The Arena (2)
As soon as I stepped inside the arena, a stadium surrounded entirely by barbed wire filled my vision. 'They even set up a barrier.' In a way, it was only natural. After all, a criminal might smash through the fence and escape. Installing a barrier made perfect sense. While I was looking around, a voice rang out.
“The first match is between our anonymous participant number three and Calden!”
Walker, the master of the Shadow Guild, began introducing us. He then moved on to Calden.
“Those of you in the know will already be familiar, but the infamous Calden has been committing murders focused mainly on soldiers! You can consider him the top favorite to win this tournament!”
After hearing the introduction, I understood why he was called the favorite among the criminals. He had serially murdered soldiers rather than commoners. It was undeniable that he was strong compared to your average criminal. Of course, that was only 'by the standards of ordinary criminals.'
While I was thinking that, the introductions must have finished because the nobles around me started placing bets on who would win. And just as I had told Walker before the match, I had him bet everything on me.
'From the outside I look weak, so I’ll definitely get the underdog odds. As expected, earning money legitimately is the best.'
I lightly ignored Jukchang-i’s tackle.
“Betting is now closed. You may begin!”
The long-awaited match finally started. At the same time, I spoke to Jukchang-i.
'Jukchang.'
'Set the pain curse to minimum.'
Was it because I was doing something out of character? Jukchang-i reacted as if she couldn’t understand. But I had my reasons. It was none other than—
'Otherwise that guy will pass out after a few hits, won’t he? That wouldn’t count as education.'
'This is all for the sake of education.'
With that answer I transformed Jukchang-i into a magic staff. Seeing it, the opponent lifted the corner of his mouth.
“What? You were a mage? No wonder your body looked so frail. There was a reason after all.”
“Do you fight with your mouth? Hurry up and come at me.”
When I deliberately provoked him by crooking my finger, the vein on his forehead bulged. Frowning fiercely, he slowly approached.
“I don’t know what a mage is thinking, but I’ll make you regret making me come closer.”
With those final words he swung a thick fist at me. Was it because he had killed so many soldiers? His attack was surprisingly clean, without wasted movement. However, that was all it amounted to. I leisurely deflected his strike with Jukchang-i. Then—
Whoosh!
His fist cut through empty air, and immediately afterward.
“Huh?”
The guy tumbled forward.
Thud.
Had he never expected me to deflect it so easily? He stared up at me with wide eyes. At the same time—
The spectators jumped in surprise as they looked at me. I paid their reactions no mind and—
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Struck the guy’s head, shoulder, and knee in an instant. The next moment.
“Keuk!”
The man who had been beaten all over his body rolled across the floor. Soon he was drooling; it must have hurt quite a bit. Even though I had minimized the curse.
'Jukchang. You did set it to minimum, right?'
'Fair enough.'
Even a demon would have passed out after a few hits, so there was no way a mere criminal who only hunted ordinary soldiers could endure it. While I was inwardly nodding in understanding—
“Keut. So you weren’t a mage. To think you were a swordsman.”
The guy seemed to have completely misunderstood and now called me a swordsman. Well, in a way it was half right and half wrong. My techniques were closer to those of a swordsman, after all.
Hwaaak!
Mana burst from his body. It looked like he was reinforcing himself.
“Huu. I can’t let my guard down.”
“It’ll probably end up the same anyway, won’t it?”
“Say that after you’ve at least pushed me back!”
He was exactly right. Which meant it was time to show him a taste of hell.
At the same time.
Walker, the organizer of this arena, had actually been a little worried about the two men’s match. He didn’t care whether the criminal Calden lived or died, but the problem was Elric. If the eldest son of a ducal house died here, it would cause no small amount of trouble. That was why he had planned to stop the fight if it looked dangerous, yet—
“What in the world…”
Contrary to his expectations, far from being in danger, Elric was toying with Calden. No—could this even be called an even fight?
'It looks like he’s just playing with him.'
In pure physical ability, Calden held the advantage. Yet aside from that, Elric was completely dominating. Every single movement flowed smoothly into the next as if they were connected.
'Was Sir Elric not a mage?'
He had definitely understood the Vandesar family to be the empire’s foremost magic house. And yet a member of that very house was displaying swordplay more overwhelming than even the previous Sword Saint.
'If that had been a sword instead of a magic staff…'
Just imagining it sent a chill down his spine. If it had been a real blade, Calden’s body would already be in pieces.
'I really don’t understand how someone like that ended up called incompetent.'
He wasn’t using magic at all, yet his technique alone deserved respect. If even an assassin like Walker felt this way, he wondered what a proper swordsman would think. That line of thought brought to mind the unexpected guest who had entered this time. When he shifted his gaze toward her—
“Haa… haa…”
Eve’s cheeks were flushed bright red and she looked rather excited. Walker tilted his head.
