Novel The Odyssey of Dalis (Contains Arrogant Young Master as a MC)

Spoiler: Chapter 65: The VIP Room

"Of course that prodigy Hayate was going to win. He was born from a hero! A hero's child wouldn't lose that easily," a youngster from the crowd asserted.

"Hero? You believe in that silly rumour? Hayate is simply too talented. His opponent was not in his league," a teenage girl argued.

"I heard the source of Hayate's power came from a sacred ritual conducted in extremely windy weather," a retired veteran knight said.

"Could it possibly be some forbidden art?" the woman next to the knight asked.

"Honestly even for someone as old as me, I do not know. All of the knowledge we have of that rising prodigy of the Swamp is that in itself. For all we know he could have eaten a super rare fruit . . . or perhaps he came from “there”."

"There? What do you mean by “there” ?" the woman inquisitively asked.

"It is the destination that everybody in the past all dreamed of _______ to . . . " Recalling the long histories his father had told him and the information not exhibited in the museum, he began to lapse.

"Sir please tell us!"

Awakening from his ephemeral departure, he saw the sight of the three young ones immersively gazing at him. When he saw this, he could only answer their eager calls.



***



The lavish VIP room protruding out from the third floor was indisputably the best location to have a seating. A single glance through the sanguine window panels allows any onlooking person in the room to set in sight the entire landscape of the arena. The glassy windows, glowing a deep blue had mysteriously powerful magnification abilities for the eye to reflect the projected scenery. Thus, no matter how far you may wish to look, there would be no detriment to one's viewing. The only real downside was that it could not capture audio.

Besides the many decorations and few furnishings in the room, there was an overt seating arrangement structured in the middle of the room for the privileged guests. There weren't too many seats to begin with, but it was more than sufficient for the arrived delegates. Naturally, each of them came from the leading nations. In the past, there would be many more guests; however, since the Great War, the numbers have greatly declined. The nations all had their hands full with many matters.

In contrast to the Knights of Kingdom Tournament bustling atmosphere, the VIP room was tense with an air of uneasy unrest. All of this unwelcome unrest originated from the lone figure occupying a seat in the first row. Three other delegates sat alongside the second row but kept a respectable distance from that dreadful figure. As for the King, he watched directly from the balustrade while Crown Prince Kayle stood aside from the seats. Even with the pleasuring ventilation, unfailing to flow into each corner of the room, the currents only served to heighten the tension as the pleasant breeze tickled the leaked perspirations trickling behind their backs. It was unknown whether it was the same for the King.

Zetral's delegate, Apostle Farden, could be seen silently and earnestly jotting down notes on a quality parchment, following the end of the face-off between Hayate and Koji. However, much like the rest, he had a hidden eye open for the unwanted one.

Next to him was Feeria's Water Elemental Master Harold. He appeared to be the same as always: carefree and easy-going. An oddball thrown in the mix of heightened pressure. Usually, Harold Mae would have no real issues associating with other people. In spite of the King standing a couple of meters away from him, he was unalarmed whatsoever. He was his unrestrained self; heck, he boldly asked the King permission to part a surprise gift to his daughter. However, after the performance and then the brief introductions to one another . . . Harold was shitting himself on the inside.

(I want to go home . . . but my cute daughter! My Daughter Alexia!) He winced tightly as though he wanted to close his eyes and escape.

Aggrieved, he “boldly” peeked a glance at the scary figure. Her raddled and supposedly brown hooded robe concealed her skin from the back. Eerily, the robe was smudged in various and corrosive appearing dull colours. The most conspicuous feature of all was that pinkish purple noxious smog around her. It manifested a very dangerous vibe. As evidence, the eroded, rough open holes of her attire were unseeable. Mustering up more courage, he gazed deeper into the holes out of curiosity.

(I should stop. I don't know what's going to happen if this scary elder finds out.)

Just as he turned to look away, he sensed that his eyes had captured something. Without conscious thought, his eyes were drawn back.

(There's nothing . . . Huh?) Squinting his eyes, he saw movement within the fumes of the void. Believing that his eyes were hallucinating from his stress, he lingered his gaze. Soon, he saw a shadow of a little critter, flattened elongated body composed of many segments.

(A centi—WHAT THE #$%^&)

Harold's heart jumped in fright. He saw the shadow critter slowly uncloak to reveal its thorny and disturbing segments. It wasn't that the creature came closer to the opening, nor was the gas dissipating . . . the creature simply grew in size. It grew so big that the hole ended up showcasing a small part of its grown body as it pressed against the opening. It then started to crawl . . . crawl . . . crawl . . . crawl . . . it was like watching a passing train go by. When it revealed its head . . .

(ONE-EYED CENTIPEDE?!!)

If he wasn't an envoy in front of these particular gathered figures, he was just a strand away from jumping out of his seat, jetting that malicious beast, and sprinting away. Who cares if he was in a family meeting? Great family meeting? He didn't want to court death with that thing in close proximity.

One-eyed Centipedes were one of the most fearsome and dangerous beasts in the Pedlar Continent. They have around five hundred thorny, powerful legs, and on average, spanned fifty meters in length. In addition, their bodies were impregnable! About ten times sturdier than the average Gigan body consolidator. Although it only had a single head, its face contained two jaws with one superimposed over the other. If you were to somehow go above to look at that towering figure, the hidden ocellus on top would be exposed in view. It's giant eye would send nightmares from a mere glimpse.

The real question is . . .

(How is such a frightening beast so small?) Thinking of this very question brought deathly chills to perpetually course through Harold's spine. He swore to never get on this freakish elder's bad side. With an expression that appeared to repent for his actions, he respectfully turned back to the battlefield. The hidden “eye” at the back of the elder's head appeared to be . . . satisfied. Slowly, the body shrunk and sank back into the pinkish-purple gas. Fortunately for Harold, he did not see what lay at the end of the beast . . .

A sharp, handsome man in his thirties with long black hair was seated adjacent to Harold. He wore an emerald shaded kamishimo, hakama coloured in black, imprinted with the Gigan insignia. It's imprint on the kataginu, a sleeveless top, was located close to the heart. It signified that the man was a proud citizen from Gigan with the heart of a Gigan. This imprint was only given to those who were recognised as the “Hearts of Gigan”. He was the Head of the Ronins, one of the sect leaders representing the Five Martial Sects of Gigan—Yamada Zanko.

Yamada's eyes narrowed to slits, revealing katanas. He glared at the dreaded elder. "Speak, Deathorlie. What did you do?" The placid and dignified man interrogated.

"Kehehehe, young samurai boy put away those toys. Even someone like myself may not be able to fend off that aura. I was simply playing around with that child beside you."

"I—I—I apolgise Senior Elder! I was just a little, little curious! That's all. I will make it up for you!" Harold pleaded in panic.

Crown Prince Kayle went a little sour at Harold's attitude. Harold's display was unbecoming. (At least try to be brave . . . even my little brother would have much more backbone.

"Kehehe. Just pretend that you saw nothing." Deathorlie then returned to face the unmoving, lion-hearted boy. "Relax young boy, no need to put your guard up. As I have said before, there won't be any fun sessions with me this time around."

"Pardon us Deathorlie, but frankly, nobody is able to resist raising their guard upon facing you. You are too . . . dicey may I say. I'd hope you can understand our worries." Kayle gracefully appeased her.

"Keh you are truly not bad, the future of the Kingdom is in your hands. I look forward to your days of reign."

"If such a day comes forth, I will be sure to invite your renowned name. I believe with your long experience and wisdom, it would be insightful for all of the younger ones to take in. Some may be negligent, but are in truth happy to gain appreciation from you, regardless of your reputation. I implore Deathorlie to consider the big picture and hope it would aid as experience in your future teachings. "

"Kehehehehe." Deathorlie was well pleased. (Artful and well mannered. Perhaps I should visit the Kingdom more often.)

Deathorlie was a legendary old monster, nicknamed as the “Notorious Crazed Alchemist”. Her alchemy was said to be unparalleled on the Pedlar Continent, rivaling the Product Apostle. Unlike the godly all-round manufacturer Product Apostle, Deathorlie specialised in pill, potion, and medicine making. That was the standard for alchemists. However, Deathorlie did not simply follow the normal procedure in alchemy. In every procedure, she would utilise deadly poisonous ingredients and special arts to concoct miraculous produces. For better or worse, each of her products did not fail to come with terrifying side effects.

Yamada, alerted from their conversation, was about to speak when Apostle Farden interrupted.

"Ronin Head Yamada, I heard there were some—particular issues pertaining to the Five Martial Sects?"

Everyone in the room, with the exception of Deadorlie, concentrated their attention to Yamada. They showed signs of having ideas.

Yamada, for the time being, did not pronounce. Only the sounds of distant cheers could be heard in the background.

 

Spoiler: Chapter 66: Arrogant Talented Young Master vs Arrogant Young Master Prodigy.

"Sister Edna, You're back!" Jessica's voice alerted the worried Orphanage children. Quickly, they raised from their seats to hear the details.

"Children, there's nothing to worry about. Koji is doing just fine. There weren't any internal injuries, and his chest has already recovered. All he needs to do is rest. Allen is watching over him for now, so there is nothing to worry about."

The children heaved a sigh of relief. After a few more words, they returned back to their seats.



***



"Koji. You did your best. I know it sucks, but it happens man."

" . . . "

Koji finally peered over to Allen. It was just as he thought. Allen was on the edge of his wooden chair, zealously trying to cheer him up. He couldn't help but leak out a grin, seeing that animated face. It was thanks to him that he was able to open up with others, and once again, he's doing what Allen does.

"Koji your bounces were really striking! Like they were even more jumpier than the time we faced the mole beasts during the Exam! Next time we ever encounter those moles, it would be a piece of cake."

Koji waited patiently until Allen's arsenal of words were becoming stagnant. It was then Koji decided to speak.

"Thanks Allen. But I know I'm weak. You can stop now," Allen said. Self-mockery and pity plastered over his face.

Allen felt there was something off about him. If it was the usual routine, Koji would display his vex and shrug it off as if he didn't care. "Uh . . . was Hayate really that strong?"

Koji widened his eyes in surprise. (Allen you're always so carefree . . . but you have an amazing intuition.) It was unexpected that Allen was on course with the muddles in his mind.

"I was not even considered an opponent in his eyes." Traces of anger flickered in his eyes. The lights only remained for a moment before they returned to being spiritless.

Allen found that unbelievable. He bet that nobody else was more glued to that match than him. It really did appear to be a close battle. However, when he contemplated a little further, he did notice a few odd things.

Koji was unusually agitated. There was a disparity between Koji's usual demeanour during the battle, and Koji fighting against Hayate. Instead of acting like a lone wolf, he was more of an unrestrained beast. Was this just Koji simply trying his best to win?

Another point was that Hayate was rather slow in counterattacking. Allen had seen Hayate fight a couple of times and knew that he himself wouldn't be able to face him. No matter how much ground Koji managed to cover, Hayate had plenty of time to at least use the Hidden technique gasify.

As more unpleasant thoughts arose to his mind, Allen felt that he was closer to understanding Koji's feelings. Concurrently, a sour stimulation discomforted his mouth as he rubbed the side of his legs with his palms.

"Koji . . . did he at least respect you?" Allen disliked bad mouthing people, moreover, if it was behind their backs. Asking in a roundabout way was close to the bare minimum he could do.

" . . . "

Perceiving the masked fumes and gaining no response, Allen clenched his fists. His instincts were indicating that this was not on a level of a straightforward contempt from a Feeria: it had to be much more than that.

Allen soberly asked, "could you tell me what happened between the two of you?"



***



"Melvin's third duel is coming soon! At his current pace, he will definitely make it out of his group!"

"The opponents he faced were too overconfident, Stilla." Dalis was somewhat indignant. (It can't be helped. We are the youngest contestants. It is natural for the older ones to judge us. Furthermore, we are not knights in their eyes. We are just children.)

"Next duel. Melvin Serven vs Hayate from the Caleyar Orphanage. Participants, please enter the stage."

Two suave boys tarried their way into the arena. Along the way, Melvin could be seen peacefully combing his perfect blonde hair. Rather than readying himself for a duel, it appeared as though he was preparing to enter a prom. Many of the remaining participants couldn't help but twitch their brows when they saw this. There weren't any signs of loose hair sticking out or any blemishes across the board for that matter. And yet, he appeared to have the audacity to grumble his inner thoughts of how “discontent” he was. All of the superficial nonsense spewed out of his mouth was unanimously bullshit.

"Dear Mother, do you think I should go over and lend him my hairbrush? It wouldn't be pleasant for the eye to see him in such an untidy appearance," a young noble girl requested.

