The Black Metal Armor Crumbles

A thunderous crash shook the arena.

A Beast Alliance warrior built like a bison collapsed in a charred heap, and across from him Princess Jayna lifted her chin, a cold smile playing on her lips.

"The final slot in the Expert-rank quarterfinals goes to Princess Jayna of the Balkar Kingdom!"

The announcer climbed onto the arena floor and thrust a fist into the air.

"WOOOOO!"

"Princess!"

"Princess Jayna! I'm dying over here!"

"As expected — the Beast Alliance's natural counter is Balkar!"

"To take down that monster so easily… looks, skill — she's got it all!"

The crowd roared Jayna's name until the arena itself seemed ready to shake apart.

"With that, all four quarterfinal slots of the Expert division have been filled! One seat remains vacant, unfortunately, but the sheer intensity of the matches more than made up for it!"

The announcer brought up Burren and Runaan's hard-fought duel once more and told the crowd to look forward to tomorrow.

"Hmph."

Raon studied the bracket and gave a slow nod.

So that's how it ended up.

The first quarterfinal slot was empty. The second belonged to Grier, the Third Prince of Owen. The third was Marta's. And the last was Jayna's.

House Zieghart could have claimed two of the four quarterfinal seats, but Raon felt no regret. Marta would win in the end, after all.

He watched Jayna basking in the arena's cheers, a cool smile on his lips.

"Ugh!"

The moment she felt his gaze, her shoulders trembled and she hurried down from the floor.

"Hmm."

Wrath smacked his lips as he watched Jayna's retreating back.

"That brat. You've got her on a leash, haven't you?"

That's right. That's why she's so nervous.

She'd signed a Special Contract promising to grant three requests. It wasn't an exaggeration to say Raon held her leash.

"Couldn't you use that to make her forfeit?"

I could, but then Marta would kill me.

Even at her most stubborn, Marta wanted a fair fight. Forcing Princess Jayna to forfeit would cause an uproar.

And she doesn't need that kind of help to win. You know that.

She'd be at a slight disadvantage compared to the Third Prince, who'd advanced straight to the finals, but Marta would still come out on top.

"This King merely wished to let the beef girl fight in slightly better condition."

Honestly…

Raon let out a short laugh. A Demon King who doted on his subordinates. No matter how many times he saw it, the creature never ceased to amaze him.

"That concludes today's Expert-rank matches! But there's no need to feel disappointed — because the Master-rank bouts begin right now!"

The announcer stretched a hand toward the sky, and mages traced lines of mana through the air, painting the Master-rank bracket in the empty space above. Unlike the Expert division's field of 128, the Master bracket held only sixteen names.

Then again, sixteen was an extraordinary number in its own right.

These weren't just any Masters. Sixteen Masters under the age of forty, gathered in one place — a figure that could never have existed if the vast powers of the Six Kings had not come together.

"WOOOOO!"

"Wave Sword! Wave Sword!"

"Spear-Point Sword! Spear-Point Sword!"

"At this rate those two are going to meet in the finals!"

"What are you talking about? Garona's here — the one who tore a dragon apart!"

"Don't you see Matis, the Black Metal Armor? Throw sloppy swordsmanship at that man and you'll snap in half!"

The spectators shouted over one another, each championing whoever they believed would take the title.

"Raon Zieghart looks pretty solid too, doesn't he?"

"Right? After watching those Zieghart kids fight in the Expert division, the Frost-Flower Sword Hero's got to be something else."

"Come on, that's not the same thing! Expert and Master aren't even comparable!"

"Exactly. The Frost-Flower Sword Hero got kidnapped and had to be rescued like some princess!"

"Kidnapping aside, his skill is a step below the others."

A handful of spectators named Raon as a contender, but their voices were quickly drowned beneath the weight of the other names, and the talk died out.

Raon paid them no mind. He studied the bracket, tapping a finger against his arm.

First opponent is Matis, the Black Metal Armor of Balkar.

True to his epithet, Matis was a specialist in defense — a knight of legend, whose protected mages had never once fallen in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠battle.

And after that, Borini Kitten.

