Chapter 286: Total Domination
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 286: Total Domination
Dead silence.
The onlookers stared blankly at the scene, frozen in a state of utter disbelief.
What had just happened?
Why did Aolze suddenly collapse?
And...
Catching the stench wafting from Aolze’s lower body, many instinctively covered their noses and retreated a few steps.
The "Lion," famous for his ferocity and ruthlessness, had actually lost control of his bladder?
What had Muen Campbell done to him to inspire such abject terror?
Most of the crowd were just there for the spectacle. Because of the sheer number of people and the distance, very few had actually seen how Muen moved. Most were still lost in a fog of confusion.
That was until more and more people noticed Aolze’s drifting whiskers and his now-smooth chin.
His beard?
It had been shaved off?
When?
As they watched Muen toy with the white blade in his hand, many people’s pupils constricted.
Having a beard shaved off wasn't inherently terrifying; losing hair or whiskers in a fight was common enough.
The problem was how clean it was.
It was so clean it looked like the work of a professional barber. In an instant, the mature and steady Aolze looked ten years younger—and yet, the blade hadn't even nicked his skin.
Under normal circumstances, how much time would that take? How many strokes would have to be made in a single second?
And in that same span of time, how many times could he have killed Aolze?
No wonder Aolze had been scared witless.
A wave of horror began to spread through the crowd like a plague.
But alongside that horror came a new wave of confusion.
Since when was Muen Campbell this strong?
*
Muen ignored his surroundings. His handsome face still wore a standard noble smile as he addressed the "vultures" before him with impeccable etiquette.
"Come on. I’m in a hurry. All of you, come at me together."
"...Muen Campbell, what kind of trickery is this?"
After a brief silence, Lance barked out a question.
Seeing the slumped Aolze, Lance felt a flicker of alarm, but after exchanging looks with the others beside him, he quickly regained his composure.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
This couldn't be Muen Campbell’s own power.
A second-year playboy, a notorious bottom-feeder from the previous semester—how could he become strong enough to one-shot a top-tier third-year student in just a few months?
Unless this guy had conspired with an Evil God to obtain forbidden power, even a novelist wouldn't dare write something so ridiculous!
Was it a magic device? An ancient artifact? Or some other special tool?
Lance’s eyes flickered. He couldn't see anything unusual about Muen for the moment, save for the somewhat eye-catching dagger in his hand.
Still, he remained convinced his theory was correct.
"Muen Campbell, while the Academy doesn't forbid the use of tools, do you really think such behavior is worthy of the Campbell heir?"
Lance strode toward Muen and said solemnly, "Stake your family name and face me in a fair, one-on-one duel!"
"One-on-ones are such a waste of time," Muen sighed helplessly.
But Lance didn't give him a chance to complain further. He drew a magnificent rapier engraved with golden roses and lilies from his waist. Holding one hand behind his back, he pointed the rapier diagonally at the ground, snapped his legs together, and shouted:
"In the name of the Rogier family, I challenge you, Muen Campbell, heir to the Campbell house!"
"I hope you will live up to the Campbell name and face me fairly and justly, without resorting to any despicable tricks!"
"..."
Muen’s lip twitched.
What the hell? Are these people really so stupid they have to announce their names before a fight?
Normally, Muen would have slashed him already. After all, it was basic common sense not to let a magical girl finish her transformation.
But the surrounding figures made him daze for a moment before he snapped back to reality.
This wasn't a life-or-death struggle; he was just dealing with a few hothouse flowers. No need to get carried away.
Come to think of it, that Or-whatever guy had also spouted a bunch of nonsense before fighting.
Without realizing it, had his mindset drifted so far apart from these people?
As expected, he wouldn't learn anything from dueling them. It was just a waste of time.
But if he wanted them to back off for good...
Muen took a deep breath, placed a hand over his chest, and returned the salute with equally flawless grace.
"In the name of Campbell, I accept your fair challenge. But I’ll say it again: please be quick. My time is valuable."
