From This Day Forth, You Are My Brother
A roar like splitting sky tore through the arena.
Garona's fist crashed down like a thunderbolt. Ganggi charged with ferocious rotation howled forth in a storm.
"Hup."
Raon did not give ground. He drove a rooted step into the shattered floor of the arena, planted himself there, and stoked the flames of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames to their utmost as he channeled Spiral Power.
Savage currents of ganggi collided again and again, and a strange crimson vortex surged up from the point of impact.
"Hah."
Raon spat a breath laced with the scent of blood. Through a whirl of ganggi sharp enough to strip the skin from his bones, he watched Garona gathering himself for the next punch.
I've finished reading his martial art.
Meeting Garona head-on had been enough. He had absorbed every principle behind the man's fist. He was confident he could reproduce those punches identically, right now, if he wanted to.
But that isn't what I want.
No imitation, however perfect, could surpass the original. He might rattle Garona's composure for a moment — but a victory like that would be meaningless.
Because what I'm after isn't victory.
A foothold. A way to climb higher.
Mathis. Borini Kitten. And now Garona. The point of these fights was to take the strengths of each opponent and make them his own, so he could rise to a higher realm. The only reason he was still standing here, enduring a headache sharp enough to split his skull, was that.
"The smile's gone from your face."
The ganggi blazing around Garona's fists warped inward, compressing.
"To think you've only just reached your limit. You really are a vicious one."
The words were harsh, but a smile had found its way onto Garona's mouth. It might have been a trick of the light — but he seemed to like what he was looking at.
"Where there is a beginning, there is an end."
"You are a man this Garona acknowledges. I will give you an ending worthy of that."
Garona cocked his right fist back over his shoulder and clamped his left hand around his right wrist. All that was visible was his back and the whites of his eyes — yet the fighting spirit rolling off him climbed until it seemed to touch the sky.
"I don't need your acknowledgment."
Raon adjusted his grip on the Heavenly Sky Sword. He settled into the most fundamental of a swordsman's stances — the middle guard — and raised the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames to its peak.
Fire bloomed from the torn-up floor of the arena and rose like heat-haze, swallowing the space around him.
"This is the end!"
Garona charged, the arena crumbling beneath his stride. In a fraction of a heartbeat his fist filled Raon's entire field of vision.
A low, grinding rumble built in the air.
The punch he threw from that range carried the force of a sky-splitting blow. Fail to defend properly, and every bone in his body would be crushed to powder.
Seven rings resonated as one, their clear chime lifting the grade of his existence and honing his focus to a razor's edge.
In the slowed stretch of time, Raon stepped forward with his left foot. He rotated the joint of his ankle and the muscle around it as he pressed into the earth.
The rotation that surged up from the floor climbed through his thigh and his erector muscles, traveled the length of his arm, and linked into his wrist. What had begun as a twist no thicker than a breeze had become a typhoon by the time it unfurled along the blade.
Aura. Joint. Muscle. Three successive twists, all in the same direction, and a vast heat roared to life.
Unlike every Revolving Heaven that had come before, the flames of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames gathered in a sphere at the sword's tip, generating a spiral force of terrifying intensity.
"That is…"
Garona's eyes flew wide as he stared at the sun-like orb of light blooming on the point of the blade.
"If you don't want to die, brace yourself."
Raon clenched his molars and brought the Heavenly Sky Sword down. Revolving Heaven of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames — packed with ferocious rotation and explosive force — fell upon Garona's punch.
"You make it enjoyable right to the last!"
Garona's eyes flashed. He drove his fist straight into Revolving Heaven.
Power against power. As in every exchange until now, neither Raon nor Garona so much as considered evasion. They poured everything they had into each other.
The newly evolved Revolving Heaven and Garona's full-powered finishing blow met head-on. A shockwave that had been compressed to its limit detonated outward, sweeping the surroundings. The earth sank. The clouds were wiped from the sky.
A piercing ring filled the air.
Through that impact, Raon and Garona shoved sword and fist toward one another. The force of the blade and the force of the fist were even — but Garona still had one weapon left.
Power gathered in Garona's loosely closed fist. A second punch erupted on the heels of the first. Heavy ganggi rolled in like a wave wave.
"It's over!"
Garona bared his teeth in a grin, certain of victory.
Light flared in Raon's eyes.
As if I would forget that.
Raon smiled coldly and twisted the Heavenly Sky Sword. A blade could not be clenched like a fist to add impact — so he created the same phenomenon by turning the edge.
Two attacks, the same in number. But even within that sameness, there was a difference. Where Garona had simply driven his fist with raw power, Raon laid rotation into the joint and muscle of his wrist.
It was a faint twist — he could not recruit any other joints or muscles — but it was enough.
The second bloom of Revolving Heaven's flame shattered Garona's ganggi and carved across his chest.
