Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Brazen Challenger 3
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“Phew, I’ll live.”
After sitting in meditation for about the time it takes to drink one cup of tea, Azadin plugged the nearly empty waterskin and handed it back to the boy.
“So, little miss with the droopy eyes. What’s your business?”
“Little miss? How rude. Are you saying that because you know I’m from the Etar Bloodline?”
Midiam bristled subtly at Azadin treating her like a child.
The Etar Bloodline was one of the five founding families of the Herald race, producing Heralds generation after generation while amassing vast wealth through merchant activities. It was a prestigious house lacking in neither bloodline, riches, nor authority.
“As my squire, you’re not a member of the Etar Bloodline—you’re just my subordinate. Do you want to be respected as a founding family member? Then give up on being a squire. I’ll treat you like an Etar lady then. Oh, but you know that officially, a Herald’s status isn’t influenced by bloodline nobility, right?”
Azadin made sure the girl understood her place.
No matter how great her family was, Azadin, as a Herald, had no reason to show her deference. There was no need when she was a squire, and even if she weren’t, there still wasn’t.
“No…”
“Looks like you kids are just bored in the sanctuary and volunteered as my squire out of nothing better to do. You’re not thinking of challenging me to a duel, are you?”
“……”
Midiam faltered. Of course, she had planned to challenge Azadin to a duel.
Azadin, the shame of the Heralds, son of a traitor. She’d heard he was a half-cripple who couldn’t even use magic and had been bullied by other Herald kids his age when young.
The young Heralds had rebelled en masse when this fool, whom everyone dismissed as an idiot, was suddenly appointed a Herald. That backlash stemmed from his poor reputation. Yet the Azadin before her defied those rumors—he was bold.
He hadn’t flinched at the sudden arrow attack and brushed off her aggressive words with ease. And that overflowing confidence in his movements.
“Ah, you really were going to challenge me. Arael’s abandoned all the kids. Or is it that they think so little of me?”
Azadin saw through the children’s intentions and clicked his tongue.
Azadin’s twin sister, Arael, was also the child of a traitor like him, but unlike Azadin, she was famed as a genius.
A peerless beauty, overwhelming mana, exceptional swordsmanship.
Blessed with everything, she had served as a squire, then challenged a Herald in that capacity and won handily. At just thirteen, she’d defeated an adult Herald and claimed their position.
Like any organization, but especially the Heralds, who prized hierarchy above all. Arael’s unprecedented actions couldn’t have pleased the Two Leaders or the elders.
Yet duels between clan members were a right guaranteed by the Emperor’s Voice.
Arael claimed that right boldly, then broke through the elders’ slanders and schemes with pure skill, solidifying her faction within the Heralds.
Because of her, young Heralds now saw dueling a Herald for their position not as a pipe dream, but as a tangible reality.
“I won’t say anything bad, so give up and go back to the sanctuary. Traveling with a squire who doesn’t respect me is worse than going alone.”
It was sound logic. But Midiam, having come this far, wasn’t about to turn back.
However…
“Midiam, no. This man…”
The boy Ismael tried to stop her.
The rumors of Azadin’s incompetence. And Midiam’s skills, superior to any peer.
Even accounting for that, his instincts screamed.
This man before them was dangerous.
Midiam felt it too.
He didn’t match the rumors.
Azadin wasn’t a fool—quite the opposite. He seemed tough and sharp.
But…
‘If I backed down just because the opponent’s strong, wouldn’t that be cowardly?’
She’d come intending to duel. Backing out now out of fear after seeing him felt wrong.
Bend once, and you’ll bend again.
Feeling the fear but refusing to yield, Midiam challenged Azadin.
“Herald Azadin. I, Midiam of Etar, formally challenge you for your Herald position.”
“You serious? If you win, you get my Herald spot. But if I win, you know what happens to you, right?”
“Of course. My life and death are yours. Everything I have becomes yours. I’m prepared. If it comes to that, I’ll take my own life swiftly…”
-Thwack!
In that instant, Midiam tumbled from her mountain goat. Azadin had casually flicked a stone that struck her right between the eyes.
It was too fast, too powerful. Just a pebble flicked from his fingers.
“Guh?!”
“Little miss, anyone who values their life so lightly shouldn’t wield a weapon.”
“Eh? Lady Midiam…”
Even boy Ismael was genuinely stunned. It happened right before his eyes, yet he couldn’t grasp what had occurred.
“I’ll pretend it never happened, so head back to the sanctuary. If I accepted every challenge from someone with those thoughts, there’d be no free folk left in our clan.”
