Chapter 17. Geumseong Branch (2)
Episode 17. The Golden Star Tournament (2)
Two days before the main event of the Golden Star Tournament.
Charles, a reporter for The Daily, arrived at Kaisus, the grand colosseum of Siren, to cover the preliminary rounds.
Gulp—
Charles swallowed nervously—not because he felt threatened, but because he was utterly overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of Kaisus.
"...So this is the legendary arena where the dead gods once fought."
The massive stone structure, owned by the Karsen family, could accommodate over 20,000 spectators at once. Its rough, weather-beaten gray basalt walls were thicker and taller than most fortress ramparts. Tens of thousands of precisely fitted stone blocks formed a perfect circle around the arena. At the front entrance stood a towering sword-shaped statue, its polished surface reflecting the warm midday sun.
After showing his press pass to an attendant, Charles was guided inside.
"Wow."
The central arena, covered in crimson sand, was vast enough to host hundreds of knights clashing at once—a stark contrast to the cramped underground tunnels leading to it.
Filling this grand stage were warriors from all corners of the North, each carrying their own stories, their very presence thick with human ambition.
Charles raised the camera hanging from his neck and snapped a photo. Not just for the article—something about this moment felt worth preserving.
A seasoned wandering adventurer chasing fortune. A burly martial artist with knuckles like boulders. A noble family's apprentice knight desperate for official recognition.
A descendant of the North Sea, draped in beast pelts and wielding a massive axe. A sharp-eyed spearman who had traveled all the way from the South.
Every one of them left an impression.
The ragged breaths of mercenaries and nameless swordsmen, each with their own motives, mingled with the frigid northern wind.
But none of them were true knights.
Those deemed the swords of humanity were exempt from preliminaries, advancing straight to the main event.
This was a battleground for those who had yet to earn that title—fighting for a chance to stand among the elite.
And among them, one figure drew every eye.
"There he is."
Click—
Golden hair that seemed to capture the midday sun itself.
An immaculate uniform that accentuated his unreal proportions. Features so sharp they could have been carved by a master sculptor.
The high-quality sword at his waist spoke of nobility, and every step carried the dignity of a great house.
Sion Karsen.
The hottest name in the North right now.
Charles didn't need to strain to see him. Even from a distance, Sion stood out effortlessly.
Soon, the preliminaries began.
The format was simple: survive three rounds of five-way melees, and you advanced. Only one out of every 125 participants would make it.
Many had come just to see Sion Karsen's skills firsthand.
And then—
"...What?"
"What did I just see?"
"Wait, did it already start?"
"No, it's over."
"Huh?"
"That's... impossible."
Every spectator muttered something equally dumbfounded.
Because Sion Karsen had ended every fight without a single scratch.
The first four opponents, the next four, and the ones after that—martial artists, spearmen, rangers, barbarians, descendants of Vikings—it didn't matter.
Sion Karsen didn't waste time.
Mesmerized by his overwhelming, aristocratic presence, Charles raised his camera again.
Click—
Then, pen in hand, he began writing in his notebook.
『Sion Karsen.
Blazed through the preliminaries like lightning.
His opponents were renowned warriors from the Oslo region of the North. Yet, none could even properly see his sword.
Not just them. Neither the spectators, nor the next fighters, nor the ones after that.
...(Excerpt)
—The Daily, Charles』
August 21st.
The Golden Star Tournament, main event.
The colosseum Kaisus was packed to the brim.
Southerners might have scoffed at holding an outdoor event in this cold, but to Northerners, this was midsummer.
People flooded in by the thousands—all to witness the Golden Star Tournament.
But if you asked every third person why they came, the answer was always the same:
"Why? Isn't it obvious? That famous guy—Sion Karsen! I'm here to see what he can really do!"
Not everyone was just spectating. Vendors sold biscuits and goat milk on one side, while others hawked jerky, wine, whiskey, and vodka.
Thanks to them, Kaisus—a relic said to have been used by the gods—was more than half full, marking the highest attendance in its history.