A spray of crimson burst from the sword-wound etched into Garona's torso. He could not withstand the shock. He dropped to one knee on the collapsed earth and caught himself with a hand. The cut had not reached his internals — but the force behind it had been so great his body simply could not hold.
"Y-you. That last attack… you copied it from watching me."
"I did."
It was, in fact, a method he had conceived from watching Garona's punch, so he nodded. He said nothing about the rotation of muscle. No need to give the man another shock.
"What a terrifying talent."
Garona lifted his head, breathing hard. The blood that had been flowing from the wound on his chest had already stopped.
He's not even from the White Blood Cult…
The regeneration and durability were frightening. No matter how Raon looked at him, the man was less a human being than a troll.
"Hah…"
Garona shook his head to clear it and pushed himself to his feet.
"I lost."
Without the slightest hesitation, he took Raon's hand and raised it high.
At Garona's declaration, sound rushed back into the arena that had fallen silent.
"Waaaaaaaah!"
"Raon! Raon! Raon!"
"That was the greatest match I've ever seen!"
"I've never had a duel set my blood on fire like that!"
"Garona! You were incredible too!"
"That was a real warriors' fight!"
The spectators unleashed every voice they had been holding back, and the cheers rolled on without end.
"Brother. Hearing them shout your name makes even me feel good."
Garona thumped Raon on the back and grinned.
"Brother?"
Raon's mouth fell open. He had no idea what this troll of a man was talking about.
"Among our Black Beast Tribe, there is a custom. We acknowledge as brothers those with whom we have clashed, body and heart, with everything we have. Your full strength struck my heart exactly as it was. From this day forward, you are my brother! Raon Zieghart!"
Garona pounded his own chest with a thud and smiled. Raon's jaw dropped at the sight of a man who had just been cut by a sword cheerfully beating the wound.
"I wasn't planning on becoming brothers with you…"
"What a cold thing to say! My heart must have reached you as well! The bond between us will run deeper than that of blood brothers! Once the Black Beast Tribe names a brother, we never abandon him!"
He let out a great, unrestrained laugh and seized Raon by the shoulder.
"Brother! The duel is over, so how about a meal…"
"I'm fine, thank you."
"Brother!"
Raon sighed, shook his head, and climbed down from the arena.
Not a single one of them is normal…
"Bwahahahaha!"
Ogram exploded with laughter, crushing the armrest of his chair in his grip.
"Good! That's good!"
Garona had lost. Raon had copied a secret art of the Black Beast Tribe right in front of him. And Ogram was delighted anyway.
"The boy put on a fight worthy of our tribe! He's more than fit to be acknowledged as a brother!"
Ogram waved a hand, thoroughly satisfied that Garona and Raon had become brothers.
"Old man. You've raised one hell of a grandson. First Zieghart I've ever actually liked!"
"Ahem. You're too loud. Close that mouth of yours."
Glenn flicked a hand and turned his face toward empty air. Where no one could see it, the corner of his mouth crept upward.
"Watching those children duel, I felt my heart race. I feel twenty years younger."
King Lecross was flushed with excitement as well. He nodded, color high in his face.
"It was certainly a duel that defied every prediction. I'd watch it again if I could."
Derus smiled as if impressed — but his eyes had not moved at all.
"So this is what they call a real man these days."
Chamber whistled, twirling a finger.
"Old man. Must be nice, having a grandson like that. Everyone's shouting our pretty boy's name and nothing else."
She beamed as Raon's name burst from the mouths of the crowd.
"As if that means anything."
Glenn snorted without turning his head. At that moment he was trembling all the way to his fingertips, fighting with everything he had to keep a smile from shooting off his face and into the sky.
Behind him, Roen watched Glenn's cheek twitch and slowly shook his head.
Just admit it already…
After receiving treatment in the infirmary, Raon returned to the arena. Repairing the dueling ground had taken so long that the second semifinal of the Master division was only just beginning.
The arena had been restored to a pristine state. Cadis and his opponent — Ron, the Mage of Annihilation — were already standing on the floor.
Raon studied Ron on the right first.
The Mage of Annihilation.
Ron held a place among the Continental Twelve Stars, but unlike Cadis and Borini Kitten, who ranked in the middle tier, his name sat ninth — in the lower ranks. He was clearly an outstanding mage. The gap in ability, however, was obvious. The winner of this match might as well have been decided already.
I hope Ron goes down without putting up a fight.
"What?"
Wrath tilted his head, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"Is that not the son of your sworn enemy?"
It is.
"Thy condition is poor. Would it not be better if that one struggled his way up here as well?"
That's not the point.
Raon shook his head.
There's no meaning unless I beat a man at full strength, with his stamina and aura completely intact. He won't even be able to hold his head up after that.
Just winning wasn't enough. If he — injured, drained of stamina and aura — defeated Cadis in peak condition, it would grind their pride into the dirt that much more thoroughly.
