Chapter 212
Chapter 212
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: Helian Tournament (1)
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On the day of the tournament, all the citizens of the capital flooded into the Colosseum.
Tens of thousands of seats filled up in an instant. Merchants selling food and drinks hustled everywhere, calling out to the crowds.
"As expected, the strongest favorite for the win has to be Archibald, right?"
The spectators engaged in heated debates, buzzing with anticipation for the tournament about to begin.
The hottest topic was who would take the title in the Master Class division.
"Archibald made it all the way to the finals last time. He lost, sure, but it was by a hair."
The winner of an event couldn't enter the same division again.
So his argument was that Archibald, who'd come in second last tournament, was basically the champion this time around.
"You never know. Bradley Heath wasn't there back then."
A man sitting next to him raised a counterpoint.
The Helian Tournament was held every four years. Last time, Bradley Heath had been in High Class, so he couldn't compete in Master Class.
After that tournament, Bradley had advanced to Master Class—much sooner than Archibald.
There was no doubt Bradley Heath's talent surpassed Archibald's. That's why the man saw him as the top contender.
"Hey now, Bradley's a genius, sure, but Archibald has way more experience as a Master Class."
"You ever watch these tournaments just once or twice? How many times has a talented newcomer surpassed the veterans?"
The two grew more heated in their argument. At that moment, a man sitting in front of them turned around.
"You gentlemen are a bit behind on the rumors."
"And who are you?"
"Does it matter who I am? You mentioned Archibald and Bradley as favorites. I see it differently. There's been this absolutely monstrous knight who's shown up recently."
The two perked up at his words.
"A favorite for the win?"
"That knight reached Master Class in his early twenties, they say."
"What? Early twenties?"
The two wore incredulous expressions.
Bradley Heath, the very man they'd been debating, had only reached Master Class in his late twenties.
And even then, he was hailed as a prodigy unseen in the empire for decades.
Someone reaching Master Class even younger than him?
"They say it's a knight from Apple Kingdom named Demian Haksen."
But at the mention of Apple Kingdom, their faces soured.
"Apple Kingdom? He's not even an imperial knight."
"Some knight from another kingdom as a favorite? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"
Regardless of the event, imperial knights had dominated the Helian Tournament for years.
Imperial knights simply outclassed those from other kingdoms.
It was a point of pride for the empire's people. It meant imperial knights were the strongest on the continent.
"Anyway, the winner's gonna be Archibald!"
"What are you talking about? It's Bradley Heath!"
The two men resumed shouting over each other. The third man clicked his tongue and turned back to the front.
"Anyone wanna make a bet? Predict the winner and test your insight and luck!"
Just then, a boy wandered by with a makeshift stand around his neck.
"Kid, come here."
"Yes! Wanna place a bet?"
"Yeah."
The man pulled out a gold coin and set it on the stand.
"Five gold coins on Demian Haksen."
It was a hefty sum, but the man showed no hesitation.
* * *
"Looking at them like this, you can really tell imperial knights are on another level."
In the waiting room inside the Colosseum.
Michael Ryanbloom glanced around at the other knights and commented.
"Even if they all wore the same armor, you could pick them out. The imperial knights have way more presence."
The waiting room was packed with knights from the tournament, all mixed together.
Not everyone was there, of course. Knights from prestigious imperial families had private rooms.
"The empire has a lot of old families."
Demian replied indifferently.
It wasn't exactly surprising that imperial knights were superior.
Ancient families possessed advanced mana cultivation methods and swordsmanship.
Plus, with the continent's wealth flowing into the empire, potent elixirs were readily available.
"And quit acting intimidated. You think I don't notice? They're all looking down on you."
At Demian's words, Michael scratched the back of his head.
Michael had always been an arrogant knight. He'd been convinced no genius under the heavens could match him.
Meeting Demian had changed him some, but that personality wouldn't vanish overnight.
"Honestly, if it weren't for Lady Rachel, I think I could beat everyone."
While staying at the villa, Michael had sparred with Rachel several times.
The result? Total defeat for Michael. He hadn't even gotten a proper fight in.
Considering the Sword Empress's talent, it was only natural. Even in his previous life, Michael had never beaten her.
"So you're just gonna roll over?"
"As if. I'll definitely get my revenge."
Michael's eyes sharpened.
Demian gave a wry smile. By his estimate, Michael would likely lose this time too.
But the world had a way of defying expectations. And Michael's talent was nothing to scoff at.
"By the way, how does the tournament work again?"
"Six matches per day per division."
With so many participants, they ran plenty of bouts daily.
"No worries for Middle Class. I don't see anyone stronger than that guy."
Michael glanced at Veronica as he spoke.
Among the knights from the empire and other kingdoms, none looked stronger than her.
Still, it wasn't a situation to get complacent.
"Sigh... So boring."