The mother looked at her daughter. "Jenny, I do not see anything wrong with his appearance."

"Mother! You're not even paying attention! That's the wrong stage. Can't you see how troubled he looks while he's adjusting his hair? He needs my hairbrush. I just know it." She pointed towards Melvin.

"Right right let's see this boy then." Following the finger, the mother turned to inspect a closer view at the suave blonde boy. (Ugh, a commoner.) Although her initial impression was bad, she then felt something amiss. The participants on standby were staring at the boy like a pack of watchdogs; the bigger hounds were stealthily grooming their weapons. Even the judge looked ready to pounce on him.

"Mother, do you see now?"

"See what?"

"His appearance!"

"A commoner?"

"Mother!!"

The mother ignored her daughter and let out a long sigh of annoyance. Then, she peered over resentfully to the peasant who was responsible for leading her daughter astray. To her disbelief, she found no flaws with his appearance besides his uncouth attire. In fact, his attire was unbelievably posh for a bunch of rags, and his good looks were irritably on the same level as someone like Prince Barry. It was appearances after all!

"Jenny! Where do you think you are going?"

"I'm going to—"

"No you are not! How can the Lady of my Distinguished Clifford Family do such an unbridled act?" (Why is my daughter so idiotic? I was never like this at her age.)



***



On the stage . . .

The judge shook his head side to side between the duelers. No matter who he was looking at, they both appeared to be isolated in their own world. Neither of them seemed to have acknowledged . . . ? the existence of their respective opponent. One of them had his head turned left, gazing upwards wandering adrift clouds, pondering, while the other had his head turned right, gazing upwards to the fringe of his hair, combing.

Two more minutes the judge could only vexedly offer before forcefully commencing the match.



***



Participants, the duel will now begin! (I can't believe I have the conscience to give these wretches another second of my life.)

" . . . "

" . . . "

" . . . "

There was no movement; they pretended to not have heard him at all.

The judge's patience was moments from snapping and exploding. He will give them one more chance! Deep inside, he was hoping they would dare cross his bottom line.

"Ahem. It seems you wre. . . children did not hear me. Participants, the duel will now begin!!" His icy, exasperated voice resounded so hatefully as though he wanted to run up and murder them.

“Coincidentally” and concomitantly, their mirrored heads swung to the front, meeting their opponent.

"Oh ho?"

"Oh?"

"Oh ho, Oh ho?"

"Oh, oh oh?"

The two, who had “noticed” each other, began to let out “oh sounding” astonished groans, ambling their way to greet.

During their slow and deliberate footsteps, Melvin smoothly and naturally moved his arms to the back, clasping them. The motions of his chin, too, elevated to properly address the other party.

Meanwhile, perhaps it was due to a phenomenon caused by the wind, Hayate's stature rose. Gradually, he placed his left arm on his hip, and his right arm moved closer to his neat high collar. At an appropriate conversing distance, his right hand began to caress his chin.

It was at this point, they approached a standstill, staring at one another. Although direct words should be exchanged, they were not. Instead, their egos were at an all-time high, exuding, and battling it out in an intense confrontation. Imposingness, arrogance, disdain such nuances were fueling into the furnace. They were as lofty as chimneys as they greedily combusted their resources for everyone to see.

In many serious duels, it was not particularly rare to have fighters stand their ground and observe their opponent. However, never in the history of Cresuilge have people seen fighters walk up face to face just metres apart and try to overwhelm their opponent through pressuring their presence alone.

It was a colossal collision between an arrogant pair.

 

Spoiler: Chapter 67: Arrogant Talented Young Master vs Arrogant Young Master Prodigy Part 2

For a short while, it appeared as though neither of the two was inclined to properly speak. They each felt that it would be a great deign to initiate a conversation; it was too disdainful. Unfortunately, they were unable to ignore the intrusive outside pressure stalking their backs. However, in all honesty, would their egos back down from a mere outsider? Naive I tell you! Naive!

*Whooosh*

A tailwind was subtly evoked from behind Hayate, gradually building up by the second. Melvin felt the force of the wind attempt to blow him backwards. His body was forced to take a step back.

(Hmph! You believe it will go the same way as before? You are underestimating me!)

Melvin began to mentally chant a particular spell invocation.

Hayate nonchalantly awaited for the right time and stirred a sudden gust of wind within the tailwind. He would once again feign ignorance and mock this boy back into his rightful place.

Melvin arrogantly watched the gust of wind flow towards him. The sleeves of his half-robe fluttered in the wind, and his perfect blonde hair was subject to a makeover. But no matter how strong it was, it was powerless to force the Serven to step back. Melvin looked indifferent, albeit a very tenuous, small grin spread across his face.

Hayate's expression briefly contorted to a frown but quickly regained its normal debonair composure. (It seems my past charitable lesson was not left wasted. Natheless, my wind's strength is not at such a low level. How will you fare against this?)

The currents of wind steadily eased down and yet were pervasive; a turbulent tailwind was brewing. In the meantime, Melvin removed his arms from behind his back and set about with meticulously fine-tuning his disordered appearance.

"The forecast for today's splendid weather in Spring appears to be a little faulty." Melvin took a moment to copy Hayate's mannerisms and ponder deeply adrift the clouds.

"Could it be due to the increased atmospheric instability caused by the strong sunshine? The increase in temperature will warm the air resulting in the air rising and the winds to flow. After all, cold air is known to be denser than warm air." Melvin's mutters were so loud that even the nearby onlookers could hear him.

"Oh Ho? Ho?!! This is nature taking its course." Hayate knitted his brow, and his eyes twitched, losing the lustre of calmness. All traces of limited compassion he held were expelled down the drain.

The stirring pervasive wind became malevolent in response to its master's distress. It sought retribution for itself and its master's ridicule. The ongoing air returned to match its previous energy when it first attempted to push Melvin. Now, the natural air was continually dishing out a powerful current to defeat that arrogant mortal. Melvin's fine-tuning was for naught: his hair fanatically swirled and hanged backwards while his robes were on the verge of flying off. It was as if he was standing next to a large, powerful rotating propeller.

"I see! I understand now! In the first place, there were no faults in the reported forecast. How could such meagre winds be mentioned? It would be a pointless remark to bring up. It was all a misunderstanding." Melvin enlightened, returned to adjusting his dishevelled appearance. Although it was an impossible task, it was an overt act to elicit a lovely response from his adversary. No matter how many times his appearance was ruined, he cooly shrugged it off and grumbled within his soliloquy. Each of his lines contained a possible hypothesis or conjecture to answer the “unexplained” weather conditions.

As a result, Hayate was forced to endure lines after lines of face slapping humiliation. Hayate deep down was slowly on the brink of tearing him to shreds. If he lashed out, he would swiftly defeat the defenceless Melvin in one move and win the round, satisfyingly kicking Melvin out of the tournament. Woefully, the cost would be admitting defeat to this irritable nemesis. That cost was even worse than death! How could a prodigy like him lose to a wasted nobody? In his wind force?!

In conclusion, the only option was to proceed with his tailwind onslaught. Limited in his abilities and movement, he, for the first time in his life, was forced to go all out against a practitioner around his age. (To think you—managed to force my hand like this.) Hayate's being underwent a drastic change as he became very focused and the air around him subtly congealed. Oddly, the process stirred a peculiar excitement to be sensated across his body. Unknowingly, the arrogance on his face faded to form an expression worn by a man in a position of absolute power.

The currents were shaping; a wave of wind was approaching.



***



"Brother Li Jun, I think there is something finally happening in that arena. The air in that arena appears odd. Is that the power of the wind?" Rhaghav asked Li Jun.

Li Jun firmly nodded his head in agreement. "I have been watching that arena since the beginning. This is not their first scuffle but . . ."

"What? Brother has been watching only that arena? I suppose you want to analyse the skills of those two. I tried doing the same but watching those snobby fools made me sick." Rhaghav was experiencing revulsion from reminiscing about what he saw. It didn't matter that he was acquainted with one of them.

Li Jun felt they were overboard but did not particularly mind. After encountering the scene many times, he had attained immunity. Besides, he respected Hayate's strength. If one had such power, then he or she was free to present himself as he wishes. Furthermore, he probably understood his character more than everyone else in the Orphanage. (It is strange though, he appears different than usual? Did Melvin cross the line even further than he should have?) Then, another curious thought occurred to him, and he called out to the person in question.

"Brother Benito. That is the person you wished to defeat. If you believe to be on his level, you should be able to see it. Do you think you can beat him?" Li Jun said in a solemn voice. Not an ounce of disrespect was present in his tone.

" . . . "



***



Melvin persisted his circulation of mana towards fortifying his body, especially the legs. The currents of wind were not only powering up, but also Melvin had a feeling that the pervasive wind was steadily blowing parallel to Melvin. Consequently, he was not allowed to continue his act nor rub his temple to erase the profuse sweat. For the time being, he could assuredly endure, though the future was unpredictable.

(Hayate, you think you can overpower me?! My surname would not be named Serven if I do not accept your impudent challenge!!)

Gazing at Hayate's eyes and feeling the subduing pressure of the winds caused him to feel his blood boil to a frightening degree. The Hayate before him made him feel as minuscule as an ant. It struck his nerves to the very core, threatening his entire existence. It was on the same spectrum as he had felt with that old man though different. Facing the old man was like trying to break through an indomitable wall while facing Hayate was like being subject to the sheer deride of a top Feeria expert. In turn, it reminded him of a particularly horrible memory back in Feeria. Melvin's anger skyrocketed to the heavens remembering this.

Melvin grinded his legs through the storm to enter a locked stance. Sternly, unfailing to gaze at Hayate with powerful unyielding eyes, he moved his arms towards the back . . .

(Oh ho . . . You wouldn't dare Mevin!)

The hands behind his back met their fingers and intertwined: clasped and unbreakable.

Melvin grounded his body into the earth and stuck out his pushed up chest: mountain and unshakeable.

No matter the conditions, the mountain will grow, and the chin rises to point as the peak: lofty and unassailable.

Finally, the mountain rests and looks down on all below the heavens: pompous and unconquerable.

Today, the man was not some expert: today, the man was a towering mountain!!!

Hayate raised his head to look fixedly at the impertinent tall mountain in front of him. Staring up at the figure made him feel uncomfortable. (Did I just think this guy was a mountain? How is that possible? He does not have such illusion techniques. Could it be . . . )

A few top experts observing the matches immediately gazed towards the direction of Hayate and Melvin's arena. They had sensed something. Noticing that this was the arena with the rising prodigy Hayate, they observed carefully. Within that very few, those who saw and felt what they had sensed believed it must have been their imagination.

*WHISTLE* *WHISTLE* *WHISTLE*

Vibrations trembled in the atmosphere, inducing the soughing of the wind. Nearby spectators collectively shuddered from the sudden high pitched noises. The amplification was equivalent to someone scratching their nails on a chalkboard. Thankfully, the noise was only temporary . . . at least for the audience . . . Melvin, however, as he is attacked, is forced to undergo this pain shrieking noise and at a frequency that shrieked ten times in pitch.

The judge, who was still incensed, was watching intently on the battle. As a matter of fact, he was more infuriated than ever before. Witnessing the demonstrations of arrogance through their exchanges and the current absurd fight had already given him a headache. No matter who wins this tug of war, it wouldn't end the match. It would only pop one bloated ego and inflate the other bloated ego.

(Curse those wretches. I'm so soaked in sweat because of them.) While he wiped the sweat trickling down his cheeks, he noticed that it was unusually hot. There were almost no winds within his periphery. Much of the currents united to flow towards . . .

 

Spoiler: Chapter 68: Arrogant Talented Young Master vs Arrogant Young Master Prodigy Part 3

The prolonged battle was approaching its climax. Two imposing figures stood amidst the maelstrom. One figure was a young, suave, blonde man. His rooted legs were buried deep into the earth, and his humanoid figure was sturdy and sky-high as a mountain. Opposite of him was a young, handsome, crimson-haired man. In front of a mountain, he appeared to be insignificant. However, that man was not a regular mortal. Surging, powerful gale-force winds accompanied his presence. He did not even seem to recognise the mountain in front of him. Instead, what he saw was an insolent imbecile, impending needed discipline. That was a duty for a supreme expert.

(Be proud Melvin. Your endeavour was not fruitless. To be able to force my hand to my greatest extent, that is something commendable for a nobody like you.)

Hayate then weighed a troubling decision in his mind: to directly exhibit his attack or to carry on with his shameless ignorance.

