Chapter 235: A Festival for the Festival (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 235: A Festival for the Festival (6)
It was deeply shameful.
Sanchez had once questioned whether Roman Dmitry even deserved to stand on that stage. In truth, however, it was the Valhalla Empire that had ruthlessly trampled upon the true meaning of the festival. Swapping out the warrior representing the event was a highly sensitive matter. Yet, for the sake of political gain, Valhalla had accepted the Kronos Empire's request and changed the opponent on a whim.
It was pathetic.
How had this country fallen so low?
‘This must be why Master refused to compromise with the Valhalla Imperial Court. Becoming a mouthpiece for those in power might guarantee a comfortable life, but it means being forced to fight whoever they dictate, just like Barbosa. Now I finally understand why Master harbored such animosity toward those pushing for change. He didn't fear change; he simply loathed the trash who lined their own pockets under the guise of it.’
Morales had wanted Roman Dmitry to stand on that stage.
With the strength that had so thoroughly overwhelmed him, Roman would surely take Barbosa's head and display the true pride of a warrior.
However, that did not mean the truth could be hidden.
While limiting Roman's options might have been the practical choice for Valhalla's sake, Morales had still provided Roman Dmitry with a way to survive. A binary choice. It was a stark crossroads. Just because those in power were corrupt, Morales had no desire to fight in the same filthy manner as them.
And so, Sanchez had learned the truth.
He had revealed it on behalf of his late master, fully expecting Roman Dmitry to choose the safe path.
It was only natural.
Even if Morales's death had brought glory to Roman Dmitry, there was no reason for him to risk his life against Valhalla's dirty schemes in a far-off foreign land.
Yet, Roman Dmitry's reaction defied all expectations.
"I already know."
"...What do you mean? Are you saying you knew Valhalla was colluding with Kronos?"
It was shocking.
Roman Dmitry had set foot in Valhalla despite knowing the ugly truth beneath the surface.
Roman Dmitry spoke.
"The relationship between Kronos and Valhalla rests on a delicate boundary. People believe Valhalla is maintaining a bystander's stance, but their attitude cannot be dismissed with a single word. Just look at the recent civil war in Cairo. If Marquis Benedict's rebellion had succeeded and the regime had changed, the Kronos Empire would have used Cairo as a stepping stone for continental conquest. What would it matter if Valhalla condemned the Kronos Empire only after the fact? It would mean nothing. Standing by does not bring them any practical benefit. Believing that one can preserve their strength simply by watching is the foolish notion of weaklings who have never held true power."
The relationship between the empires.
A small seed of doubt took root.
People claimed the two empires viewed each other as major obstacles, but they did not harm one another nearly as much as one would think.
It was as if they tacitly acknowledged each other's existence.
"I do not believe Valhalla and Kronos seek a perfect alliance. Ultimately, as powers that each control a massive portion of the continent, conflict between them will be unavoidable once a certain threshold is crossed. However, until they sweep away the surrounding forces, they have plenty of reason to join hands. Under that premise, one can only conclude that Valhalla's bystander attitude is far from simple."
"...What on earth..."
Sanchez gasped.
It stole the breath right out of his lungs.
Though Roman Dmitry spoke calmly, it was a massive shock to Sanchez as a man of Valhalla.
Valhalla.
The nation of warriors.
They had convictions, and they acted upon what they believed in and followed. That was the polite way to put it; outsiders often called the closed-off Valhalla a stubborn, uncommunicative nation.
Even so, Sanchez loved Valhalla.
Though outsiders might view their ways as ignorant and incomprehensible, Valhalla, in its pure pursuit of its own path, represented the very soul of warriors. If Roman Dmitry's words were true—and they had to be, given Morales's dying words—Sanchez could not hide his devastating misery.
It was sickening.
To think they had shaken hands with Kronos, a nation they had criticized for so long, all for a shred of petty power.
Even if they were destined to fight a decisive battle against Kronos in the future, that was not what truly mattered to the people of Valhalla.
While Kronos valued results, Valhalla revered the process.
