Chapter 98: Arena of Cosmos (9)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 98: Arena of Cosmos (9)
The moment the two fighters paused, the stands exploded. A wave of sound crashed over the arena, a roar of a thousand voices. Some screamed in frustration, their bets turning to ash at the sudden reversal. Others, seeing a flicker of hope for their own wagers, shrieked with renewed fervor.
Drowned out by the clamor, Jin’s voice never reached the spectators. The two opponents remained locked in an intense gaze.
Don’t hold back.
The moment he heard those words, the emotion that washed over Dante was shame.
‘I see,’ he thought, a flush rising within him. ‘So that’s how it looked to you. As if I was going easy on you.’
The moment a warrior hesitates to strike, their blade grows dull. To do so before a mere enemy was pathetic. To do so against a true rival… that was the ultimate insult.
Whether or not he unleashed the secret techniques of Hairan was never the core issue.
‘Is there anything more shameful than not giving my absolute best to an opponent I have personally acknowledged?’
To give one’s all without wavering.
If the match ended without him doing so, then neither victory nor defeat would hold any meaning.
“I have shown you an unsightly side of myself,” Dante said, gently extending his blade forward. It was a gesture of mutual respect, an invitation to clash steel. As Jin quietly met the blade with his own, a soft, metallic scrape echoed between them.
Surprisingly, in that instant, a strange sensation washed over them both.
The roar of the crowd faded, becoming a distant echo. The world around them seemed to darken, until it felt as if they were the only two people left in existence. They were overcome with a shared conviction: to fight until one of them collapsed would be a moment of pure joy.
Even without sharing these feelings aloud, they understood. Both had fallen into a prophetic state, a phenomenon sometimes experienced by swordsmen who have met their true match.
“Then,” Jin said, “let us begin again.”
Huu.
Huu.
They drew breath in perfect unison.
Then, with no signal to mark who moved first, their two swords began to dance once more. Unlike the respectful touch of moments ago, sparks now flew from their edges with every impact.
Amidst the whistle of wind, thunderous booms, and the grating of metal, flashes of sword-light scattered like shattered glass.
As if his earlier exhaustion had been a lie, Dante’s blade came alive, swinging with more ferocity than he had shown the entire match.
Jin met him with a roar of his own, unleashing every last ounce of his remaining strength.
The clash intensified.
Blood and sand, churned by the shockwaves of their blows, flew in all directions like hardened shrapnel. And as it did, the cheering began to subside.
The reason the stands grew so quiet, at a moment that should have been a frenzy of excitement, was simple.
They were overwhelmed. To the spectators, the two boys fighting below had become giants. They felt it would be a crime to blink, terrified of missing even a single second.
It had been over ten years since the Arena of Cosmos first opened its gates, but never had a sight like this been witnessed.
Those who had come seeking a vulgar spectacle of cruelty were instead blessed with a masterpiece—a duel between true martial artists.
The gambling no longer mattered. Of course, once the match ended and the lingering emotions faded, some would laugh and others would cry over their fortunes.
But for this moment, at least.
Everyone could only marvel at the battle unfolding between the two boys and their swords.
‘Perhaps I was underestimating Dante, too,’ Jin thought, blood smearing his lips. He had unconsciously bitten down on them while parrying Dante’s onslaught. ‘I was certain he was exhausted, but where is this violent power coming from…!’
His instincts for swordsmanship were a god-given talent.
His stamina and physical strength, however, were utterly ordinary. In fact, the small man had been born with a physique that was arguably below average.
Just how much effort had he poured in to reach this point? How many times had he collapsed in frustration and despair, staring down a weakness so fatal for a warrior, only to rise again?
One who has pushed themselves to the brink of death can recognize the effort of others. In his past life, Jin had also possessed a body that was essentially crippled by Runcandel standards. He had thrown himself into a living hell every single day just to break through the wall of the 1-star rank.
That was why he could see it—Dante’s past.
He saw a boy huddled alone in a dark training hall; he saw him screaming at his own thin frame in a mirror; he saw him whipping his own body as he hovered between life and death, time and time again.
And through it all, he saw that the boy had never once let go of his sword.
It was just like his own past life.
Except, unlike his past self, this boy had not failed in the end…
‘It makes me want to cry.’
The reason Dante’s voice was so gravelly was now clear. It was the ruin left behind by a lifetime of screaming in agony, all to overcome an inferiority that must have felt like a divine curse.
A thrill ran down Jin’s spine.
The driving force that had allowed Dante to wander through that personal hell until he became the successor of Hairan—and the reason he still strove to be better today than he was yesterday.
It was simply because he was captivated by the sword.
Or perhaps it was because, despite being born a high noble of the Empire, life would otherwise be nothing more than a tedious play.
Dante was that kind of person.
‘Jin Runcandel. The thirteenth son of Runcandel.’
Even as his entire body jolted from the impact of their blades, Dante was also thinking of Jin.
‘You were born with everything.’
