Chapter 332
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 332
Chapter Title: Let's Face Off
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‘He really is just like the rumors...’
To put it bluntly.
Rose was a stunning beauty.
It was a bit embarrassing to admit, but she was at least somewhat aware of that fact herself.
It wasn’t just because the Azure Dragon Clan constantly praised her looks.
No matter where she went, the gazes of admiration and envy pouring in from all directions made it impossible to ignore.
That was why Rose was fairly accustomed to such stares.
But even for her, the look Branga was giving her now was something she’d never experienced before in her life.
It was too passionate to be mere lust.
Too frivolous to be pure affection.
And too carnal to be simple fondness.
It was the blatant glint in his eyes of a guy thinking, There’s an absolute knockout right here—might as well shoot my shot.
Just from his eyes alone, you’d swear he wasn’t some world-renowned Summon Lord but a hormonal teenager.
“Come to think of it, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I’m Branga, the Summon Lord.”
“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Rosa, the interim representative of the Kilimanjaro Autonomous Government.”
“Oh! So you’re the lawless one among his comrades? A beauty with a killer figure who can fight too? I might just fall for you head over heels.”
...Correction.
He was just a brazen womanizer, plain and simple.
Comparing him to fresh-faced teens was an insult to them—his corny pickup lines were too pathetic for that.
‘Good thing I wore the mask.’
She’d put it on fearing someone might recognize her now that her fame had spread so far, but it had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
If he was this bad without even seeing her face...
She couldn’t imagine how much worse it’d be if he saw her barefaced.
“So, you really won’t take off that mask?”
“Unfortunately, personal circumstances make that impossible.”
“Aw, c’mon, just for a sec. Whatever your issue is, I’ll sort it all out clean for you.”
The problem was that Branga showed no signs of backing off.
If anything, the mask seemed to pique his interest even more, and he kept pestering her to show her face.
This left Rose in a bind.
She was already ruling the military administration while hiding her identity, so she couldn’t openly rebuff him.
Especially since she needed his cooperation to track down the Seven-Colored Bird.
‘This could be an opportunity, though...’
She’d heard rumors that the Summon Lord was a bit of a flirt but treated women kindly.
Winning his favor could certainly be one way to go.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Even if it was all an act, the thought of currying favor with this man in front of Rimon filled her with such revulsion she couldn’t stomach it.
“My face isn’t anything special.”
“You’re so firm about it. But I like my women tough—that just makes you more my type.”
“Let’s drop that topic. What I wanted to ask—”
“Hey now, think it over again. I’m the Summon Lord, y’know—the top bachelor around these parts.”
It was then.
That Branga subtly shifted his stance.
Rose’s face hardened as he closed the distance far too much for mere conversation.
Wearing a sleazy smile at her reaction, he reached out to take her hand and keep pressing—
Tap.
“Huh?”
Branga blinked.
A hand had suddenly wedged itself between them, blocking his path.
“Mister, mind your manners?”
Following that hand, Branga slowly turned his head and scowled at the impudent glare meeting his.
“...And who the hell are you?”
“Her lover. Why?”
“Lover?”
Stunned by the blond, tanned boy’s cheeky retort, Branga’s face twisted in disbelief for a moment.
Then, belatedly, realization dawned.
“Ah, wait—you’re that kid, right? The one they call some kind of nation-toppling genius or whatever?”
“Not ‘or whatever,’ but yeah, that’s the one.”
“Well, damn. I was wondering what kind of stud could get called a beauty’s lover...”
Letting out a scoff at the provocative words.
Branga slowly raked his eyes over Rimon—from head to toe, not even reaching his own chest.
Turning back to Rose, he said with exaggerated exasperation.
“Miss, even if you like ’em younger, isn’t this a bit much?”
“That’s—!”
Rose flushed red.
She’d dealt with plenty of misunderstandings like this since the false rumors spread.
But hearing it thrown right in her face like this? She couldn’t hold back the embarrassment.
Rimon, meanwhile, brazened it out.
“This mister doesn’t get it. Young and spry is best, guy or girl. They didn’t marry off kids at ten back in the day for nothing.”
“That’s the nonsense. A real man’s gotta have some solid meat on him. You think that scrawny frame can handle night duties proper?”
As if to say, This is what a man looks like.
Branga flexed his arm, bulging his thick bicep.
Seeing the crude sneer on his face, Rimon’s own smirk deepened.
“And you, mister? Does yours even stand up proper?”
“...Quit calling me mister—I ain’t even forty yet. Of course it’s raring to go.”
“Saying it like that makes it sound like you’re two days shy. Aren’t you ashamed, pushing forty with a harem at home and hitting on someone else’s girl?”
“And a punk like you isn’t ashamed getting called a lover?”
“Not at all. Being her lover takes skill.”
