They're Cute
Silence settled over the royal conference hall. The leaders of the Six Kings, and the aides standing behind them, said nothing at all. Every gaze was fixed on Glenn.
After about ten seconds, Chamber's lips were the first to part.
"Did I... hear that right? Did the word cute just come out of your mouth, old man?"
Her eyes trembled, as if she couldn't decide whether to laugh or despair.
"Haha. I never expected the Northern Annihilation King to say a thing like that."
King Lecross let out a hollow chuckle, smiling with visible awkwardness.
"Kahahahaha! Old man. Have you gone senile while I wasn't looking? Cute? In the world of martial artists, 'cute' doesn't mean a damn thing! You of all people should know that better than anyone!"
Ogram clutched his forehead and exploded into booming laughter. His pride still seemed to sting from having been pressed down by Glenn's aura even for a moment, because he cranked the volume until the conference hall itself shook.
"Hmm. Perhaps..."
Derus did not react at once. He let the silence stretch a little longer before he spoke.
"Did you call them cute because the Beast King said the Light Wind Squad still looks green?"
He narrowed his eyes, recalling the words Ogram had spat just before Glenn had unleashed his presence.
"Ah!"
Chamber clapped her hands and nodded.
"That's right. That muscle pig did say something like that."
She snickered, sliding a sidelong glance at Ogram.
"Honestly, those Light Wind babies are cuter than your lot, who just ballooned up with nothing but bulk."
"I thought I told you to shut that trap of yours."
Ogram glared at Chamber, grinding his teeth.
"It's my mouth doing the talking, so why the hell are you throwing a fit?"
Chamber met his stare without giving an inch.
"Haha, so that's what you meant. The Light Wind Squad's swordsmen certainly do have striking looks. Young Raon in particular — he's one of the most handsome men I've ever seen."
King Lecross stepped between Ogram and Chamber with a placating smile.
"He stood out at the banquet, too. Humans more handsome than elves aren't exactly common. He's something else."
Chamber nodded along, agreeing with the king.
"Ahem..."
Glenn reined in the dominating presence that had flooded the hall and covered his mouth as he cleared his throat.
"Looks? As I said, what matters to a martial artist isn't a face. It's martial power. Overwhelmingly simple violence is the real thing."
Ogram clenched a fist on the table. Even that light squeeze of strength made the palace shudder as if an earthquake had rolled through it.
"You've been running your mouth since earlier."
Glenn looked down at Ogram with a cold smile.
"That strength you keep howling about — our children are stronger than yours, who only grew fashion muscles."
He said it with the unshakable certainty that the Light Wind Squad would defeat the Beast Alliance's warriors.
"Kakakakaka!"
Chamber stomped her feet on the table and burst into shrieking laughter.
"Fashion muscles! Fashion muscles! That's exactly it! They're just big! Old man, when did you get this funny? I haven't seen you in ages!"
"That's— khup!"
King Lecross, who had been trying to restrain her, failed to hold back his own laugh and clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Huu."
Sheryl, standing behind Glenn, let out a faint breath as she watched the circus unfolding at the table.
Who would believe these people are the leaders of the Six Kings.
They mocked and needled one another without the slightest hesitation. Anyone who didn't know them would have sworn they were watching a pack of ordinary neighborhood uncles and aunties gossiping — not Transcendents.
The head of house really does take after Raon.
Raon had once called Econ, the vice-commander of the Heavenly Sword Squad who liked to show off his strength, a man of fashion muscles. Apparently grandfather and grandson had something in common.
"Old man."
Ogram glared at Glenn, eyes blazing. An immeasurably vast aura flared up and burned.
"If you're that confident, let's make a personal bet."
"A bet?"
"That's right. You said you believe in the Light Wind Squad — or is it the Mad Dog Squad? Let's wager on the winner of the duel."
As he spoke, he set a small wooden box down on the table.
"This is the Four Clouds Pill, an elixir refined with our tribe's secret methods. It increases aura, of course, and even expands the physique. By your standards, it's a top-grade elixir."
"Very well."
Without the faintest hesitation, Glenn unfastened the Heavenly True Sword at his waist and laid it on the table.
"You're putting up a sword?"
"That's the Heavenly True Sword!"
"Insane..."
"Hah!"
King Lecross, Chamber, Derus, and Ogram all gaped at the blade resting on the table.
"Hiek!"
"A sword...?"
The aides of each faction, who had been standing as still as wooden dolls, snapped their eyes wide in shock.
Sheryl and Roen, who trusted Glenn completely, stood with their hands folded behind their backs and showed no reaction at all.
"Hey, old man. Are you really putting that up? The values don't even compare."
Even when Chamber told him to take it back, Glenn shook his head.
"If you have confidence, you put up something of this caliber. An elixir? That's just showing off how small your own vessel is."