Azadin offered this advice to the brazen boy and girl, but Midiam grew furious at his sudden ambush.
“How dare you ambush someone declaring a duel! What kind of rudeness is this!”
“Hm?”
Azadin was surprised by her retort.
“Fair point, but is that something to say to the person who just ambushed me with an arrow while I was walking down the road?”
“Ambushing during a duel challenge is different!”
“No, that’s exactly why you should be more ashamed. I was ambushed without even seeing it coming, but you got hit when I was right in front of you. Who was more careless?”
“……”
“Give it up. Once a duel starts, there’s no turning back, and sorry to say, you’re weaker than me. Beating an adult at thirteen is something only Arael could pull off. I know my reputation in the clan is low, but they wouldn’t give a Herald spot to someone who’d lose to a thirteen-year-old girl.”
Azadin tried refusing the duel again. But Midiam shook her head.
“You think I’ll take back words I’ve already spoken? I challenged you for the Herald position, and you ambushed me—aren’t you ashamed! Azadin! Duels start with both sides a hundred paces apart! Sneak attacking like this dirties an honorable duel!”
“Ah… You’re serious?”
Azadin scratched his nose.
“Of course! Dead serious!”
Midiam mounted her mountain goat and backed away, putting distance between them. At about a hundred paces, she dismounted.
“There, a hundred paces! Azadin! I challenge you for the Herald position!”
“You’re really doing this?”
As Azadin looked exasperated, a chilling voice suddenly echoed.
[The duel is established, Herald Azadin. Accept the challenge.]
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“…Th-the Emperor’s Voice!?”
Ismael panicked too. The spirit assigned to each Herald, the Emperor’s Voice. It had spoken to him as well.
With the Emperor’s Voice as witness, he couldn’t dismiss it as childish whimsy anymore.
‘This is bad.’
Ismael grew anxious.
His family had served Midiam’s house since his parents’ generation.
He’d volunteered as Azadin’s squire alongside her to ensure she returned home safely.
But he’d let his guard down. If Azadin truly was the fool from the rumors—if his Herald appointment was just the elders’ whim or prank—then Midiam could win.
No, not just Midiam—anyone. Ismael’s peers all dreamed of challenging Azadin for his spot when they had the chance.
But the real Azadin was no pushover.
‘From the lady’s perspective, though, backing down after seeing the opponent and abandoning her initial intent would feel like an insult.’
She saw fear as shame and charged ahead. It was common for young, naive kids ignorant of the world and defeat.
The problem was duels weren’t to be taken lightly. Lose once, become a slave. Becoming the slave of Azadin—the clan’s laughingstock—would be a humiliation worse than death.
With the Emperor’s Voice involved now, cancellation was impossible. If Midiam won, great—but if she lost, disaster.
“I just need to win!”
In that moment, Midiam nocked an arrow.
‘He’s definitely the type who honed physical techniques over magic. So I’ll keep my distance and fight!’
She infused the arrow with magic.
‘White Crane!’
She loosed it high…
‘Yellow Crane!’
Then low. It looked like the earlier Discerning Bow, but if he tried blocking these magic-infused arrows the same way, he’d regret it.
‘His quiver was empty. I shot two arrows before, so his quiver has two now! At this range, he’ll want to block with arrows too!’
In duels between Heralds, arrow count was crucial. Azadin would surely try blocking this one too.
Sure enough…
Azadin didn’t dodge. He waited for the incoming arrows.
‘Hm? She’s got enough skill to be confident.’
Thinking that, he nocked an arrow of his own. Charging forward, he shot upward.
-Scree!
With a whistle of slicing wind, Azadin’s arrow intercepted Midiam’s in midair. Astonishingly, it didn’t hit directly—just flew nearby, and the resulting wind shear sapped her arrows’ power, sending them fluttering down.
Azadin planted his quiver to catch the falling arrows, then picked up a stone from the ground. He gripped it with his interlocked fingers and drew the bowstring.
‘Impossible.’
Ismael, watching the duel, smirked as Azadin prepared to shoot the stone from his bow.
There were special bows for launching stones. Stone bows, with grooves for proper flight and bowstring catches to efficiently transfer power to projectiles.
Firing a plain stone without that setup would shatter your own hand.
But…
-Thunk!
Azadin loosed the stone effortlessly.
‘Huh?’
He’d twisted his bow-holding hand to an extreme degree, then snapped it forward like hurling a discus.
‘Extreme Aragas Shooting Technique?!’
A battlefield archery method that sacrificed accuracy for maximum velocity by slapping the bow.
Even the Heralds now called it the High-Flow Technique.