Chapter 291: Those Heading to Dmitry (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 291: Those Heading to Dmitry (4)
It all happened in an instant.
One second.
Tap.
Hunt lunged forward.
Despite his small stature, his speed was blinding. Thames was visibly taken aback by the sudden onslaught as Hunt unleashed his aura and charged. Thames had envisioned Hunt playing defensively. He never expected his opponent to launch such an aggressive opening attack against someone of his towering height of 190 centimeters.
Two seconds.
Rumble!
Whoosh!
A sword sliced through the air.
Thames flared his own aura to block the strike, but the sheer force of the impact shoved him backward. A sense of unease washed over him from that single clash. Three, then four seconds ticked away as he stumbled back, desperately parrying a flurry of follow-up attacks. When he finally managed to look up and face Hunt, a horrifying sight met his eyes.
Five seconds.
Hunt took flight.
Closing the distance in a flash as Thames retreated, Hunt deflected his opponent's sword and drove his knee straight into Thames's face.
Crunch!
"Argh!"
A scream erupted.
Reeling from the blow, Thames stumbled, his mind spinning. Any lingering thoughts of underestimating his opponent vanished. Gritting his teeth, he swung his sword wildly in a desperate bid to keep Hunt at bay, but Hunt's sharp eyes tracked every movement. Easily dodging the frantic swings, Hunt swept Thames's legs out from under him.
Thud!
He crashed down ignominiously.
Thames didn't even have the strength to lift his head. Through a face covered in blood, he heard Chris's cold voice.
"Thames, eliminated."
He squeezed his eyes shut.
It was a complete miscalculation.
He knew that being a private soldier of Dmitry meant Hunt was no pushover, yet he had let his guard down simply because of the man's small build. As Thames was dragged away, Hunt remained in the arena. Seemingly unsatisfied with such an easy victory, he called out in an irritated voice.
"Next. Is there no one else?"
Thames's challenge had rubbed him the wrong way.
The man had actively avoided the gaze of powerhouses like Chris and Kevin, yet his face had lit up as if he'd found a treasure the moment he spotted Hunt. Like Henderson, Hunt had originally been a commoner. Though he had been a hunter by trade—unlike those with more ordinary occupations—he had grown into a proper swordsman under Roman Dmitry's tutelage.
At Hunt's words, the challengers bristled.
Even after witnessing Thames's defeat, they still judged Hunt's physical appearance as something they could handle.
"I will challenge you!"
A new challenger stepped forward.
Once again, it was a giant of a man.
Chris nodded.
Though the order of the tests was getting a bit jumbled, he fully understood the emotions driving Hunt to provoke these duels.
Flutter.
"Begin!"
The second duel commenced.
Since it started immediately, the giant assumed Hunt would be at least slightly fatigued. He figured Hunt would need a moment to catch his breath after pressing Thames so hard. The giant charged like a madman. With the roaring sound of flaring aura, he swung his sword downward, intending to crush the smaller man in a single blow.
Boom!
Rumble!
A shockwave erupted.
Hunt did not yield.
Even though Hunt blocked the strike head-on, he showed no signs of being pushed back. The giant, determined to end it right there, began hacking down with his sword like a maniac. It was a relentless exchange of blows. The two men clashed without giving an inch, generating deafening explosions. The giant, who had been brimming with confidence at first, gradually began to sweat as time wore on.
Something was wrong.
No matter how much he attacked, Hunt's seemingly unremarkable aura showed no signs of fading.
On the contrary—
Flash!
The giant's arm was deflected.
Realizing he had been overpowered in raw strength, the giant knew his fate would be no different from Thames's.
Crack!
A fist slammed into his face.
The giant's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed backward like a doll with its strings cut.
Thud.
"..."
The crowd fell silent.
The defeats of Thames and the giant were a visual shock to everyone.
The realization that even an unnamed soldier could be this powerful served as a harsh wake-up call.
They say people grow to resemble those they admire.
"Next."
Hunt wore a fierce expression, looking almost like Roman Dmitry himself.
* * *
Thames was far from the only one who had thought this way.