The course of these events had unexpectedly sparked a fortuitous inspiration; an enlightenment. Never had he concentrated so hard to manipulate the natural wind to all converge to a single direction. In fact, he found it quite tricky, and it took a lengthy amount of time to conjure and apprehend a proportion of it. After all, the wind was virtually omnipresent. Controlling large movements in the wind was not much of a hassle but pinpointing and then compacting sections were in another league. Many of Hayate's attacks affected large areas. In gaming terms, it would be known as an area of effect. In addition, the attacks were objectively lacking in the accuracy department. Thus, Hayate, in normal circumstances, would almost always utilise the hidden technique gasify for greater manipulation and more condense control.

In the end, Hayate could not let the beneficial opportunity go to waste. It would be disdainful and ludicrous to even ponder the decision.

Hayate closed his eyes. His firm arms were lightened and raised outwards to embrace the tailwind. Gently and serenely, he flapped his arms like a pair of wings. The malevolent maelstrom dropped in ferociousness. In turn, the winds converged more smoothly and accurately. It was a huge drop in power, but Melvin felt even more incoming pressure than before as the winds were more aligned to strike him. The dispersed power drastically reduced.

Suddenly, the wind angel opened his eyes. The term gentleness could no longer be applied. That was not an angel: that was a supreme expert. A supreme expert with absolute power. Arms of the expert were stretched taut as though they were sharp pincer-like wings . . . he whispered,

"Hidden technique: Surging Wind Cannon!"

*WHOOOSH!*

*WHOOOSH!*

*WHOOOSH!*

*WHOOOSH!*

Melvin arrogantly stared down at the tyrannical gale-force tailwinds surging forth towards him. He roared inwardly and grit his teeth. Winds barraged without mercy, cutting and blistering his skin. Powerful winds forced Melvin to close his eyes and mouth to open, revealing his pearly-white teeth. "AGHRR!" Melvin crunched down the jaws of his mouth. Vomits of blood-soaked his glands and dyed his teeth blood red. He refused to reveal weakness! Stubbornly, he gulped the blood down as it churned his insides.

"MELVIN! STOP! STOP! DO SOMETHING!"

"MELVIN YOU IDIOT!"

Stilla and Dalis cried in horror.

Melvin was refusing to budge. He bitterly and recklessly persisted through the danger, accepting the baneful winds. There were no changes in Melvin's posture. Arms continued to be clasped behind their backs, his chin was still elevated, and though his eyes were closed, everyone could tell those eyes were looking down on Hayate.

It was official. Melvin's ego was above Hayate.

(YOU DARE CONTINUE TO LOOK DOWN ON ME?!) Hayate roared inwardly!

*WHOOOSH!*

*WHOOOSH!*

*WHOOOSH!*

*WHOOOSH!*

The gale-force winds answered Hayate's calls. Erratically and angrily, they gusted to their adversary. Hayate put an end to his controlled momentum to deliver a final hefty blow.

Melvin squinted open his eyes to meet the final wave. He understood that he was unable to take it. However, he had come so far! How could he abandon his conviction at this point?!

The distance between them appeared to be begrudgingly large. Melvin was forced with his bare eyes to not be ignorant. Truly, Hayate was worthy of his reputation.

They called him a prodigy . . . ?

Perhaps so!

However, just because he was well-known does not mean he was superior.

Melvin will prove this now!

Today will be the debut of Melvin Serven!

Melvin vigorously mustered his mana. He shall crush Hayate without turning back.

(A supreme expert? Hmph, so what? If you think you are so powerful, I will ascend higher than a mortal.) Melvin's scorn magnified a hundredfold, and his legs solidified even further into the ground.

(Impossible!) The eyes of the King widened as large as saucers. Webbed cracks were seen underneath the adamantine flooring under Melvin's feet. (How . . . who is this child? Only power on the scale of a hero can do such a thing.)

Melvin imagined himself, becoming one with the very earth itself. A visage of his homeland flashed into his mind. Countless scenes of humiliation, disgrace, pain, bitterness channelled within the memories. He was told after time, and after time, and after time again to endure the hardships. Every time he exploded, he was punished and ridiculed further. Even his very birth parents themselves were not on his side and reprimanded him.

Then, he saw a memory of a particular day. It was a day shortly after leaving Feeria. He was undertaking the infamous Feeria bearing and was about to be set off foot from the Feeria Mountain Range. Young Melvin gazed intently at the twelve skyscraping mountain peaks, penetrating the clouds. Longing, love, anger, many complex emotions were intermingled at the time. However, two emotions were more clear, palpable, and resonate than the rest: reverence and determination.

Melvin's eyes scorched open. The transient scenery was no more, but the mountain was there in his mind. Melvin felt his body muscle out in power like a Gigan body consolidator. Envisioning the very integrity of those mountains, he desired now to become as mighty as those mountains.

Melvin Serven will become a Mountain.

BOOOOOOOOM!!

Tyrannical gale-force tailwinds surged forth and collided with Melvin, acting like miniature bombarding tornados. Blood leaked from Melvin's gritting mouth, and his body was pushed back every second. Legs remained ingrained, unmoving, but his balance was faltering, and the back was bending. His pompous eyes were losing sight of their target as he was bent backwards. But, no matter how much force struck him, he repulsed and did not bend further. Hayate was reluctantly forced to meet the downwards eyes of an unyielding mountain.

Hayate felt his spine shudder as everything became clear; his preconceived thoughts held true. It was definitely no illusion.

A vague image of a mountain appeared to be coalescing and overlapping in Melvin. And it was only continuing to manifest. When his winds struck him, they were only whittling impacts as if it was a process of natural erosion. It could not stop the growth, and it was adapting to the weather, strengthening the mountain. It had reached the point that his winds could not cut further. Rising and rising, Hayate was left to stare right up at the mountain.

(My sense did not deceive me. The swamp child's head is unnaturally tilted up. He must be seeing something. Earthly aura? I feel a tinge of it.) Yamada peeked towards Apostle Farden. He saw that he had put his quill feather down and was wholeheartedly watching something. That did not need to be said.

"That Melvin pride is really too much. Look at him! He's still doing that snobby bearing while his back is pushed to the brink! Even in that powerful storm! What the fuck am I watching?!" Jessica was so flabbergasted that she had to curse her bottled emotions out.

"Melvin . . . Dalis . . . Stilla . . . Those three are just . . ." Sienna was out of words. Despite it being only the first day, watching all these battles have increased her resolve to train harder.

"I have to say our fellow internship student from Feeria has guts for a mage. It looks as though he is stretching and consolidating his body. It reminds me of the waterfall training back in Gigan," Rhaghav Babu praised. (Maybe he is doing this intentionally to work out his bones?! Truly admirable. Melvin, my eyes were not wrong about you!)

"That Serven boy Melvin is really dumb. I don't know what to say. What do you think Alexia?" Sang-jin Wi asked.

"Crazy level dumbass. That's for sure," Alexia scoffed and cracked a smile.

Eventually, the storm subsided. The gale-force winds were put to rest, and the weather returned to tranquillity. Hayate couldn't believe it. He had lost the tug of war. In spite of attaining enlightenment, putting his ego to the side, and inventing a new technique, he was unable to topple that irritable figure. Unfortunately, he had no right to say anything neither could he turn his gaze away from those gleeful, scornful eyes.

 

Spoiler: Chapter 69: Arrogant Talented Young Master vs Arrogant Young Master Prodigy Part 4

Melvin, the half-bent mountain, slowly righted himself back towards his proper bearing. During his rise, he continued to gaze at Hayate. Every centimetre he crossed, his chin would elevate further, his eyebrows would minimally increase in constriction, and his eyes would apathetically and disdainfully look down.

There was a moment of silence. Only the carefully muffled breathing noises by Melvin could be heard.

Melvin then removed his lingering gaze from Hayate and surveyed his condition in an elusive manner. He groaned when he noticed how devastated he was. Acute pain could be felt around his ribcage, and his arms were very weak. He had definitely broken a few bones. Surprisingly, the majority of his lower half was comparatively much better. There were only rips and tears in his clothing, some bloodstains, and a few cuts. No broken bones in all likelihood. Most of the concerning cuts were seen as gashes in the upper half, notably one of his cheeks.

Turning towards the surroundings, he uncannily scanned the arena. The anomalous actions from Melvin left the audience blink in confusion. Onlookers behind Hayate could tell that he was not looking at Hayate but rather towards them . . . ?

Melvin aloud began to mutter to himself in a derogatory cold voice. "No. . .Could it be . . . where this Serven is standing is in the trajectory of the prevailing wind?" He met Hayate's eyes. "Hayate, you truly are blessed by mother nature."

Hayate had managed to reach an equanimity from the past moments of silence, but it was gone out of the window in no time.

"Now that I recall, I saw some odd hand movements? How diligent! I must say my eyes are opened. To train in front of 90,000 watchers on stage during the tournament, truly praiseworthy. As expected from the young prodigy of the Swamp. Unless those actions . . . were intended for something else?"

Melvin's poor, but vicious, acting performance made Hayate cough out blood. The audience, too, wanted to cough out blood. The mother of Jenny . . . was actually impressed. If Dalis had heard this clearly, he would be enraged at his amateur performance and cruel disrespect. However, he would have to give credit for his accomplishment: succeeding to provoke and madden his adversary to the point of inducing him to cough out blood.

"Melvin you . . . !" Profane words he had heard from others rose to his mind. Hayate was so pissed that he may swear for the very first time in his life.

"Hmph! If you wished to exchange blows then simply do so. This Serven had been graciously patient. It reminds me of that pesky insect who enjoys toying with his opponents! Cunning and too intimidated to face this Melvin fairly."

Dalis felt an ill omen struck him.

(As expected from trash. What's in the trash comes out the trash. Rubbish.) Somehow, Dalis had captured every word, tone, and implication of his spouted rubbish. It really was mysterious how he managed to do so. It was very difficult from his position.

"Oh ho? What a surprise? I too, had been graciously patient waiting for your move. Understandably, you were unable to take in the whole picture into mind." Hayate shook his head up and down. Afterwards, he shifted his attention to the spectators and then to the judge. "Understand now imbecile?"

"AGHRR!" The judge, also, coughed out blood.

Hayate and Melvin did not need to turn to know the judge's exasperated state.

They immediately went serious.

"Imbecile, are you earnestly attempting to face me in your pathetic state of affairs?"

The air went deathly still.

Chilling winds from Hayate's control swirled around Melvin, coldly sweeping. The subject felt his wounds sting in sour pain; currents disdainfully tormented him at the subject of pleading mercy.

"I am Melvin Serven . . ."

*rumble* *rumble* *rumble*

Low quakes rumbled his innards, boiling and sending fire alarms ringing in his whole body.

"What are you . . . ?" Hayate frowned as he saw Melvin's wounds worsen. Blood intensely seeped, dripping small canals of red to the floor. He was not responsible for this.

"A Serven of the Great Serven Family . . ."

*crack* *crack* *crack* *CRACK*

Steady, low crackling noises surfaced. Bites of space appeared to be torn asunder.

( I'm losing control of the winds . . . ?) Hayate felt the winds gradually fall from his grasp. To be precise, he could not manipulate the air around Melvin. Every time he tried, the winds would violently shred apart.

*sizzle* *CRACK* *sizzle* *CRACK*

White, sparkling bolts streamed and sizzled out, shocking the circumference in its wake.

"Electricity? No that can not be it. It must be . . ." Hayate gasped with unease.

"Lightning!! That kid from the Orphanage knows how to use lightning!!" a knight exclaimed.

"How rare! To be able to use lightning at his age . . . but can he really control it?" a butcher cried.

"Haaaaaa . . . Haaaaaa . . . Haaaaaa . . ." Melvin forced his turbulent muscles to relax and his lungs to deeply exhale.

(Hey hey hey hey hey! Wretch, are you trying to kill yourself? There's no way you can use lightning in your wretched state.) The judge's mood flipped a one-eighty. This was not a moment to be begrudging.

Hayate wordlessly bolted towards Melvin. Gusts of winds aligned and aided his gallops. It was so fucking fast that hardly anybody had even seen what happened.

Melvin became startled. Hayate was an arm-span away from him.

(HAYATEEEEE!!!!!!!)

"VANQUISH STYLE: AIR PALM STRIKE!"



***



Time froze, for what seemed an eternity.

The crowd held their breath.

Two figures stood.

And then one figure dropped.

A piercing cry remained left unheard.

Only, to be swallowed into the sinking of the dirt.

Utter disbelief and regret were all forcefully sent to the dark.

Hayate had . . .

Won.