"Don't worry."
Seeing Muen return the salute, Lance broke into a cruel grin.
"I’ll be very quick!"
Quick enough... to end you!
Lance lunged forward.
Instantly, a flow of Fighting Spirit far more massive than Muen’s erupted, and sword light bloomed like a galaxy.
Rogier Sword Style, Fifth Form: Goddess's Stars!
"Muen Campbell, watch out!"
Lance gave a gentlemanly warning, but his eyes burned with the fire of certain victory.
Since it was a fair duel, there was nothing to fear!
No matter how much of a playboy you are, you wouldn't dare ruin the Campbell reputation in front of all these witnesses.
Still, to fall to my proudest technique, one I’ve polished since childhood... Muen Campbell, you can consider it an hon—
Clang.
The sudden, crisp sound of a collision caused Lance’s expression to freeze.
"How... is this possible?"
He stared blankly ahead. Muen had casually held his pure white blade horizontally, precisely intercepting the unstoppable thrust.
But that was impossible.
The Rogier Sword Style was famous for being as swift as a thunderclap. A continuous barrage of thrusts like a rainstorm should have been enough to overwhelm any opponent.
But this "rainstorm" never even got the chance to fall, because the very first strike had been blocked with ease.
A fluke?
No, it wasn't a fluke.
Because Muen hadn't blocked with the flat of the blade. He had used... the edge.
Edge against sword tip.
"This is impossible... impossible!"
Lance’s expression turned frantic. He twisted his wrist, and the tip of his rapier bloomed into countless sword flowers once more.
The flowers were brilliant, yet they vanished in an instant.
For every flower that bloomed, a more radiant light erupted to crush it completely.
The blond man before him seemed to possess foresight. Every time he moved his blade, it was perfectly positioned in the path of the rapier’s tip.
No one could truly predict the future. Which meant...
His technique... was being utterly crushed?
The sword style he had studied since childhood, the countless wooden swords he had broken, the thousands of dummies he had hacked apart, the endless sparring sessions with the masters his family hired... all of that technique was being completely dominated by this Duke’s son, who was supposed to be worthless in every way except for his status?
By what right?
This guy didn't even swing a sword a thousand times a day!
"Decent swordplay," Muen critiqued while blocking. "It’s just that your moves are even more dry and rigid than Professor Prang’s face."
"You...!"
Lance’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets as he abruptly changed his stance.
If technique wasn't enough, he would crush him with raw power!
Lance took a deep breath, and his rapier suddenly erupted with a chilling, sharp glow.
Powerful Fighting Spirit coated the blade, and a terrifying gale swept up the accumulated snow on the ground.
The moment the artificial snow shrouded them, Lance moved. The ground in front of him was instantly torn open, forming a half-meter-deep trench.
The terrifying sword light transformed into a blinding meteor, carrying the weight of a thousand tons as it slammed toward Muen.
Third-Tier against Second-Tier—the advantage is mine!
In that same instant.
Amidst the chaotic snowflakes, Lance saw Muen Campbell’s expression finally turn slightly serious. He raised his pure white short blade, and from it erupted...
A deafening roar of thunder!
*
"Wh... why?"
Lance finally managed to choke out the question.
"Why are you... suddenly so strong?"
Muen shrugged casually.
"It’s nothing much. Sleep early, wake up early, train hard, look at beautiful women, and try your best to stay alive. That’s all I’ve done..."
"Is that so?"
What a joke...
Do any of those words have anything to do with getting stronger?
Lance looked at his broken rapier and laughed self-mockingly. He suddenly coughed up a large amount of blood and collapsed to the ground.
Muen didn't look back. He stepped over Lance and continued forward.
"Next up is you two, I assume."
He looked at Blanqui and Dolamos, who were blocking his path. Still toying with Elizabeth, he offered a peaceful smile.
"I’ve really had enough of doing this one by one. So... how about I challenge both of you this time?"