On either side of the arena, the closest seats were reserved for nobility.
To the right sat members of the Karsen family, including the second son, Sid Karsen. He watched the arena and murmured under his breath.
"Sion... today's the day you show them all, isn't it?"
He had been paying closer attention to Sion's transformation than anyone else—and he knew a lot.
Like how Sion had asked their father for a position in the Special Investigation Headquarters.
And how the condition for that was winning this tournament.
'Honestly, I never expected him to win... but at least show them how much you've changed.'
He loved his younger brother. His flesh and blood. The one who had comforted him when his swordsmanship failed him. The friend who had played with him when times were hard. The mirror in which he now saw himself reflected.
That was why this tournament mattered so much.
'Let's see what you've got, then decide.'
The left VIP section was filled with nobles—most there simply to watch the tournament or gauge the skills of their own house's representatives.
But a few noble eyes were fixed elsewhere.
Especially those of Guseto Daikah, second son of the Daikah family. He had come with a very specific purpose.
'I need to watch carefully. If that bastard really is a beast hiding its claws... then no matter what it takes, that beast must die.'
And then—
At the center of the arena stood Midgal Lau, Director of the Northern Territory Inspection Bureau.
A towering figure with wild, reddish-brown long hair. The valiant warrior once known as the Iron-Blooded Knight now presided over the tournament in his former capacity as captain of the Platinum Knight Order.
Looking at the unprecedented crowd, he thought to himself:
'There's an unusual number of people today. Unusual.'
Most were probably here to see Sion Karsen humiliated.
There were always those kinds of people—the ones who wanted to see a great house's weakness exposed.
But he hadn't expected this many.
His gaze shifted to Sion, sitting quietly in the waiting area with his eyes closed.
'Still, he made it through the preliminaries. That's something.'
Then he glanced at the other participants. Knights—or those of equivalent skill—all gripping their weapons, steeling their nerves.
'Every one of them is a seasoned warrior.'
Midgal's loyalty to the Karsen family was absolute, so he had no desire to see Sion publicly humiliated.
'If it were up to me, I'd stop this now...'
But he was a knight of justice.
Raising his hand high for all to see, he declared in a thunderous voice:
"Let the Golden Star Tournament... BEGIN!"
ROOOOOAR—
The colosseum erupted in cheers. The festival-like atmosphere reached its peak as the long-awaited event commenced.
"First match of the main event! Louis Daiken versus Sion Karsen! Combatants, step forward!"
Right from the start, the most anticipated fighter took the stage.
Sion Karsen walked forward with unwavering, noble grace.
His opponent? Louis Daiken, a prodigy knight with a bright future. Could the audience have asked for a better opening?
"WOOOOOAH—!"
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP—!
Applause and cheers shook the sky.
The red-haired, red-eyed young knight stepped onto the arena and addressed Sion.
"I look forward to learning from you."
His voice held not a trace of hostility—but that only made it sharper.
Shhhhk—
Louis drew his sword. An 80-centimeter blade—shorter than most, befitting his reputation as a swift swordsman.
The weapon was immaculately maintained, a testament to Louis' dedication.
Ever since knights had saved him and his family from monsters as a child, he had sworn to repay that debt.
Through gritted teeth and relentless training, he had clawed his way into the Inspection Bureau.
And so, Louis took pride in his skill.
But then—why?
Why was he trembling like this?
Shhhhk—
Sion drew his own sword—slightly longer, about a meter.
"Come."
Louis nodded, then stomped the ground.
CRACK!
His figure shot toward Sion like an arrow.
SWISH—!
A diagonal slash with all his might—as if aiming to cleave Sion in two.
Just as the crowd gasped—
CLANG!
Sion deflected it effortlessly.
"Ooooh—!"
A collective groan rose from the stands.
"Wait, did Sion Karsen just block Louis Daiken's strike?"
Louis struck again, lightning-fast.
SWOOSH—!
But again—
CLANG!