***



"You don't need to be so worried Stilla. I've been told that Melvin's condition is thankfully better than expected. He will just need to recuperate for a while," Sister Edna reassured Stilla.

"Sister Edna . . . perhaps you should wait in the hospital? I will keep an eye on the children as well as the following matches."

"Thank you Dalis. But It's alright. It's my duty as a Sister to look after all of my children."

"Sister Edna, I understand that. However . . ." Dalis concernedly peered over to her. He couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

"That naughty, stupid little brother . . ." Stilla muttered with pouting lips.

"Stilla?" Dalis uttered.

"I'm going to beat Melvin up and teach him a lesson."

"Sounds good. Go for it."

"Huh?! Isn't that Melvin?" Allen stood up and swung his body to the side.

A tall, young blonde male figure wrapped in fresh white gauzes and bandages could be seen dallying on the stairs. He had his back turned, and he seemed to be heading in the direction of the exit. When he noticed all the perplexed stares and exchanged eyes with one in particular, he began to fluster, flounder, and limp away.

"Hold on. Why does it look like he's trying to leave?" Sienna commented.

"Heya Melvin!!" Allen shouted.

As if that was some kind of trigger, Melvin increased his scrambling movements.

Everyone was confused. What was happening? Why is he moving away from us?

(Fuck. To think that I, Melvin Serven, am forced to—)

Melvin's train of thought was interrupted as brisk, hurried footsteps encroached him from behind.

"Meeeeellllvvviiiiinnnn! ^O^"

When he turned around, he was caught in a solid warm embrace from a robust, slender, cute girl.

"You're alright Melvin! You're alright Melvin!"

"Stilla, we are all delighted that he is well but ummm . . . I think you should let go of him now."

Stilla leaned her head off from Melvin's chest and eyeballed the wincing Sister Edna in a puzzled manner.

After turning back to Melvin . . .

she saw no Melvin.

She saw a dead Melvin.

"Oh no! Melvin did I hurt you?" Stilla hurriedly removed him from her embrace.

"I—I—I am in good health Stilla. Do not worry big sister." Melvin felt like he was dead but staring at her adorable eyes, how can he tell the truth? He will gladly continue to bullshit.

"Pfft."

Melvin's insect detectors were signalling, and he immediately locked onto the bug. He saw him aside, Sister Edna. Although most of his tilted head was concealed from view due to Sister Edna, he can see through it with ease as if he had x-ray. A clenched fist was without question hovering below his mandibles in mirth. Melvin swore he will pay him back ten times!

"Jeez, you had us really worried! I'm glad you're in good health!"

"Of Cou—" Melvin was readily about to reply, but an involuntary shiver ran down his spine. He cast his mind back to the words he caught from Stilla. (Fuck! I must make haste! No, consider rationally . . . would Stilla pummel me in my awful state?) The matter that pained him the most was that there was no straight yes or no answer.

"Melvin, Shouldn"t there be someone to accompany you?"

Melvin's seminal deliberation was cut short from an unexpected interjection. He saw Sang-jin Wi and Alexia approach him. Melvin's mood was appended with distaste.

"And why would I need someone to accompany myself?"

" . . . "

Sang-jin Wi was not by oneself. Almost everyone had some kind of idea as to why he was alone, including the readers.

"Crap! We are going to miss Jessica's match!" Allen broke the atmosphere and darted to Melvin. He wanted to lend a shoulder to Melvin.

(Allen. You are a good lad.) Dalis was in a great mood. Allen's actions evoked him to say a line that Halio may say.

Melvin appreciatively accepted the kind gesture.

"That ignoramus . . . how did he fare?"

"Ara?" A derisive look and a hint of mildly repressed anger crossed her face. Out of all the people here, he solicited her, of course, using the word “ignoramus”.

"You wish to know . . . ?"

 

Spoiler: Chapter 70: Melvin's Pungence

Melvin was settled down with the rest, glazing over Group B's second-day matches. His eyes were laid on Jessica's arena.

Jessica was currently up against an adult cavalryman, exchanging wild blows using her vanquish style sword techniques as opposed to the cavalryman's horse riding sword techniques. The two were stuck in an impasse with neither being able to find an opportunity to break the deadlock. Fortunately for her, these horsemen were not allowed to bring in their strong suit companion; otherwise, Jessica would not be able to stand her ground against him.

" . . . "

Although his eyes remained on her, he found it onerous to watch. It had only barely been a day since his match with Hayate. It was very taxing for him to pose well in his exhausted, debilitated state. Most of his injuries had not been recovered naturally and were through external methods like ointments and potions. Ointments tend to be acceptable as they helped aid the natural recovery, with the drawback being slow results. While potions were fast and in comparison were instantaneous but caused detriments in the long run. That is why it argued to be superficial medical aid. Furthermore, there is one crucial matter that these medical aids were not able to accomplish—the healing of the subconscious. The body's consciousness would still be stressed even if it may not appear so. That was indeed so for Melvin's mental state.

Despite all this, Melvin was here. He was too keen to watch how his roommates and rivals would perform.

And above all . . .

He was Melvin Serven!

How could he lay in bed all day by that ignoramus?

It was a fluke! Lucky win!

There is no word known as defeat under Melvin Serven! All terms related such as defeat, loss, and failure are subject to his opponents. Not him!

That was precisely the real reason why he was here.

To meet eye to eye against Hayate and demonstrate that he could not hold a candle to this Serven.

(Hmph! To brazenly train while I am imprisoned in a period of convalescence, despicable!)

According to Alexia and the rest, after the judge had declared Hayate was victorious, he unhesitantly asked to retire from the tournament. Hayate's unforeseen pronouncement created waves of uproars amongst the crowd, and it spread like wildfire, especially amongst the swamp people. They thought that Hayate had sustained terrible internal injuries. When the truth was revealed, people became even more riled up. It turned out that Hayate had grasped some sort of enlightenment and requested himself to be in closed doors to fully comprehend and reap the profound intricacies. In response, the reception was positive. Authorities of the Orphanage and many others favourably advocated his request. In fact, Apostle Farden took it personally to watch over him and guide him if required. It was quite confounding but not out of the realm of possibility. After all, Hayate relinquished his opportunity to compete in this grand event in order to consolidate his learning. Many people had taken a new light to Hayate in spite of his arrogance and felt that he indeed had the mindset of a rising young prodigy.

Once again, he began to recall the scenes from yesterday. While wincing, his seafoam, light-blue eyes felt prickly with pain and simmering anger. It was selfish and cocky, but he wished that Hayate had waited for him to finish his technique. He even dared to forcefully squeeze his last drops of drained mana to act, even if it were to endanger his life. He had to win, win, win, and continue to win to prove himself. But look at him. He wanted to show the world starting from the tournament that he Melvin Serven was here! However . . .

(Three fucking duels! Only two fucking measly wins against ordinary “knights”. And, and, and, against that Ignoramus . . . #$%^&*$%^&*!!) Melvin was steadily imploding in great fury and rage. Following the track of downward hell, he thought about what he said to the old man, his words, and the possibility of him having watched his match. In any minute, Melvin was about to explode in his tantrum.

"Melvin."

Melvin aggrievedly shook his head and met the owner of that unpleasant voice.

"It's merely one lost? Why are you acting like a sore loser?"

"Fuck you. How can a mindless insect like you comprehend this Serven's misgivings? An insect shell, with no purpose, without even knowing why, nor know of its former self . . . takes the liberty of criticising me?"

"Fallacy. It matters not. You are a sore loser."

"You!—"

"What are you two doing?!" Stilla barged in.

"Stilla."

Stilla froze dead in her tracks from Dalis's call. She abruptly shut up; a little afraid. The icy and solemn tone of his voice, and the penetrating deep cold eyes ejected her doubtlessly. When she instinctively cowered back, Dalis's gaze considerably softened. He briefly raised a palm facing outwards to her and very lightly bounced his palm: a visual sign to tell her to stop.

Melvin's hands clenched and drizzled. He appeared to be more further incensed. But, he did not say anything.

"Melvin, recall. How many times have you *cough* defeated me."

"Is this one your customary trick questions?"

"No." Dalis stared fixedly at Melvin's eyes.

" . . . Many times. Never have you surpassed me in knowledge, comprehension, mana techniques, teachings . . ." Melvin proudly recounted and vaunted. Dalis was dull and took everything in one ear and out the other, but he did feel antagonised when he heard the word appearance. He placed that in the back of his mind for later. For the time being, Dalis magnanimously allowed him to use him to vent out his suppressed anger.

"Ah yes, there was also sparring and duels. Naturally, you refusing my challenges was an act of conceding."

"Melvin." Dalis rolled his eyes, then switched gears, and solidified his demeanour. "Do you remember the first time you challenged me? Rather, the first couple of times."

Melvin's mouth abruptly clamped, and he did not say anything.

Long story short, they were flawless defeats by Melvin. At one point, he had forgotten. Those were in the very early days of his time with Dalis. Dalis, in those days, was the embodiment of being nonchalant and aloof; he did not seem to care about anything. At times, Melvin had a vibe that he was in proximity with a walking dead, but even that did not seem quite right. Despite all this, when it came to fights, he was insanely committed, and he could be described as frightening.

It was as if he was a natural fighter . . . experienced fighter . . . a warrior. . . he was unsure. Unsure even in the present.

The silence was stifling and made Dalis, to a degree, feel awkward. Instead of waiting for Melvin's response, he decided to speak.

"Ahem . . . You realise, correct? One loss means nothing."

Dalis indicated that he was no longer inclined to speak, and he focused all of his attention on the matches.

"Jessica!!"

"Gah! What a shame!"

Dalis, Stilla, and Melvin missed the scenes before the outcome of Jessica's fight.

Jessica had, unfortunately, lost her battle against the cavalryman.



***



In another arena . . .

Sporting a lavish exquisite yellow martial robe, Wang Yong smugly entered the stage. He ruffled with his gorgeous orange dragon imprinted taoist handkerchief tied over his hun yuan bun [混元髻] and nodded, satisfied. Although he was disdained to do so, he marched towards his musclehead opponent, appearing like an emperor on vacation visiting a small town of a nearby nation to greet the commoners.

Almost immediately, he stirred the crowd in a soup of bitter salt.

"Curses! That brat is a genuine Feeria snob. Could he be from the Orphanage?"

"What were the Vanquish authorities thinking?! How did somebody like him manage to be put in the internship program?"

A kingdom noble peered over to scrutinise Wang's excessive, exquisite attire. "It must be the temptations of the devil! They probably were plagued by the sin of greed. *Sigh* They should learn from Cresuilge Kingdom! Money? What matters is the people!"

"Even that pompous Swamp prodigy and arrogant blonde child were much better than this!"

"Bless Caleyar, he is not even trying to act like an expert! He is—"

The woman had abruptly paused her words when Wang turned his attention to her side of the crowd. He was “happily” waving to greet people like her: the commoners.

Understandably, the woman fainted from her seat, knocking a small number of commoners like dominoes.

Many faces from the Vanquish territory, Orphanage, and Zetral sunk green as peas. They all felt sick in the stomach from watching Wang Yong and the disaster he had caused.

"Young master Yong!"

Amidst the crowd, a few thousand outliers were cheering Wang on! Hands clasped behind their backs, many of them respectfully nodded their heads approvingly to him. Some of them even dared to stand up and give Wang abundant rounds of applause, cheering his greatness. If the knowledge that the Feeria internship students were entering the tourney were not such a short notice and had they known what was occurring now, they would have immediately booked at least half the seating here to watch this beautiful scene.

Wang was already gratified from his reception from the majority, and when he noticed those few outliers, he felt warmly touched.

(Tsk! So there are a few commoners who understand me! Good good good!)

 

Spoiler: Chapter 71: Intense Bodily Clashs?!

Rhaghav Babu strutted his bulky frame to meet his loathsome opponent.

(Why must Lord Caleyar put me against him out of all people. Could it be he wants me to punish him again on behalf of all of our brothers and sisters?) Suddenly, his ears picked up the spitting roars of the crowd. Glancing between the audience and Wang, his eyes gleamed with conviction.

No.

This was not solely on behalf of all of the brothers and sisters.

It was for the sake of all. For the sake of the world.

A strange feeling coursed through his body. Instinctively, he raised his head to one particular man.

That man was the King of the Cresuilge Kingdom.

From a brief moment of eye contact, the feelings of the people were bestowed and burdened onto his girthy shoulders. Rhaghav's fighting spirit burned. Without wasting time, Rhaghav balled his right hand into a fist, and his left hand opened to a palm, firmly resting against his knuckles [hold palm salute]. Then, he immediately went to fulfil his given duty, changing his gait to form mighty strides.