"You..."
His arrogant attitude instantly enraged the two. They exchanged a glance and, without a word, transformed into two blurs, lunging at Muen Campbell from different directions.
Unlike Aolze’s mysterious defeat, Muen had just crushed Lance in a direct confrontation, proving his strength to everyone.
Blanqui and Dolamos knew they couldn't hold back. Even if they were branded as cowards for ganging up on him, they had to defeat Muen Campbell here!
Blanqui was much faster than Dolamos. In an instant, he was upon Muen.
He swung his hand, but no weapon appeared. Instead, he held... an ancient-looking hourglass.
Ancient Artifact—Serpent Eye Hourglass!
While using tools in such a challenge was despicable, he wasn't a fool like Lance, who clung to so-called noble codes.
Besides...
To defeat those two so easily, Muen Campbell, you must have cheated first!
A look of ferocity flashed in Blanqui’s eyes. Without hesitation, he flipped the hourglass.
The serpent eye on the hourglass suddenly emitted an eerie light.
In an instant, it was as if a slow-motion button had been pressed. The entire world in Blanqui’s vision slowed down.
It felt like time had stopped.
But he knew it hadn't. Even a precious ancient artifact couldn't achieve something as impossible as true time stasis.
This was acceleration.
The special power within the hourglass granted him ten times physical acceleration, twenty times reaction acceleration, and fifty times thinking acceleration!
Combined with his natural specialty in speed and agility—which had earned him the nickname "Black Snake"—Blanqui’s speed alone meant that even the First Seat, Fanny Sawyer, was no match for him!
Blanqui was ecstatic. Under fifty times thinking acceleration, even his own movements seemed slow, but in his vision, Muen Campbell was like a still photograph created by image-recording magic, completely unable to move.
So, get on your knees and beg for mercy, Muen Campbell!
Blanqui thrust a palm toward Muen’s defenseless chest.
But just as his palm was about to make contact, he felt an inexplicable gaze.
A gaze? From where?
Blanqui looked up in terror and realized with horror that, like a haunted photograph from a legend, the Muen Campbell in the "picture" had suddenly come to life.
Muen’s eyes shifted, locking onto Blanqui, and his lips curled into a mocking smirk.
"Is... that... it?"
The elongated words rang in his ears. Before Blanqui could react, he felt a terrifying force explode against his chest.
Muen Campbell had somehow moved before him, slamming a palm into his chest.
"Pfft...!"
Everything returned to normal.
Blanqui sprayed blood, his aura instantly withering as a look of pure terror filled his eyes.
Why? Why could Muen Campbell keep up with my speed?
Could it be...
Blanqui remembered Aolze’s shaved beard. Was it not some tool Muen used, but simply that he was naturally that fast?
Before he could think further, Blanqui’s expression turned fierce again. The hourglass in his hand glowed with that eerie light once more.
This hourglass had more than one use!
"Hmm?"
Muen suddenly frowned and looked at his own body.
He couldn't move?
Is this... petrification?
Looking at the Serpent Eye Hourglass in Blanqui’s hand, Muen raised an eyebrow in surprise.
It was called petrification, but it wasn't true petrification; it just temporarily paralyzed him.
But in that brief window, a sudden chill erupted!
From the shadows of his blind spot, Dolamos—who had been waiting for his chance—suddenly lunged out, his dagger aimed straight for Muen’s vitals.
The onlookers couldn't help but cry out in alarm. No one had expected Dolamos, also the son of a great noble, to be so skilled in assassination—a talent he had never shown before!
Seeing the immobilized Muen, now a lamb for the slaughter, Dolamos couldn't help but flash a winner’s smile.
As they say, the one who laughs last is the winner.
So, die, Muen Campbell! Belland doesn't need a second—
Squeltch—
The clear sound of flesh tearing rang out, and Dolamos’s smile froze.
He looked down at the short blade buried ruthlessly in his abdomen, his thoughts a chaotic mess.
