Chapter 70: Is This Really Okay…? (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 70: Is This Really Okay…? (3)
Ritanka, an F-rank fighter participating in this Battle Royale, honestly thought he might be able to take down Count Palatio.
It wasn't that he underestimated Alon’s strength. Even if he were completely ignorant of the world, it would be absurd to ignore a man as famous as Count Palatio.
His reasoning was simple: the Count was a mage.
Fundamentally, mages required time to cast their spells. While that time decreased as the Tier of the magic grew higher, he knew there would still be a split-second delay. And in the confined space of an arena, that delay provided more than enough time for a fighter to strike.
That was why, despite his nerves, he believed he had a chance.
After confirming Count Palatio’s presence in the Battle Royale, Ritanka had rallied all the other fighters. He was certain that together, they could cast him out.
However...
Ritanka’s arrogance shattered the moment Alon’s magic manifested.
“What the— Are you kidding me—?”
An exclamation escaped his lips as he stared blankly upward.
Dozens of ice pillars had intertwined to form a small mountain. At the peak of that mountain, the man stood looking down at the fighters.
He showed no emotion; his gaze was utterly indifferent.
While the fighters gripped their weapons, frozen in confusion and unable to act, Alon exhaled.
“Phew—”
A white mist escaped his lips into the freezing air. Alon looked down at the fighters who dared not approach and thought to himself.
Everything is going according to plan so far.
Alon formed a seal.
He had spent a great deal of time deliberating which magic to use before entering today’s Battle Royale. Since he had mostly fought powerful opponents until now, his repertoire consisted mainly of single-target spells rather than area-of-effect ones.
Knowing he could only use magic six times, Alon had foreseen this exact situation. After deep contemplation, he had finally decided on his approach.
The magic I need right now is something with maximum range and just enough power to take down F-rank fighters.
With that judgment, he arranged the magic formula.
Vroom—!
“Reinforcement.”
A shield manifested at the center of the massive iceberg Alon had created.
“Compression.”
Following his command, the center of the iceberg was compressed into a massive hemispherical shape. In an instant, the core of the mountain transformed into a sphere, leaving the iceberg in a precarious, unstable state.
The spectators gasped in silent admiration. The giant sphere suspended in the heart of the ice made the unstable mountain look like a magical work of art.
But then...
“Vacuum.”
The moment Alon spoke again, the shield—which had been compressed into the shape of a mana orb—shrank even further.
“Return to Origin.”
As Alon uttered the final phrase...
Kwahhhhhhh—!!!
The iceberg exploded outward, sweeping away the fighters gathered near its base. The precarious snow mountain collapsed with a thunderous roar.
White dust billowed into the air.
And when the white shroud finally cleared, the only one left standing in the arena was...
““……””
Alon, alone.
After a long silence...
[Ah, ahem—! The winner of the Battle Royale is Alon Palatio!!!!!]
The flustered commentator quickly regained his senses and announced the result. Thunderous cheers began to ring in Alon’s ears.
Meanwhile, Alon...
...That would have been dangerous if I hadn't finished it in one shot.
Feeling his mana hole—now completely empty because he had expanded the range further than intended—Alon broke into a slight cold sweat.
...I definitely need more practice adjusting the arrays.
He had just added another task to his to-do list.
* * *
Immediately after the Battle Royale, on the way back to the Seolrang Guild.
Alon, who had been promoted from an F-rank fighter to a D-rank fighter with the right to challenge others, was wondering which C-rank fighter he should target.
“My Lord.”
“What is it, Evan?”
“...Yutia sent a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yes.”
Hearing this from Evan, who had been waiting at the guild, Alon immediately headed to his room. There, he saw a staff sitting on his desk.
It was the Staff of Sparrow—the very item he had been trying to obtain.
“...She sent this as a gift?”
“Yes. She said you would like it.”
At Evan’s words, Alon looked at the staff with a bewildered expression. No matter how he looked at it, it was undoubtedly Sparrow’s staff.
...How?
He stared blankly. As far as he knew, one could never enter the treasury or access the riches of the Colony without proving their qualifications as a fighter. According to the setting, the Colony’s royal family had strictly upheld that tradition since the kingdom’s founding.
That was exactly why Alon hadn't tried to buy the items in the treasury with money.
And yet...
...How did she do it?
Alon wondered how on earth Yutia had managed to gift him this staff, but the thought was fleeting.
I’ll have to ask her the next time she visits.
He set his doubts aside and decided to be grateful. Thanks to her, he had obtained the item he wanted ahead of schedule.
I’ve used up all my mana today, so I can’t use it now. I’ll try it out tomorrow.
Feeling like a father who had received a gift from a well-raised daughter, he gripped the Staff of Sparrow.
The next day.
Just as ‘that entity’ had instructed, Alon channeled mana into the staff.
