Chapter 137: Roman Dmitry's People (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 137: Roman Dmitry's People (1)
The day before the tournament.
Dmitry was bustling with people.
Roman had organized the event to secure his interests in the northeast region, but he wasn't the only one eyeing the prize.
"Are you participating in the tournament too?"
"Of course! Do you have any idea how fast I rushed back when I heard there was a whopping 100 gold on the line? I couldn't possibly miss out on this. Just watch. I'll show you how terrifying a mercenary's sword, forged on the bloody front lines, can truly be."
"Look at you, acting all high and mighty just because you're a mercenary. I hope you end up in Chris's block and get smashed right out of the gate!"
"You bastard!"
The public had already heard the rumors.
Chris.
He was an opponent no one dared to touch.
He had a record of defeating a 3-Star Swordsman in the Great Warrior Battle, and rumor had it that his blade was so fast it was impossible to track with the naked eye. If anyone was unfortunate enough to face Chris out of the six tournament blocks, they might as well consider themselves eliminated. Fortunately, to prevent excessive bloodshed, the use of Aura was restricted to 1-Star. But even with that limitation, the sheer gap in pure swordsmanship meant no one could fathom a scenario where Chris lost.
"You have to watch out for Kevin too. He's an absolute demon. In a tournament with Aura restrictions, he might be even more dangerous than Chris."
"Have you ever seen Volkan and Puki in person? Their builds are completely insane. To put it simply, the key to this tournament is avoiding just four of Roman Dmitry's people: Chris, Kevin, Volkan, and Puki. If you try to act tough and beat them, I guarantee you'll walk away with at least a broken arm."
Those four names.
They were the ones to watch out for.
Gathering all the rumors, people made sure to memorize the opponents they had to avoid at all costs.
Even so, the reason so many people still signed up was simple: if they could just avoid those four, their chances of winning would skyrocket. It was a golden opportunity to strike it rich. Since the remaining two blocks were guaranteed to be a clash of mediocrity, people prayed to the heavens they would be placed there.
"Ah, please."
"Please let me get into an easy group."
The next day.
The highly anticipated group assignments were announced.
The results brought starkly contrasting reactions of joy and despair.
* * *
The Northeast Association.
Even within their ranks, joy and sorrow were sharply divided.
One noble reacted with utter despair upon seeing the name "Chris" written in bold letters.
"...Of all people, why do we have to face Chris?"
For the past month, they had run around frantically.
They needed someone who could use at least a 1-Star Aura and overwhelm opponents with pure swordsmanship. Furthermore, since the candidate had to be from the northeast region, most nobles ultimately decided to send their family's top expert as their representative. Baron Lolo, who was selected to face Chris, was no exception. He had already declared that he would send his family's representative 2-Star Swordsman, but out of all the possible opponents, he had drawn Chris.
It was bleak.
A monster who had defeated a 3-Star Swordsman with pure swordsmanship.
The outcome was obvious, and he did not want to send his cherished knight into such danger.
"There is no need to despair so much."
"Indeed. Isn't the swordsman of Baron Lolo's family highly skilled as well? Of course, we aren't saying Chris is an easy opponent, but there's no need to give up and lose heart already. In the end, we are all human. A duel is unpredictable, so you must not give up until the very end."
The other nobles spoke up.
They were the ones who had successfully avoided the dangerous targets.
Viscount Conrad, in particular, could not hide his delight at drawing the most ideal opponent he could have hoped for.
McBurney. To think they’d actually send out that cripple.
He had thoroughly investigated Roman's people for this tournament.
They were certainly impressive.
Despite being merely the eldest son of a barony, Roman possessed many outstanding experts, including Chris. That was why Conrad had jokingly mentioned wishing to be matched against McBurney, the man Roman had recently brought in. Although McBurney was an experienced warrior who had served as a centurion on the Western Front, Conrad did not believe his representative would lose to a cripple who was missing an arm. It wasn't just a matter of lacking a limb. Losing his dominant arm would have completely ruined his balance, a fatal flaw in a duel between swordsmen.
Yet, McBurney had stepped forward as Roman's representative.
Seeing that McBurney was assigned to his group, Viscount Conrad put on a more benevolent expression than ever before.
"Everyone, this tournament is not just an individual matter. If even one of us produces a winner, the Northeast Association can proudly assert our authority over Dmitry. So, let us at least maintain our pride. If we show the spirit of not backing down—even against Chris—I will surely seize the championship title and lead the Northeast Association to victory."
"Indeed."
The noble supporting Conrad chimed in.
He had been placed in Henderson's group.
At the thought of facing a nameless nobody, his mind couldn't help but spin with wishful thinking.
In the end, everyone nodded.
After all, except for Chris, it wasn't as if they had absolutely no chance of winning.
"We have prepared thoroughly over the past month. Roman Dmitry probably thought he needed time to prepare as well, but that time actually worked to our advantage. Winning in McBurney's and Henderson's groups is practically guaranteed. So, let's do our best to secure as many victories as possible. If we win in half of the six groups, won't the prestige of the Northeast Association soar?"
"Hear, hear!"
"Let's crush them completely."
The crowd burned with enthusiasm.
The look in their eyes changed.
