Chapter 643: Past and Present
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 643: Past and Present
The gale howled.
Cold glints flashed like snow.
The earth was torn asunder.
Sand and stone were ground to dust.
On this battlefield, conjured by the All-Manifestation Simulation, a scene of apocalyptic horror had long since unfolded.
Yet, this was not the result of grand magical clashes or magnificent martial displays.
It was merely two humanoid ferocious beasts, completely lost in the heat of the moment, using every ounce of their strength, speed, reflexes, experience, and decisiveness. They fought with everything they had ever etched into their flesh, bone, and soul—a brutal, primal slaughter.
This had long surpassed the level of a mere sparring match between two Fourth-Tier martial artists. There were no fixed martial technique bonuses, no profound or esoteric moves; such things had lost all meaning. Every strike and every parry was a move honed on the edge of life and death, an attack born of pure instinct. Yet, this raw display was enough to shake the souls of everyone present.
Flesh was sliced open, only to collide again the moment it healed. Blood flowed, and they let it flow, let it splatter.
Pain could not force either to retreat; instead, it made the heavy thrumming of their hearts grow more intense, more exhilarated.
In this moment, they seemed to have eyes only for each other—for the direct collision of blade and sword, the clash of blood and bone, and the meeting of soul and spirit!
...
But even the most savage slaughter must eventually end.
Following another violent collision, the two stopped simultaneously.
The howling gale subsided into a breeze, kicking up only a light dusting of sand.
The end came so abruptly that it failed to ease the tension in the hearts of the onlookers. Silence reigned over the spectator stands; everyone held their breath, staring fixedly at the center of the arena, unwilling to miss a single second.
The two stood less than ten meters apart. They raised their calm, blood-stained gazes and locked eyes once more.
"Can you still fight?" Muen was the first to ask.
"What do you think?"
"Then make your move."
"You first."
"No, I'm a gentleman. I should defer to a lady."
"I'm no lady. I don't need your deference."
"..."
"..."
"Flat-chest! If you're a woman, come and cut me!"
"What did you say, you blonde bastard?!"
"I'm talking to you, you weakling!"
"Aaargh! Get over here, I'll hack you to death!"
Just moments ago, the scene had been so brutal and intense that children under eighteen would have needed a parent's supervision. Now, the two were bickering like a Husky and a Chihuahua barking at each other through a fence, a display filled with an inexplicable sense of the absurd.
Yet everyone knew this wasn't some cliché comedic ending to a story. In a duel, there must eventually be a result.
Muen lowered his head, touching the wound on his chest again. This time, the horrific gash failed to heal instantly.
He was truly drained. Not a single drop of mana or fighting spirit remained. Without nourishment, he could no longer manifest the Black Flame to repair his body.
Across from him, Ariel didn't look much better. While she lacked a wound as deep as his, small and large blade marks covered nearly every inch of her body. Blood continued to seep from them, and she seemed to lack the strength to care, her blood almost entirely staining her tattered academy uniform red.
Both looked wretched and weak, as if a strong gust of wind might knock them over.
But in the end, Muen had been the first to speak.
"Still a bit short, huh?"
Muen suddenly let out a self-deprecating laugh. He looked up, and amidst the dizziness of his draining spirit—where the whole world began to dim and spin—he let out a sigh of melancholy and regret.
"Fighting a cheater like you while being a minor realm lower is still too much of a stretch. Besides... three external power sources are a bit too heavy a burden for me right now..."
"Ha? Who are you calling a cheater? You're the one with those expensive-looking tattoos all over your body. Have some shame, you—"
Ariel was about to snap back instinctively, but with a dull thud, Muen collapsed right in front of her, losing consciousness completely.
It was sudden, yet Ariel wasn't surprised at all.
"You... finally went down, didn't you?"
Looking at the fallen Muen, Ariel took two deep breaths, wiped her face, and began to laugh boastfully in the posture of a victor.
"Haha... I won! Muen Campbell, you're still too green! The victory of this battle belongs to me after all! I am the winner, I am the superior one! Did you all see that? I won with total ea—ga!"
Unfortunately, her arrogant laughter didn't last long before it was cut short.
"Ah, I forgot."
Ariel's expression froze. She muttered with a bitter face, "Those skills of mine... they have side effects too... Damn it, to make me look this pathetic... Curse you, Muen Campbell."
With that, her legs gave out, her head snapped back, and she too fell straight into a dead faint.
Just as suddenly as the first.
The two lay there, head to head, as if they intended to keep fighting even in their dreams.
"..."
The surroundings were deathly silent.
As the two combatants fainted one after the other, the entire arena fell into a bizarre atmosphere. Many people looked at each other, unsure if they should cheer or applaud.
Fortunately, the academy's referee was highly professional. He moved quickly to check on both of them. After confirming there was no life-threatening danger, the referee lifted Ariel's limp hand and loudly announced the final result:
"The winner: Ariel Bugard!!"
...
...
"Damn it."
In the lounge, Hertz Usman, who usually possessed excellent self-restraint, could no longer control himself. He instinctively crushed the stone railing he was leaning on.