Rather than a dishonorable victory, they preferred a glorious defeat.
Sanchez spoke.
"Why did you accept Valhalla's invitation knowing all of this? This is a plan hatched through collusion between Valhalla and Kronos. Once your duel with Barbosa is over, forces will undoubtedly move to assassinate you out of the public eye. Are you confident you can handle that? I acknowledge that you are strong, Lord Roman, but even strength has its limits. They will undoubtedly claim the Warp Gate leading back to Dmitry is experiencing 'technical difficulties,' and escaping all the way back to the Dmitry Duchy on foot is practically impossible."
His voice trembled.
In response to the earnest question, Roman Dmitry maintained a calm expression.
"I accepted it because I know the truth."
"...Are you serious?"
"Even if the truth hidden beneath the surface has been exposed, it doesn't change the reality I must face. It is a reality I have to confront regardless. For weak nations on the continent, including Dmitry, to protect themselves, they must not turn a blind eye to or deny the collusion between Kronos and Valhalla."
He had prepared for the worst-case scenario.
Traveling to Valhalla was incredibly dangerous, but there was a reason to accept the invitation despite the risk.
"I want my actions to serve as a rallying cry for the upcoming war. Even if Valhalla deliberately lures me into a trap, and even if the Kronos Empire tries to kill me through another conspiracy... how do you think people will react if I defeat one of the Twelve Swords of the Continent and return alive? That is when the tide begins to turn. Even when the ugly truth is eventually revealed, people will gain the justification to fight to the bitter end, inspired by this single precedent."
At that moment, Sanchez was left speechless.
Roman Dmitry was a truly reckless man, to the point where even a Valhallan would call him insane.
*
The conversation ended.
Roman Dmitry did not run away.
Recalling the way Roman had declared he would take the stage, Sanchez stepped outside and looked up at the moon shrouded in darkness.
"...Roman Dmitry. You are truly insane."
His heart pounded.
This festival.
To begin with, victory against Barbosa was far from guaranteed.
Though Roman had defeated Morales, Barbosa ranked a whopping six places higher than Morales in a ranking system where even a single rank represented a massive chasm in strength. Even if Roman risked everything and managed to defeat him, what awaited him when he stepped off the stage would not be the cheers of the crowd, but a dark conspiracy.
Yet, he still chose to fight.
A hollow laugh escaped Sanchez's lips.
It was an incredibly perilous endeavor, yet strangely, Roman Dmitry inspired a belief that he might actually pull it off.
Once, Morales had said this:
"A true warrior never tolerates even a single compromise. Just because no one is watching, or because it is a choice anyone would understand—if you neglect your training and compromise with reality, that weakness will eventually force you to your knees and drag your face into the dirt in a battle of pure will. I am not that great of a man. The time I spent turning a blind eye to Barbosa, despite knowing how corrupt he was, is proof of my own weakness. Sanchez, if you ever meet a true warrior, learn from the life he has lived. Even if you cannot live exactly like him, there will be lessons to guide you for the rest of your days."
A true warrior.
That was the being Morales had spoken of.
Roman Dmitry looked exactly like one of those legendary figures straight out of Valhalla's history.
Sanchez walked along the night path.
As he stepped into an area where the moonlight faded and darkness took over, Sanchez clenched his fists.
‘I still believe you are reckless. But if what you told me is truly your sincere intent... then when you defeat Barbosa, I hope with all my heart that you do not fall to the empire's conspiracy.’
Morales.
His master might have wished for this very choice.
That if Roman chose the path of a warrior even after being presented with the binary choice, Sanchez should gladly devote himself to him.
He gritted his teeth.
It seemed a fierce struggle lay ahead of him.
*
The day of the Eve Festival dawned.
People bustled about from early morning.
As Valhalla's grandest festival was set to begin the following day, the eve was dedicated to fervent preparations.
That evening.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, crowds flocked to the festival grounds.
People swarmed around the massive stage, each filled with anticipation.
"I wonder who'll win."