If he beat the Black Metal Armor in the round of sixteen, his next opponent would be Borini Kitten of the Owen Kingdom, widely regarded as a favorite to win the whole thing.

After Borini Kitten, tomorrow's semifinals would likely bring Garona, the Dragon-Cleaving Asura — and the finals, Cadis Robert, the Wave Sword.

The strong ones are all packed into the front half.

Most of the renowned fighters had been clustered on one side of the bracket, which meant Cadis Robert, whose name sat at the very back, would face easy opponents all the way through.

Did you people arrange this too?

It could have been coincidence. But looking at Matio, who was serving as a referee, Raon couldn't shake the feeling that House Robert had put their hands on the bracket.

"Huh?"

Marta frowned as she studied the draw.

"Isn't this ridiculously stacked against you?"

She scowled at the cluster of powerhouses packed into the front half.

"The back half is empty as if someone designed it that way."

"I'm actually grateful."

Raon looked at the bracket again, a gentle smile on his face.

"What?"

"They're giving me the chance to pick my fights against the strong. I'm so thankful I almost want to pay them for it."

The whole reason he'd wanted to attend this gathering in the first place was to cross blades with the other factions' elites. Now the bracket had arranged exactly that, and he couldn't help but smile.

Today's last opponent is perfect, too.

Borini Kitten was a fighter even Raon, as he stood now, could not afford to take lightly. There was no better opponent for drawing out Tatcheon's attack.

"You really are something else…"

Marta let out a weary sigh. She watched the spectator stands for a moment, then twisted her mouth and turned her head.

"Doesn't it feel a little off, though?"

"What does?"

"Barely anyone's picking you to win. Our names were worth dirt, sure — but why are they ignoring you?"

"I got kidnapped by Merlin."

Raon shrugged.

"Kidnapped? Are you fucking kidding me? Who here could've held out against the 10th Apostle and Merlin? Not a single person on that bracket could've gotten away!"

She jabbed a finger at the draw, getting angry on his behalf.

"That doesn't matter. All they see is the result — that I was kidnapped, and that I had to be rescued."

Marta was right. Anyone here would have been taken just the same. But he was the only one it had actually happened to, and saying so now would change nothing.

"Still, thanks to all of you, my name's risen with yours."

Raon looked out over the arena, his eyes gone still and cold.

"It's my turn now."

"Ugh…"

He took the hilt of the Heavenly Sky Sword, a frigid smile touching his lips. Marta swallowed without realizing it.

"This is boring! Meetings are boring!"

Chamber kicked her legs against the conference table, lips pushed out in a pout.

"Honestly. That mouth of yours never rests for even a moment."

Ogram glared at her, grinding his teeth.

"Did you think a strategy meeting was going to be fun?"

"I'd forgotten, it's been so long. If I'd known, I would've just sent the king."

Chamber grinned, speaking of the Balkar king as if he were some errand boy.

"I'm bored. Let's see how the results turned out."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and traced lines of mana through the air.

The Expert-rank quarterfinal bracket still hanging over the arena, along with the Master-rank bracket about to begin, bloomed into existence above the table.

"Oh, the old man's granddaughter and our princess both made it up. Your third son's a bye? He's going straight to the finals! Lucky him."

They'd been pretending not to care, but the moment the brackets appeared, every pair of eyes in the room sharpened and locked onto the names.

"Damn it all!"

"Hrm…"

Ogram and Derus both frowned at the absence of any Beast Alliance name in the Expert-rank quarterfinals.

"Huh? Looks like the Zieghart kids ran into each other in the quarterfinals and both got eliminated."

Chamber pulled up the bracket beneath it as well and cackled.

"These kids are idiots! Why fight each other and take each other out? Just forfeit!"

"No."

Glenn shook his head. A satisfied smile touched his face as he looked at Burren and Runaan's names.

"This is enough."

"Hmph. Swordsmen with nothing but blades for brains. You'll never get it."

Chamber shot him a sideways look and lifted the Master-rank bracket higher.

"Huh? The old man's grandson is up against our kid here too!"

She pointed at Matis's name and grinned.

"What to do? Our Matis's epithet is Black Metal Armor, you know."