"Thy way of thinking belongs to neither human nor demon. Filthy heavens…"
Wrath shuddered, genuinely disgusted.
"Hrm."
Raon narrowed his eyes at Cadis.
He's in a foul mood.
The man's expression was as cold as a sheet of ice. He was making no effort to hide how little he liked the present situation.
Of course he doesn't.
Cadis cared about fame even more than Derus did, and he loved being the center of attention. Yesterday and today, Raon and Garona had taken every eye in the arena. Being reduced to a sideshow had clearly filled him to the brim with irritation.
Don't worry.
Raon smiled coldly and closed his fist.
That irritation will turn into despair soon enough.
He was already curious what kind of face Cadis would make when he lost in the finals.
"The second Master-rank semifinal will now begin!"
The announcer stepped down from the platform and dropped his hand.
A deep hum filled the air.
The first to move was not Cadis, but Ron, the Mage of Annihilation. He spread both hands, and crimson mana unfurled around him.
Annihilation: to strike and erase. Ron was a mage who wielded bloodline magic, manipulating scarlet mana imbued with the power of annihilation to wipe away not only objects, but aura itself.
As Ron's hands moved, the annihilation mana sharpened into spears and shot toward Cadis.
Cadis did not so much as flinch. He swept his sword down. Aura rippled softly along the blade and let the annihilation energy slide past.
It was the Azure Cloud Manifestation Sword — the Robert family's pride, a technique that was at once a heavy sword and a flowing sword.
Ganggi drifted through the air as if painting pictures in empty space, and every one of Ron's attacks was turned aside. No — it almost looked as if the annihilation energy were avoiding Cadis of its own accord.
He's mastered the Azure Cloud Manifestation Sword completely.
Cadis's martial power was on a different level from the other mid-tier Continental Twelve Stars. From his sword, ganggi that was both heavy and supple spread like flowing water.
"Hnnngh!"
Ron chanted at high speed, brought his hands together, and splayed his fingers.
The scarlet mana that had been pushed aside by Cadis's sword and scattered through the surroundings began to move all at once.
"Hah."
Raon clicked his tongue as he watched the annihilation energy stir as if it were alive.
Even in the lower ranks, he's still one of the Continental Twelve Stars. He was setting this up?
Raon had thought the annihilation energy had been brushed aside far too easily. Apparently Ron had been feeding the mana away on purpose, preparing this ambush.
Hundreds of strands of annihilation energy became blades of every size and poured down at once. Even for Cadis, that was not an easy number to block in full.
Cadis dropped the tip of his sword, rotated his ankle, and swept the blade upward. The annihilation mana that had been flying toward him was drawn in like iron to a magnet, following the current of ganggi he had raised.
Just as even the mightiest river is in the end swallowed by the sea, the annihilation energy was consumed by Cadis's ganggi, turned into a wave, and sent roaring back at Ron.
"W-what is this!"
Ron tried to hold it back by force, but there was no stopping a wave that had already broken. He was hurled violently from the arena and slammed into the bare ground.
"Khack…"
Ron coughed blood and shook his head.
"I-I yield."
"T-the winner is Blue Sword, Cadis Robert!"
At the announcer's declaration, Cadis raised a hand. He descended from the arena, checked Ron's condition, and bowed his head.
"Waaaaaaaah!"
"He crushed him! Completely crushed him!"
"That's the Continental Twelve Stars for you! Rank really does tell!"
"That was magnificent too. Truly the Sword Saint of the future."
"There hasn't been a single dull match in this whole tournament."
"Hell yes! And the way he looked after the loser afterward — that's class!"
The spectators applauded Cadis for overwhelming Ron and then attending to the defeated.
"Hm?"
While Raon was looking at Cadis's back, the man turned, and their eyes met. Cadis wore the same smile as Derus — warm on the surface, and underneath it, a sneer.
Raon, unlike them, let the smile reach his eyes as he curled the corner of his mouth.
That smile will be gone soon enough.
Once the competitors' rest period ended, the spectators gathered in the arena once more. Four hours had been granted to recover from injuries and restore aura, but more than half the crowd had stayed in their seats rather than risk losing a good view.
The announcer felt a chill at that heat as he climbed onto the dueling ground.
"Thank you for waiting!"
He spread both arms wide and bowed to the entire audience.
"The finals of the Six Kings Duel Assembly will now begin!"
"Waaaaaaaah!"
"We've been waiting!"
"I skipped a meal and held out for four hours!"
"Just start already!"
The spectators waved their arms, begging him to get on with it. If he dragged it out any longer, they looked ready to kill him.
"Ahaha. The heat in here could cook a man. Very well."
The announcer wiped a cold sweat and nodded.
"We will begin with the Expert-rank finals! Marta Zieghart versus Grier de Owen! Please take the arena!"
