Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: 52. Heredity (2)
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Yuri dangled his provocation right in front of Zair's face, and Zair's expression twisted. His fists trembled violently. But Yuri had no intention of sparing a thought for how deeply he'd wounded the man.
The opponent had picked the fight first.
That smug attitude, utterly convinced of his own superiority—it was revolting. Yuri wanted nothing more than to press a blade to his throat right then and there, make the bastard break down in tears.
Come to think of it, it had been ages since he'd properly crossed swords with anyone.
The last time he'd fought for his life was against Okua.
Maybe his urges had just been bottled up too long.
Yuri curled the corner of his mouth upward and spoke to Zair's furious face.
"I'm busy, I said. That's why I even slapped you myself. Let's get on with it."
"Hahaha..."
Zair let out an incredulous laugh. He looked down at Yuri, a vague smile playing on his lips as he pondered something, then nodded.
"Very well."
With that, he turned on his heel.
"Follow me. Humiliating a prince of a nation in the public market would stain my own honor, so we'll settle this in the castle."
"You? Know the first thing about honor?"
Yuri scoffed openly as he followed along.
The Gatencha knights, feeding off Zair's rage, thickened the air with menace.
Even if their lord was in the wrong, knights inevitably moved in the direction they were pointed.
Yuri turned to Jared standing at his side.
"Kinda jealous. You should back me up unconditionally like those guys."
"Well..."
Jared made a reluctant face.
In any case, they passed through Gatencha's streets and arrived at Zair's castle.
Even for a count's residence, the architecture was impressively advanced. Yuri didn't like it, but he couldn't deny the empire's wealth and development.
Zair halted in the center of a wide open plaza just outside the castle walls.
The ground was firmly packed, scattered with boot prints here and there.
Zair turned to Yuri.
"This is where the knights train. It should do nicely."
Yuri stretched languidly.
"Audience is a bit sparse. Why not call more?"
"So confident."
"You too. Don't tell me you think you're strong just because you're older?"
"A knight's training is proportional to time spent."
His words rang generally true.
It was due to the Mana Circulation Method.
The longer a knight trained, the greater their total mana and the sharper their sensitivity to it. Add mastery of swordsmanship on top, and with no bodily decay to worry about, they just kept getting stronger.
Zair was decent at a glance.
He probably would have shone in the allied forces.
But that was the extent of it.
"Don't worry. I won't hold back."
"Good. I was wondering if I'd have to kill someone today."
"Who knows. Swords don't have eyes."
"Well, mine does."
Yuri swung his sword sideways as he retorted.
A snake slithering along the ground split clean in half and writhed.
"Looks like you don't keep up with maintenance around here."
"Sharp senses."
Zair drew his blade.
"We'll settle our forebears' grudge here."
"No confidence to face the man himself, so you pick on his son—and that's the best line you've got?"
Yuri gripped Guilty and stepped forward.
Suddenly, he thought he understood why his father had beheaded a Gatencha knight all those years ago.
Yuri felt a visceral disgust toward Zair.
Their natures were polar opposites.
What Yuri saw as cowardly and dishonorable, Zair dressed up as righteous, propping it with petty justifications.
What if he'd been weaker?
Yuri smirked.
The third prince of Brioll would have been the laughingstock of Gatencha, fingers pointed at him across the entire continent.
In truth, that's exactly the outcome Zair had hoped for.
"Heredity at work again, huh."
"Pardon?"
"My father must have felt the same way about your late father."
"..."
Zair's face stiffened. Yuri flashed him a bright, refreshing grin.
"Don't worry. I won't kill you."
"You're courting death."
Zair lunged at Yuri.
He came on like a storm, riding his momentum. A strike from above turned into a low slash; an attack from the right flipped to the left. Yuri blocked repeatedly, giving ground.
He was pretty strong.
Yuri could see why Zair had been so bold.
It was a realm no knight Yuri's age could easily match, no matter the training.
Perhaps he'd swallowed his rage all these years, dreaming of this revenge.
"Pity."
Amid the chaotic torrent of blades, Yuri thrust at the single point generating the flow.
An explosive crack rang out, and Zair's onslaught halted. He fell back, catching his breath as he glared at Yuri.
Zair cocked his head.
Then charged again.
Swords rained down once more. Yuri evaded and parried them all before thrusting again.
Another crack, and Zair staggered back.
His eyes wavered.
"Za..."
Yuri advanced. Zair reflexively stumbled backward. Yuri laughed and pointed at his feet.
"Running away?"
"Nonsense!"
No trace of composure remained in Zair's voice.
Yuri eyed his desperate strikes.
Every trajectory was crystal clear.
The number of attacks or feints didn't matter.
The origin and endpoint were fixed.
They began with Zair's body and aimed for Yuri's.
Disrupting that origin was enough.
"Kuh!"
It was almost comical at a glance.
A grown knight swinging wildly at a youthful lad, only to be checked by the boy's playful jab now and then, jolting back in surprise. Over and over.
But no one laughed.
Not even the Brioll knights on Yuri's side.
Rolang's face was especially grim.
"Your Highness..."
Winning the tournament had made him think he'd closed some distance with Yuri.
Not on the same level, perhaps, but strong enough not to drag his heels—to be of actual help.
He'd been wrong.
Jared let out a dry chuckle under his breath.
"It's ridiculous."
Everyone present thought the same.
Zair's attitude was pathetic, but his swordsmanship was no slouch.
