful, faintly visible through the thick steam. She wasn't called the Greatest Beauty of Sichuan for nothing.”
The corners of Patrick’s mouth curled up. It was a smile that didn't look even the slightest bit like that of a Great Hero.
“Soaking in hot water like this with a glass of Soul-Wandering Power-Scattering Liquor brewed by my wife’s own hands… my mind would go all hazy… Huh?”
[Did you really not do anything at that tavern? Are you sure you only drank? Tell me the truth.]
“…Did that woman feed her husband truth serum?”
Patrick was suddenly hit by a wave of serious skepticism regarding his past married life.
And then…
“May I come in?”
A familiar voice came from outside the barracks. It was a voice he knew. Which meant it was definitely…
“Come in, Hans.”
“…It’s Garcia Reinardo.”
The person who entered the barracks with a sigh was the Sword Saint’s grandson, the one who had fought—well, been beaten by—Patrick in the Arcana finals: Garcia Reinardo.
“It’s a joke, a joke. Of course I remember your name.”
As Patrick chuckled, Garcia let out another sigh.
“Can we talk for a moment?”
“I can’t be bothered. Go away.”
“It’s about my grandfather.”
“Yeah, can’t be bothered. Get lost.”
“……”
Garcia desperately suppressed his hand, which was instinctively reaching for his sword hilt. He stepped out of the barracks for a moment and returned a few dozen minutes later.
“Why are you back? I told you I’m lazy…”
“50-year-old Polandian Whiskey. It’s a top-shelf liquor that goes for about 100 gold a bottle at auction.”
“Welcome, please come in.”
Patrick Schneider was an easy man.
Garcia sighed and stepped inside. His secret efforts to gather information on the Double Dragon had paid off.
Once inside, Garcia spoke.
“I have a hunch as to why my grandfather is so obsessed with continuing this war.”
“A hunch, not a certainty?”
“I am certain of it.”
“Hmm… and?”
“I want you to know the truth.”
And so, as they tilted their glasses, Garcia shared a secret history of the Reinardo family. It was the family’s shame, and at the same time, a painful thorn embedded deep within the Sword Saint’s heart.
* * *
The sun rose.
Well, it happened every day. But today’s sun held a very different meaning.
“Finally.”
“Mmm…”
Not only the knights but even the soldiers were visibly tense.
A wide space had been cleared in front of the Imperial Army’s camp. To prevent any possible interference, they had thoroughly searched the surrounding area last night to ensure everything was perfect.
Furthermore, to show this duel to everyone, mages had set up vision spheres for a broadcast. Thanks to this, even those who couldn't get close to the dueling grounds could witness this historic battle through the images projected across the camp.
All of this was prepared for the duel between the Sword Saint and the Double Dragon.
And the one who appeared, facing the morning sunlight head-on, was…
“We greet the Duke!”
“We greet the Duke!”
The Sword Saint’s expression was calm as he arrived amidst the salutes of the lined-up knights. But the natural dignity radiating from that calm demeanor made everyone realize why this man was the strongest on the continent.
He took his position first and spoke.
“Has the Double Dragon not arrived yet?”
“Yes. I will go fetch him immediately.”
The knight who answered ran off in a hurry. And a short while later…
“Ugh… wait… just a second… I can walk on my own… Blegh!”
A man with not a shred of dignity was dragged out, his arm gripped by a knight.
The sight of him clearly suffering from a classic hangover was broadcast to all 200,000 Imperial soldiers through the vision spheres.
What is wrong with that guy?
What kind of person is he?
The great feat of uniting the hearts of 200,000 people as one was achieved. It wasn't something just anyone could do.
* * *
“Ugh… I’m gonna die.”
Looking at the hungover Patrick, the Sword Saint asked, “Are you alright?”
“No. I feel like I’m dying.”
“……”
Looking at Patrick’s pale, sickly face, the Sword Saint thought:
I have to duel ‘this’ now. With the title of the continent’s strongest on the line.
“Hahaha…”
A profound sense of futility washed over the Sword Saint, chilling him to the bone.