The Runcandel bloodline that every warrior in the world dreamed of, and a body blessed by that blood. On top of that, a talent among talents—reaching 5-star at fifteen and now, at sixteen, proving himself an equal.
‘And yet, from you…’
Why did he exude such desperation? He was born in a warrior’s paradise, yet he fought like someone who had spent his entire life staring at that paradise from the outside.
Desperate and frantic.
‘Why is your sword, the sword of one born with everything, imbued with such deep emotion? Is it because you are the youngest, and the throne is infinitely far away? No, you are not a small man who would obsess over rank.’
Was it simply because he wanted to be the best?
Or was it because he, too, had shuddered through countless days of despair, just as he had? Could it be that he had suffered even more?
‘What are you, Jin Runcandel? No, it doesn’t matter what you are. Today…’
Today was the day he would prove that his past efforts were not in vain.
As he tightened his grip on his sword once more…
Crack.
He felt a hairline fracture form in the bones of his hand. A pain that made his skin crawl shot through his body, but Dante smiled regardless.
Just a bit more…
Every time he swung his sword, the cracks in his hand widened, but Dante’s posture did not falter. Soon, the strain spread to his shoulders, his chest, his waist, and even the soles of his feet planted on the ground.
His body began to rattle precariously, as if it were about to shatter.
But Dante did not resent his weak flesh.
‘I’m doing this simply because I love it.’
However, despite his smile, the tense stalemate inevitably began to tilt in Jin’s favor.
‘Dante’s body… is it breaking?’
Clashing blades so closely that Dante felt nearer than his own skin, Jin could not fail to notice.
The moment he regained the upper hand, Jin felt not joy, but anger.
‘Why are you still not using the secret techniques of Hairan…! Do you have some other trick I don’t know about?’
No.
Dante, now retreating, was a beast fighting with his last breath. His eyes still blazed with fighting spirit, but this time, he was truly exhausted.
He was moving beyond mere exhaustion and into total collapse.
‘There was a clear opportunity. And you were no longer hesitant to strike me down. So why?’
Now, it was Jin’s turn to choose.
To strike, or not to strike. The deliberation did not take long.
‘For me to withdraw my sword here would be an insult to you.’
Clang—!
Dante’s body wavered under the horizontal blow Jin unleashed. The moment he lost his balance, several bones inside him that had been barely holding on finally snapped. Before he could turn his head to follow Jin’s next move…
Bradamante was already scattering its second flash of light.
Fortunately.
A great deal of hesitation seeped into the blade.
‘You damn fool! Why!’
Gritting his teeth, Jin wrenched the trajectory of the blade away from Dante’s chest. The recoil from forcing the sword’s path to twist caused his grip to loosen.
Bradamante flew from Jin’s hand and skidded across the dirt floor. In that same instant, Dante’s sword pointed toward Jin’s throat.
Or so it seemed. As he collapsed from exhaustion, the sword in his hand merely dangled along with his body.
By the time Jin’s second attack would have connected, Dante had already lost consciousness.
Thud!
Dante fell onto the dirt.
Breathing heavily, Jin looked down at him, his eyes blinking frantically.
Silence descended as if time had stopped.
By then, even the spectators were holding their breath. And Jin’s mind was a wreck. Far from any sense of victory, his entire body burned with an inexplicably complex emotion.
He hoped Dante wasn’t dead. Yet, a terrible certainty that he must be dead made him afraid to even lean down and check.
Instinctively, he knelt and felt for Dante’s pulse, but he could feel nothing over the frantic pounding of his own heart.
‘I have to call a doctor, quickly…!’
The moment he tried to open his mouth to scream for a doctor, to ask if anyone could help…
Another boy threw himself from the stands into the arena.
“Young Master!”
Guardian warriors followed right behind him.
Veradin Zipple. As he ran frantically across the arena, his hands were already glowing with green mana.
He had been preparing healing magic since the match was halfway through, terrified he might lose one of them here.
“Veradin…!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll save him!”
Kneeling before Dante, Veradin began to chant.
One spell, then two.
Veradin displayed the incredible ability to chant three healing spells at once, but Jin couldn’t take his eyes off Dante.
The expression on Veradin’s face as he chanted was grim. Not even ten seconds had passed, yet sweat poured from his brow like rain from the sheer amount of mana he was channeling.
Despite the healing magic—magic powerful enough to mend most grievous wounds in an instant—Dante showed no sign of opening his eyes.
While both Jin and Veradin burned with anxiety, Veradin suddenly withdrew his mana and weakly shook his head.
‘It’s no use. This isn’t something that can be healed with magic…!’
His internal organs were twisted into knots. Not a single bone was intact. Worse, aura was running rampant inside his broken body. It was a state where even if Holy King Miklan himself performed a miracle, regeneration would be nearly impossible.
“Jin.”
Suddenly, Veradin whispered his name.
“Dante is—”
“Listen carefully,” Veradin interrupted, his voice a low whisper. “This is a secret between the three of us.”
As he spoke, he reached into his robe and pulled something out.