"Black Metal Armor?"

"Not a sword — armor. It means he's as hard as plate forged from black iron of the highest temper."

Chamber licked her lips as she looked at Raon's name sitting beside Matis's.

"Matis has withstood even Upper Master-level blades. Can Raon break that defense?"

"Their next opponent would be our Sir Borini Kitten."

King Lecross smiled as he regarded Borini Kitten's name. His opponent was a tier below the others, and the king already seemed to consider him as good as advanced.

"Whoever comes up, it should be entertaining."

"It's all meaningless."

Ogram slammed a fist onto the table, baring sharp teeth.

"Whichever of the three makes it through, Garona will tear them apart tomorrow!"

A thick smile spread across his face, absolute conviction in his eyes.

"Hmm. Our child seems to have gotten a rather fortunate bracket."

Derus licked his lips as he looked at Cadis's name, sitting in the last slot of the round of sixteen.

"Hey, old man. I'll give you a chance to back out while you still can."

Ogram smiled coldly and lifted his chin.

"Beat the Black Metal Armor, the Spear-Point Sword, and the Dragon-Cleaving Asura, then take the championship? I'll grant the boy's a genius in his own right, but this is impossible."

He waved a hand as if the matter were already settled.

"Withdraw now, before he has his sword taken and gets humiliated."

"Ogram. Your tongue's grown longer since I last saw you."

Glenn smiled at his ease and pushed the Heavenly True Sword a little farther across the table.

"Are you that lacking in confidence in your own son?"

He shook his head, his expression calm.

Glenn's unadorned words sent a warmth through the chamber that had nothing to do with fighting spirit.

"Wow, old man! You've gotten even cooler since I last saw you!"

Chamber giggled and scooted over beside Glenn.

"A softness melting into the cold. I find I prefer this Glenn as well."

King Lecross smiled and nodded.

"It certainly is a pleasant sight."

Derus smiled brightly as he looked down at the Heavenly True Sword. But unlike his mouth, his eyes held not even the faintest trace of a smile.

"We will now begin the first match of the round of sixteen. Frost-Flower Sword Hero Raon Zieghart versus ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Black Metal Armor Matis Kiserm! Please take the arena!"

At the announcer's call, Raon walked onto the floor. From the opposite side came a knight of ordinary height but a frame as dense and solid as a dwarf's.

His presence is unshakable.

He looked a little older than the Continental Twelve Stars gathered here, but his skill was in no way inferior. Mid-rank Master. Raon could feel a blade of aura that had been tempered with genuine care.

"Are both of you ready?"

The announcer looked from one to the other, eyes gleaming.

"Yes."

"I am ready."

Raon and Matis nodded — not at the announcer, but at each other.

"Then the second bout — begin!"

The announcer dropped back down from the arena and raised his hand.

A low, rolling pressure filled the air.

The match had started, but neither Raon nor Matis moved. They watched each other, quietly raising their presence.

He's strong.

There wasn't a single gap to be seen. It felt like looking at a shield or a suit of armor hammered into shape by a master craftsman.

Not that I couldn't break through.

If he went all out — if he used the secret arts of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames, or the swordsmanship he had created himself — he was confident he could shatter that defense.

But then…

There would be no point in having come here.

He had come to watch other people's swordsmanship and to develop the still-immature Mad Fang Sword and Snow Wind Sword Art. He couldn't afford to waste an opportunity this good.

This is going to be satisfying to break open.

The Mad Fang Sword was a sensory blade that created openings in an opponent. The Snow Wind Sword Art was a severing blade that cut an enemy's flow and breath. The man standing in front of him was the perfect opponent for growing both.

That aside, he's staring at me like hell.

Matio's blatant gaze pressed against his back. The man wasn't interfering, but the stare alone was enough to irritate him.

I'll have to wipe that out.

In the match against his next opponent, Borini Kitten, he'd be able to erase that gaze for good.

"Seems we're both ready…"

Raon locked his focus back on Matis and drove his foot into the ground.

"Let's begin!"

He slipped in on Matis's right and unleashed the Mad Fang Sword's Hundred Beast Fang. The strike fell like lightning, a predator driving its fangs into prey.