Once the initial wave of overconfident challengers was thoroughly routed, many began choosing opponents who looked physically unimposing, just as Thames had chosen Hunt. Their logic was understandable. Strategically, picking a weaker opponent would increase their chances of winning. The problem, however, was that there was no one among Roman Dmitry's private soldiers who could be classified as "weak."
Chris smiled.
They might have been unremarkable at first, but after several years, my Lord's private soldiers have become entirely different beasts.
Over a period that was by no means short, the soldiers had amassed vast experience.
Alongside Roman Dmitry, they had brought down the Barco family, fought a war against the Hector Kingdom on the Southern Front, suppressed Marquis Benedict's rebellion, and achieved the feat of repelling the Kronos Empire on the Western Front. From then on, all the way to the total war against Valhalla and Kronos, wherever Roman Dmitry stood, his private soldiers were right there with him.
Had the soldiers survived those brutal wars only because Roman Dmitry resolved every danger for them? It was undeniable that their victories were largely due to Roman Dmitry's exploits. That was an absolute fact. However, had the soldiers lacked the skill, surviving until now would have been utterly impossible.
This test was demonstrating that difference in caliber.
It was proving exactly what the position these challengers coveted truly meant in Dmitry.
Men who once couldn't even swing a sword properly, like Henderson, have been reborn as the continent's strongest army through their experiences. What we desire is not their current strength. It is the wisdom to face the situation before them head-on, and the basic instincts required for combat. As long as they possess those two qualities, any new recruit will undoubtedly achieve explosive growth within Dmitry's fold.
It was a conviction.
There were clear examples to justify this confidence—himself, Kevin, Henderson, and many others.
It was just as Fred had anticipated.
The moment one became overconfident and looked down on the private soldiers, they would never receive a passing grade in the 3rd Test.
There was only one exception:
Proving one's worth through sheer, overwhelming martial might.
Right then, his name was finally called.
Fred stepped forward and named his opponent.
"I choose Sir Chris."
Instantly, all eyes locked onto him.
Throughout the hundreds of duels that had taken place, Fred had just named the one person who had not been challenged even once.
* * *
Fred understood what Dmitry's system demanded.
If he chose a moderate opponent and demonstrated his combat capabilities, he could easily secure a passing grade in the 3rd Test. But he refused to take the easy way out. As the knight commander of the Memphis family, having walked an elite path to rank 10th in the Kronos Empire, he did not want to betray his homeland through a safe, mediocre choice.
Naturalization into Dmitry.
He needed to make a definitive impact.
Only then would the stigma of being from the Kronos Empire cease to plague his future.
Step, step.
Chris stepped forward.
Drawing his sword, he spoke in a dry, flat tone.
"This recruitment drive imposes no restrictions on status, as long as you do not belong to the lords of the Dmitry Duchy. Even if you are a knight commander from the Kronos Empire, we will accept you as long as you pass the test."
It was a blunt statement.
Fred's expression turned solemn.
As they finally faced each other, the examiner waved the flag.
"Begin!"
Tap.
Pat-pat-pat.
Fred made the first move.
Chris stood still, watching Fred charge, and thrust his sword forward the moment Fred entered his attack range. It was fast. No sooner had the visual of an incoming attack registered in Fred's mind than a howling wind and sharp energy lunged toward his forearm.
Clang!
Sparks flew.
Chris's attack.
It was exactly as Fred had anticipated.
Chris's lightning-fast swordsmanship was renowned across the continent, and because Fred had prepared for it from the start, he was able to block the strike without much difficulty. Diego, whom Chris had defeated, was a powerhouse ranked a whopping four spots higher than Fred. Acknowledging that the odds were against him, Fred unleashed his aura with everything he had.
Rumble!
Roar!
A tempest erupted.
The violently swirling aura surged forward, threatening to swallow Chris whole the moment they drew close.
Boom!
Crash! Crash! Crash!
It was a colossal clash.
The shockwaves rippling out with every collision of their blades left the surrounding test-takers staring in awe. The duel between Chris and Fred was on an entirely different level. Marquis Memphis had taken in Fred, a promising talent of Kronos, and nurtured him into what he was today for the sake of his family's future. But to Fred, what mattered most was the safety of his own family. In a nation like Kronos, a single mistake could lead to the execution of one's entire bloodline. That was why a loyal knight like Fred, who had dedicated his entire life to Kronos, had ultimately chosen to flee in the dead of night.
