Chapter 47: Great Warrior Battle (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 47: Great Warrior Battle (2)
By mutual agreement, the Great Warrior Battle was officially set.
Lawrence opened its castle gates, and the forces of Barco and Lawrence faced each other across the vast plains.
It had only been a week since the messenger was dispatched.
The arbiter, who had traveled down from the capital, addressed the crowd. His voice was heavy and solemn under the weight of their collective gaze.
"I am Count Ertes. From this moment forth, we shall commence the Great Warrior Battle between the Barco and Lawrence families. Both sides must designate three swordsmen to represent them and submit their match rosters within thirty minutes. The Great Warrior Battle is a sacred event blessed by Valhalla. No matter the outcome, both families must accept the results. Should either side violate this decree, they will face absolute judgment upon the honor of the Cairo Kingdom."
Count Ertes.
Dressed in a pristine ceremonial robe that looked entirely out of place amidst the dusty plains, he was the official dispatched by the Central Government to oversee the duel. In a Great Warrior Battle, the authority of the presiding official was absolute. Thus, as soon as both sides reached an agreement, the Central Government was notified, and Count Ertes had made the journey himself.
With a fluid motion, Count Ertes took his place in the seat of honor prepared for him.
His servants quickly raised a canopy to cast shade over him, and he sipped his wine with a relaxed expression, waiting for the time to pass.
The camps of both Barco and Lawrence moved busily.
They were finalizing their rosters, but Roman, who had been staring intently at Barco's camp, suddenly spoke up.
"I believe we need to change our roster."
"What do you mean by that?" Viscount Lawrence asked, looking puzzled.
A week ago, when the Great Warrior Battle was decided, Lawrence had already finalized their lineup.
The plan was for Roman to step up as the vanguard to secure a guaranteed first victory, followed by a Lawrence knight in the second slot, and finally Chris to wrap things up in the third. However, Barco's movements were highly unusual. Although the distance from the capital to Lawrence was vast, in an era where magical artifacts like teleportation magic circles were well-developed, it had somehow taken Count Ertes an entire week to arrive.
It was strange.
As time dragged on, Barco should have been feeling the pressure from the mounting public interest, yet they didn't look the least bit anxious.
"It seems the Barco family intentionally delayed the schedule," Roman explained. "They likely needed time to recruit an outside expert. Their connections in the Central Government have the power to pull those strings, and the fact that the duel is only happening today, a full week later, means they have completed their preparations."
"Then an outside expert might step forward as their vanguard," the Viscount realized.
"No, that is unlikely."
Roman's gaze shifted toward the Barco camp.
Unlike the bustling Lawrence side, their opponents looked as though their decision had long been made.
"Barco has no intention of sending an outside expert as their vanguard. If they did, they would have tried to bait us into sending our strongest swordsman first. That would be their optimal strategy. Therefore, we need to arrange our roster to counter their best move."
"So, what is your solution?"
"Chris will secure a victory as the vanguard, and I will face the trump card Barco has prepared in the second match."
"..."
Everyone's eyes widened in shock.
The trump card Barco had prepared was bound to be a formidable opponent, yet Roman spoke of taking on that risk as if it were nothing.
They couldn't understand it.
Why on earth was he going this far?
To him, Lawrence was just an outsider.
Yet here Roman was, risking his life for someone else's war.
Unlike Flora, those who did not know Roman's true intentions couldn't help but be deeply moved by his resolve.
Viscount Lawrence spoke, his voice trembling slightly.
"I will never forget this debt of gratitude. If the Lawrence family wins this Great Warrior Battle and survives this crisis, Roman Dmitry will be treated as Lawrence's greatest benefactor and honored guest for the rest of his life."
Except for Flora, everyone looked at Roman with profound respect.
* * *
The time had come.
Without dragging things out, Barco immediately revealed the swordsman who would serve as their vanguard.
"I am Janson of Barco."
Janson.
The crowd murmured at the name.
Janson was a 3-Star Swordsman whom Barco took great pride in, widely considered one of the finest experts in the northeastern region.
In contrast, Lawrence's representative seemed underwhelming.
"I am Chris of Lawrence."
Chris.
He stepped forward with a calm expression.