"Yeaaaaaah!"
"Martaaaaa!"
"Your Highness! Win this!"
At his call, another thunderous roar erupted over the arena. Cheers for the Third Prince were only to be expected — but the ovation for Marta was no weaker.
"Huuu…"
Marta stepped onto the arena and clenched her fist.
This is enough.
The aftereffects of her injuries were still there, but not so severe that she couldn't fight. Considering how far she had grown thanks to Raon, she could perform at her usual level without any trouble.
She lifted her head and looked at the Third Prince of Owen standing across from her. When they had first met he had been an infuriating, slippery little snake. Now he carried himself like a man who had been properly tempered.
"I have wanted to cross blades with you since the day we first met."
The Third Prince offered a faint smile and squared his shoulders.
"I remember. You said you'd fight me after you beat Raon."
When the Owen delegation had arrived at House Zieghart, he had looked down on Raon and named her as his next opponent on the spot.
"I did. And I was thoroughly defeated by Swordsman Raon. Even now, I kick my blankets in my sleep when I think of it."
The Third Prince gave an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.
"But it was because of that experience that I was able to become stronger."
His bearing shifted in an instant. It was the sharp, lofty presence unique to the knights of the Owen Kingdom. A profound energy gathered in his eyes.
"Same here."
Marta gripped her sword and nodded.
"I got my head on straight after that bastard wiped the floor with me too."
"So we both stand here thanks to Swordsman Raon. How interesting."
The Third Prince smiled, then let the light drain from his gaze.
"In the time I did not see him, Swordsman Raon has risen to the heavens. I intend to win this match if only to draw a little closer to him."
"That makes two of us."
Marta looked at the Third Prince with a cold expression.
"I've got something I have to do. I can't lose. I absolutely can't."
The two of them faced each other and slowly drew up their presence. It was thinner than the clashes of the Masters, but the spirit behind it was no less — two auras colliding as if they might reach the sky.
"Are both of you ready?"
"Yes."
Marta and the Third Prince nodded. The announcer let out a breath and stepped down from the arena.
"The Expert-rank finals will now begin!"
The instant his hand dropped, Marta kicked off the ground and charged.
She meant to end it fast. She drove straight into the Third Prince's space and poured out sword strikes — heavy, swift cuts chaining from left and right.
Steel screamed.
The Third Prince narrowed his eyes and dropped his center of gravity. The aura blade he thrust from that stance punched through a gap in Marta's assault.
Marta's eyes tightened.
The Eye of Owen, all right.
To find a gap in her sword work in a single breath — the Third Prince who had visited House Zieghart and the man standing in front of her now might as well have been different people.
Even so!
Marta aimed for the moment his sword came forward on the right and cut in from the left.
But the Third Prince stepped back as if he had seen it coming, showed her a leisurely gap, then brought his sword down into a perfect defense.
She had the advantage in raw power. In precision and sharpness of technique, the Third Prince was ahead. If this continued, it would become a war of attrition.
"Huu…"
Marta exhaled and gave ground. Her aura was not at its peak. She had no choice but to use that.
"Is that already the end?"
"No. This is where it starts."
Black breath spilled over Marta's red lips. Her dark eyes gleamed a burning scarlet, and the ochre aura covering her entire body flared up like wildfire.
Ochre aura erupted like a blaze. Physical ability and aura output surged to nearly 2.5 times their normal level.
A boom like the earth itself splitting rang out, and Marta's body vanished. She drove in on the Third Prince at more than twice her previous speed.
A brutal crash.
The Third Prince threw up a wall of aura blades as fast as he could, but Marta smashed through it and came on.
"Kh!"
The Third Prince bit his lip, twisted his blade, and deflected Marta's cleaving stroke.
Berserk!
The rolled-back eyes, the sudden leap in physical ability, the surge in the volume of her aura — it was unmistakably the Berserk technique used by the warriors of Cyan Gorge in their wars against monsters.
A heavy detonation.
Just blocking it felt as if his shoulder would tear from its socket. He swallowed the pain and stepped through his footwork.
I can't take this head-on.
He was not Raon Zieghart. If he tried to stop that monstrous power and speed from the front, they wouldn't even find his bones.
But she can't maintain it for long.
The Berserk of the Cyan Gorge warriors typically amplified their power by one and a half to two times. Marta had pushed herself close to two and a half. She would not be able to hold this for even a full minute. Her movements had simplified as well. He could endure it.
"Kraaaaaah!"
Marta howled and brought her sword down. The strike cratered the floor of the arena — a blow that did not belong at the Expert rank. The power was terrifying, but just as he had expected, the swordsmanship itself was utterly simple.
If I can just hold on a little longer—
He turned to avoid her second cut — and her face was already there.
"Huh?"
The Third Prince looked into Marta's eyes and swallowed dryly.
Why are her eyes so clear…?