Chapter 290: Those Heading to Dmitry (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 290: Those Heading to Dmitry (3)
The 3rd Test.
It was as simple as Chris had explained.
Either demonstrate one's qualities as a swordsman or proudly claim a pass by defeating an opponent.
Fabir, naturally, hoped for the latter.
'The question is whether to choose an unknown opponent or one known to be strong.'
He stepped forward.
While an unknown opponent would be relatively easy to defeat, he wanted to make a strong impression since he was the first to step up. If he chose a difficult opponent and still won, it would be the icing on the cake. His chances of receiving a passing grade in the final 4th Test would skyrocket.
He was looking at the bigger picture.
At Chris's instruction to choose an opponent, Fabir slowly scanned the lineup.
'Chris.'
Absolutely out of the question.
Known as the Flash of Dmitry, he had proven his strength by defeating Diego, a member of the Twelve Swords of the Continent. He was a monster whose swordsmanship was too fast for even a 6-Star swordsman to properly react to. Fabir didn't dare challenge him, immediately crossing Chris's name off his list.
'Kevin.'
Dmitry's Demon.
A troublesome opponent.
Although his Aura was known to be around the 3-Star level, he had recently become a hot topic after defeating Blanco of the Kronos Empire. Along with Chris, he was one of the few who had made a name for themselves on the Continental Ranking. Defeating him would guarantee a pass, but Fabir was not foolish enough to willingly walk into a bed of thorns.
One by one, the faces of Dmitry's private soldiers came into view.
He wanted to choose someone with a reputation if possible, but when he saw faces like Volkan and Puki, he hesitated. They didn't look easy, either. He couldn't think of a clear path to victory against them. After agonizing over his choice for a long moment, Fabir's eyes finally landed on a face that seemed just right.
'McBurney.'
The Left-Handed Sword.
Hailing from the Southern Training Camp, he had gained fame for his razor-sharp command when the Kronos Empire attacked Dmitry. Furthermore, rumors abounded about his threatening, unorthodox attacks using his left hand. It wasn't that Fabir thought McBurney was an easy target because he was missing an arm; rather, the style of left-handed swordsmanship was highly familiar to him.
Fabir, too, was left-handed.
This meant McBurney's unorthodox attacks wouldn't be as threatening to him.
"I choose McBurney," he declared.
Chris smiled faintly and turned his gaze to McBurney.
At that, McBurney stepped forward with a calm expression.
* * *
Chris spoke.
"The time limit is three minutes. Once three minutes have passed, the duel will end, and we will decide whether you pass or fail based on your performance. Of course, if you defeat your chosen opponent, you will pass unconditionally, regardless of performance. Are both sides ready?"
"Yes."
"Then, let the duel begin."
Flutter.
The flag waved.
As Chris took a step back, Fabir lunged forward as if he had been waiting for this exact moment.
Boom!
Rumble!
He erupted his Aura.
His rapid charge closed the distance to McBurney in an instant, his sharp eyes scanning his opponent's reaction. McBurney did not retreat. Seeing him raise his sword to block the anticipated trajectory, Fabir flared his Aura, cutting off his opponent's escape routes.
'With only a left arm, your options are limited!'
A one-armed man.
Naturally, he would have to twist his body to protect his missing right arm.
Anticipating this, Fabir suddenly changed direction, choosing to strike from the opposite side.
Whoosh.
It was reverse psychology.
Instead of directly targeting the vulnerability, Fabir targeted his opponent's intent to protect that vulnerability. It was a calculated decision. Fabir was an experienced swordsman. Having served as a knight for a prestigious family in the Umberto Kingdom, he had participated in countless duels. This decision, born of deep experience, seemed poised to shatter McBurney's balance.
However—
Clang!
"……?!"
His eyes widened.
McBurney took a bizarre step, and an attack that curved like a snake clashed with Fabir's sword. For a moment, Fabir's mind went blank. He couldn't even register how McBurney had reacted. By the time he barely managed to block the strike and look ahead, McBurney had already closed in, right in front of his nose.
Clang!
Clash! Clash! Clash!
A fierce exchange of blows ensued.
His head spun.
McBurney used a bizarre sword technique, feinting to the right before suddenly striking left, then shifting back to the right. There was supposed to be a limit to the range of motion of a single left arm. Yet, his swordsmanship, which freely attacked from both directions as if he possessed two arms, was utterly suffocating.
Fabir had no way of knowing that the true completion of the Left-Handed Sword lay in its footwork.
Simply by placing his feet in the right position at the right moment, McBurney completely dominated the surrounding space.
Boom!
Rumble!
"Ugh."
He was pushed aside.
He swallowed a groan.
Back during his days at the Southern Training Camp, McBurney had been a mere commoner unable to use Aura. Yet, even against Fabir's 3-Star Aura, the impact of McBurney's strikes was formidable. Fabir now had no choice but to admit he had chosen the wrong opponent. The reputation of McBurney, the Left-Handed Sword, had not been built on thin air. People who approached him with conventional logic, like Fabir, had all been utterly crushed, serving as the foundation for that very reputation.
Grit.
He gritted his teeth.
Fabir channeled his Aura, seizing a momentary opening.
'Now!'
The gap between attacks.
He targeted that split second.
Deflecting McBurney's sword, Fabir lunged forward, detonating his Aura through his sword as he aimed a thrust straight for his opponent's heart. He didn't care if this strike might kill his opponent. McBurney was not someone he could afford to hold back against; going all out was his only path to victory.
Rumble!
It was fast.
Just as Fabir judged that his rushing blade would reach its target first, McBurney took a step back.
The distance widened.
It was only a single step, but it felt like three.
And then—
Clang!
He deflected the sword.