Stone dust trickled through his fingers. At that moment, the cheers celebrating the victor and praising the loser finally surged in like a tide, but to his ears, they were incredibly grating.
He didn't even have the heart to comfort his most outstanding disciple beside him, to tell him there was still a chance for victory and to work hard tomorrow... instead, he stared fixedly at Muen and Ariel on the field, a fierce light flashing through his eyes.
The All-Manifestation Simulation had vanished; the two were now on the actual stage.
But even that stage was now a ruin.
This was because the All-Manifestation Simulation—a precision magic artifact specifically designed for the exchange competition—had failed to completely isolate the aftershocks of their battle.
Although the threshold of this simulation was certainly lower than the academy's famous Grand Ritual since it was for student combat, the fact that they could pierce through it and let their power leak out was terrifying.
At least, before this actually happened, he would have thought it absolutely impossible.
Yet the impossible had happened, just like that slaughter that had shaken even his soul.
From this, it was clear that the talent and potential of these two far exceeded anyone's imagination. If they were allowed to grow, they would surely become great threats to the Kingdom.
Thinking of this, a sliver of jealousy flashed through Hertz's heart, and the fierce light in his eyes gradually brewed into killing intent.
Everyone was currently immersed in the atmosphere of cheering. If he struck suddenly while they were off guard, he had a sixty percent chance of...
"Lord Hertz."
Right then, a cold voice made Hertz's aging body shudder instinctively, snapping him back to his senses.
His killing intent vanished instantly. Hertz turned around and bowed respectfully to the silver-haired figure.
"Your Majesty the Empress... why have you come?"
"To see you. As honored guests of my Empire, I cannot leave you neglected here all day."
Celicia Leopold had appeared in the lounge at some unknown point. A faint smile played on her lips as she nodded quite peacefully toward Hertz.
"How is it? Are you adjusting well to the Empire's arrangements?"
"To be remembered by Your Majesty is truly our honor."
Hertz lowered his head. "To answer Your Majesty, we are adjusting well."
"Good. Then, having seen today's match, what do you think of the young geniuses of my Empire?" Celicia asked again.
"...They are impressively outstanding."
After a moment of silence, Hertz spoke the truth. "To have such individuals is the Empire's blessing. I imagine they will become the solid foundation of the Empire's future."
"Mm, Lord Hertz overstates it. It is too early to speak of foundations. Your Kingdom's students are also quite good. Do not forget that those two fought tooth and nail just for a spot in the finals, while your side has already secured a place there early on." A hint of mockery curled at the corner of Celicia's mouth.
"...Your Majesty praises us too highly."
Hertz still didn't dare raise his head, for he feared that if he did, he wouldn't be able to hide that trace of killing intent.
"It is no overstatement, but sincere praise."
Celicia smiled and said:
"In that case, I will not stay longer. I hope you prepare well, Lord. I am very much looking forward to the upcoming finals. I hope you can provide me with a duel as brilliant as this one."
With that, Celicia drifted out of the lounge and swept directly toward the stage. She ordered others to assist Ariel while she personally picked up Muen Campbell and left.
Is she really not going to give anyone else a chance?
Hertz's aged palm suddenly clenched, the veins on the back of his hand twitching like venomous snakes.
But in the end, he slumped and let go.
What else could he do? This was the Empire.
Rather than fantasizing about an impossible assassination in the heart of the Empire, it was more practical to think about how to comfort and encourage his student.
Yes, Prince Milne was not inferior to anyone. His talent was still among the top on the entire continent. It was just that those two... were too monstrous.
The most important thing now was to stabilize his state of mind. He simply hadn't experienced enough hardship, but his talent was still there. As long as his heart remained unbroken, his future was still promising.
But... before Hertz could speak, Cordes Bronwin, who had just recovered from the shock, asked with a tremble—as if to provide a final summary of everything Milne had said before:
"Your... Your Highness, can you really... defeat monsters like that?"
"..."
Milne's hand jerked, but he didn't answer.
Instead, he finally raised his noble head, which had been hanging low since the climax of the battle.
However, his gaze did not fall on the center of the cheering crowd, nor on the two who would become his terrifying enemies. It fell on that receding silver-white silhouette.
Whether he could win or not was something he could no longer even consider.
Because he found it difficult to even project himself into that great battle.
He just watched Celicia's back and suddenly realized...
That Empress seemed to have never looked him in the eye from beginning to end.
This grand, high-profile journey to seek her hand in marriage seemed, from the very start, to have been nothing more than his own ridiculous and pathetic solo performance as a clown on a stage.
...
...
Muen opened his eyes to see a plain white ceiling.
The ordinary wooden ceiling, devoid of any decoration, failed to convey any sense of nobility, but to Muen, it was incredibly familiar.
"You're awake?"
He turned his head.
The same white curtains fluttered in the breeze. The dim yellow of the setting sun squeezed through the gaps, playfully painting vivid colors onto that cold face. Unfortunately, that face was so aloof that it seemed to freeze the sunset instead, turning it into a perfect embellishment for that beautiful, unreachable flower.
"Such a familiar feeling."
"What?"