'Hmm? Why is she like that?'
He was puzzled for a moment, but when he noticed her eyes were fixed on Elric, it seemed the young man’s sword dance was the cause.
'Even a swordsman finds it beautiful enough to get excited.'
If even Eve—called the greatest genius in the history of the Ross family—reacted like this, no further words were needed. Walker returned his attention to the match.
'It should be over soon.'
Thinking that, he watched Elric’s movements more closely so as not to miss even the slightest beautiful motion.
At the same time, Calden panted as he glared at the man before him.
“Huk… huk… what the hell is this.”
He wondered if he was having a nightmare. He had faced countless soldiers until now, but he had never been so utterly toyed with.
'His physical ability is clearly far below mine. How is this possible?'
A body that looked like it would collapse from a mere shoulder bump. No matter how good one’s technique, there had to be a limit. Yet this man was completely bridging that physical gap with nothing but skill.
Whoosh!
The magic staff suddenly appeared right in front of his nose. Calden barely managed to tilt his head back to avoid it. Then—
“Crazy.”
The opponent suddenly changed the attack’s trajectory and slammed it downward. Unable to dodge in time, Calden took the hit square on.
Crack!
“Aaaargh!”
Agony exploded through his brain and spread throughout his entire body. He could accept everything else, but this made no sense. The staff wasn’t even made of mithril or orichalcum. It wasn’t iron either. It was just wood. How could a perfectly ordinary wooden staff hurt so much that it felt like he was going to die?!
“Keuk!”
Clutching his face, Calden slowly rose. He glanced at his opponent.
'Damn it. He’s completely toying with me.'
Unlike himself, the other man looked perfectly relaxed. So relaxed that he was even licking the magic staff with long, slow strokes of his tongue.
'I’ll kill him!'
Thinking that, he thrust his hand toward the man, edge sharpened with mana. But—
Whoosh!
His attack only cut empty air. It didn’t even graze the man’s clothes. At the same time—
“You should’ve at least picked an opponent you could actually bully.”
With those words the man brought the magic staff down with full force.
“Keuk!”
Pain raced through every circuit in his body, and then—
“Keut!”
His vision slowly faded to black.
Meanwhile, one of the heroine candidates who had been quietly watching the match—Eve von Ross—panted as she stared at the man’s sword dance.
“Haa… haa…”
Those movements reminded her of someone. The man who had made her submit, the one who had never once lost to her in swordsmanship.
Elric von Vandesar.
His movements were so fluid and perfect that it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they brought that man to mind.
'By the way, who is that person?'
Seeing those movements had made her think of Elric and grow excited, but more than that she needed to know the identity of the man in the arena. As she pondered, a certain face flashed through her mind.
'Could it be Sir Elric?'
It would make sense. His movements were almost identical to Elric’s. However—
That was only similar to the Elric of the future.
'At this point in time, he has never shown such movements before.'
Unlike the past, the current Elric was taking different actions, but that was all. He had never once displayed his sword dance. Therefore there was no guarantee that the man before her was Elric, yet—
'That is only if we assume Sir Elric has not regressed.'
Elric was moving in a completely different way from the previous round. Moreover, his habits were almost identical to how they had been before regression. Because of that, she couldn’t help but suspect him.
Anyway.
'…I’ll think about that later.'
Rather than that, she needed to focus on the dance she would soon share with her opponent. Because it might be Elric.
'If it really is Sir Elric, I would be truly happy.'
Thinking that, Eve imagined dancing with Elric, a mad smile spreading across her face.
After finishing the match and leaving the arena, a sudden chill ran down my spine.
'I don’t know. I suddenly got goosebumps.'
'Could be.'
Thinking that, the moment I returned to the waiting room—
“Participant number one, Mr. Hendrick, please step forward.”
Walker called the second match. At that moment—
Step. Step.
Two people began walking toward the arena. Then—
'Hmm?'
I had the strange feeling that the woman called participant number one had glanced at me.
'What was that?'
'It’s nothing. Must have been my imagination.'
Dismissing it as nothing important, I turned my gaze back to the arena. A moment later the match began, and—
Slaaash!
The criminal Hendrick was cut down in a single stroke by participant number one. The spectator seats widened their eyes in shock, then immediately—
“Waaaaah!”
They erupted in cheers, thoroughly enjoying the show.
“Fuck.”
Unlike everyone else, I looked at the woman before me and spat out a curse. Because she was none other than Eve von Ross—the future Sword Saint—and my next opponent!
Why the hell are you here?!