"Hmph!"

Matis didn't so much as flinch. He raised his blade on a diagonal, and a solid wall of aura followed the motion like a breath.

A ringing crash exploded between them. Sparks of searing red filled the air as sword met sword.

Neither Raon nor Matis was driven back by the shockwave. They simply pushed their blades into each other.

It didn't even faze him.

He had drawn the Mad Fang Sword to its extreme, and Matis's balance hadn't so much as trembled. It felt like striking a massive boulder with a sword.

Harder than he looks.

Raon twisted the locked Heavenly Sky Sword downward and drove the Mad Fang Sword's Blood Fang Cleave up from below. Originally a descending cut, it was a technique he could now unleash from any angle.

A savage edge laced with the breath of flame seared into Matis's aura. But in that fleeting instant, Matis raised an even denser wall of Ganggi and cut the Blood Fang Cleave short.

A booming impact split the Ganggi and sent it crashing into a corner of the arena. If the floor hadn't been warded by magic, it would have punched a hole straight through.

"A nineteen-year-old who strikes with more force than the Beast Alliance and a sharper edge than Owen…"

Matis parted slightly trembling lips.

"It's absurd."

"I'm not that remarkable."

Raon shook his head with a faint smile.

"You weren't a man who could be judged by a kidnapping."

Matis spun his sword and reset his stance.

"But not yet. I cannot yield today's victory."

"That's something we'll only know once we try."

Raon dropped his stance. He ignited the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames and stepped into the Supreme Harmony Footwork. Leaving footprints like a demon of fire, he charged straight at Matis.

A roaring crash. The Mad Fang Sword's successive waves became a storm of flame, driving Matis back.

A grinding, ringing clash. Even as the Mad Fang Sword's assault grew fiercer, Matis neither retreated nor gave ground.

He stood exactly where he was and blocked every strike. It was a martial force that suited the epithet of Armor far too well.

Time to switch.

Raon circulated Glacia and unfolded the Snow Wind Sword Art. A wind laden with cold plunged down like a waterfall.

A ringing crash. Even with the flow of the swordsmanship reversed a full hundred and eighty degrees, Matis's defense did not so much as tremble.

"Heat didn't work, so now it's cold? Crude."

"Whether it's crude or not — you can tell me when this is over."

Raon drove his foot into the ground, a smile as cold as the frost clinging to his blade.

Matis narrowed his eyes as he cut off Raon's endlessly falling strikes.

Clumsy.

He seemed to have switched swordsmanship because he couldn't break the defense, but his achievement in this new style was far lower than the fire swordsmanship he'd shown first.

Still a child, then.

To fall back on a weaker sword art out of desperation at failing to crack a defense — the skill itself was remarkable, but the lack of experience was inevitable.

No. That's only natural.

The years Matis had spent swinging a sword outnumbered Raon's entire life. A vast gap in experience, not merely in skill, was unavoidable. The fact that a nineteen-year-old could even reach this far was extraordinary.

I should end this at a reasonable point.

The swordsmanship was immature, but its power could not be taken lightly. If he absorbed any more of these impacts, it could affect the next match. He decided to finish this quickly.

Then… wait?

He had perfectly suppressed Raon's swordsmanship with his defense and was about to counter — but strangely, he couldn't find an opening.

What is this…

No — it wasn't that he couldn't find an opening. Raon's swordsmanship had begun to shake his defense.

A massive shock drove his wrist back.

I… was pushed?

But there was no time to be surprised. Raon's sword was still coming.

Blade met blade in a relentless chain. His arms rang. His legs wavered.

He grew? Here? Now?

It wasn't that his strength had increased. The achievement of his swordsmanship was advancing at a speed that defied all reason.

"You… what are you…"

"Not yet. I've still got a long way to go if I want to push this higher."

There was no mockery in Raon, no lightness. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A grave light in his eyes. In this moment, every shred of his spirit was concentrated in the swing of his sword.

A heavy boom. Matis twisted his blade face and formed the Fortress Sword's Blood Iron Bow, but Raon's frost-wreathed swordsmanship cut through the flow of his aura and detonated a massive shock inside it.