"Why?"
He asked the same question as the stunned Blanqui: "Why can you still move?"
The petrification of the Serpent Eye Hourglass wasn't magic; it was a curse.
And because it was a curse, shouldn't it be even harder to guard against?
"You’re asking about that...?"
Muen’s face was calm as he pulled Elizabeth out of Dolamos’s abdomen and casually stabbed the still-struggling Blanqui for good measure.
"Didn't you know? The higher your Tenacity, the less you’re affected by crowd control. It just so happens that I have a thick skin and very high Tenacity."
"Huh...?"
Dolamos wore a look of utter incomprehension before slowly slumping to the ground, blood flowing steadily from his wound.
Muen’s strike wasn't fatal, but it was enough to strip him of all combat capability. The same went for Blanqui.
In his fading, bewildered consciousness, he couldn't help but ask the same question Lance had:
"Muen Campbell... you... you’re just a waste of a Duke’s son. Why are you suddenly... so strong?"
Strong like a monster.
Could someone really change so much in just a few months, or...
Was the old you... just an act?
"A waste of a Duke’s son?"
Hearing this, Muen chuckled. He suddenly knelt down, grabbed Dolamos by the hair, and forced him to meet his gaze.
His eyes were deep blue.
Like a lake.
So peaceful.
But Dolamos felt as if he were facing something terrifying. His expression filled with dread, and his body began to tremble.
Because he felt... killing intent.
A killing intent that a pampered Duke’s son could never possess. In the deepest depths of Muen Campbell’s eyes, he seemed to see a suffocating... mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.
"In the past, I didn't mind you talking trash behind my back. First, because some of what you said was true and I couldn't refute it. Second, because back then, I didn't have the right to make you shut up."
"But now, I’ve fixed those flaws, and I have the right to make you shut up."
"So..."
Muen stared at Dolamos, his smile never wavering, his tone as calm as an old friend sharing a secret:
"In the future, show me—and the name Campbell—a little more respect, okay?"
*
The snow settled.
The world grew even quieter.
It was as if everyone had been hit by a silence spell, their stunned expressions the only indication of their shock.
On one side, in the News Club, Mingotte nearly tore the draft of the newspaper in his hand. After a long period of shock, he slowly looked down at the massive amount of Emiel coins he had bet on the duel to manipulate the odds. His face turned deathly pale.
On the other side, Wei’er, who hadn't left yet, stared with eyes so wide they looked ready to pop out.
She looked in the direction where Celicia had disappeared, seemingly wanting to shout something, but her lips trembled and no sound came out.
*
The battle had seemed long, but it was actually very brief.
In the eyes of the outsiders, Muen Campbell had simply carved through the four of them like he was chopping vegetables.
The four strongest people in the entire third year, excluding Fanny Sawyer.
No one had expected this.
Or rather, no one could have expected it.
This absurd level of power reminded some of another monster who frequently slapped the faces of onlookers.
—The second-year First Seat who could now go toe-to-toe with fifth-years, the former illegitimate daughter of a Count who was now the undisputed first heir, Ariel Bugard.
Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be here. Otherwise, some would have already begun to wonder what kind of spectacle it would be if these two collided.
Others remained in disbelief, their minds racing to find a reason for Muen Campbell’s sudden surge in strength, still looking for some loophole.
*
"Anyone else?"
Muen scanned the surroundings and found no response.
He let out a long breath and shook his head.
"Only four? I thought I’d have to fight at least ten. I guess I’m not very good at showing off."
"But that’s fine. This should buy me some peace and quiet for a while."
Muen turned and bid farewell to the senior standing nearby.
"I’ll be heading back then. See you in seven days, Senior Fanny."
"..."
Fanny’s eyes were vacant, her cherry lips parted wide enough to fit a goose egg.
It wasn't until Muen disappeared from view that she finally snapped out of it and gave a bitter smile.
"Muen... as expected, you’re the one who surprises people the most."