Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: The Sparring Match Begins
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The Latent Dragon Squad made their leisurely entrance, showing no hurry even after confirming that the Crimson Squad was already waiting.
As if it were only natural for minnows like them to wait, they maintained an air of lofty arrogance.
The Crimson Squad members ground their teeth and glared at that utterly relaxed demeanor.
"Look at these punks strutting in like they're the main characters."
"Kids who haven't even shed all their baby fat...!!"
Ralph wasn't the type to stay quiet in the face of such overt hostility.
"Who's the rookie here? It's you lot, who couldn't even properly clean up a bunch of orcs and just flailed around helplessly. And not content with that, you picked a fight and caused all this mess. Aren't you the pathetic bunch unworthy of a martial clan?"
His criticism was sharp and unsparing.
"What?!"
"You damn bastard!"
The Crimson Squad members ramped up their auras, looking ready to charge at any moment.
The situation teetered on the brink of explosion.
"Enough."
Heto raised a hand calmly toward his squad members, halting any further action.
"This is a gathering of the high lords. You all know that showing immature reactions to such low-level provocations won't do us any favors, right?"
"...Sorry, Captain."
At Heto's words, the Crimson Squad members quickly nodded and reined in their hostility.
Ian’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest at their disciplined response.
'Looks like he has more trust from his squad than I thought.'
He'd pegged him as just some fool obsessed with climbing the ranks.
Reassessing Heto slightly upward, Ian spoke.
"No need for us to trade barbs with long tongues, right? Let's just get started."
"...That's what we want too. How do you want to do this?"
Ian shrugged at Heto's question.
"Whatever you like."
"...I remember agreeing to match whatever format you wanted."
"Ah, yeah. I think I heard something like that."
Ian smirked with an insolent expression.
"I asked my squad members, and they said they didn't care. So decide however you're comfortable. Group battle or individual—makes no difference to us."
Heto's squad, which had calmed under his restraint, flushed red with anger again at Ian's utterly dismissive attitude.
"The Patriarch's son acting all high and mighty..."
The vice-captain, Maruka, couldn't stand it and was about to confront Ian.
"Fine, if that's how you want it. Individual matches it is. You set the terms, so no complaints, right?"
Heto's response came a beat faster than Maruka's.
"Of course. I don't go back on my word."
"Good. Then we start in 20 minutes."
Whoosh!
Finishing the brief exchange with Ian, Heto turned away without a hint of lingering, as if there was nothing more to discuss.
Ian watched Heto's retreating figure with a curious gaze.
"...Looks like he didn't earn his squad's trust just by luck."
20 minutes later.
"Well, now?"
Manus, resting his chin on his hand with a bored expression while overlooking the training ground, curled the corner of his mouth slightly as he watched one member from each side step onto the arena.
"That rookie's got some guts. He really knows his place, doesn't he? Well, if you're weak, you at least need to be quick on your feet."
"What do you mean by that, sir?"
Dakan, the adjutant standing quietly beside Manus, asked back, not grasping the meaning.
It was a duel, so naturally one at a time.
But what was so impressive about that?
"Huh? What, Dakan, you don't get it?"
"Well... From what I see, nothing special. Sparring always has one fighter at a time, doesn't it?"
Dakan scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
Manus clicked his tongue lowly at him.
"Tsk tsk... When you return to the clan this time, start studying right away."
"......"
"That's an order."
"...Yes, sir."
Dakan averted his eyes slightly. It was obvious he wouldn't follow through.
Shaking his head, Manus continued.
"Look. If we have to point out any redeeming quality in the Second Young Lord's ragtag unit, it's that they have members from diverse backgrounds. Meaning, in a group battle, they'd have a huge advantage covering each other's weaknesses."
With rear-line positions like priests and mages, they'd excel in support and cover.
"Yes, that makes sense."
Blink, blink.
Manus clicked his tongue again at Dakan, who still stared with wide eyes.
'...Seriously, if he wasn't so strong, I'd have done him in.'
Dakan had become his closest aide solely on martial prowess.
In that regard, no one in the Ballanty Clan could doubt his exceptional skill.
But he had one fatal flaw.
His head was empty.
Very much so.
"...In contrast, look at the other side—the Crimson Squad. Every single one of them wields a sword. All swordsmen. So their ability to support and cover each other is limited."
"Ah, I see."
Dakan finally nodded in understanding. Manus sighed inwardly—having to explain even this.
He didn't voice it, but Manus saw one more advantage to individual matches.
'The others, who knows... But against the mage and priest, they'll definitely secure two wins. That tilts the scales from the start.'
Mages and priests shine only when supporting allies from the rear.
Without protection, they had almost no chance against swordsmen.
'When their own stuff got smashed and they're seeing red, they won't miss a chance handed to them...'
It was a shame.
It could have been quite useful.
'Well, they've served their purpose by embarrassing me.'
Turning his gaze from the Crimson Squad to Ian, Manus thought.
"Come on, Second Young Lord. Show me if you have what it takes to back up that big talk."
So I can judge if you're worth keeping as a tool.
Screeech!