The people gathered recognized his face.
He was the disciple of Jonathan—a man known to be even stronger than Janson—and was famous as both a handsome swordsman and the greatest genius of the northeastern region. The problem was that a Great Warrior Battle was not a stage to test future potential. While Chris might have the upper hand in terms of youth and talent, comparing their current levels made this a clash between a 3-Star and a 2-Star.
The difference in Aura.
It was a gap that could not be bridged by swordsmanship alone.
To those who lived within the bounds of common sense, it seemed impossible for Chris to win this duel.
"Why did they send Chris out?"
"What a waste of talent. He's just marching to his death."
"This is a tragedy for Dmitry. To think Dmitry's genius is going to die in Lawrence's fight."
The crowd's whispers reached Chris's ears.
He, too, knew he was at a severe disadvantage, but it hadn't taken much hesitation for him to make his decision.
The reason was simple.
My lord told me. He said I can easily win.
Roman's words.
That was the sole reason for his resolve.
While there were experts among the Rankers who could ignore the difference in Aura to claim higher ranks, such occurrences were extremely rare and deemed total anomalies. It defied common sense. Yet, Roman had told Chris that he could defy common sense and defeat a 3-Star Swordsman, so Chris accepted the situation before him without a second thought.
On the day Kevin fought, Roman's teachings—which had turned a mere novice into a vicious fighting dog—had earned Chris's blind trust.
He believed.
Roman was absolute.
Even if he were to die here, Chris would not regret his choice.
To grow stronger, one must take risks. That is why I left my comfortable well to follow my lord.
He faced Janson.
The Barco expert he had heard of countless times in rumors.
He looked strong.
And because of that, Chris smiled.
Defeating Janson would prove that his choice was the correct one.
Soon, the signal was given.
"Begin!"
Tap.
Without a moment's hesitation, Janson and Chris lunged at each other simultaneously.
The rumors were not exaggerated.
Janson was fast.
Aura erupted explosively from his blade as he swung it with enough force to kill Chris in a single blow.
Whoosh!
By a hair's breadth, Chris dodged the attack.
He instantly took a side step, attempting to exploit Janson's opening, but Janson didn't pull his sword back. Instead, he chained his attack seamlessly from his current posture. Flashes of light filled Chris's vision. The blazing Aura made his mouth run dry; he knew that a single hit would mean instant death.
Chris retreated quickly.
Rather than engaging in a proper exchange of blows, he focused entirely on evading his opponent's strikes.
"You rat! How long are you going to keep running?!"
Janson growled.
He tried to provoke Chris into a head-on clash, but Chris maintained his composure to the end.
A clash between a 3-Star and a 2-Star Aura.
A direct confrontation was suicide.
He threw away his pride.
Even if running away looked unsightly, he evaded his opponent's strikes as efficiently as possible.
When I first sparred with my lord, he defeated me without even using Aura. On that day, when I was humiliatingly defeated in front of everyone, I realized one truth: no matter how powerful Aura is, an attack is only meaningful if it lands. That remains true even now.
He dodged.
He dodged again and again.
Scurrying like a rat just as Janson had said, Chris slipped his sword forward whenever an opening presented itself.
Slash!
A sudden flash.
Blood splattered across Janson's face.
It was merely a graze, but the fact that he had been struck first caused his face to contort hideously.
"You little bastard..."
Rumble!
An explosion of Aura.
His 3-Star Aura seethed violently.
From that moment on, dodging was no longer enough.
The sword, boiling with Aura, tore through the air, sweeping an area far wider than the blade itself.
A 3-Star Aura.
It was on a completely different level.
As the sweeping attack engulfed the space around him, Chris gasped.
Boom!
"Cough!"
He coughed up blood.
Even though he had deflected the blow slightly to defend himself, it felt as if his insides had been completely twisted.
It was a logical outcome.
The reason people held the distinction between Stars in such high regard was because even if one fought perfectly ninety-nine times, a single mistake could lead to defeat.
As Chris stumbled slightly, Janson, sensing he had the upper hand, pressed his advantage relentlessly.
Reeling from the internal shock, Chris's footwork faltered. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before Janson's sword claimed his head.
Damn it.