"Waking up in the academy infirmary to find the esteemed President Celicia thoughtfully peeling an apple for me."
Muen propped himself up.
"A sense of déjà vu, isn't it?"
"Mm, I suppose there was a similar scene before."
The apple peel, thin and even enough to let light through, trailed down from her slender fingers. Celicia gave a perfunctory response, focusing on finishing the last bit of peel. Then, with a light flick of the fruit knife, the apple was perfectly divided into small pieces.
Her application of swordsmanship remained as exceptional as ever.
"Eat."
She held the apple out to Muen, issuing a cold command.
But Muen didn't take it. He suddenly smiled meaningfully.
"But it feels like there's something a bit different too."
"Oh? Like the person peeling the apple for you is no longer a mere Student Council President, but the Empress of the Empire?"
"That does sound quite charming, but what I meant was..."
Muen pointed at the apple, then at himself, and finally spread his hands.
"Look, I'm injured. So, as my dear fiancée, shouldn't you do something?"
Feed me.
Muen blinked.
"..."
Celicia thought for a moment, then nodded solemnly.
"Indeed, I should do something."
With that, she suddenly stood up and lunged at Muen with aggressive momentum.
With her icy face and the fruit knife gripped in her hand, it looked as if she were truly about to execute the scum man on the spot...
"Wait, wait, wait, I was wrong—"
Muen's expression changed, and he quickly surrendered...
"Mmph!"
However, what met him was not the cold tip of a blade, but...
Truly just a piece of apple.
"Well?"
Celicia used the knife to pick up a piece of apple and, with a light lift of her hand, personally fed it into Muen's mouth.
"An apple fed to you by the Empress herself. Does it taste good?"
"Mmm... delishush!"
The apple was sweet, and combined with the gentle offensive of the tsundere ice-mountain Empress, it became the sweetest thing in the world.
"Hmph. This is only because you're currently an invalid. Don't get ahead of yourself." Celicia didn't forget to give Muen a warning.
"Hehe... Her Majesty is the best."
Muen grinned foolishly. He wanted to take this chance to pull the lovely Empress into his arms, but as soon as he tried to move, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain.
"Sss—it hurts."
The intense pain radiating from inside his body immediately reminded Muen why he was here.
"Ha... I really did lose, didn't I?"
Muen leaned against the wall, let out a long, complicated breath, and then looked at Celicia, suddenly saying:
"I'm sorry."
"I don't recall you needing to apologize for anything lately. Did you do something else behind my back?"
"No, I mean... I'm sorry that, as your fiancé, I lost the match and made you lose face." Muen scratched his head with a bitter smile.
"I see..."
Celicia nodded understandingly, but in the next moment, Muen felt another surge of pain.
This time it wasn't from his injuries, but from Celicia pressing the back of the fruit knife hard against Muen's arm. She said with a cold face:
"Since when does the Emperor of a great Empire need a man to give her 'face'?"
"Ah, that's not what I meant—"
"Are you looking down on me?"
"No, no, no, Celicia, Xiya, Your Majesty, let me explain—"
"You've really been getting more and more arrogant lately."
The back of the knife slid upward until it reached a very dangerous vital spot, looking as if it might actually sink in... but then, Celicia suddenly hooked her arm around Muen's neck.
"However, the sentiment is worth rewarding."
"..."
Muen, who had just been worried about his life, felt a surge of irritation at this switch between heaven and hell.
He grabbed the Empress's slender waist and bit her lip hard in retaliation.
Unfortunately, the Empress's methods were sharper than he imagined. With just a few counterattacks, she left him quite flustered.
A few minutes later, a defeated Muen pulled his lips away.
Celicia pinched his waist and asked, "What are your thoughts after this battle?"
"Thoughts?"
Muen panted. "I'd say there's one piece of good news and one piece of bad news."
"Oh?"
"The bad news is, I still lost."
"That's nonsense."
Celicia glared at him with her beautiful eyes. "And the good news?"
"The good news is, I didn't lose by much."
Muen turned his head, gazing at the sun that was about to sink in the west.
Once, he had been like this fading sunset, never knowing how high and far the morning-sun-like Child of Destiny, Ariel, would go. That was a place he, who had just struggled to find a spark of life from a dead end forsaken by fate, could never reach in his lifetime.
But now, on this path of climbing toward higher peaks, he was no longer unable to even see Ariel's back.
He was only a step behind her—perhaps even half a step.
And in the future, they might even... stand side by side.
Even though Muen could feel that Ariel likely still had some trump cards she hadn't used in the previous fight, he himself... also had cards he couldn't easily reveal.
A year ago, the version of himself lying in an academy infirmary bed just like this wouldn't have dared to even dream of this.
But he had done it.
It was hard, but he had done it.
"Of course, most importantly..."
Muen pulled Celicia close again and, catching her off guard, gave her soft lips a heavy kiss.
Yes, more importantly—
He no longer had to worry about being easily killed by Ariel. After all, the strength gap between them had narrowed to the point where a victor wouldn't be easily decided.
...And for a yellow-haired villain who had unconsciously incurred too much karmic debt to the Soaring Phoenix protagonist Ariel, wasn't that the best news of all?