Amidst the focused gazes of many, the first from the Latent Dragon Squad to step onto the training ground was Ralph.
"Huuuuuuh..."
He'd acted confident and relaxed, but perhaps due to his young age, tension crept in.
Because the clan's stars had their eyes on him? Hardly.
There was only one reason Ralph felt tense.
The humiliation of showing a pathetic display before Manus, the culprit who had dragged him to rock bottom.
'Anyone else, maybe... But I can't embarrass myself in front of that guy.'
Grip!
As Ralph steeled his resolve and tightened his grip on his halberd, a lithe swordsman appeared on the Crimson Squad's side.
True to his slender build, he had long arms, and at his waist hung a narrow longsword that suited him perfectly.
Shing!
With a soft rasp from the sheath, a thin blade emerged.
His long, slender frame and matching light sword.
It screamed what style of swordsmanship he used.
Undoubtedly, a quick-draw specialist.
'Smart move. Cold calculation—sending the hardest matchup against Ralph's halberd.'
From calming down to choose individual matches in that short time, to deploying the perfect counter.
Ian had to admit it.
The Crimson Squad's captain, Heto, was more rational and strategic than expected.
'Against similar strike teams, it wouldn't have been easy.'
If they were truly similar, that is.
The Latent Dragon Squad's month of training was anything but ordinary.
No matter how sharp the judgment, without unique experience, their thinking remained limited.
Bound to 'common sense.'
For example... assuming chronic weaknesses couldn't be overcome in under a month.
So, they'd regret it later.
How dangerous 'common sense' judgments are on the path of true powerhouses.
They'd learn that lesson clearly.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Asherin, number three in the Crimson Squad."
"Ralph, of the Latent Dragon Squad."
"I know. You're famous."
Asherin chuckled at Ralph's introduction.
"How could I not know the prized son of the Kalia Clan?"
...Crack!
A vein bulged on Ralph's forehead at Asherin's provocative words.
"Kalia Clan wielders of heavy weapons are scary. That destructive power is seriously threatening. But."
Thud!
Asherin dropped his sword tip to the ground and continued.
"To achieve that immense destructive force, they often sacrifice speed. My sword is the perfect counter to your martial arts. Looks like we'll take the first win easily."
"You'll have to prove that with your sword, not words."
Facing off on the training ground, Ralph and Asherin exchanged taunts and sharpened their resolve.
The referee approached their center and announced.
"As this is a martial clan spar, no liability for any serious injuries. However, taking the life of a fellow clan member will be punished in the family's name. Remember, this is purely a test of skill."
Swish!
Having lightly explained the rules, the referee drew a coin from his pocket.
"It starts the moment this coin hits the ground."
Ting!
The coin flicked from the referee's finger soared high into the sky.
It seemed it would keep rising forever, but soon it peaked and began its descent.
As the coin fell slowly toward the ground, Ralph and Asherin's muscles tensed taut.
And then.
Clink!
The moment the coin touched down with a small sound, the two warriors sprang into motion.
Asherin moved first.
Ralph's halberd was a heavy weapon.
Its weight and reach made it devastatingly destructive.
Overcoming the fear of that power to close in was no easy feat, which is why halberds dominated battlefields.
But ironically.
If the opponent mustered the courage to slip inside the halberd's arc, all its strengths turned to weaknesses.
Asherin was the Crimson Squad's number three.
The most veteran aside from Heto and Maruka.
With his seasoned experience, why would he fear a rookie barely into real missions?
In an instant, he closed inside the range of Ralph's swung halberd and muttered toward him.
"Once you snap out of it, show some respect to your seniors."
Asherin's narrow longsword targeted Ralph's lung.
Not instantly fatal, but blood filling the lung would eventually drown him on dry land.
Daring to touch the captain and Crimson Squad? This punishment was lenient.
As he thrust toward Ralph's chest with that thought, Asherin met Ralph's eyes.
Looking into them, a chill ran down his spine.
For a supposed ambush victim, Ralph's face was far too calm.
"Sorry, but."
Shrk!
Pulling back on the arm gripping the flung halberd shortened the shaft's distance in a flash.
"I've faced enemies like you countless times already."
Bam!
As the shaft retracted, the halberd's rear blade whipped around and smashed into Asherin's occiput.
"Gahk!"
Asherin tumbled from the unexpected blow.
Ralph planted a foot on his chest and rested the halberd blade beside his neck.
"I win?"
"......"
Too humiliating a defeat?
Asherin glared at Ralph with bulging eyes.
"What, too unjust to speak?"
"...A half-baked punk who can't even use a single aura. If I had used aura, trash like you...!!"
Heto, observing the exchange, furrowed his brow.
'...This isn't good.'
All the clan's future stars were gathered here.
Failing to accept defeat gracefully on this stage would make them look even worse.
"Asherin, enough..."
"Oh?"
Ralph cut off Heto's voice with a retort to Asherin.
Step!
Ralph lifted his foot from Asherin's chest, stepped back a few paces, and leveled his halberd again.
"Then come at me again."
Smirk!
"Use all the aura you want."
The tension had vanished from Ralph's face.
"No pathetic excuses this time?"
A confident smile lit his features.