Chris was different from Roman.
Roman possessed the monstrous ability to overwhelm his opponents even in a situation like this, but Chris was still a human who had not yet escaped the realm of common sense. He felt sick to his stomach. He wondered if he was merely a sparrow trying to match the strides of a stork, only to tear his own legs apart, but he refused to die like this.
He gritted his teeth.
Not yet.
He had barely learned anything from Roman.
His comrades in the Dmitry Knights had mocked his decision to follow him. He had ignored their sneers, dismissing their claims that it was a foolish choice, and chose to follow Roman anyway. He could not die so pointlessly.
How embarrassing would that be?
If he died like this, Chris wouldn't even be able to look his comrades in the eye in the afterlife.
Let's break free from the common sense of this world.
Roman had asked him: Why do you use Aura in such a foolish way?
His common sense had shattered when Roman pointed out how highly inefficient his method was, but he had not yet fully broken out of that mold.
It was only natural.
His master, Jonathan, and even Emperor Alexandro, known as the first Aura Swordsman, had trained in the exact same manner.
Defying common sense required courage.
And now, facing Janson's Aura, Chris recalled Roman's figure.
The reckless expulsion of mana prevents Aura from unleashing its full potential. Just as my lord demonstrated devastating power with a mere sliver of mana when he destroyed the Flare, I must concentrate my Aura into a single point.
He swallowed hard.
The crossroads of life and death.
Before his eyes, Janson lunged at him like a madman.
"Die!"
He swung his sword.
The movement was wide and sweeping.
It was born of blind faith in his own strength and a firm conviction that Chris would not dare to face him head-on.
Chris drew up his mana.
Instead of letting it erupt explosively like others did, he gathered his mana into a single point to condense his Aura, just as he had learned from watching Roman.
Flash.
The manifestation of Aura.
The size of the Aura was small.
Janson sneered, utterly convinced of his victory.
But then—
Clang!
"...?!"
The clash of two blades.
Chris's Aura did not shatter.
Though flickering precariously, it withstood the opponent's strike—a variable Janson had never anticipated.
In that instant, a flash.
Slash!
Mana exploded.
With Chris's specialty—a lightning-fast strike—his sword flashed and severed Janson's head clean off.
Spurt!
Blood sprayed into the air.
As Janson's head flew upward, the eyes of the onlookers filled with sheer shock.
The first duel.
The victor was Chris.
Thud.
Roll.
Janson's head rolled across the ground.
Those watching could not believe the reality before their eyes.
What the hell...
A 3-Star Swordsman lost to a 2-Star Swordsman?
This makes no sense!
It defied all common sense.
It was a shocking result.
Chris, his face pale, flicked the blood off his sword. Only then did the Lawrence soldiers erupt into cheers.
"Whoaaaaaa!"
"This is insane!"
"Chris! Chris!"
"Chris! Chris!"
The crowd went absolutely wild.
It was a massive upset.
In the vanguard match that Barco was expected to win easily, Chris had proudly seized the first victory.
Now, they only needed one more win.
Believing they had cornered Barco, the Lawrence soldiers' faces flushed with excitement as if they had already won the entire war.
In the midst of this, Viscount Barco was flustered.
...For Janson to lose. This completely ruins my foolproof strategy. If Janson had won, I planned to end the match in the second duel, but now the third duel has become critical.
Absurdly enough, he was not worried about the outcome of the second duel.
It was only natural.
If he hadn't had absolute faith in his trump card, he wouldn't have spent a fortune to bring him all the way out here.
It was then.
A man stepped forward, acting as if Janson's defeat meant absolutely nothing to him.
Revealing himself before the crowd, he rested a hand on the sword at his waist and announced his name with a smile.
"I am Homeros of Barco."
Homeros.
At that name, the Lawrence soldiers, who had been celebrating their victory just moments ago, fell into shock and terror.
"H-Homeros?"
"My god."
"Why is Homeros here?!"
The ranking system represented an individual's absolute martial prowess.
Those rankings, calculated by the Temple of Valhalla based on concrete data, were updated annually and known to everyone across the continent.
A 4-Star Swordsman.
He was a Ranker, officially evaluated as the 49th strongest in the kingdom.