Glenn sneered at the flustered Ogram. His eyes gleamed with absolute certainty of Raon and the Light Wind Squad's victory.
"Kkugh..."
Ogram bit down on his lip and slammed the table.
"Fine!"
He stripped the coat wrapped around his burly torso and dropped it onto the table.
"An elixir alone wouldn't match that sword. If your grandson takes the championship, I'll hand over this coat along with enough elixirs for every last one of those children."
"It's still far from enough, but I'll accept."
Glenn nodded, utterly calm.
"Waaah, can I join too? I want in! I love this kind of thing!"
"You stay out of it!"
Chamber flung her staff onto the table, demanding a seat at the wager, but neither of them would take her.
"Now, now. Let's get back to the meeting, shall we? Please recall why we gathered here."
King Lecross tapped the table lightly and turned over a sheaf of documents.
Until the bet was struck, Derus said nothing at all. He simply stared at Glenn with sunken, unblinking eyes.
Steel screamed against steel. Runaan and the knight of Owen were driven five paces back from the center of the arena, the shock of the clash still ringing through the air.
"Hmph!"
The knight who had given her name as Jena shot forward like a gale and thrust at Runaan's left side. A razor-sharp sword aura bored in like a flash of lightning.
The waist.
Runaan blinked at the blade-tip hunting her shoulder and abdomen.
Slower than Raon.
In training, Raon's sword had come in with a speed and force so vicious it didn't feel like he was finding openings — it felt like he was shattering them. Compared to that nightmare, Jena's attack felt like being tapped with a tree branch.
Runaan dropped her stance a fraction and brought Snow Flower down. A blade steeped in blue frost casually knocked Jena's strike aside.
"Not bad! But this is where it really starts!"
Jena smiled, cold and bright, and rushed in again, hammering her sword down. Sword aura carrying a proud, rolling current linked together like a river in flood.
"Me too."
Runaan nodded with a placid face and raised a drift of frost.
"So am I."
She kicked off the floor and drove at Jena, moving faster than the incoming thrust and drawing Snow Flower across in a descending cut.
The two women poured out a dazzling storm of swordplay, hunting each other's openings with a ferocity that bordered on murderous. At first Jena seemed to have the upper hand — but the moment Runaan unfolded a sword art that looked as if it had been painted in moonlight, Jena began to be pushed back, step by step.
"You're still a long way from—"
Jena, who had been bounced off by Runaan's sword aura and was about to charge in again like a bull, stopped dead.
"Frost?"
Her armor and boots were frozen solid, glued to the floor. It wasn't only the armor. Her hands and feet wouldn't move properly either.
"Wh-when did...?"
"From the start."
Runaan blinked, wiping the frost blooming off her blade.
"Nngh..."
Jena tried to force herself into motion, but the cold had climbed not only through armor and flesh — it had filled her from the inside. She couldn't move.
"I-I lost."
She lifted the only hand that still worked and declared her defeat.
"You did well."
Runaan dipped her head, walked over, and erased the cold binding Jena in place.
"Woooooooooo!"
"Runaan! Runaan! Runaan!"
"Azure Moon Sword!"
"She won again!"
"Zieghart is actually insane. Unless they run into each other, they don't lose."
"I never thought the Light Wind Squad would be this strong..."
Spectators who had been dismissing House Zieghart before the match now roared themselves hoarse over Runaan's victory.
"Still, aren't they kind of scary?"
"Right? Every last one of them is a brawler. They never back off."
"Brawlers? More like dogs. Rabid dogs."
"Not Light Wind — Mad Dogs..."
"I actually like that better. It's so straightforward."
The Light Wind Squad's transformation into mad dogs spread through the crowd even faster than Rimer had feared. But because everyone here loved a fight, they didn't hate it. They liked it more.
"Good work."
Raon nodded to Runaan as she came down from her win.
"Mm. But Raon..."
Runaan toddled up to him and dropped her gaze.
"We don't need Focus Enhancement Training anymore, right?"
"No."
Raon shook his head without a hint of mercy.
"Every opponent so far has been weaker than you, so I still can't tell."
When he told her she still had a long way to go, Runaan's expression crumpled — just a little.
"You're so ugly..."
"Yeah, I know."
Whether it was Encia's influence or not, Runaan talked about looks a great deal. Raon had no interest in appearance whatsoever, so as an attack it meant absolutely nothing to him.
"Hmph."
Runaan wrinkled her nose and walked off toward the rest of the Light Wind Squad.
Raon watched her back, then turned his head toward the stands.
We're in the quarterfinals already...
Where is that man, and what is he doing?
Unlike Sheryl and Roen, who were attending Glenn, Rimer — who ought to have been here — had not appeared. Leaving the squad behind to go off and do who-knew-what was, frankly, beyond comprehension.
"Yeah! I won!"