Veronica mumbled, leaning against the window.
"I wanna slice off your ears and nose, make 'em round... Shove a blade under the skin and rip it all off..."
Days without killing had pushed Veronica's mental state to a dangerous edge.
She needed to kill to stabilize? What a trash-tier disposition.
"...If we send her out like this and she kills someone, we're in deep shit."
Most tournament knights hailed from the empire or kingdoms. Wandering knights were a tiny minority.
"Don't worry. I've got it all figured out."
"As expected of big bro."
"Veronica, come here."
At the call, Veronica trudged over to Demian.
"What."
"No killing in this tournament. No wounding with your blade either."
"Yeah, whatever. I'll try."
Her attitude was utterly half-hearted. Clearly no intention of taking his advice seriously.
Michael wore an expectant look, hoping Demian would lay into her.
"You promised last time—if I hit High Class before Michael, you'd grant my wish, right?"
"Yeah. You failed, though."
"If you win the tournament without breaking any of my rules, I'll let you cut me up however you want."
But her eyes lit up at his follow-up.
"...For real?"
"Yeah, for real."
"Promise? I'll get mad if you break it."
"Sure, sure."
Veronica's eyes blazed with motivation.
Michael whispered worriedly.
"...Bro, you really gonna let her?"
"I said I'd let her cut me. Never said I'd take it lying down."
"...Huh?"
"I never said I wouldn't dodge."
Michael's face went blank at Demian's words.
"The Middle Class division begins shortly! Lady Veronica Sanchez, please proceed to the arena!"
An imperial official bellowed. Veronica skipped out gleefully.
And she claimed victory the moment it started.
She parried her opponent's attack and pressed her blade to his throat.
"W-whoa! What was that? How'd she do it?"
"Wait, where's that girl from?"
"Apple Kingdom, I think."
The crowd applauded in stunned faces at the clean move.
But Veronica paid their attention no mind.
"Demian Haksen! You better keep your promise!"
She just yelled that toward the waiting room.
* * *
Several more Middle Class matches followed. Cheers erupted from the stands after each one.
"Bro, my turn next."
"Go get 'em."
Demian offered no advice. He knew Michael's capabilities well.
As expected, Michael returned after an easy win.
He'd shattered his opponent's weapon with his greatsword, crushing their spirit.
"W-was a weapon supposed to break that easily?"
"No way. That's some insane sword strength."
"That knight's from Apple Kingdom too."
"Apple Kingdom? Never made waves in a tournament before."
The crowd cheered while murmuring about Michael.
-Next division starts in 30 minutes!
Soldiers stationed around the Colosseum shouted to the spectators.
-Next up is Master Class!
-Sir Bradley Heath versus Sir Ulema Hoplite!
At last, the match everyone had been waiting for began.
* * *
Bradley Heath stepped into the arena.
"Bradley Heath!"
"The empire's prodigy!"
"You've got this!"
Cheers poured down, but Bradley remained impassive.
His focus was elsewhere.
He glared at the waiting room—specifically, Demian Haksen by the window.
-You can't beat this guy.
Ever since that day, Bradley had intensified his training. Pushing himself to the limit daily.
To beat Demian Haksen?
As if. Bradley thought himself stronger.
No, the reason he trained so hard was the Sword Saint.
Hero of the empire or not, he couldn't stomach those words.
He'd win the tournament with overwhelming skill and show the Sword Saint.
That his judgment was wrong.
That he was this strong.
"Nice to meet you."
A voice came from across the arena. His opponent, Ulema Hoplite, stared straight at him.
Ulema wielded hand axes in both hands. Twin axes were his signature weapons.
"Not long ago, you were a young pup seeking my guidance, and now you're a Master Class facing me. Feels surreal."
Back in High Class, Bradley had once asked Ulema for a spar—to gain insight for reaching Master Class.
"I'd love to mentor you again, but... circumstances are pressing."
Ulema was forty this year. Losing here meant no more chances.
"I understand. Just give me your all."
"Thanks for saying that."
Ulema chuckled.
"Let's begin, then."
"Good luck."
No sooner had the words left than the two knights charged.
Twin axes and fists clashed repeatedly in midair, sending faint bursts of energy each time.
Incredibly, Bradley blocked every axe barehanded. Thanks to the Aurablades cloaking his fists and forearms.
"Impressive! To hone your Aurablade to this level in such a short time!"
Aurablades grew stronger with training.
Bradley’s was as solid as Ulema’s, if not more.
"This won't end quickly, it seems."
The Helian Tournament lasted ages, so stamina management was key.
Thus, Ulema had no intention of dragging it out.
"Bradley. Let me show you something fun."
Suddenly, Ulema's arms began multiplying.
From two to four, eight, sixteen.
Unlike his rugged build, Ulema was a master of illusions.
Deceptions tricked the eye and senses, striking at openings.