"Kh—!"

He tried to hold it in, but the pain of bone resonating and muscle tearing forced a groan through his lips.

What the hell is this kid?

It had clearly been clumsy. A swordsmanship that should never have worked against him. And yet, before he knew it, the forms and the aura had meshed like gear teeth, becoming a blade that was growing harder and harder to defend against.

If this keeps up, I'll be pushed back without doing a thing!

The thought that he would lose without accomplishing anything if he simply kept enduring sent a chill crawling up his spine.

"RAAAAH!"

Matis roared and stamped a true step into the earth. He swept the blade that had been pointing at the ground upward and detonated every last drop of his aura.

Defense was offense. From a sword held in a guarding stance, an extreme wave erupted — the secret art of the Fortress Sword, Heavy Current Blast. A spiral of Ganggi shot forward like a flash of light, aiming for Raon's abdomen.

A booming crash. Raon did not stop his steps. He drove in even faster, bringing the sword gripped in both hands down in a crushing arc. Blue lightning bloomed along the blade and collided with the Heavy Current Blast.

A shrieking grind of ice and force. The frost on his blade spread like a halo of light, and the Heavy Current Blast bent, its trajectory ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠warped and broken.

This lunatic—!

He twisted the flow!

Now he understood. Why the defense had been so difficult. Why the boy's sword momentum had grown harder and harder to stop.

Raon's swordsmanship wasn't merely powerful. It possessed the quality of disrupting the opponent's flow — the ability of a severing blade, rare in this world.

"Damn it!"

Matis retreated, unfolding a defensive form of the Fortress Sword, but Raon was faster.

He crashed in in an instant, shattered the unfinished guard, and drove his left fist into Matis's abdomen.

A sickening crunch. The black-iron armor crumpled, and a colossal shock erupted through Matis's gut.

"Ghhk…"

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

What kind of power is this…

He had concentrated his aura in his abdomen to defend, and still the pain was enough to blank his mind. It was more force than even a Beast Alliance Master who claimed to be first with his fists.

Raon did not let the opening slip. He struck the back of Matis's neck with the flat of his blade. Matis collapsed onto the arena floor without even a scream.

"Well fought."

Raon offered Matis a courteous bow, as if the outcome had been a matter of course. A little dust on his uniform. That was the price of bringing down the Master of Balkar known as the Black Metal Armor.

The spectators, the referees, the announcer — none of them could speak. They simply stared, dazed, at Raon standing on the arena floor.

"W-what did I just watch?"

"Black Metal Armor Matis, that easily?"

"No — the one dominating was the Black Metal Armor. How did it suddenly turn into this?"

"H-his swordsmanship looked clumsy, though…"

"It evolved while they were fighting. I don't even know what I just saw."

The crowd let out empty breaths, their faces gone slack with disbelief.

"I can't believe it…"

"I've never seen anyone break Matis's defense like that."

"Did his skill actually improve? Or was he hiding it?"

The waiting fighters narrowed their eyes, equally unable to accept what they had witnessed.

"Th-the winner of the first match is Swordsman Raon Zieghart! He doesn't have a single scratch — I don't know whether to call this a hard-won victory or a casual one!"

The announcer's voice shook as he declared Raon's win.

Raon offered a light bow and stepped down from the arena.

"The next match: Spear-Point Sword Sir Borini Kitten versus Ironheart Spear Sir Graton Boren!"

Even as the two fighters for the second match took the floor, the spectators were still talking of nothing but Raon's bout.

Raon looked at the arena, its heat yet to fade, and licked his lips.

Tatcheon will be aiming for the next one.

His quarterfinal opponent would be Borini Kitten, who had just stepped onto the floor — and it wouldn't end as easily as the first match.

Which means it's the perfect opportunity for him.

A clash between the strong didn't just hold the fighters themselves. It held everyone around them. In other words, the perfect moment for a surprise attack. Tatcheon would never miss a chance to wipe out everyone here.

Of course, it won't go that way.

Raon watched the second match begin, a cold smile on his face.

I'll make excellent use of your ambush.