Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: The Morning of Confrontation
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A short rest passed, and the morning sun of the duel day rose.
The Latent Dragon Squad members gathered in their mess hall marveled at how their battered bodies—worn out from the endless trials in the Tower of Trials—had fully recovered to peak condition.
"Whew! Money really is the best. All the bruises from getting pummeled by that damn wooden dummy are completely gone."
Whoosh, whoosh!
Ralph whistled after rotating his torso to check his organs, twisted from wooden fists, and his shoulder, which had nearly buckled under kicks.
"...Wooden dummy?"
Ryu An raised an eyebrow at Ralph's cryptic mutter, prompting Ralph to shake his head vigorously and brush it off.
"Eh, just something like that. A total pain-in-the-ass fly of a guy. Ugh... don't even wanna think about it. Anyway, has the captain shown up yet?"
"You can see for yourself. It's just us here."
Dane shrugged casually as he sipped his coffee.
"Quit the chit-chat and eat your breakfast. You won't have the strength to fight on an empty stomach."
Munch, munch!
Sylvia helped herself to the bread and milk laid out for breakfast, regardless of whether Ian showed up late or not.
Pour!
A golden liquid cascaded into her cup with a fragrant aroma.
"Right? The captain... he'll handle himself just fine. We just need to get ourselves ready, yeah?"
Helena bustled about with a steaming teapot of freshly brewed black tea, handing out cups to the squad members.
"Here you go."
"Thanks... huh?"
Ralph absentmindedly took the Earl Grey from Helena but soon sensed something off and turned back to her.
"Hey, Helena. You seem... weirdly calm all of a sudden?"
In the short time they'd known her, the Helena the squad had seen was always fidgety and lacking confidence—except when picking her whiskey.
With a major squad-versus-squad showdown looming, they'd assumed she'd be the most nervous of all.
Yet here she was, calm enough to brew tea—not just for herself, but for everyone?
"...Huh? Yeah, you're right, hehe."
Helena scratched the back of her head, realizing her own composure at Ralph's question.
"Hmm..."
She pondered for a moment.
Then, with a relaxed expression, she answered.
"Just... after being stuck in there and coming out, I don't feel like we're gonna lose or anything."
Helena's words cut straight to the reason why the rest of the Latent Dragon Squad felt so strangely at ease.
Having overcome their individual extreme trials in the Tower of Trials, they were far beyond fearing a squad like Crimson Death.
They'd conquered hardships too great for that.
That's why they could enjoy tea and breakfast.
It was the leisure born of true skill.
The calm atmosphere continued as the squad waited for Ian.
Creeeak!
Ian pushed open the mess hall door and stepped in.
His eyes met those of his squad, leisurely enjoying their meals and tea.
"Let's go."
Ian smirked, sensing their relaxed vibe.
"And devour them all."
Today's duel would be a turning point.
A declaration that the Latent Dragon Squad was no mere ragtag bunch.
The Lichtenauer Clan's grand arena.
As the seasons slowly shifted, this was the busy time when strike teams rotated missions.
Yet despite the bustle, an unusual crowd had gathered at the arena today.
The duel between Latent Dragon Squad and Crimson Death Squad.
Strike teams settling grudges in the arena was commonplace in the clan.
It hardly sparked interest.
Especially since this wasn't between elite squads or battalions, but low-tier teams patrolling the fringes of the Great Cataclysm.
Truly exceptional.
Three reasons drew the crowd.
First: to verify if Latent Dragon Squad's feat—subjugating the orcs of Mount Flame in under a month, a task others couldn't handle—was legit.
If true, they were a squad with immense potential, ripe for recruitment.
Second: Latent Dragon Squad was led by none other than the Second Young Lord.
The halfwit of the family, they'd called him.
His first odd showing was at the Gate Opening Ceremony, choosing the Black-White Sword Pair from the Weapon Orb.
Rumors swirled that his leadership made the Mount Flame mission succeed.
If he'd truly changed, Ian's symbolic value and utility would skyrocket.
"Hey, look over there."
Poke, poke!
One warrior nodded toward the arena platform.
"It's Young Lord Manus."
"First time seeing him in person."
"Look, Young Lord Andy Pallkion's there too."
"Eyes are feasting today."
The third reason: the clan's stars had come personally to assess the first two.
In hopes of catching their eye and rising.
Fat chance.
They were the ones who could topple Eldest Young Lord Alex and challenge Patriarch Paon.
No room for lucky warriors in their sight.
And none believed Second Young Lord Ian Lichtenauer could shine like Alex or the vassal houses' geniuses.
Comparing them to orc-subjugators? An insult.
Still.
Winning reformed Ian to their side? Endless strategic value.
The direct heir of Paon Lichtenauer—clan's supreme, continent's absolute—backing them? Sweet title.
Warriors' motives varied, but boiled down to one.
Did Ian and Latent Dragon Squad have the rumored worth?
To confirm that.
If they lost to Crimson Death? Worthless.
Yes.
Everyone here was just verifying Ian and Latent Dragon's skill.
No one cared about Crimson Death Squad.
