Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Tournament
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“Get up.”
Do-yoon walked toward Torn, step by deliberate step.
Torn looked up at Do-yoon, who still gripped his wrist. He hadn't yet grasped the vast gap in their skills—his eyes blazed with raw killing intent. What a hopelessly stupid creature.
Do-yoon placed his foot on Torn's hammer, sprawled across the ground. With one hand, he flicked the rusty sword, gazing down at Torn through those signature emotionless eyes.
“You human scum...!”
Torn snarled. Interpreting Do-yoon's stare and foot on his hammer as pure provocation, he seized the handle with both hands once more.
“Wipe that look off your face!”
If he hoisted the hammer high, the human perched atop it would lose balance and stumble. Then he'd smash down and turn the bastard into jerky.
Torn locked eyes with Do-yoon's condescending glare, pouring strength into his grip. But...
“Hngh!”
The hammer wouldn't budge an inch.
It was bizarre. That spindly human had only planted one foot on it, yet the hammer weighed a ton.
Do-yoon clicked his tongue at the sight. The opponent's sword dangled right in front of him, but he ignored it entirely, grunting and straining solely at the hammer. Do-yoon couldn't even guess the depths of this idiot's folly anymore.
So absurd it was almost funny—he simply propped his sword on the ground to watch. Torn kept at it until his white-furred face flushed beet red.
About ten seconds passed like that. Finally, he managed to nudge the hammer up.
“Grraaaaaah—!”
Do-yoon inwardly gave the enemy his due. Even if his character was rotten to the core, the talent was real.
But that made it all the more problematic. Talent like that, amplified by the system's divine blessing. It would chew away at the union's very flesh.
Sure enough, he needed to crush this guy's spirit right here.
As the hammer rose a finger's width, Do-yoon channeled mana into his ankle. Still standing motionless, he infused his foot with the principle of four taels to shift a thousand catties.
💥 IMPACT! 💥 Boom! “Eek!”
Dust exploded across the ring in an instant.
The hammer drove into the ground like a massive spike. Spiderweb cracks radiated from its center, as if a small meteor had cratered the platform's heart.
Do-yoon peered down at Torn with unflinching calm.
“I said, get up.”
Those words reignited the fire in Torn's dumbfounded eyes.
“You son of a—!”
Torn ditched the hammer and barreled forward bare-handed. It was a frantic death charge, utterly ignoring the sword clutched in Do-yoon's hand.
And in that instant, Do-yoon's blade flashed like lightning, thrusting straight for Torn's skull.
“No!”
The referee instructor shrieked like a banshee. But Do-yoon's strike was far beyond what he could intercept from a distance.
Stab!
The wet rip of blade tearing flesh echoed sharply.
“Shit...!”
The referee and assistant instructors blanched, charging in.
Murder was strictly forbidden in the Cradle. Tournaments offered no exceptions. Headaches already throbbed at the thought of cleanup.
Yet Torn twitched.
“Raaaaagh!!”
Torn clutched one side of his head, howling in agony. The instructors froze.
'He's alive?'
Up close, the sword hadn't pierced his skull—it had sliced clean past it.
Drip.
Something plopped before Torn. A cow's ear. His.
“Kaaaaah...!”
A mere peripheral limb, yet Torn flailed wildly from his first taste of amputation. Pathetic girlish shrieks ill-suited to his bulk.
Do-yoon flicked the blood from his sword and slung it over his shoulder.
'This ought to straighten his head out, at least.'
Ideally, he'd uproot the weed entirely with death—but flashing that as a cadet, in public? Bad move.
The instructors retreated. Victory was obvious, but no formal surrender or incapacitation yet.
His grip wasn't shredded enough to drop the hammer. A severed ear stung focus but didn't end the fight.
Torn, though—new to real pain—just bawled like a disgrace.
“Uwooooo!! Healer! Healer!!”
Head planted on the mat, he wailed for aid. Surrender, plain as day.
The referee approached.
“Torn. Treatment comes after the match ends. Do you surren—”
“Heeeeealer!!”
He devolved to pounding the ground like a toddler.
The instructor sighed deeply and signaled the healer. Match over.
Do-yoon strode off the ring, expression utterly unchanged from the start. But his mind churned with calculations.
'How to deal with him.'
He hated loose ends. Normally, he'd eradicate union vermin like this on sight—but circumstances tied his hands.
'Just need the right excuse...'
Pondering ways to excise future threats, Do-yoon descended from the ring.