[...Hm? Who are you? Why are you waking me up?]
A middle-aged man’s voice echoed in his head. Even just hearing it, Alon could tell the man had lived a very disgruntled life.
“I am Alon Palatio.”
[So what?]
“...I was sent here by the Dragonkin.”
[I said, so what?]
“……”
A primitive warning flared in Alon’s mind that communication would be difficult, giving him a slight headache. Nevertheless, he pressed on.
“You don’t seem to like long conversations, so I’ll get straight to the point. I heard you were a Magus.”
[...In a world full of half-wits, it seems at least one moron remains.]
“...The Dragonkin told me that if I came to you, you would teach me your Sentence and Phrases. Will you?”
[And what do you plan to do with them?]
“I intend to use them.”
At Alon’s answer, the voice within the staff fell silent for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.
[I thought you were a moron with at least some knowledge, but you’re just a complete idiot.]
The middle-aged man’s voice continued, dripping with blatant contempt.
[Hey, idiot. Do you really think you can use my Sentence and Phrases just because you know them? How can someone who hasn't even inherited my Heart Image use my Sentence?]
The man in the staff spat out words filled with absolute negation, as if telling Alon to talk sense. Just as Alon fell into silence...
“My Lord!”
Evan suddenly burst through the door.
“What is it?”
“You’ve received a challenge!”
“From whom?”
“I heard he’s an A-rank fighter. His name is ‘Phision’... He’s here from the Colosseum. How should I respond?”
Alon considered Evan’s question with a hint of bewilderment.
An A-rank fighter challenging me? ...It’s not impossible, but still.
Fundamentally, a D-rank fighter could only challenge those one rank above them, but an A-rank fighter could send a challenge to anyone below them at will. However, it was rare for A-rank fighters to challenge lower-ranked opponents.
If an A-rank didn't fight another A-rank, their status could drop. Moreover, if they happened to lose, their rank would be swapped immediately, making it a high-risk move.
On the other hand, for Alon, this was an opportunity to jump straight to A-rank without having to go through multiple matches.
After a moment of deliberation, Alon seemed to make up his mind.
“If you find it so hard to believe, let’s make a bet.”
[...A bet?]
Alon smiled as he looked at the staff.
* * *
One day later.
Phision, the A-rank fighter who had challenged Count Palatio, watched the man walking out from the opposite side of the arena.
Just as I expected.
Count Palatio entered amidst thunderous cheers. Seeing him, Phision let a smile play on his lips.
In truth, this match wasn't particularly beneficial for Phision. As an A-rank fighter, he would gain no honor by defeating a D-rank like Count Palatio, and if he somehow lost, he would be demoted to D-rank.
Yet, there was only one reason Phision had sent the challenge: to steal the spotlight.
The man before him might be a D-rank fighter, but his strength had already been proven through numerous rumors. Furthermore, after the recent Battle Royale, his power was considered the real deal, and his fame within the Colony was skyrocketing.
Phision wanted to defeat Alon and usurp that fame for himself. He had heard rumors that the vacant seat of Babayaga would soon be filled by one of the A-rank fighters chosen by the royal family.
For Phision, who aimed to become the next Babayaga, this event was a precious opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. It was a gamble, but he was confident he could win.
Of course, Phision didn't underestimate the Count. As mentioned, there were many rumors about his strength, and he had proven it in the Colosseum. Ignoring such a man was something only a fool would do—especially for a fighter.
However, Phision had one reason to be confident.
Count Palatio only uses ice magic.
He was aware that mages could use spells outside their primary element. However, he also knew that if it wasn't their specialty, the power of those spells would be significantly lower. Most importantly, before sending the challenge, he had thoroughly investigated his opponent and confirmed that he only used ice magic. This only bolstered his confidence.
After all—
Grin!
—His race, the Flame Beast Tribe, could naturally manipulate fire, which was the ultimate counter to ice magic.
No matter how impressive Alon’s ice magic was, it would inevitably weaken before his high-temperature flames. With a smirk on his face...
[Then—let the match begin!]
The moment the commentator’s voice fell, Phision unleashed his flames.
Whoosh!
Flames erupted in all directions, making the already hot ground boil even further, drawing gasps from the audience. Simultaneously, a chill began to rise around Alon, starting to swallow the arena.
“Hmph.”
Unfortunately for Alon, his severe cold couldn't reach Phision.
I knew it!
Phision’s lips curled into a sneer as he drew his twin swords.
How should I finish him? All at once? No—it’s better to let the Count cast some magic before I take him down. But I shouldn't drag it out too long. I should make it as impactful as possible—
Phision was already imagining his victory.
But unfortunately, his happy thoughts were cut short.
“Array of Thunder—”
The moment Alon uttered a new phrase.
Zap!
Vivid blue sparks began to envelop Alon’s body.