He'd made a name for himself young, and by his thirties, he was hailed as a complete knight.
When assessing the empire's forces, he was one of the rare few whose name alone counted as a full unit.
And now he was being toyed with like a child.
"Yaaah!"
Zair was screaming now as he threw himself at Yuri.
Some Gatencha knights looked to the sky in disbelief or hung their heads to the dirt.
"Impossible!"
All pretense of leisure was gone.
Zair detonated his Mana Circulation Method in a frenzy, lashing out wildly at Yuri.
Any ordinary knight would have been pulped.
But his opponent, Yuri Brioll, deflected the barrage with absurd ease.
The third prince's mana moved with living cunning.
It glanced off incoming strikes at angles and preempted motions, a single step snuffing out power at the source.
It looked like Zair was attacking, but in reality, he was being herded this way and that by his foe's will.
A foreboding chill filled Zair's chest.
"Impossible..."
He denied reality.
His plan had been simple.
Muster the knights to provoke somehow. If he endured the insult, make him a joke. If not, use it as pretext for a duel to vent his spleen.
He'd joined the allied forces, sure—but he was still just a brat.
Zair was confident against even Rolang, the tournament champ. The third prince, with rumors of exaggerated feats? He'd roll him like a ball.
But this absurdity.
No tree, no matter how fast-growing, becomes an ancient oak in ten years. What the hell?
At some point, Brioll's third prince felt demonic. Like he was toying with Zair using clever ruses.
Maybe he'd fallen into a trap the prince had laid from the start.
Irrational thoughts swirled.
Now the third prince advanced without even bothering to defend, and spoke.
"Did the previous lord of Gatencha say nothing to you?"
At those words, Zair dredged up the past.
After his father was beheaded, as Zair swore vengeance, his grandfather had said:
'Don't even think of revenge. He's a monster of a different breed.'
He'd rebelled inwardly but ultimately heeded the words.
Fiore Brioll was one of the Ten Strongest—and a king.
There was nothing to be done.
Then word came that his son had arrived in Gatencha today. Zair saw it as heaven-sent opportunity. Fiore had killed his father; humiliating the son would balance the scales.
But everything had unraveled.
Just like Fiore Brioll, his son Yuri Brioll was a monster. That infernal sword blood had flowed undiluted into this boy.
So what about him?
Zair ground his teeth.
"Shut your nonsense!"
His life had been a path to revive the Enekin name.
He'd trained his sword to wash away the shame, becoming a famed knight.
He couldn't admit it all wasted.
That bloodline decided everything from the start?
But no matter how he wrung his Mana Circulation Method and swung, he couldn't connect.
Too far.
"Zair."
The third prince asked again.
Zair snapped irritably.
"Quiet!"
"Oh? Informal now?"
"Shut up!"
"What did the previous lord say—nothing?"
"What are you getting at?"
The third prince halted his attacks.
Driven into a corner, Zair let his sword droop as he gulped air. Even holding it was a struggle now. His foe was like a feather adrift in the air—untouchable no matter how he reached.
The third prince slung his sword casually over his shoulder, utterly at ease.
"Not picking a fight. Just curious."
"What?"
"My father mentioned Gatencha once."
Zair glared daggers.
"Wondering how you remember it."
Zair barked a laugh, voice laced with rage and madness.
"Fine, I'll tell you. 'He's a monster of a different breed—don't even dream of revenge.' If I'd known you'd inherited your father's blood, I'd have planned differently. Happy now?"
"Yeah. That explains plenty."
Yuri nodded with a smile upon hearing it.
"Heredity's a scary thing, huh?"
"What?"
"All three of you, exactly the same."
Yuri recalled the past.
When he'd asked his father Fiore about the Gatencha incident, Fiore had replied:
'No choice.'
That's right.
It had simply unfolded that way.
Brioll wasn't weak enough to tolerate Enekin's arrogance, nor was Enekin honorable enough for Brioll's mercy.
So when two men who inherited those natures crossed paths, the same events repeated.
That was all.
If Zair's grandfather had told him something other than revenge—warned him not to repeat his father's mistakes—would Zair have turned out better?
A pointless hypothetical.
The previous lord of Gatencha had been a petty man from the start.
'His father egged him on.'
Yuri shook off Fiore's voice and spoke.
"Zair. Got a son?"
"What's this nonsense now?"
"Just asking if you do."
"I have a son."
"Right..."
With Guilty slung over his shoulder, Yuri approached. Since Yuri made no move to swing, Zair stood frozen, unsure how to react.
Yuri stuck out his hand abruptly.
"Handshake."
"What?"
"I don't like you, you don't like me. You're the type."
"Trying to humiliate me?"
"Nah. Means it's inevitable."
Yuri waggled his outstretched hand. Zair hesitated, extending his own partway, and Yuri snatched it up.
An awkward clasp followed.
"Let's call this reconciliation between Enekin and Brioll."
"What?"
"Tell your son that."
"What are you..."
"We're done here."
Yuri flung Zair's hand away and turned.
Zair stared blankly at Yuri's back, still gripping his own hand.
Yuri waved over his shoulder.
"Say we had a splendid duel, cleared the old bad blood, and the two families became friends. Nice story, right?"
"Pitying me?"
"Cut the informal talk. Unless you want to die."
"Th..."
"Had a good time."
Zair watched in a daze as Yuri Brioll led his group away into the distance.
An emotion hard to name welled up.
Defeat? Not quite.
Suddenly, he missed his son.