"...It's so obvious it pisses me off. Right?"
Crimson Death's captain, Heto, glared at the lofty platforms and asked his squad.
"Yes, Captain!"
His squad grimaced in agreement.
Weak or not, it stung.
From those sky-high seats, Crimson Death was just another dime-a-dozen team.
Maybe they didn't even know the name.
"Anyone who wants to be mere test dummies as they think, bail now."
"Pfft! As if, Captain."
Thud!
Maruka, the vice-captain, chuckled, hand on Heto's shoulder.
"You always say it: even the ordinary have their pride."
Smooth!
Maruka eyed the platforms slyly.
"Someone from Lord Manus might be up there. Whatever their angle, we just smash Latent Dragon with our all."
True.
Crush Latent Dragon thoroughly, and maybe Manus or others would toss a new lifeline.
"...Yeah, true."
They couldn't crumble here.
Latent Dragon did nothing wrong.
If anything, their success severed Crimson Death's fragile thread.
To revive, they had to crush Latent Dragon.
'Let's not hate each other, Latent Dragon.'
You crush us, change the clan's view.
This was the Lichtenauer Martial Clan: cradle of warriors, frontline fortress against the Great Cataclysm.
Only survivors climbed to those heights.
A blood-iron land.
A man with hair red as blazing crimson flames.
Not gigantic, but thick-framed and solidly muscled—proof his martial realm was no trifle.
"Kahahahaha! Finally, some fun spectacle in this dull routine!"
So thrilled, he laughed heartily nonstop.
His booming guffaws made the massive halberd and club on his back jiggle.
"Young Lord, it's just lowly strike teams squabbling. Worth your personal visit?"
"Hm? Kahaha! You lack flair, Dakan! Fights are funniest between scrubs. Good to get fresh air sometimes, no?"
"...Is it Young Lord Ralph that's on your mind...?"
Dakan's cautious words slowed Manus Kalia's hearty laugh.
"...Hmmm. Why would I care about a mere Ralph?"
Still smiling, but his lowered tone made Dakan bow hastily.
Danger signal.
"Forgive me, Young Lord. I overstepped..."
"Kahat! Fine, once for you. Watch it next time."
Killing intent laced the gentle words.
Dakan vowed silence.
"I'm eyeing that one. The Second Young Lord."
Manus—Kalia House heir, one of the clan's future stars—pointed at Ian.
"Curious, right? How real are the rumors about the halfwit?"
His gaze sparkled at Ian.
"See? Even Sword Boy's here—means it's worth watching."
Ralph and Crimson Death? Long forgotten in Manus's mind.
No one remembers ants stepped on by accident.
"...Tch. Breathing the same air as that vulgar scum."
A man frowning in Manus's direction pinched his nose with a handkerchief.
Never meshed with crude Kalia brutes and their barbaric weapons.
Weapons began and ended with the sword.
Why else call it the King of Ten Thousand Soldiers?
All others? Sword derivatives, scraps.
His gaze dropped below.
Not to Second Young Lord, but one Latent Dragon member.
"Let's see how far you've refined those vulgar, foolish ideas."
Born of noble blood, yet expelled for stubbornly wielding lowly weapons and throwing tantrums.
That foolish brother—if all talk, no substance.
Today, he'd drag him back, by any means.
Even if eldest, third, or father objected.
His word—proclaimed house's top talent— they'd feign acceptance.
"Little brother, I haven't given up."
His eyes gleamed as he muttered.
"Pallkion House wields only swords. That's my verdict."
Man prouder of his house than any, mad for the sword above all.
Andy Pallkion.
Interested solely in Ryu An.
Not just Kalia or Pallkion houses.
...Sip!
A breathtakingly beautiful woman gazed out the window, elegantly enjoying milk tea.
She suddenly spoke.
"That child?"
"Appears in today's duel, milady."
"Tch, that child isn't for clown shows... A direct descendant of his, yet so inept?"
Irked, she stirred sugar into her milk tea with the spoon.
"Milady, humbly, Second Young Lady is... a bit headstrong, and honest with emotions when drinking..."
"Quiet! She's just a tad tactless and frank when tipsy, that's all!"
"No, milady. For one of Shadow House blood to be so emotional... Never mind."
The butler clamped his mouth shut mid-retort.
Sophia Clonen—Shadow House's absolute gem—glared daggers.
"...Hmph!"
Puffing her cheeks, spoon out, she snapped curtly.
"Anyway, make sure to check if that child gets hurt. Got it?"
"As you command. And the Second Young Lord...?"
Before he could finish, Sophia barked.
"Don't know him! No interest in that dimwit— just ensure Sylvia's safe!"
"......"
A corner of the grand arena.
A figure with face wrapped in bandages, one foot precariously on the edge, silently overlooking the field.
The Lichtenauer Martial Clan dubbed this mystery man "the Collateral Thunderbolt."
All next-gen stars except Alex had come, directly or indirectly.
Solely to check if Latent Dragon Squad was worth recruiting.
Amid swirling interests from various factions, Latent Dragon Squad slowly entered the grand arena.