Easily parrying Fabir's strike, McBurney stepped forward and thrust his sword, the blade slithering like a serpent.
Tap—
It was over.
Feeling the cold steel against his throat, Fabir looked at McBurney, his face pale.
"……I lost."
It was a complete defeat.
In the end, Fabir had to admit defeat without having landed a single proper blow.
* * *
It was a clean match.
From Fabir's perspective, it had been a fierce exchange, but to the onlookers, it appeared as though McBurney had effortlessly parried Fabir's attacks before instantly subduing him. Gasps of admiration rippled through the crowd. Fabir had clearly manifested a 3-Star Aura; for a swordsman of his caliber to lose to a mere private soldier should have been impossible. Yet, the victorious McBurney and his comrades accepted the result as if it were only natural.
Chris spoke.
"Fabir, pass."
It was a result independent of victory or defeat.
Although he heard that he could proceed to the next stage, Fabir could not bring himself to smile, still reeling from the shock of his defeat.
Meanwhile, the next turns proceeded.
Fabir was merely the first; to test all five thousand challengers, multiple duels had to be conducted simultaneously. Challengers stepped forward one after another, calling out their opponents. Perhaps because there was still a lingering tendency to underestimate Dmitry's private soldiers early on, they, like Fabir, chose opponents with established reputations.
And then—
Crack!
A sword shattered.
Under Volkan's fierce onslaught, a challenger wore a look of sheer terror, throwing down his broken sword to signal his surrender even before the match was officially over. The result of his test was, naturally, a fail. Those who had made a name for themselves as Roman Dmitry's private soldiers proved with their skills that there was a reason they stood out like an awl in a pocket.
Thud.
"Cough!"
Blood splattered.
Struck in the face, the challenger fell to his knees under Kevin's cold gaze.
This man had been the vice-captain of a large-scale mercenary group.
Believing he could hold his own against anyone, he hadn't even lasted a single minute against Kevin's relentless assault. It was a despairing moment. Kevin looked to be in his early twenties at most, yet facing such a young lad made the man feel as though his decades of mercenary life were being utterly invalidated.
But he had no choice but to accept it.
Kevin's strength was the real deal. When met with a gaze that silently asked if he wanted to continue, the mercenary vice-captain averted his eyes.
"Fail."
Fail, fail, fail.
They dropped like autumn leaves.
Most of those who had blindly trusted their own strength and chosen famous opponents failed, while, conversely, many of those presumed to be ordinary challengers passed. One thing was certain: the preceding results sent a clear message. As Roman Dmitry's private soldiers remained undefeated, one challenger muttered under his breath,
"……This is no joke. If you want to pass by defeating a Dmitry soldier, you must never choose the famous ones. The rumors about Dmitry were all true!"
Dmitry.
On the battlefield, they were monsters.
Only then did the people realize that the fearsome reputation did not belong to Roman Dmitry alone.
* * *
A challenger.
Thames believed that a rational decision was necessary to pass the test.
'With even the strong falling one after another, I can get a passing grade just by putting up a decent fight. That means, with my skills, I absolutely must choose an easy opponent. Hmm, who would be good... Huh?'
Suddenly, someone caught his eye.
Standing at the very back of the lined-up Dmitry soldiers, a man who looked remarkably petite compared to the others caught Thames's attention. Thames was a 2-Star Aura Swordsman in his own right. While he wasn't among the strongest of those who had come to take Dmitry's test, he felt confident he could defeat such a small man.
He was about 160 centimeters tall.
Though his muscles were compact and well-defined despite his small frame, that wasn't much of an issue.
Physical differences were critical.
To Thames, who boasted a towering 190-centimeter frame, this seemed like a golden opportunity to secure a victory, even if it was a bit cowardly.
"I choose him."
"Hunt, step forward."
Hunt.
It was a name he had never heard before.
While figures like Chris and Kevin among Roman Dmitry's followers enjoyed immense fame, Thames had never once heard of someone named Hunt. Thames clenched his fist in his mind. He didn't think anyone who was a private soldier of Roman Dmitry would be a complete pushover, but an unknown name surely meant a lack of skill.
The two faced each other.
As they prepared for the duel, Fred, the knight commander of Marquis Memphis, muttered to himself as he watched.
"That challenger is going to fail, without a doubt."
"Why do you think so? Looking at their builds, if he handles the opening well, he might even win."
A fellow challenger nearby expressed his confusion.
Thames and Hunt.
Visually, the outcome seemed obvious.
Since Hunt was unlikely to be a powerful Aura Swordsman, it would be extremely difficult for him to defeat Thames in a pure clash of swordsmanship given his small stature. Furthermore, Thames did not look like some random nobody. His muscular physique, which made his already sturdy frame look even more imposing, proved that he was a powerhouse far too strong to be a mere common soldier.
Fred shook his head.
"The problem is that he chose Hunt out of underestimation. As someone from the Kronos Empire, I know better than anyone how Roman Dmitry's soldiers performed on the battlefield. The Southern Front, the Western Front, Valhalla. In countless battles, they are undefeated warriors who have never tasted defeat. This means that anyone who was weak could never have survived to this point in the first place."
"……Ahem."
The challenger swallowed hard.
Hearing Fred's words, Hunt's aura suddenly seemed far from ordinary.
"People are failing to grasp the true meaning of this test. Anyone who looks down on their opponent, even slightly, will not pass this third test without a clear, decisive victory."
Just as he said, those with complacent attitudes were eliminated without exception.
Only those who put up a good fight against Dmitry's soldiers, or those who made a rational choice like Fabir, received passing marks. In that regard, Thames was already disqualified. Unless he secured a victory as he intended, it was certain he would fail the third test.
It was then.
"Argh!"
Barely five seconds.
As soon as the duel began, a scream of agony drew everyone's attention.