"Gonzalez from the Jonathan family is a sure bet. In the Eve Festival where Rankers aren't allowed to compete, a 4-Star Swordsman practically has no equal. Plus, rumor has it he's planning to challenge the Ranking Match soon."
"Come on, man. You can never predict the outcome of the Eve Festival. It's not a one-on-one duel; thirty people take the stage at the exact same time."
The crowd chattered.
Then, someone brought up a hot topic.
"What about Dmitry's Flash?"
"...Hmm. I'm curious, but wouldn't he be a bit outmatched against the other warriors?"
"Still, they say Dmitry's Flash showed overwhelming might during the war with the Kronos Empire. His swordsmanship is so fast that anyone who watches him fight instantly thinks of the word 'flash' without even hearing his nickname."
"He's certainly worth keeping an eye on. Considering his master, Roman Dmitry, defeated Morales, Chris might be no ordinary figure either."
Just a day ago, Chris had not been of much interest.
He had been regarded as little more than an uninvited guest crashing the festival, but Roman Dmitry's actions had drawn attention to him as well.
The sole foreigner.
All eyes were on him.
However, putting his skills aside, everyone agreed that his chances of winning were slim.
"Winning is probably out of the question. There's no precedent for a foreigner winning the Eve Festival. The warriors of Valhalla will definitely be wary of Chris, whether consciously or not. With thirty warriors competing simultaneously, how could a miracle like Chris winning ever happen? To survive, he'll probably have to play defensively from start to finish."
One man's words.
That was the crowd's honest assessment of Chris.
*
The time had come.
At the referee's call, the warriors representing each family stepped onto the stage.
"Chris of the Dmitry Duchy!"
"Wooooo!"
"Chris! Chris!"
"Chris! Chris!"
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Although most were skeptical of Chris winning, they did not ostracize him.
Roman Dmitry had been recognized as a true warrior. For that reason alone, the people of Valhalla felt it was worth shouting themselves hoarse for the man who served him.
Watching this unfold, several of the warriors on stage scowled in displeasure.
"Tsk, tsk. Look at them cheering for a foreigner."
"Even if we bleed out on this stage, we cannot let an outsider claim victory."
It was exactly as the crowd had anticipated.
Just as they had initially refused to accept Roman Dmitry as Barbosa's opponent, they felt the same about Chris.
Some warriors felt insulted by the mere fact that an unproven foreign warrior stood on the same stage as them.
Furthermore, they had received special orders from their family heads.
"Winning the Eve Festival would bring unparalleled joy, but even if you lose, keep this one thing in mind. Chris. Kill that foreigner who follows Roman Dmitry by any means necessary. If you succeed in this task, your family's future will be secured, regardless of whether you win the tournament."
Murderous intent flickered in their eyes.
Chris was their common enemy.
A mere exchange of glances was enough for them to realize they shared the same goal, and one warrior whispered quietly.
"That Dmitry rat will probably play defensively right out of the gate. He knows he won't survive if he recklessly charges at Valhalla's warriors. So, how about we drench the stage with the foreigner's blood the moment it begins? We can settle our own scores after that."
"I'm in."
"Good. We'll take the foreigner's head first, and then I'll tear the rest of you to shreds."
The warriors smirked.
They were in agreement.
Though they would eventually have to take each other's lives, achieving a common goal first was a solid plan.
Finally, the Emperor and high-ranking nobles took their seats of honor.
Signaling that all preparations were complete, the referee raised his flag.
Flutter.
"Begin!"
The signal marking the start of the Eve Festival.
The crowd went wild.
It was then.
Whoosh.
Someone moved.
It was Chris.
Shattering every expectation that he would play defensively, he was the very first to launch himself at the other warriors.
And then—
Flash.
He severed the neck of a warrior who hadn't even registered the movement.
Flash.
He cut down a second warrior who belatedly lunged at him.
Slash!
And he tore open the chest of the warrior standing right beside the second.
Blood sprayed into the air like a crimson fountain.
The crowd gasped in horror.
It was an attack so blindingly fast that the naked eye could barely track it.
In the blink of an eye, three warriors collapsed, their blood painting the stage beneath Chris's blade.