It should be noted that the hold palm salute was an etiquette used by the Gigans. It was always used before battle or oftentimes to show respect. Occasionally, it was used as a greeting, especially during formal occasions such as young Gigans greeting their Gigan elders or gatherings.

"Wang Yong!"

However, Wang Yong only glimpsed at him for a fraction of a moment, waved at him as if he was another pedestrian, and returned to strolling in the streets.

"WANG YONG!"

Wang Yong, who was in the middle of his daily affairs, raising an eyebrow, turned to Rhaghav.

"Oh, so it's you!!"

"Yes! It is me! Rhaghav Babu!" He delivered three hefty slaps to his own chest.

"I see . . . I see . . . ? Rahaav? Infer . . . Bumpkin!"

"Must I smack your eyes open? Take a good look again!" Rhaghav was steadily reaching the limits of his assiduous temper towards him.

Wang conducted a flimsy study as if he was giving a cursory glance. The bumpkin in front of him wore very simple drab attire with no accessories or embellishments. Judging by the wrinkles and minor stains, he must have worn his current wear often. Though considering his body build, it suggested that the clothing was quite durable. He flinched when he saw his shoes: they were sandals. Immediately after, he gazed over to his chest where his arm was still laid. Though it was partially covered, he could see the Gigan insignia.

"Blah! You are not purely another bumpkin, but additionally an abhorrent musclehead as well!" Wang started to become irritated. He thought his opponent would just be a random commoner. They all appeared the same to him.

"Wang Yong, you are driving my patience! However, I am a fair and principled man. Take my kind gesture and go request a change of clothes! Your guise is unwelcome here.

"Guise? Are you implying this Yong is not this Yong?!"

"Insolence! Mind the tourney, you are on the Stage of Knights. You are about to engage in a courtly duel. Not engage in a fools’ gathering!"

(“Courtley”? “Fools’ gathering”? This unintelligent meathead has the audacity to speak such nonsense?!)

"You are truly living your years as a barbarian! Not even the very waters you meatheads are so proud of can salvage you."

The two of them bickered with vicious insults, like mortal enemies, back and forth until finally, Rhaghav could not take it any longer.

"I can not accommodate you any longer. Remember this Wang Yong, in spite of our past grievances, I still attempted to be just, with you. However your arrogance, much like your Feeria peers, is insufferably excessive! As one of the brothers of the Orphanage children, I shall smack you into discipline!"

Not permitting a chance for the Wang to argue back, Rhaghav distastefully saluted to Wang and turned to the mute judge.

The judge sternly nodded. "Participants, the duel will now begin!"

(Tsk. What past grievances? I do not recall being affiliated with muscle heads.)

"Come come come. The feet of the boar acts before its head."

"Hrmph!" Before Rhaghav could move his muscles to psych himself up into a charge towards his target, Wang had already shamefully used a high tier powerful hidden technique: Super Pedes Vetum.

"What?! Could that be the high tier body enhancement movement art?! Super Pedes Vetum?!" a Feeria man cried out in surprise.

"Yes it must be! The high speed hidden technique that allows one to run like the wind, breach across miles of land in minutes, and outrun hoards of beasts!" a Feeria woman verified.

"Body enhancement spell from a Feeria?! How rare! I've never seen that before," a knight yelled.

Rhaghav's eyes swayed left and right like a swing, hypnotised from Wang's vast speed. He could barely maintain his eyes on his figure before it was clouded away from the upheaval of sand. Wang did not even seem to be fazed from bumping into the barriers of the arena in order to ricochet his body for an increase in momentum and speed. What Rhaghav could not understand was why he was so hunched forward as if he was going to fall over.

"Wait! Why are his skinny legs so big and beefy now? They look as plump as boulders!" a Feeria practitioner questioned.

"Then is it not the Super Pedes Vetum? What is this movement art?!"

"WANG YONG! You wish to fight with your body against a Gigan? No problem. This brother will not be outdone!" Unwilling to be defeated in his own department, Rhaghav's legs muscles expanded and grew larger. Unlike Wang, his plump legs were uniformly proportionate to his body physique and grew bigger than him. To be equal, he only expanded his lower half to match his opponent. After channelling his growth spurt, he ran towards Wang.

Once again, Wang met the wall of the barrier; his nose slumped and crushed under the friction. "Shit! Shit! Shit! What went wrong with the formula? My legs are as ugly as giants, and my body feels as heavy as lead!" Wang cussed under his breath, mystified. Squinting his boggled eyes through the sand, he saw an angry wild boar charge towards him.

(Tsk!! So slow!! You are a titan; a tank? Why couldn't you boast about it? You caused this young master Yong to disgrace himself!) Wrathful from his discovery, Wang urged his uncontrollable body to maneuver away from the incoming beast. Unfortunately, his body failed to listen to him.

"You may be fast, but my timing will be impeccable!"

*BOOM!*

Wang Yong was sent soaring backwards, hitting a new face and a new side of the barrier. However, gathered momentum continued its motion! The back of his body collided and rebounded him in the direction of the boar. Wang felt exhilarated, and he raised his elevated knees on the fly to deliver a series of stomps.

Rhaghav roared, briefly buffing his legs to meet the one-man stampede head on!

*BOOM!!*

Rhaghav tumbled and thumped to the ground. He groaned beneath the weighty hooves of the horse as they squashed and grinded his upper body before returning back to the grassy paddocks.

Rhaghav, a little numb, cast aside his migraine and steadily rose back to his feet. He saw the horse gallop into the opposite wall of where he soared, crashing into the wall, spinning around twice, and inevitably move en route for him again.

"Again!" Rhaghav growled in a fit of pique.




***



"Heavens! How many times has it been? Five crossovers?!"

"Six crossovers!"

"The Gigan child has fallen over six times! And each proceeding flying kick tackle held more speed and power than the precedent!"

"Intense! Intense! This battle is intense!"

The thronged crowd felt jubilant from spectating this intense fight. A mage toppling down a body consolidator through brute strength? That was not an event one would see every day.

Although it appeared that Wang had the upper hand, this was false. While his legs were indeed heavy and big, they were not strong at all compared to a body consolidator's strength. In fact, at most, it was just a couple of weights appended on his movement body's constitution. The only reason that Wang overwhelmed Rhaghav was due to the sheer gathered momentum, speed, and power of ricocheting off the barriers, and inherent extreme speed of his hidden technique.

Consequently, Wang's pain threshold exceeded Rhaghav, leading him to suffer many times more!

Colliding with Rhaghav was, essentially, him driving himself into a hard wall.

That was ironically familiar . . .

Not to mention, Rhaghav focused almost entirely on consolidating his defence in his practices as a body consolidator. That was a tank: a titan. During his time in Gigan, he trained and belonged under one of the Five Martial Sects of Gigan—the Titan Sect.

"Aaauuugghh . . . This can't go on!" Wang moaned. Internally, his muscles were teary and aching from the spasms racking his body. He endured the silent tears threatening to leak from his eyes and performed a particular countermeasure . . .

 

Spoiler: Chapter 72: Intense Bodily Clashs?! Part 2

Wang was reluctantly approaching Rhaghav at high speeds; a few metres away from a collision.

He had to do something, or he would seriously be in big trouble. It wouldn't be a matter of simply being defeated.

Desperately guiding his flailing arms into position, Wang ushered and begged in his crumbling heart for the incantation to succeed its effect.

"Hidden technique: Fire Thorns Blazed Shield."

*BOOM!!*

A red cloud of gas emerged, following the violent crash. It happened so fast that the spectators were unable to even glimpse of what had occurred.

Rhaghav had no recollection of the seconds of impact. All he saw was bare red, and he felt as though he kicked through a shrub of fire. Oddly, a prickly and tingly sensation remained on particular parts of his body. The sensations were scorching, and intermittently caused a jabbing jolt of pain depending on how his body moved. It was as if he was thorned by spikes.

When the redness dissipated, he saw a sizzling white Wang in the middle of turning beet pinkish-red. Additionally, there were clear fumes of steam rising and spreading outwards from his body. The arrival of the new temperature in the air served to indicate how ablaze Wang was.

Many spectators could not fathom the transformation of Wang, but the Gigans and body consolidators were startled into respect. They believed that Wang had utilised a secret breathing technique that increases his blood flow. It was a feat only capable of being pulled off from body consolidators with a strong body and having precise control over their anatomy's workings. How can it be a work of a spell? They all saw Wang's physical prowess live from their very own eyes and heard the disputes of the Feerias regarding his speed technique. This Wang Yong had to be one of them, or at the minimum focused his movement techniques on body enhancement.

"Wang Yong." The dishevelled Rhaghav trudged into the steam to face Wang. "You have opened this brother's eyes. I have come to dawn on the way you are Wang." Waving an arm, he whirled the steam impairing the closure and soberly gazed at him. "An acquaintance of mine . . . no, a brother of mine referred to you as “irritable Yong”. To be straight from the shoulder with you, I shamefully, wholeheartedly conceded to this belief. Your arrogance is as abundant as his, and you both are men who condemn others with disdain." Crestfallen, he firmly shook his head apologetically. "However, he has an ambition worthy of respect that is admirable. And now, having had our burning bodies touch one another . . . You as well, have my admiration."

Since the moment he had felt his body go ablaze, Wang had been blinking his eyes, wondering what was going on with his body. He didn't understand why he felt like he was in the interior of a hot sauna. The smouldering air emitted out from his body mildly suffocated him, and though it was resistible, it precipitated a blockage in his ears hindering his hearing. Thankfully for him, his technique had abated the damage from Rhaghav and dealt some considerable damage discerning from his appearance.

(I suppose the faults materialised from casting the spell in a rushed, disorganised manner. Tsk. I guess for a shield it was . . . adequate.) Coming into acceptance, he nodded to himself.

Whether he was listening or not from Rhaghav's words was not a matter of importance. Wang's mind was preoccupied with settling his aching body and the next course of action. (Hmm? Where is that musclehead going? Does he plan to persist with his bestial assailment?)

"Hidden Art Titan Style: Titan Engulfs the Air and Bodies the Earth!!!"

Suddenly, Wang felt a powerful pressure quiver down his spine. Rhaghav had rotated around, drilled his robust enlarged legs, and crossed his arms downwards to lay levelled above his hips, undertaking a horse stance.

"Haaaaaaaahhhhhh . . . " a raspy long-winded inhaling voice echoed the stage. Rhaghav's mouth was wide open, sucking in the oxygen of the air without a sign of stopping. It was as if he was a whale gulping a mass of plankton as nutrients. As the oxygen was voraciously devoured, his body, likewise to Wang, turned beet pinkish-red, and hot steam was discharged out of his body. He was vigorously controlling his mana seed to convert the engulfed oxygen as energy fuel to strengthen the functioning of his mana seed. The substantial increase of blood flow helps circulate the body's system, pumping and carrying the mana into the cells, tissues, muscles, and bones of his body, which have all increased in the capacity of their function. In turn, it creates a straight-up gargantuan body enhancement.

Since Rhaghav had been undertaking defensive cultivation practices, his body was accustomed to taking in and hard condensing mana. Thus, although he did not appear to be enlarged at all, his gargantuan body enhancement made him super robust to the point that his muscles were far more defined. It was as if one were looking at a chiselled statue instead of flesh and bone.

That was solid! Get it?

However, it should be noted that this was an extremely powerful art bordering the levels of being a forbidden technique/art due to the costs of using it. During use, there would be an increase in metabolism in proportion to how much oxygen and energy is spent, resulting in the user to greatly require their hunger to be sated. After use, it was necessary for the user to have a period of rest to heal the strenuous operations of the body. Otherwise, there would be indefinite consequences to the body.



***



"Could that be Rhaghav's gear second?" Dalis whispered.

"Insect . . . Are you so ignorant to not have knowledge of that art? That is the hallmark hidden art of Gigan, in titan form. Unfortunately, I'm in no mood to educate you."

Melvin then found his eyes rested on the judge of that arena. This was one of the battles he was most focused on. Despite the nonsense and irritable Yong, the judge was stern at all times and collected. It bitterly plagued his mind comparing the distinction in attitude between his judge and that judge. The whole duration of his battles, he was subjected to malice, disgust, and contempt at the face and behind his back. How infuriating! Such indignation! He would fire him immediately if he was working under this Serven.

"Looking for that judge?"

Melvin did not understand how this insect was so perceptive.

"Hmph. Slackers are unwelcome."

"I caught word that he had caught a cold."

Melvin's mood uplifted. "Ah—Oh is that so? Unfortunate, how unfortunate . . ."