"Last time, I held back to mentor you. Think you can handle this?"
Dozens of arms unleashed Aurablades simultaneously.
A barrage of Aurablades rained toward Bradley.
"..."
Bradley’s eyes wavered, searching for illusion from reality.
Ulema smirked inwardly.
They looked mixed, but all were real.
At Master Class, illusions could hold mana—becoming substance.
Then Bradley crouched. Muscles tensed across his body.
Ulema sensed something ominous. Before he could pinpoint it, Bradley lunged.
He plunged into the Aurablade storm. In that instant, he cloaked his whole body in Aurablade.
Ulema’s Aurablades shattered on contact.
"...You blocked it like that?"
Even for a fist fighter, full-body Aurablade was taxing.
So Bradley had only activated it for a split second.
Insane risk—one slip, and he'd be shredded.
But he pulled it off. And the reckless gamble paid off sweetly.
Bradley closed the gap to Ulema in a flash. He unleashed a fist.
Stunned, Ulema couldn't react. No time to dodge—he took it square to the chest.
"Urk!"
Ulema spat blood and reeled back. Bradley pursued relentlessly.
Fists hammered without pause. Ulema swung his axes in resistance, but it was futile.
The chest hit slowed him, leaving him scrambling to block.
"...I-I surrender."
Ulema finally yielded. The referee declared Bradley's victory at once.
-Sir Bradley Heath wins!
The crowd erupted as the match ended.
"I told you! Bradley Heath is the favorite!"
"Woooo! Bradley Heath! Empire's prodigy!"
The reaction was massive. They chanted his name in ecstasy.
Bradley spread his arms wide, basking in the adulation.
"...They call him the empire's prodigy for a reason."
Ulema Hoplite watched bitterly before leaving the arena.
* * *
The cheers showed no sign of dying down.
-The next match will now proceed.
The referee had to step in to calm them. Schedule demanded it.
-Sirs Jose Brendan and Demian Haksen, please enter the arena.
At the call, Demian ascended to the arena.
He scanned the packed stands.
Shifting his gaze, he spotted the VIP seats.
Prime spot in the Colosseum, complete with lavish tables.
A blond man sat there, looking weary.
‘Howard Adelaite.’
Demian murmured the name in his mind.
The emperor of the empire. Man blessed by golden fortune.
In his previous life, Demian had seen him once.
When he'd killed Dorgo—the man standing beside him.
"Young fella, much younger than I expected."
An unfamiliar voice. Turning, Demian saw a sturdy man: his opponent, Jose Brendan.
"Just hit Master Class, huh... And you draw me of all people."
Jose Brendan shook his head. Somehow irritating.
"Name's Jose Brendan. Embarrassing as it is, they call me the Iron Wall."
He held up his weapons.
A massive shield dwarfing his bulk, and a short blade.
"My specialty."
He raised the shield, then slammed it down.
Gray Aurablade flooded the shield.
‘Not bad.’
Demian had never faced a Master Class Jose Brendan in his past life.
Didn't mean the man lacked skill.
Dyeing such a vast surface in Aurablade spoke volumes.
"Can you pierce my shield?"
Jose spoke provocatively. Demian smirked.
"Piercing might be tough. Smashing it? Sure."
"Hahaha! What a character."
Jose laughed heartily, taking it as a joke.
"Don't believe me? Watch."
Demian drew a deep breath, circulating mana through his body.
His frame, enhanced by the Bursting Starlight Pill, reacted far more keenly to mana.
Unprecedented power surged. He bent his knees slightly. The power boiled over.
He exploded upward, shattering the ground with leg strength.
His body shot like a beam. Before a blink, he was at Jose's nose.
"What?"
Shock crossed Jose's face. Demian swung Dawn regardless.
"Urgh!"
Jose braced hurriedly. Aurablade-clad shield forward.
Dawn smashed the greatshield. A deafening boom, and it shattered to pieces.
The impact hurled Jose back—not pushed, but airborne.
"Grk!"
Jose stabilized midair. Glancing ahead, his eyes doubled in size.
Demian Haksen was right there.
He'd chased instantly after the blow.
Beyond comprehension speed.
"...You madman?"
As Jose gaped, Demian swung Dawn again.
Jose desperately raised his blade to block.
Two swords. Two Aurablades clashed.
Dawn bit in. Jose's sword sheared clean.
Dawn arced for his throat. Just before, Demian halted.
Aurablade grazed skin. It split, blood welling.
"Looks like I win. Agree?"
Jose nodded blankly. Only then did Demian withdraw Dawn.
No cheers. Dead silence blanketed the arena.
-...Uh.
Even the referee stuttered.
-D-Demian Haksen wins!
He finally shouted. Only then did cheers explode from the stands.
Less than a minute in, Demian Haksen's victory was sealed.