Step, step.
Fred closed the distance.
Deflecting Chris's relentless, unpredictable strikes, he refused to let the gap between them exceed three paces.
If I let him get away, it's over.
Chris was fast, and his attack range was long.
Any distance beyond three paces was disadvantageous to Fred and clearly favored Chris. Thus, Fred clung to him tenaciously, trading blows at close quarters. Sweat was already pouring down his forehead. Knowing that a single moment of distraction could lead to his defeat before he could even react, Fred circulated his aura throughout his entire body to generate explosive power.
Boom!
To the right.
Using rapid movement to bait his opponent's reaction, Fred lowered his stance, deflected the incoming strike, and lunged off the ground.
Whoosh!
Rumble!
He thrust his sword forward.
As Chris retreated slightly to dodge, Fred pursued him relentlessly, determined not to miss this opening. He couldn't comprehend how Chris's aura could rival a 5-Star aura. However, the sole fact that Chris had defeated Diego meant Fred didn't need to overthink the mystery. The Chris that Fred was experiencing right now was undeniably strong. That alone was reason enough to give this fight everything he had.
Crash!
He cornered him.
Fred had skillfully engineered this situation. Forced backward, Chris could no longer utilize his speed in such a confined space.
It was then.
Chris's lips twitched into a smirk.
From start to finish, Chris had never once lost his composure.
Having traversed countless battlefields alongside Roman Dmitry, Chris had acquired a level of calm far beyond that of ordinary men.
"Fred, you pass."
Flash!
His sword gleamed.
It was the very strike that had defeated Diego.
The visual of the incoming strike registered first, followed only a moment later by the roaring sound that struck his ears.
An attack faster than sound.
By the time Fred realized he had to block it—
Thud!
He staggered.
A heavy impact slammed into his vital point, and Fred's pupils dilated.
Through his blurring vision, he saw what had happened.
At some point, Chris had sheathed his sword, striking Fred's vital point with his sheathed weapon rather than a lethal edge.
That...
Thud.
...was Fred's last memory.
* * *
How much time had passed?
When Fred finally regained consciousness, he stared blankly up at the sky.
...To think I lost.
He hadn't been certain of victory.
Chris was a formidable opponent, but Fred had believed in his own skills enough to think an upset was entirely possible.
Yet, that final blow...
He hadn't even seen it.
Chris hadn't even been trying his hardest, and in a split second, he had made the conscious decision to sheathe his sword. That was proof that Chris was at least two levels above Fred. Having faced Diego in the total war against the Kronos Empire, Chris had reached an uncharted realm that ordinary beings could never hope to touch, all thanks to that day's victory.
A hollow laugh escaped his lips.
If the Flash of Dmitry was this powerful, then just how strong was Roman Dmitry?
My choice was right. Dmitry is the only entity capable of standing against the Kronos Empire.
Naturalization.
It was a matter of life and death.
If he failed the test, or if Dmitry were to fall to the Kronos Empire, then he and his family—who had followed a key figure like Marquis Memphis—would never survive the Empire's wrath.
He dragged himself to his feet.
He realized that in this test, powerhouses like Chris and Kevin might not suffer a single defeat.
Right then.
"Whoa!"
"Are you crazy?!"
Cheers erupted from afar.
The spot where Fred had been lying was slightly removed from the arena, but crowds of people had gathered in droves around two specific areas, watching something intently. Their flushed faces, expressions of disbelief, and instinctive gasps of shock proved that an extraordinary spectacle was unfolding before them.
He walked over.
Squeezing through the crowd to see what was happening, Fred witnessed an unexpected sight.
Chris and Kevin.
The two men had accepted new challengers.
Kevin's opponent was Logan of Steel, who was ranked 19th in the Valhalla Ranking but was widely considered to be far stronger than his rank suggested.
And Chris's opponent...
He was the real shocker.
A figure with fluttering silver hair was pressing Chris hard.
Ranked 3rd in the Valhalla Ranking.
Ranked 6th in the Continental Ranking.
The only individual in the top twelve who, despite being in the 5-Star Realm, had bypassed the Twelve Swords of the Continent to claim one of those twelve seats.
The continent's greatest swordsmanship genius, Ares.