Sion parried with ease. After two failed attacks, Louis retreated to create distance.
The audience buzzed with amazement. Even without aura, those strikes shouldn't have been so easily blocked.
Sid Karsen, Guseto Daikah, and even Midgal Lau were equally stunned.
SWISH— CLANG!
The duel continued.
CLANG CLANG CLANG—!
To Louis, Sion's sword felt unnaturally smooth—like someone who had repeated the same motion tens of thousands of times.
Every thrust, every deflection flowed like water.
There were no wasted movements—just relentless, fluid swordsmanship.
Yet Louis held on. He gritted his teeth, believing that if he endured long enough, an opening would appear.
But—
CLASH CLASH CLANG—!
Sion's onslaught was endless. No matter how many times Louis blocked, the pressure never let up—like a dam bursting under a flood.
It wasn't that Sion was too fast to follow or too strong to resist.
It was just that every single gap in Louis' defense was exploited without fail.
Louis Daiken realized something then.
'This swordsmanship... is absurd.'
A name surfaced in his mind.
Karsen-style Ancient Sword Technique.
'...Of course. He's a Karsen.'
The finest sword lineage in the North.
With that thought, Louis drew mana from his core.
HUM—
A red aura enveloped his blade.
WHOOSH—!
Sion swiftly adjusted his stance, barely avoiding a shattered sword.
"Swordsmanship alone won't be enough."
"You're impressive too."
"...It's not over yet."
"That's the spirit."
Sion admired Louis' resolve. A true knight who refused to yield.
As the two locked eyes—
"WOOOOOAH—!"
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP—!
The stands erupted in cheers and applause.
"I don't even know what just happened, but their exchange was incredible!"
"Of course! These are elite knights we're talking about!"
"Wait, was Sion Karsen always a knight?"
"Does that even matter right now?!"
"After seeing this, I'm starting to believe those rumors about him killing the Hashiman brothers..."
"I thought those were just baseless gossip..."
"Guess the papers were right after all?"
"No smoke without fire."
Just as Sion had intended—slowly, the tide of public opinion was turning in his favor. Every move he had made was connecting like dots forming a line.
Meanwhile, Midgal Lau, overseeing the match, was utterly stunned.
'This is impossible.'
He had scrutinized every single one of Sion's movements.
The angle of his footwork. The fluidity of his ankle rotations. The tension in his calves and thighs. The way his waist and shoulder muscles stretched and contracted.
This was the work of a master swordsman.
No matter how renowned the Karsen sword style was, such precision couldn't be achieved overnight.
'He really was a beast hiding its claws.'
Sion could feel the shift in the crowd's gaze—like a physical weight pressing against him.
And now, to drive the point home, he raised his sword.
WHOOSH—
Aura flared to life around his blade.
Like Louis', it was red—but not just red.
Flames erupted from the steel.
"......!!"
The audience, the nobles, even Midgal Lau—all were left speechless.
"F-Flame-attribute aura?!"
The mere fact that Sion could manifest aura was shocking enough—but flame-attribute aura in the North?
The blazing sword cast a crimson glow, illuminating Sion's golden hair and sharp features like the first light of dawn.
He kicked off the ground and lunged at Louis.
WHOOSH—! CRASH!
Louis barely managed to block, but the impact sent him skidding back. His expression said it all:
"What the hell?! This is his real power?!"
No wonder he was shocked.
After consuming the Breath of the Fire Dragon, Sion had grown stronger by the day.
BOOM! CRASH! BAM!
Sion pressed forward relentlessly.
Louis felt like he was trapped in a nightmare—facing down a tidal wave of fire.
CRASH—!
Every block threatened to shatter his wrists.
Even with his aura unleashed and his full strength poured into every strike—
At this point, he couldn't deny it any longer.
'Ah... he's definitely stronger than me.'
And with that realization, Louis Daiken acknowledged Sion Karsen from the depths of his heart.
So this is it.
This is the third son of the Karsen family.