He was shaking his head in exasperation when a familiar cheer erupted from the spectator seats.
There he is...
There he is, all right.
Wrath had spotted Rimer in the stands as well, and his face twisted.
"That kind of man requires educating. This King will—"
He started to raise a fist, then stopped.
"Y-you'd do a better job..."
Wrath's hand drooped as he remembered the Light Wind Squad training with their human skins stripped off. His jaw trembled. This one, he decided, was a human more wicked than a Demon King.
Don't worry. The moment I climb above that man, I'll kill... no. I'll educate him.
Raon smiled, cold as winter, and stared Rimer down in the stands.
Next, then...
He turned his gaze to the bracket floating in the air.
They're all doing well.
Unless they drew a fellow squad member, or the gap in skill was simply too wide, the Light Wind Squad did not lose. Three of them were already in the quarterfinals — Burren, Runaan, and Crain — and Marta would be joining them shortly.
Four out of eight in the quarterfinals...
Which meant two would reach the semis.
Unfortunately, Runaan and Burren had been drawn against each other, and Crain would run into the Third Prince and go out. In the end, the only ones advancing to the semifinals would be Marta and whichever of Runaan or Burren survived.
Should I tell one of them to stand down?
He considered pulling one of them for a guaranteed championship, then turned and looked back. Burren and Runaan were honing their focus, locking onto their opponent.
No need.
This tournament wasn't only about winning. Raising the swordsmen's skill mattered too. There was no call for an order to hold back.
I should start getting ready myself.
Today's matches only ran through the quarterfinals. The semifinals would be tomorrow, which meant it was time to prepare for the Master-level duels.
Raon narrowed his eyes at the man in referee's blacks standing beneath the bracket.
Matio.
Derus had apparently decided to observe him in earnest, because he had sent Matio as a referee. And Matio's covert glances were studying Raon more closely than the arena.
He isn't the only danger.
Fallen Heaven. Just as Merlin had warned him, Fallen Heaven was targeting him. The leaders of the Six Kings would attend tomorrow's semifinals and finals, which meant today was the only window the enemy could strike.
This place held not only Raon, but the futures of the other Six Kings as well. Fallen Heaven would absolutely make its move today.
Wait.
Raon dropped his gaze from the sky to Matio in his referee's uniform, and clicked his tongue thoughtfully.
I can decide when Fallen Heaven attacks.
Fallen Heaven would go for a gap. Which meant he could create one on purpose, and lure the attack in.
Raon closed his hand around the hilt of the Heavenly Sky Sword and let an eager smile slip free.
I can wipe out all these nuisances in one stroke.
After a short recess, a new announcer climbed onto the arena.
"Sorry to keep you waiting! We'll now begin the Expert-level quarterfinals!"
Perhaps to lift the flattened mood, he shouted with a brighter voice than the previous announcer.
"Unfortunately, Sir Ricky Laron of Valkar has withdrawn, so Swordswoman Marta Zieghart advances directly to the semifinals!"
The knight of Valkar who had been Marta's opponent had pulled out with an injury, sending her through automatically.
"Damn it! He ran away!"
Marta ground her teeth, furious that she had reached the semis without even getting to fight.
"If you're a martial artist, you should've died here!"
She stomped her foot, cursing Ricky Laron, who was presumably unconscious in the infirmary.
"Then we'll begin the first match! Oh! Would you look at that — it's a clash! Swordsman Burren of Zieghart versus Swordswoman Runaan of Zieghart!"
At the announcer's cry, Burren and Runaan climbed onto the arena from the left and right.
"Who do you think's gonna win?"
Marta came up beside Raon, eyes narrowing.
"Hard to say..."
Raon let out a faint breath, looking from Burren's fierce gaze to Runaan's still, quiet eyes.
"I wouldn't be surprised either way."
Setting Rimer and himself aside, the strongest in the Light Wind Squad was Marta, no matter who argued otherwise. But below her, Burren and Runaan's wins and losses had never been settled. From their trainee days until now, neither had ever held a lasting edge.
"This one's gonna be boring. Mad dogs or not, they'll recognize a comrade."
"Right? Even if they are those battle-crazed Ziegharts, the semis are right in front of them. One of them will give way."
"Burren's the one who'll go through, don't you think? He's ridiculously fast."
"Runaan's no slouch either. Stopping movement with frost is already at the level of a master!"
The crowd was certain the two of them wouldn't fight at full strength — they were both Zieghart, and the semifinals were a day away.
"Bunch of idiots."
Marta snorted at the spectators.
"Any idiot who doesn't go all-out in the fight in front of them has no right to wear the names of Zieghart and the Light Wind Squad! Am I wrong?"
"That's right!"
"Of course!"
The Light Wind Squad's swordsmen nodded in firm agreement.
"Hrm."
Raon turned and looked into their eyes. Conviction was already blooming there — the certainty that of course you fought with everything you had.