Rose couldn’t make sense of it.
The two bickering were utterly shameless.
So why was she, just listening, burning with humiliation all the way to her earlobes?
And why did her heart flutter at Rimon stepping up to defend her—even claiming to be her lover amid all this?
“Cheeky little brat.”
“Better than you, mister.”
Whether he sensed Rose’s turmoil or not.
Branga, growling at Rimon, narrowed his eyes as if realizing words alone wouldn’t cut it.
“If you’re so confident, how about a little contest with me?”
“What kind?”
“Let’s see who suits this lady better as a man. Winner takes her.”
As if challenging him to prove his manhood like a true male.
Rimon raised an eyebrow at Branga’s taunt.
“What kinda bullshit is that?”
“What’d you say?”
“You see my sister as some prize? Why ignore what she wants and decide with your dick, you fucking mutt?”
“Ri-Rimor!”
The Lukuma chieftain recoiled as Rimon unleashed outright curses.
Unlike the cockiness he could overlook before, this was enough to enrage Branga openly.
And in Africa, the Summon Lord’s wrath could topple nations.
But contrary to his fears, Branga didn’t rage.
He just narrowed his eyes at Rimon and grinned.
“Heh, dainty as you look, you’ve got balls like a man.”
What amused him so?
Grinning ear to ear, Branga spoke meaningfully.
“How about we leave the lady out of it, then?”
“Stake my body instead?”
“Nah, you don’t need to stake anything. Beat me, and I’ll grant whatever you want.”
“...So win big or break even?”
“Yup. A gift for your manly spirit.”
The banquet guests, who’d been eavesdropping, lit up at his words.
A chance to ask anything of the Summon Lord?
Sure, you had to win, but that alone was a massive boon.
They all shot envious looks at Rimon, and Shua the Lukuma chieftain urged him with his eyes to accept.
But Rimon wasn’t thrilled.
Just sarcastic.
“Don’t toss around offers like that unless you’d grant a ‘kill yourself’ request too.”
“...I meant anything reasonable. Figure of speech?”
“Backpedaling after saying it once? Pretty petty.”
Rimon sneered coldly.
All that talk of no-strings gifts was just hot air.
He’d seen through Branga’s real aim: crush him in front of Rose to trample his pride.
No Sword Master senses or old fox experience needed for that.
Just those beastly eyes, itching to ram a rival male to show off for the female.
“So, you in or not?”
“I’ll do it... but what’s the contest?”
Satisfied that his scheme had worked.
Grinning like a hunter at trapped prey, Branga replied.
“Just beat me at it.”
“Knock you flat?”
“That’s manly enough, but it’d be too cruel on a kid like you.”
Shaking his head as if he couldn’t bully a child.
His goal was Rose’s favor—beating her lover in front of her would just earn disgust.
Oblivious to Rose’s subtle expression and Rimon’s blatant disappointment.
Branga snapped his fingers.
Snap.
It was then.
The summoned beasts filling the banquet hall.
One Mud Cobra spewed sticky mud that rapidly petrified into a wide stone platform in the center.
Then Blade Leavits sliced it into a long rectangular shape, dividing it into ninety squares.
And thirty of those squares each hosted a single summoned beast.
Watching the summoned horde move in perfect unison to create the spectacle, Rimon narrowed his eyes.
“Senet against me?”
“Yup, African rules.”
Branga grinned, having laid out the board: ancient Egyptian backgammon fused with chess, twisted into a wargame variant.
“What d’you say? They call you a genius strategist these days—surely you won’t dodge this?”
Proposing Senet to an Egyptian like Rimor was a huge handicap, he claimed shamelessly.
Narrowing his eyes at Branga briefly.
Rimon finally nodded.
“Fine. Let’s play.”
“That’s the spirit!”
‘Kids are kids, after all.’
Outwardly beaming爽快.
Inwardly sneering at Rimon for jumping into an obvious loss, Branga started the game triumphantly.
‘Guildmaster, what nonsense are you up to now?’
The woman who’d slipped out of the banquet.
Namim frowned at the raucous commotion starting mere moments after she left.
‘...Not my problem, though.’
But only for a moment.
She soon tuned it out.
With Branga here, her duty was done—and it was obviously some woman-related mess anyway.
Good thing she’d bailed before getting dragged in.
Muttering inwardly as she walked.
Namim halted.
Stumble.
‘What...?’
Perplexed at her own pause.
Glancing around once.
Tilting her head at the eerily quiet surroundings, she shrugged it off as nothing and trudged on.
Whether from sleepiness weighing her eyelids.
Or dodging hassle.
She just wanted to crash at home.
But chased by drowsiness and deafened by the distant uproar, she failed to notice.
The real reason she’d stopped: an uncanny unease from the silent scene.
And the blood-red eyes silently watching her from afar...