Dalis shook his head. He did not have much money to spare, but he felt that the small fruit bowl and note he had purchased was worth it. It was the least he could do.



***



A panting man roused from his deep painful slumber.

He had experienced a nightmare.

There were two obnoxious suave young boys in that dream.

It was not pleasant. Not pleasant at all.

He felt that he time travelled to yesterday and experienced the same events twice.

It was horrifying.

From the translucent fabric of his curtains, he felt relieved and thankful that it was over.

Raising himself from his bed, he stood up and slightly opened the curtains to embrace the day's sun.

Following the beam of light penetrating through the windows, he saw a fruit bowl seated upon one of his desks.

Impetuously, he walked over and took a bite of an apple. The juices were fresh and succulent. In no time, he had finished the apple.

When he went to pluck another fruit of his choosing, his eyes glazed over to find a small note. There was only a sentence with no name or detail of the sender, but it was enough to make his hands tremble and his feelings overflow.

"You have my sympathies."

Even if you were a grown man or woman, at times, it was okay to cry.



***



"Brother Wang! I am coming!" Rhaghav bolted energetically towards Wang.

Wang became frightened and frozen with panic. He was quite debilitated to be able to conjure any more hidden techniques. The mana energy in his body was low and manipulating the natural mana was out of the question without conjunction with his own mana. From birth, the only domain he studied was high-level techniques. Yes, he was unable to materialise even the most rudimentary of spells.

Sweating profusely though the drops evaporated the moment they were generated, he noticed something. Despite the body enhancement, Rhaghav was rather slow. It was an improvement but still slow. The movements were somewhat pallid and limp.

(Good good good! How can I cower under a wild injured boar? This boar has no tusks either! All of his meat goes to his belly. Although it is shameful, it may not be too deleterious for this Yong to have a short primitive course with these bumpkins.)

Wang sighed. He truly believed he was open-minded and magnanimous. After adjusting his shamrock hair, he went back a few steps and confidently rushed forward.



***



"Brother! Where is that strength you displayed earlier?!"

"Just die die die already!" Wang sloppily punched and kicked restlessly. His legs were swollen, battered, and disfigured at this point. It wouldn't take long for his sore arms to follow.

For the past few minutes, the crowd had become dumbstruck and mildly saddened. Albeit, there were at least a quarter of them very pleased with their viewing. Before Rhaghav had used his hidden art, the match between the two had been incredibly intense. The Feerias watching the match were frustrated.

"Young master Yong!!"

"For a Feeria snob, he wasn't bad. Unfortunately, even his unknown breathing technique could not compare once Rhaghav had used our hidden art."

"That's right. Using the titan style of our hidden art makes one impregnable. Not even enchanted weapons and all those fancy spells can penetrate the skin. The least they can do is leave scars and blemishes."

"It is a shame, though. That was Rhaghav's trump card. Now it would be difficult for him to win his later battles," sighed a Gigan elder.

"Use your techniques! There's no need to lay your clean hands on filth! Blow him up!" a Feeria yelped in distress.

"Disgraceful! Child, you are one of the geniuses of this generation. You cannot lose!"

Rhaghav's countenance continued to sink as each assault grew weaker and weaker.

When he bolted towards Wang earlier, his leg had unexpectedly sent Wang flying the moment it collided with his kick. He believed he had simply managed to come up on top with that exchange. However, every exchange after it was always the same outcome. Rhaghav almost thought that he was kicking a soccer ball instead of a worthy duelling opponent. Now, Rhaghav just stood there and watched as Wang tried to treat him as a punching bag. (Just what happened brother? My kicks are not that strong, you know?)

And finally . . .

"Wang Yong has fallen unconscious, and hence, unable to continue duelling. Rhaghav Babu wins!"

 

Spoiler: Chapter 73: Li Jun vs Lian Chen

"The first match of the fourth round of duels will now begin! Li Jun and Lian Chen please enter the arena."

Two figures responded back to the judge with affirmation and slowly walked to their respective sides to face one another.

(Now this fight will be intriguing.) Dalis scooted into comfortable seating.

"Li Jun. As fellow peers, may we have a good spar. Please educate me."

"Lian Chen. Truthfully, I have always wanted to have a serious match with you. Back in the Orphanage, we had only sparred twice, and both times it was too light. But now, Lord Caleyar has granted us the chance to do battle in an environment suited for our levels. Let us have a good spar." After returning a scant polite bow, he signaled the judge that he was ready for the match to begin.

"The battle will now commence. I hope you children have a good spar," the judge announced and smiled.

"Ignis Accersi."

With a gentle magical whisper like the first flicker of an alit candle, a flame emerged from the palm of her hand.

"Multi Ignis Elementum."

The flames multiplied. Ten flames blazed in the air, spreading evenly and remained levitated a small radius around Lian Chen. Each blazing flame was similar in size and was energetically enlarging by the second. Their brilliance shone with red and orange radiance, spotlighting the lithe petite girl in a festival of New Year lanterns.

Once again, the crowd was sent into awed commotion.

"That girl is so beautiful!"

"Every time she enters the stage with her flames, my heart kindles." Love can be seen all over that young knight's eyes.

"The best part about her is that I heard she is not an internship student. She is not a girl from Feeria! She's a genuine orphan."

"Wait! What did you just say?"

"Holy mother of our Lord Caleyar is that true?"

"Then she must be an angel for sure!"

"Da fuck? I'm going to get my son to marry her!"

The revelation stirred the crowd into pandemonium, especially the young men who would gladly wait for her coming of age. Those big-dreaming men were exhilarated with fire in their eyes.

"Hmph," Alexia couldn't help but let out a snort. (How idiotic. Everyone should wait patiently for this—great young mistress to arrive on the scene. I will wash and water them thoroughly to the facts.)

Coinciding with Lian Chen, Li Jun's eyes were firmly closed in concentration, unperturbed by the abrupt rising temperature. Slowly, his left arm that was rested on his hip formed a narrow, colourless but distinct and opaque substance, congregating to resemble a saya. Immediately, his eyes widened open, and his hardened right arm swiftly arced towards the saya, unsheathing a thin and curved sword—the katana.

Exchanging eye contact, the two figures set off.

Lian Chen's movements were deliberate, slow, and sedate, maintaining control of her flames with idyllic harmony. In contrast, Li Jun appeared to have embodied the nature of the katana sword, surfing the currents of the wind in preparation for a decisive attack.

Two flames answered their master's call with a flare and sought to defend their master.

Gliding the sword in mid-motion, Li Jun moved his left arm. He touched the tsuba with his calloused fingers and met the grip of his brother. The two-handed saber was now together and uniform.

Li Jun dangerously pivoted his steps with precision, dodging the two flames in the nick of time. Left behind were two fallen residuals.

"Oooff so close!"

"Such a scary child . . . to not even halt with that attire of his."

Head Ronin Yamada was keenly observing.

Lian Chen was not idle. The squad of flames on standby were pelted one by one in quick succession with each force transcending the previous in burning strength. She did not hesitate to deploy the full battalion!

Li Jun creased his eyebrows greatly, but with an unwavering mindset, he submerged himself into the firestorm.

Was he looking to die?!

Three of the initial flames approached him. Sinking his inner fears that spiked again, he bolted straight towards them and careened to the left, thwarting the three flames.

However . . .

It was not a repetition. The missed flames were not residuals. Encroaching meters behind his back, the flames returned to extinguish their misfiring with heightened ferocity!

Danger shrieked as his senses felt a forthcoming boiling heatwave from his back skin. Gripping the sword hilt tightly, Li Jun swirled his body backwards with the wind and unhesitantly released the accumulated untapped power of a sword strike.

*SLICE*

Following the relic of the whistle, the three flames were forced to stifle under the grandeur of Li Jun's colourless unnamed mana katana. One slice was all that was needed to neatly blow the bright flames away into the dust. Spectators were boggled. But, what truly boggled them was the event that occured after.

*Shatter*

The seemingly powerful sword shattered as though it was glassy, brittle counterfeit.

Head Ronin Yamada was not surprised by the outcome. (That sword had the intention and purpose of leveraging everything on the line to end the duel with one decisive slice. What are you perplexed about?)

Li Jun's heart raced and was swelled up with astonishment. Naturally, he understood best that the sword would break after one use. What shook him to the core was that the sword did not simply crumble or disintegrate. Instead, it shattered. Only a very powerful or destructive assault could achieve this. Had he underestimated Lian Chen?

Gazing on her opponent's reaction, an unusual complexion rose.

(I must forge!) Li Jun's predicament has yet to subside. Five stronger flames were headed in his trajectory. Wiping the warm rivers of sweat, Li Jun hastily formed a long polearm that consisted of a single-edged blade on the end of the pole.

"Glaive?" Dalis seemed interested.

Li Jun is the young patriarch of the Jun Clan. The Jun family is one of the oldest and most influential clans of the Swamp. Their family are master weaponsmiths and were the preferred producers for Swamp citizens to purchase their weaponry from. Since trade became much more active between nations, their influence had weakened. However, their weapon mana arts have only advanced to greater realms. Having comprehended the nature and inner mechanisms of weapons, the Jun Clan are able to employ their smithing expertise to forge weapons through their own mana source. Li Jun is capable of this art, and he could conceptualise many weapons to his fitting for martial combat.

Taking a deep breath and letting out a war cry, he violently swung the glaive to the approaching raving burning fires with an unswerving diagonal cut. The flame leading the troops did not deviate and launched forward. Lian Chen was unfearful of the introduction of a brand new weapon. Not only did she have the upper hand, but the glaive that walled her path was also imperfect, weakened, and contained meagre mana energy. Moreover, the second flame was by the tail of the first flame, meaning if he managed to foil the first there was still another one impending!

Moments before the impact with the first flame, Li Jun's arms expertly lunged the cut further forward by capitalising on the long extension of the weaponry.

Lian Chen's eyes fluttered; she was caught off guard. Uninhibited deep sourness exuded, fracturing the graceful girl from her festive pageant. (Not good . . . Not good . . .)

She felt very ashamed of her amateur mistake. The problem lies with the fact that she had forgotten that her opponent had brought forth a new weapon. This was self-explanatory, and as a matter, of course, a new weapon meant a different combat style. However, being a practitioner who primarily fights from a distance, she had been carelessly negligent. One of the essential requirements of being a Vanquisher was knowing martial combat: close combat was an utmost necessity requirement. At her time in the Orphanage, she learnt in close quarters that the one who can deliver their strike first wielded the tendency to have the advantage. Thus, in a clash of weapons or fists, especially between those of similar caliber, the one who held a weapon an inch longer or a limb longer was often the one to connect first and come out on top.

Instantaneously after lunging forward for the the weapon to be in reach, he let go.

*CUT*

The meagre mana force was the first to deliver its destructive blow. Sizzling, the flame took the force at first hand, burning the object in crude retaliation. However, having its vigour diminished along with the weapon's self-sacrifice, the flame could only disperse unwillingly with its executioner into nothingness.

Caught in the blast with no time to waste, Li Jun desperately bent his knees like a diver pushing off against a wall and pushed backwards, exploiting the impact of the collision as an impelling force to elude the arriving second flame.

"Gaaahh!" Li Jun crashed and rolled several meters, scooping up sand in his rocky cruise. He felt the sand dune smudge and pour into his mouth, choking him.

Lian Chen personally surged forwards but gracefully, looming to check her opponent; likewise, the fires spread and loomed over their enemy.

Staring fixedly at Li Jun as she closed in, she saw him zealously propel himself up and then a sudden rapid fast colourless object swung her way.

Bypassing the squad of defenders, the heavy semicircular tip whooshed through the air and swiftly latched onto her small frame, raking her in.

"Caught you."

Lian Chen, without a word, tilted down and nonchalantly surveyed her condition. A large tear could be seen through her upper garment. There, a sickle was ahold. Small blotches of blood could be seen spilling through the hole, patching her delicate body with some red. It was not anything to worry about.

Li Jun had thrown a chain sickle as a last resort. If it weren't for the fact that Lian Chen took the initiative to close in, Li Jun would not have been able to fend off against the rest of the blazing flames. Now, the two were only breaths away from each other.

With a flash of her deep-set dark-brown eyes destining the disappearance of her flames, she said: "I admit defeat Li Jun. It was a good spar. Thank you for teaching me."

After a brief moment of silence, the crowd erupted in dynamic cheers!

"DAMN IT! My wife lost! How can this be?!"

"Who the hell is your wife?"

"As expected from the Jun Clan's young patriarch. He has the ferocity required for a Swamp expert."

"The fight was not that long. Nevertheless it was a good match! Well done children!"

