064. The Day of the Decisive Battle
Plentel Castle Square. Ever since Elle's birthday party, one topic had dominated conversations here: the showdown between Bin and Silva for the centurion position.
Two knights stood in the square, chatting. The big-headed one spoke first.
"They're saying Silva and Bin are gonna duel for the centurion spot soon. Who do you think wins?"
The tall one replied, "You call that a question?"
He shook his head in disbelief and laid out his take. "Age aside, physically? It's Silva, hands down. Who could beat that build? It rivals the family head's."
"...Yeah, fair point."
The big-headed knight rubbed his chin and nodded in agreement. But after pondering, a doubt crept in.
"Physically, sure. But... can we be that certain? Silva's got a high-grade weapon, but Bin's wielding a superior-grade one."
"Hey, think about the drawbacks of artifacts. You think anyone can just swing a superior-grade one? That's why only 2nd-class or 1st-class knights handle them. Plus, haven't you heard about Silva and Willie?"
"Their record? Out of ten duels, Silva won all ten?"
"Exactly. That insane feat."
"Undefeated in ten bouts. Impressive as hell. And if even Willie got crushed like that, no way Bin pulls it off, no matter how much potential he has."
"Yep. I can already see it. I'd bet my fortune on Silva's victory."
His voice rang clear, conviction unshaken. The big-headed knight nodded, his lingering doubts resolved.
Lips twitching, he added, "Even if the winner's obvious, I can't wait to see it up close."
"Agreed. And who knows—maybe Bin'll show that fiery spirit of his in front of Silva too."
Near the Royal Tomb on Gana Continent. A man with bulging eyes and a massive frame—Silva, second of the Bascon family's seven siblings.
A colossal monster loomed before him: the 3rd-grade assassin beast, Cockatrice. Long-bodied and gaunt like a starved rooster, its primary attack was pecking with that beak. No ordinary beak, though—contact with its beak or feathers triggered petrification. That nasty ability earned it assassin-beast status.
Wearing armguards, Silva cupped his hands into a circle and focused his mind.
Opening.
Flames erupted from Silva's armguards.
Silva unleashed a massive blaze from his hands, shaping it into a giant ring of fire that he hoisted up.
Turn to ash. Great Flame Emperor.
"Great Flame Emperor"
⟨ Activation Technique ⟩
He hurled the inferno—big as his own body—at the Cockatrice.
Whoosh!
The ring of fire sliced through the air. On impact, the beast shrieked.
"Peck! Peck! Peck!"
The Cockatrice thrashed, whipping its head side to side. Moments later, only black ash remained before Silva.
A watching knight gaped and clapped. Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Taking down a 3rd-grade assassin in one shot. As expected of you, Silva."
Silva smirked leisurely. "Heh. A future Bascon heir's gotta do at least this much. Hahaha!"
The knight thought of Bin, Silva's opponent. "At this rate, Bin might end up as ash himself."
"That's his problem."
"Maybe he shouldn't have seen this. The outcome's too predictable."
"You doubting me?"
"N-no, of course not!"
Silva fixed him with a steely glare, lips sealed. Those bulging eyes pierced like a starving bear spotting prey. The knight gulped hard.
Gulp.
That frame—several times a normal man's—made his flesh crawl.
"Remember this: Silva Bascon will be the centurion."
"Yes, sir! Absolutely right!"
Only then did Silva's gaze shift—to the Cockatrice's ashen corpse on the ground. A meaningful expression crossed his face.
Bin Bascon. If you don't wanna end up like this, better play nice.
Near Danel's mansion in Plentel Castle. Bin crouched, crafting something: a black uniform.
"Not bad at all."
Made in short order, it rivaled any other.
By his focused side lay a downed Cockatrice—the uniform's main material. Bin had hunted it himself, anticipating his duel with Silva.
Suddenly, his eyes flickered as he worked. His right arm trembled—a side effect since using Opening.
But Bin wouldn't dwell. Focus again.
His gaze sharpened back on the uniform—when a red arrow whistled in, embedding in the dead Cockatrice's head.
Thud!
Bin whipped toward the source. A woman perched on a branch: ponytail, red hair.
Recognizing her, he scowled. Red Fox.
Velvet, third of the Bascon seven.
"What the hell?"
Bin glared coldly. Velvet hopped down.
Thud.
Red heels clicking, red bird on her shoulder, she approached in her red-and-black uniform—voluptuous figure, beauty mark under her lips.
Her sultry eyes gleamed as she spoke. "Rowdy? Little bro's too harsh on big sis. I came to help you."
Meanwhile, Codic ground his teeth beside Bin. This vixen dares interrupt my lord's work...
Bin frowned at her unserious vibe, guessing she'd come fretting over Silva. "If you're here to talk me out of fighting Silva, get lost."
His tone was ice-cold—no need for chit-chat. But Velvet ignored him, prodding. "You can't win."
"I said scram."
"The family's future's at stake. I can't just back off. Not dissing you—timing's wrong."
"..."
Bin stared her down. Meeting his eyes, Velvet pressed on.
"If you fall too, no one'll check those guys. That's why I'm telling you."
Those guys. Plural.
But Bin wouldn't heed her. "Don't care. Get out. Last warning."
Chilling glare. Velvet bit her lip, planning to show him the gap.
She drew her crossbow from behind and fired at Bin—point-blank.
Whoosh—a long gash on his cheek, a drop of blood trickling.
Drip.
Bin wiped it with his knuckles, glaring. "Wanna go now?"
"See if you can face Silva yet. Try me first."
4th-class knight Velvet assumed an aggressive stance. Her shoulder's red bird flitted to a tree.
Bin drew his greatsword, eyes locked. Fellow 4th-class duel.
Velvet thought, facing him: No matter how fast you grow, you're a green 4th-class. I'll injure you lightly, end this. For the family.
Suddenly, layers of shadows trailed as she retreated. She closed one eye, aiming her crossbow—
Gone...!
True enough. Bin vanished in a blink.
Then—he appeared behind her, greatsword gripped.
"Here."
"..."
A chill crawled up Velvet's back. How already...?
Unbelievable. She'd used Agility Mana to dash back fast. Yet Bin, farther away, now flanked her. She'd been 4th-class for ages; he'd just reached it.
Was he faster? No way. Coincidence.
More shadow layers bloomed from her, propelling her to the tree.
Swoosh.
As she aimed where Bin had been—his greatsword neared her throat.
Gulp.
He matched my move...?!
Agility Mana varied per user. Bin had caught her speed—her first step.
Velvet couldn't believe a fellow 4th-class pulled this. This level of Agility Mana...
Even other siblings couldn't. Not speed-prodigy Willie.
Realization hit: Bin was no longer the rookie she knew.
Grown this much already...
As flustered Velvet froze, Bin pressed his cold blade to her throat.
"Want blood? Keep going."
His voice like steel, skin crawling. Velvet nodded, acknowledging his skill.
"Didn't even land a hit..."
Her shoulders slumped. Her grip loosened; the crossbow clattered down.
Thud.
Days later. Plentel Castle arena. Marble disk ringed by spectator seats. Weapons—swords, spears, bows, scythes—jutted from the edge.
Five years back, Bin and Willie had settled things here.
Center disk: calm Bin facing hulking Silva.
Surrounding them: Moden, the four siblings, castle folk.
Size gap huge—Silva twice Bin's weight at least.
Eyes locked, Silva spoke first. "I'll make you feel the power gap."
Bin shot back, "Whip's best for big mouths."
Bulging-eyed Silva and icy-eyed Bin glared fiercely.