Except for Baron Lolo, who had to face Chris, everyone shouted in unison.
"Down with Dmitry!"
"Down with Dmitry!"
This tournament.
It was a golden opportunity.
Once the tournament was over, Dmitry would no longer be able to raise its voice as the true power of the northeast region.
* * *
As the saying goes, when you're truly out of luck, you can break your nose falling backward.
Baron Lolo was in despair.
It was unfair enough to be in Chris's group, but he had just confirmed that his representative's very first opponent was Chris himself.
But I can't just forfeit either...
The moment he threw in the white flag, the Northeast Association would turn its back on him.
For Baron Lolo, whose family's entire martial strength was essentially a single 2-Star Swordsman, he only hoped his knight would finish the tournament safely without getting hurt. In his heart, he wanted to forfeit. But knowing he couldn't, he suppressed his miserable feelings and warned his family's knight.
"Max. Keep this in mind. There is absolutely no need to push yourself too hard against Chris. Our goal is simply not to tarnish the name of the 'Northeast Association.' There's no reason to get yourself severely injured over a single match."
"My Lord. Please trust me."
"What do you mean by that?!"
"From the moment we decided to enter this tournament, I have trained bloodily for victory. I am well aware that Chris is a great swordsman. I heard from my colleagues how incredible his swordsmanship was during the Great Warrior Battle, but he is still a 2-Star Swordsman just like me. There is no reason for me to shrink back in fear. I have prepared thoroughly in case I ran into him, so please trust me just this once."
Max puffed out his chest.
Looking at Baron Lolo, he displayed the epitome of true knightly spirit.
"Max...!"
It was deeply moving.
To think this gallant, splendid man was his knight.
Hearing Max's words, Baron Lolo began to think that perhaps Chris wasn't invincible after all.
Baron Lolo said, "Very well. Do your best on the stage. Face Chris with everything you have, and if you judge it to be truly impossible, do not hesitate to forfeit. I, too, will throw in the white flag if I think you are in danger."
"Understood."
It was a scene of overwhelming emotion.
A loyal vassal and a master who cherished him.
They envisioned a miraculous drama.
If Max could somehow defeat Chris, it would be a golden opportunity to rise as a star of the northeast region.
This is my chance. I will leave a deep impression on my lord and the crowd. Whew, Max. You can do this.
He stepped onto the stage.
Round 1.
He believed in himself.
And so...
Crack!
"Argh!"
In exactly three seconds, Max sprayed blood and collapsed backward.
* * *
Chris was different from usual.
Like a finely honed blade, his gaze was fierce the moment his opponent stepped onto the stage.
I will prove myself in this tournament.
A simple victory was not enough.
He needed an overwhelming victory.
He didn't just want a single win; starting from the first round, he intended to completely crush every opponent.
Had he not trained relentlessly for this very outcome? Thinking of Roman Dmitry during his days of grueling training, Chris was confident he could defeat anyone.
A conviction born of confidence.
The result was exactly as expected.
Flutter.
"Begin!"
The signal was given.
1 second.
Max kicked off the ground.
Closing the distance in an instant, he flared his 1-Star Aura, determined not to give Chris even a moment to react.
Rumble!
2 seconds.
He swung his sword.
It was fast. He believed that even Chris wouldn't be able to react to such a sudden surprise attack.
3 seconds.
In a split second, Chris slipped right into the raging Aura.
Compared to Roman's Aura, this attack wasn't threatening in the slightest. With nerves of steel, Chris deflected every bit of the Aura slashing toward him.
His opponent's face contorted in panic. Max had anticipated Chris dodging, but he never expected him to block all his attacks and charge straight forward.
And then.
Chris's sword struck.
Before Max could even attempt to dodge, his nose was crushed, and he coughed up a spray of blood.
Crack!
"Argh!"
It was an overwhelming result.
Even though his opponent was a 2-Star Swordsman and not some random nobody, Chris had decided the match in a split second.
Flutter.
"R-Round 1 has ended! Chris of the Dmitry family wins and advances to Round 2!"
Baron Lolo was dumbfounded.
Because he had harbored vain hopes, he couldn't help but be shocked upon slamming into the wall of reality.
This is impossible. How can the gap be this massive?!
But that was only the beginning.
As the tournament proceeded, screams echoed from all directions right from the start.
"Kevin of the Dmitry family wins and advances to Round 2!"
"Volkan of the Dmitry family..."
"Puki of the Dmitry family..."
In all four matches.
None of them lasted longer than ten seconds.
People who had shown confident attitudes just like Max collapsed without being able to do a single thing once they faced reality. The crowd fell into a state of panic. They knew Roman Dmitry's people would be strong, but they never expected them to display such overwhelmingly dominant power right out of the gate.
"Wow."
"Is this the class of the Dmitry family?"
"The rumors from the Southern Front weren't lies. Dmitry's swordsmen are on an entirely different level."
Their hearts sank.
Only then did they admit it.
Just as they had feared initially, winning in a group containing one of the dangerous targets was practically impossible.
If so, their focus was clear.
McBurney and Henderson.
A cripple and a nobody.
People believed that the groups containing them were their only hope of defeating Dmitry and claiming victory.
Right on cue.
As Henderson stepped onto the stage, all eyes focused on him.