(Perhaps she may really be a bit of a ditz.) Dalis sighed as he closed his eyes and leaned against the seating.

 

Spoiler: Chapter 74: Battles of the Third Day

[Third day]

" . . . Man, this is rough to watch." Allen scratched the back of his head in dissatisfaction.

"Damn it! If I were going to lose anyway, I would rather have had Sienna face my opponent if possible! She's just getting tossed around!" Jessica lamented filled with exasperation. Gradually her skin turned red as she clenched her fists while veins bulged in the middle of her forehead.


***


"Keep trying! Kiddies like you are much better than those shit scared knights who turn their tails facing me."

Panting with the gruelling exertion, Sienna leapt out brandishing her longsword to assault the overpowering muscular, tall figure.

*Clash*

The longsword slashed against the huge aggressive-looking heavy machete. Unable to contest in strength, the longsword skidded against the length of the blade, generating frenzied sparks before being mercilessly fended away with ease. Sienna was forced several steps back.

(Really, that heavy machete is nothing like an actual machete. The machete should be versatile! The bottom half used for cutting while the weighted upper blade for chopping. Yet, every blow from any angle feels like a slicing chop. It's more of a great war axe or heavy sword. Ha ha.)

Even with Sienna's erupted extensive strength, filling the muscles with muscle power reaching up to eighty percent, she could barely pressure her opponent. In fact, her opponent seemed to be only interested in seeing if she could breach half a step within his impenetrable defence.

Sienna glared at her dreadsome opponent as she watched him swing his heavy machete over the head in the air in circles. Rather than taunting, the impression of his display expressed his delight and unremitting energy to fight on the stage. Nevertheless, it indicated that the man did not consider her as an opponent and was merely flaunting his powerful strength.

Settling the courage in her heart, she braced herself and surged forth with a hefty boost in strength! As if to reflect its holder's determined resolution, the longsword's smooth surface gleamed, revealing Sienna's valiant figure.

"Alright! Show me what you are made of kiddy." Lowering his machete, he dashed to face the incoming fearless young girl.

"Vanquish Style: . . . " Sienna roared!

Meeting the fearsome huge heavy machete, Sienna with two hands tightly gripped her longsword hanging down below from her ankle. Sweeping the floor, she lifted the sword, striking upwards to the descending sheer slab of steel.

*SCREECH*

Jittery sparks flew left and right. Sienna's arms bellowed out in tremendous agony as she forcefully attempted to heave and uproot the massive mountain weighing down on her arms.

(Girl? Are you out of one's head?! Trying to contest me in strength?) Provoked by the unexpected pressure from the child, the man unhesitantly poured greater weight onto his machete. How could he let a child, and a girl for that matter, overpower him?

"Gaaaaaahhhhhhh . . . !!" Sienna felt as if her arms were about to be cleaved off. Sweat profusely rained down like waterfalls; her whole body was screaming at her to stop!

The despondent spectators that had turned their heads away from Sienna's battlefield were suddenly drawn by the leaked gasps of others. Following their gestures, they saw the valorous young girl trying once again to defeat someone levels above her league. However, this time they were shocked by her daring attitude and radiating ferociousness!

"Young girl! Don't push yourself!" a mother cried.

"You are stretching too far! Your limbs won't be able to take it!" a knight lambasted.

"Sienna!!" The Orphanage children were anxiously on the edge of their seats.

Gritting her teeth, Sienna broke the deteriorating deadlock by skidding to the side whilst sliding the longsword against the machete's blade. Screeching sounds amplified as the abrupt tension drop and change of movements caused her to glide downwards.

"—Oh?" Dalis's eyes sparkled.

(What?!) The man's expression contorted filled with mixed emotions. Although he had won the exchange, she had managed to breach passed his defences. He was wide open, and the longsword was not strayed. It continued towards him!

*SLASH*

The upwards sweeping strike slashed a slanted diagonal, forcing the man to flinch backwards from the attack.

*SLASH*

Sienna repeated the attack from the reverse side, mirroring a set of moves resembling an X shape. In a state of vulnerability and shock, the man was on the verge of tumbling backwards.

The time had come to put the nail in the coffin.

Bringing her battered arms in, Sienna pointed the sharp tip of her longsword to the central ring of her target. The trajectory was set!

With a herculean relentless charge, she yelled:

"Three Swift Execution!!!"

*CLANG!*

The longsword penetrated the middle of the X: it was a bullseye! The man's iron armour, particularly his chest plate, clanged and convulsed as he was sent tumbling a few meters down to the ground.

Consequently, the crowd let loose a series of jubilant cheers! She had actually managed to overturn their expectations! The overseeing Orphanage Vanquishers acknowledged Sienna genuinely. Watching their junior triumph over a massive hurdle filled their souls to the rim with pride and congested their blood to boil! They were itching to fight themselves!

"Haaa . . . Haaa . . . Haaa . . ." Steadying her breath, her downwards hazy eyes carefully leered over to her opponent.

Suspense and tension reigned the battlefield but only for a short while.

Everyone's expression sunk when she saw the man eagerly push himself up. Cracking his joints and jiggling his body, he checked the condition of his injuries.

"Ooooff. Kiddies these days are too much. Girl, just look at what you did to my armour! Man, I can't get fixed this fixed until after the tourney. Sheesh."

"You are kidding . . ." Sienna was horrified.

There were scars across his armour, and a clear dent marked directly at the bullseye. In spite of this, the armour was fairly in good condition. Her attacks were essentially redundant. Blue shiny glows perpetually coursed across his armour with vividness. Many people in the audience sympathised with the poor girl as they were reminded of how powerful enchanted equipment is.

"Grow up and then find me in a couple of more years! Hahahah!"


***


The second round of another arena had commenced. Coincidentally, two children intimate with one another were set face to face. One alone would animate those around them with a bubble of happiness just from their cheerful personality and buzzing disposition. If the two were together on another occasion, their merry natures and permeating warmth may even revitalise the strength of a sickly elder.

"Stilla! " Jumping up and down with joy, he waved a hello to her.

"Benito! " Jumping up and down with joy, she waved a hello back to him.

Eventually, through their interactions, this special greeting was created between the two of them when crossing paths.

(Huh? I feel that familiar feeling again. Where is it coming from?) Oddly every time he met with Stilla, he would have this strange sensation that somebody was leering at him. What vexed him the most was that no matter how many times he tried to find the source, he would end up empty-handed. It shamed his capabilities as the Commerce Apostle's son.

"You did awesome fighting that bowsman! Even with all of that equipment he piled onto himself, he still couldn't withstand the strength of your punches!"

"Hehe~ Yup! I didn't need to hold back because of all that armour he wore. I was worried that I may have gone too hard so I slowed down a little, but it turns out he was still fine so I gave it my full force!"

"Hahahaha. I thought that was it too! You put yourself at a disadvantage because of that short slow down and he almost turned the tables! Yet, you managed to win in the end!"

"Mmmhmm! Your battle was really cool. You were up against a knight who had some enchanted stuff! Using your . . ."

Going along with the flow, they chatted away for a few minutes before Benito pointed out that they should really get to fighting.

"Best of luck, Stilla! Give it your all!" Benito cheered as he firmly adjusted and tightened his white scarf. He was about to enter battle mode.

"You too Benito!" Stilla chirped and spaced herself away from Benito in a jovial manner.

(These children are so lively. It makes a middle-aged woman like me remember how free I was in my youth.) Content from those scenic moments, the judge started the match: "Benito Carter and Stilla from the Caleyar Orphanage you two may now begin fighting!"

 

Spoiler: Chapter 75: Stilla vs Benito Carter

"I'm coming!"

Stilla energetically kicked her feet off the ground and sprinted towards Benito. Every metre she traversed, her speed appeared to gradually increase in conjunction with her eruption of extensive strength, soaring steadily to reach that ninety per cent muscle power!

Benito gave a hearty smile to the approaching girl. Just how energetic can she be? Hoisting a silver rod that reached to his shoulders, he chanted: "Let thee, shine of light foster thy's possession."

The crystalline white gem glowed, progressively becoming more saturated in yellow intensity. It swelled and swelled transforming the simple gem into an attractive golden gem. Amazingly, the outward form did not allow the shining brightness to blind the onlooking admirers, retaining all of its brilliance within the inside of the gem. However, the many sparkling facets continued to gleam their reflections with pride.

This rod was a high-grade training artefact of the Orphanage. Its purpose was to train blessed users in the insertion of their mana into artefacts that have this requirement and test the limits of controlling the device while casting abilities. Once a user pours mana, their mana is sucked at a constant rate dependent on the user's choosing, providing energy for the rod. However, if the connection is cut off or there is a disturbance in rate, the power drops down drastically until nill, not accepting any more flow of blessed mana.

For many of the Vanquishers, Benito's choice of weapon was not in one's right mind. But, when they saw his performance in the first battle, they understood it was underestimation and cluelessness on their part. After all he is . . .

"ORA!"

Stilla, straightforwardly, prepared her arms to release a barrage of powerful palm strikes!

Benito eyes flashed in the presence of the oncoming assault and . . .

"WHAT!"

"Huh?!"

"Wow!"

Actions of Benito rendered the faces of the crowd to utter gasps of astonishment. There was no dodging or distancing away maneuver enacted from Benito. Nor did the young boy attempt to cast an ability from his artefact.

Benito welcomed the fearsome blows of the body consolidator with his own physical martial techniques. Skillfully, as if he was using a stave, Benito guarded, blocking each palm strike carefully as he was driven back by force. When Stilla diverged her attack pattern to deliver sharp relentless kicks, Benito took that change as an opening, knowing that Stilla's kicks were inferior to her arm strikes, to parry them and retaliate back with jabs of his sharp pointed rod. No longer was Benito driven back. Instead, the fighters were at a period of immutable stalemate, unmoving in ground.

Utilising a magical rod in this manner was unorthodox and was something that Dalis would doubtlessly do. It wasn't that such an act was unseen but shedding the fact that Benito had other safer alternatives, it was bemusing.

Stilla too was bemused. Not due to his choice to combat with his rod, but rather, her shortcoming to have no upper hand against Benito.

Agitated by her strengthened attacks not powering through, she rolled in the palms of her hand. Benito's eyebrows constricted and focused for the inevitable.

"ORA!" "ORA!" "ORA!" "ORA!"

All aboard! Trains of everlasting, dribbling, brawny pummels were mercilessly ticketed to Benito! Although not all railways were ridden with its vehicle, many of the trains managed to reach their destinations honking their airhorns and smashing their full weight onto Benito. Benito felt his healthy body crumble into fragility as the cold steel of her brass knuckles and train-like punches sent acute pain to course through various parts of his body.

Unable to balance himself and drag this out for much longer, Benito at warp speed leapt back and unleashed one of the abilities capable of being performed from his artefact.

"Shackles Thrive the Light!"

All of a sudden, four shining yellow beams of light emerged out of nowhere and launched themselves directly to Stilla. They penetrated space and seemed to move at the speed of light! Stilla felt her heart sank and quickly swayed herself to the side to escape the entering threat.

*CRASH*

Standing up from her crouch, she let out a sigh of relief. She had managed to dodge by a hair's breadth. Inspecting her previous position, she found that those four beams of light were actually golden shackles! They remained dead-straight lodged onto the surface of the ground like arrows. Having missed their target, the golden chains lost their alluring lustres, fading away into nothingness.

Stilla was on the verge of confronting Benito again, but her eyes reflexively went dark for a moment. She tried to open them though only to find herself close them one more time at the sheer blinding illumination. Using her left arm like a visor to shade herself from the piercing glare, she tilted her head up and peaked to the skies.

Seven rotating discs of light were just barely spotted in the air, trembling with outbursts of yellow light energy. Despite the discs being levitated only about fifty meters above the ground, from Stilla's point of view, it was as though the sun had birthed seven newborn suns to radiate down from the vast skies.

"Brilliant Shining Hovering Discs!" many people aligned with the Church fervently cried out. Unlike the rest of the stunned audience, they were able to adjust their eyesight to the powerful illumination of the seven suns.

"If I remember correctly, that was an ability exclusive to all staff and rod artefacts of remarkable calibre! How can a training rod have this ability? So what if it's a high-grade training artefact? That's nothing compared to the Vanquish blessed equipment!" a Zetral practitioner shouted.

"You are not wrong about it being exclusive. But what he is holding is one of Caleyar Orphanage's finesse training artefacts: The Rod of Endurance!" a Vanquisher retorted.

Some of the puzzled people within that crowd had a light bulb turn on above their heads. Yet, even that seemed to be not enough to settle their unhinged minds.