A cold towel brushed his cheek.
“Hm?”
He glanced aside. Sophie, waiting to greet him first post-match.
“Good work out there.”
He accepted the towel. Somehow chilled like ice—a thoughtful touch that eased his taut nerves.
“Thanks.”
From afar, a Sophie-faction magic cadet beamed with satisfaction before melting into the crowd. Ice magic was her specialty.
Whistles erupted from surrounding cadets. Sophie flushed pink. Such a delicate, girlish, endearing response.
Unlike the festive cadets, the instructors remained utterly stupefied.
Overcoming a mana handicap wasn't outright impossible.
Earthlings' version was acquired. Dust clogging meridians, unrelated to innate talent. Even Earth-born cadets started with some mana affinity.
And mana manifestation hinged closely on 'willpower.' These days, the system made it effortless—but ancient texts prized willpower above affinity or capacity. The Great Hero Enoch Războinic had emphasized it above all.
If Do-yoon wielded willpower enough to shatter his own handicap. And if he bore innately colossal mana talent, squeezing output like that from scant reserves...
Theoretically viable. Purely theoretical, though—so the instructors gaped in disbelief.
Sophie aside, Debussy sidled up to congratulate him too. Do-yoon chatted with them.
“What a monster.”
“Not the sort of thing a vampire says to a human.”
“Pulling that off in a human body? That's monstrous. All Earth humans like you? Terrifying world.”
“...Not even close.”
Do-yoon handed the wiped towel back to Sophie.
“Oh... I had no idea. Hiding skills like that.”
“Wasn't hiding. Just never got much chance to swing a sword.”
“Now that you mention it...”
Sophie flashed a bright smile. Nothing like the icy aura she'd shown Torn—pure, pretty, and warm.
Meanwhile, Torn sprawled on the ring, under treatment from the infirmary's healer instructor.
She dangled a cigarette from her lips, yanking his ear taut.
“Attached nice and clean.”
“Hng... Ear... My eeeear...!”
“Quit your bitching—it's on. Clean slice means no lasting issues.”
The referee, overhearing, frowned.
'Clean slice?'
He eyed Do-yoon's sword. Rusted patches, chipped edge—barely a weapon. How'd that neatly sever a mana-fortified body?
“Ow, ow...!”
“Useless lump for your size. Ear's fixed, man up.”
Torn rose post-treatment. The first sight lifting his head: Sophie's plump hips beyond the ring. And Do-yoon cozying up to her.
'That... filthy pest...!'
Torn gnashed his teeth.
“Instructor! Injury here!”
“Yeah, yeah, coming.”
“Torn. You're out of the prelims. Rest in the lounge or watch the others—your call.”
The two instructors stepped down. Healed by the skill, Torn brimmed with more vigor than at the start. No further concern needed.
Yet Torn lingered on the ring. Fists balled tight, he glared daggers at Do-yoon.
Sophie, chatting with Do-yoon, wore the loveliest smile. Angelic kindness, reluctant yet obliging to any plea. A benevolent glow.
Utterly unlike the Sophie he'd known—cold and charismatic to him and other cadets. To him especially, bug-crushing contempt.
The heal's vitality surge only stoked his boiling rage. Scorching fury devoured his reason in a flash.
He launched straight off the ring at Do-yoon, bellowing.
“You human bastaaaaard—!!”
All eyes snapped to him. Cadets scattered in shock at the bull-rush charge; instructors bolted to intercept.
Distance was there, but halting a full-speed daytime cadet? Trivial—they'd squash him harmlessly, mete out discipline.
But faster still.
“Wha— Do-yoon cadet?”
Do-yoon kicked off the ground.
“W-Wait...!”
Do-yoon was far closer to Torn than the instructors. They spotted him late, eyes bulging—but before a word escaped, Do-yoon's mana surged.
Split-second. Pure Divine Beast-lineage mana converged on his arm. Two centuries of refinement—near-divine precision and velocity in control.
Explosive burst output no whole-body spreader could match. Speed eclipsed even the instructors' perceptions.
In every onlooker's vision, Do-yoon's sword and arm vanished.
The only one catching the slash arcing toward Torn—and the faint golden sheen enwrapping the rusty blade—was the lone dean present.
An unforeseeable pinnacle: momentary hyper-acceleration of the sword strike.
⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡ Localized Acceleration Control The continent's one-and-only technique.
Great Hero Enoch Războinic's signature move.
Slash—