They've grown up well.
Their martial learning was still immature, but their spirits had already climbed a step as martial artists. A satisfied smile touched his mouth.
"Then let the first quarterfinal begin!"
The announcer dropped below the arena and raised a hand.
Before that hand could even point at the sky, Burren and Runaan moved as one.
Colossal sword auras crashed together at the center of the arena, and a freezing wind roared up into empty air. Blue frost poured down around the ring.
They struck again at close range. Blades of wind raining from above and blades of frost surging from below locked together, unfurling a vast wash of blue-white light.
"Kkrrgh!"
"Hup!"
Burren and Runaan poured out every ounce of power they had stored, as if they had met mortal enemies rather than fellow members of House Zieghart.
Wind and frost tangled without end, and a blue-white storm uncoiled across the arena.
"Wh-what is this...?"
"They're on the same side!"
"Why are they going all-out? The semis are tomorrow!"
"That's not going all-out — they're trying to kill each other!"
"They just bite whatever's in front of them?"
"They really are mad dogs..."
The spectators' mouths fell open as Burren and Runaan drove their swords at each other's vitals without the slightest restraint. No one had imagined they would throw themselves this sincerely at someone from their own faction with a decisive match waiting tomorrow. Everyone was stunned.
Whatever the crowd shouted, Runaan and Burren did not stop swinging. At a range where they could hear each other breathe, they poured out sword aura aimed at that very breath.
A killing gale split the frost's dull blade that had claimed the space, and biting cold crushed the roar of a wind-sword that was tearing the air apart.
They swung without a thought for matchups, and the will to win lived in every cut. Fighting at full strength, both of them were climbing toward a higher realm.
After a long collision, Burren and Runaan bounced apart at the same instant and came to stand at opposite ends of the arena.
"Hah..."
"Haaah..."
Their breathing had gone rough with exhaustion, but neither pair of eyes wavered in the slightest.
"I've wanted to beat you since our trainee days."
Burren clenched his molars and raised his sword. A sharp killing gale that ruled the North Sea surged up the silver blade.
"Let's settle it here."
"I'm going to win."
Runaan dipped her head, took Snow Flower in both hands, and drew it back as if she were drawing a bow. Blue frost warped like moonlight and raised a vast wave of presence.
The higher their auras climbed, the quieter the stands became. Silence settled as if the arena had turned into a library — until a tense spectator dropped the beer mug in his hand.
The instant the old mug shattered, Burren and Runaan kicked off the ground together.
A gale that could split the North Sea blazed from Burren's sword. Moonlight that looked ready to freeze the continent flickered on Runaan's.
Two colossal sword auras collided. The arena split without mercy, and a tremendous pulse of energy surged into the sky.
When the storm of mixed frost and wind finally sank, the arena came back into view. Runaan and Burren lay collapsed at its center, eyes closed. Even while enduring that enormous shock, they seemed to have swung until the very end.
"Huu..."
Raon worked the Ring of Fire, checked both of their conditions, and let out a breath of relief.
No serious injuries.
Both of them had wrung their aura to the limit and collapsed from exhaustion. There was nothing grave, and nothing large.
"B-Burren. Runaan. Unable to continue! Th-there is no winner!"
The announcer swallowed dryly at a situation he could barely believe, and eliminated them both.
"S-stretchers! Get up here now!"
The waiting healers carried the two of them off toward the medical tent.
"Ohh..."
"Uooooooooh!"
"They're insane! Actually insane!"
"Are they really the same faction? Why are they this crazy for a fight!"
"Zieghart! Zieghart!"
"Light Wind Squad! Light Wind Squad!"
The onlookers who had first sneered at House Zieghart now screamed themselves raw at the Light Wind swordsmen's overwhelming martial power and the fighting spirit that made no distinction of opponent. From the round of sixteen onward, the loudest cheers in the stands had belonged, without question, to Zieghart.
"Azure Moon Sword! Azure Moon Sword!"
"Whirlwind Sword! Whirlwind Sword!"
The crowd hung epithets on Runaan and Burren — Azure Moon and Whirlwind — and roared loud enough that even the unconscious pair might have heard it.
"Hah!"
"Are they lunatics?"
"Why would they go that far against their own side...?"
"They really are mad dogs..."
Martial artists from the other factions stared at the Zieghart swordsmen, eyes trembling as if they had seen enough.
That one looks shaken too.
Raon smiled at Matio's awkward expression.
You should watch as much as you can right now.
Today will be the last day you stand as a referee.
"You're going to take him out? Here?"
Wrath narrowed his eyes as if Raon had said something absurd.
"That's right. I can't kill him — but I can remove him."
"How, exactly?"
"Fight poison with poison."
Raon looked up at the blue sky and smiled, cold and thin.
Poison had to be driven out with poison.