"Rod of Endurance? Are you all telling me that kid was able to channel his mana from beginning to now, while fighting a body consolidator in martial physical contact and successfully cast his two abilities one after the other in quick succession? One of which is a very powerful ability that requires an abundance of mana to activate? And there was no fluctuation in the rate of his insertion of mana??!!!"

"That's not all. There are SEVEN discs! That was coming from a child! He may be a foster child. But he truly is the Commerce Apostle's son!"

(I definitely have to keep my eyes wide open in place of Apostle Farden.) A Vanquisher, who was tasked to handle Apostle Farden's main role of jotting notes, stared solemnly at the battle.

Up to date, the highest recorded amount of discs brought forth from this ability is thirty discs. This came from a fallen expert who was a very powerful blessed practitioner. It may appear that Benito was insignificant in comparison to this fallen expert, but that woman was in her sixties. Benito Carter was still young being sixteen years old and had an unforeseen future ahead of him. It was very possible for him to reach that level of expertise or perhaps surpass her!

"Stilla. I hope you are ready for this!"

"Don't worry about me! Just come at me with all you can!"

"Okay, but careful! These discs are very strong. I advise you to try and not touch them." After letting Stilla have a moment to recover and adjust to the conditions, Benito demeanour returned to battle mode, and he ordered the seven dazzling discs to initiate their onslaught.

*Tremble* *Tremble* *Tremble*

Stilla felt the foreboding vibrations of the turbulent air alone compress her as the discs started to rapidly rotate in preparation to converge onto their opponent.

(I just need to dodge them like before.) Stilla resolved herself and firmly bent her knees in preparation to swerve.

Ripping through the air like large metal shurikens, the discs of light whooshed and attacked Stilla.

Stilla saw three discs arrive a few meters away from her. Their positioning was immaculate, closing in to form three points of a triangle. She wanted to leap to the side to escape, but there were four incoming discs awaiting for her. If she did this, it would be very difficult to avoid the other four, and she would be sandwiched. Bracing herself, she took the risk and pushed off her legs into the triangular ring of light.

"KYAAA!"

Stilla screamed in agony as her left arm, and right leg was harshly scraped by the discs of light. Descending to the floor, Stilla carefully rolled herself and tucked her head in to reduce the impact.

Letting the groan get stuck in her throat, she steadily rose herself up only to promptly halt in mid-motion. Stinging awful pain was felt from where she had been wounded. In spite of the leather knee pad and metal arm guard protecting her body, trails of trickling blood were leaked downwards. What remained were the few remnant remainders of her shredded shielding.

"STILLA!" the Orphanage children yelled.

Stilla was not given a moment to catch her breath. Before she knew it, there were brilliant shining discs hovering ten meters above her head. Not in a triangle formation: a square formation. She was trapped. There was no way she could escape this time.



***



The sober Dalis felt his eardrums ring in annoyance as the sound of an impatient tapping continued to reverberate in his ears.

Dalis could understand his feelings but, considering it was Melvin, it irritated him. He really wanted to stealthily swing his leg and stub his fidgety toe.

"Insect, that Commerce . . .Apostle's son"

"Yes?"

There was no response.

Instead, the response Dalis received was amplified impatient tapping.

(If you have something to inquire about then spit it out!) He was already in a dull mood from Stilla and Sienna's early loss. Did he really have to be so egotistical?

 

Spoiler: Chapter 76: Dalis enters the tourney!

"Melvin! You should be more supportive of Dalis. Where did your enthusiasm go since the last two times we did this?"

"Hmph. I do not wish to provide this insect with a sense of encouragement, only for him to fall early." Melvin turned his head away from the huddle.

"Indeed. I cannot understand something I have yet to experience." Dalis mischievously smiled.

"You!—Gahh." The sudden extension of movements had pulled and spiked pain to run across Melvin's injured joints. Consequently, the huddle was abruptly broken.

"Careful!" Stilla cried out in worry.

"Okay okay let's not hold up Dalis any longer." Clapping her hands together to call attention, the owner of the voice ambled to the children raising a ruckus.

"Sister Edna." Dalis shifted himself to meet the last person to send him his kind regards. The tone of his sounded as though it was amplified an octave louder.

"Dalis, you may not be like the rest of your peers, but you are very smart and talented so I'm sure you would be able to surprise everyone out there." She walked up to Dalis and gently rested her warm hand atop his shoulder. "You are going to have a bright future ahead of you. So Sister wishes you to keep yourself safe, and don't do anything that may come to harm you."

Dalis stared at her expressive, tender eyes and returned her message with a look that would ease her heartfelt worries.

Sister Edna's thumping heart was cleansed by a wave of relief. The countenance of her face relaxed, and she moved her available arm across his open shoulder.

"Good luck!!"



***



"Dean Fernsby and Dalis, please walk up to the arena."

Flexing his fairly muscular arms in the air, Dean entered the stage brandishing his two powder blue steel axes in the air with frosty cold energy misting around his icy-coloured heavy-duty attire. Accompanied by his flowing curly platinum blond hair left uncut, Dean's debut resembled a triumphant knight having finished conquering a snow kingdom.

Dean eagerly eyeballed across the stage to meet his opponent. When he saw that his opponent was a young boy in his early to mid-teens, the man became conceited and scoffed under his breath at his attire.

The boy wore a white, short, collared shirt with a split down the middle, like an unbuttoned shirt, worn over a strapped leather plate atop a dark grey underneath. His lower half showcased his beige baggy pants strapped by a crude leather belt. "At least the belt had a steel buckle," Dean thought.

(Conceited, but his equipment is something I need to be attentive of. I must win to meet Sister Edna's expectations.) Dalis's eyes were as still as water, yet rippled and leaked out with his ironclad determination.

"You from the Caleyar Orphanage young man?" Dean asked in interest.

"Yes." Dalis nodded.

"So I can expect you to use the Vanquish Style techniques. . . ." He peered over to Dalis's steel bo staff questionably. The staff was a little shorter than usual, which he found puzzling, but that was supposedly appropriate for a child. So instead, he asked the other query in his mind. "Did the Orphanage teach you guys techniques involving blunt staves?"

"No."

"*Chuckle* It's alright. Use whatever that suits your tastes. I look forward to your martial combat. He gazed towards the judge and asked him to begin the match.

"Participant Dalis are you ready?"

"I am ready."

"Then, without further ado, you two may now begin the duel."

As soon as the battle commenced, Dalis dashed off.

"Wait that knight?!" a young girl cried out.

"That explains why he is so decked out!" a child exclaimed.

The crowd sprung into hollers.

Contrary to the expectations of the audience, they saw the knight's muscular arms sway in odd mannerisms as he held the powder blue steel axes. Yet, this holding was definitely not strange to many of the knowledgeable watchers, especially those from Cresuilge Kingdom.

Dean was not holding the axes in his hands: the axes were held in the air.

A cerulean blue translucent light glowed upon the surface of the presently airborne weapons. The harmonious mixture of blues complemented their outward appearance, stealing the attention of the crowd to witness their imposing rise to the stage.

(The glowing intensity is cerulean in colour. I can probably assume this would be the same for his enchanted gear as well. I will have to be careful of any abilities if they arise.) Dalis's movements were relentless and unperturbed by the display. Identical to a mage, enchanters required time to be built to fully manipulate and control objects. Therefore, Dalis's wisest choice of move was to assault the operator before he could gain perfect control.

"Not bad young man, you aren't stopping your pursuit at all. Too bad I'm not like those other enchanters who only show off that they can levitate two heavy weapons."

Twenty meters before Dalis could hinder him, the steel axes pointed one face of their sharp axe-head and vertically rolled towards him.

Sensing the incoming threat from the corner of his eyes, Dalis slowed his pursuit to fend off against the flying steel axes.

Sliding his fingers through the thick, smooth surface, he gripped his staff into thirds, held it out horizontally, and began rotating his body in a swift series of steps. Each step was accompanied by a revolving swing encompassing a stabilised balanced force. No movement fluctuated above or below this congruous equilibrium.

Dean's jaw dropped slightly, and his eyes revealed shock. The trusty steel axes he had forged with his own bare hands were unable to penetrate a single blow into Dalis's stance. It was as if his opponent had an impenetrable force field that blocked every attack. Although there were many times the child was tarried backwards from his blades, it was unable to budge the pacing of his advancement. Slowly, but surely, he was creeping closer.

Dalis wordlessly continued onwards, and then suddenly surged his tempered swings to an extreme level of balanced rhythms. Swishing and swooshing the air, and parrying the cleaves and sweeps of the axes. Unlike before, his swings were not like the steady winds flowing in the grace of nature, but rather the swings were like controlled waves of boiling lava from a volcanic crater.

Those nearby and viewing from the upper seating of the Stage of Knights had looks of confusion.

"Why is he trying so hard to defend now?"

"That child did not waver at all from the knight's flying axes. Is he finally planning to strike?"

"He is still moving so slow, though? Did the knight increase the potency of his attacks?"

While the upper seating spectators were tangled in their questions, those below were able to recognise the dire predicament Dalis was in. The sleeves of his shirt, the fabrics of his beige pants, and especially his steel bo staff, layers of frost was seen attached to his body, accumulating in sprinkles with each passing step. In fact, Dalis's bo staff, subjected to the full brunt, was on the verge of transforming into an ice staff!

The increase in tempo certainly empowered Dalis to traverse the icy storm; however, he was still naked, and it wouldn't be long until his ferocity would fall from the blizzard and enter repose.

"Kuh-h-h-h!"

Dalis leaked out a teeth-chattering groan from the cold inducing hardening of his hands. The shivers spread across his innards spiked in chill as he had become acutely aware that some of his fingers were now frozen.

"Young man, you got very close! But this is the end of the road for you. Whoever taught you how to use the staff like that must be an exemplary teacher." Dean gave one last gaze to the child five meters away from him and swayed his arms for the finale.

Like a conductor closing down a performance with a baton, the piece was raised to a crescendo, following a brief stop. Then, the tune escalated down: the powder blue steel axes escalated down.

Dalis squared his stance and glared at his opponent. Left and right, he cast a fleeting glance to the two guillotines high above his head.

He shivered.

Not from the cold energy percolating his body.

He shivered from the tingling sensation he felt the back of his neck.

It was all he needed to jolt his resolution.

"Haaaaaaa!!"

Dalis gave the staff in his cold hands a mighty thrust into the adamantine floor and used the rebound to vault across those precious five meters, escaping the guillotine platform.

Dean watched with eyes wide open as the escapee launched towards him. He saw him desperately carry the staff along with him, tucked close to his twisting body. It fell from his clutches and settled between his thighs; a good proportion of the length sticking out from the front. Oddly, the escapee's lips curled into a grin. And this grin did not seem to stem from his relief of preventing the drop of his weapon. It terrified Dean.

It was as though Dalis was a devil riding a magical broomstick. Had Halloween arrived?

*BANG!*

Dean felt the weight of the thick steel staff spear through his chest, toppling him to the floor. Before he could recover from the collision, the very point of impact was barraged by a series of thrusts from the staff, denting the armour and causing Dean to choke.

Spectators watching the gruesome scene were daunted. It was quite vicious and merciless.

Besides the spectators, the judge felt it was unpleasant as well, but he couldn't blame the boy considering he knew that the poor boy had a deformed mana seed and could only brutally strike to win the duel.

(Fuck this child is so ruthless! I'd be dead by now if he was a body consolidator!)

Dean eyes hovered over to the judge, glinted for a moment, and he hurriedly tried to gasp out a few words.

"H-hey young-g man can *gah* stop—"

The young man ceased his thrashing.

(Phew. I really thought I was going to be forced to retire.) Dean slowly began raising himself though only to find his head smash back down to the floor again and the thrashing to continue. It was even more savage than ever before.

When Dean peaked his eyes over to the young man, his whole body convulsed. He was scared witless. Not even two seconds had passed before he issued his surrender.

"WOOOOOAAHH!"

After the judge called out Dean's conceded defeat, the crowd erupted into a fit of cheers.

Painstakingly, Dalis removed himself from his defeated opponent and began sorting out his condition.

( . . . Well that's ten points for Gryffin—)

"—ddor!!"

(!!?) Dalis zoomed his head to his left.

Scanning the crowd, he saw thousands of heads cheering on the matches of the Stage of Knights. There was nothing in particular that caught his eye.

(Guess it was just me hearing things. I must recover quickly for the next match.)

Author note: Upcoming releases may be slow.

 

Spoiler: Chapter 77: Rising through the tourney

Author Note: I really apologise for the very late release of this chapter. I don't have an excuse. I'm slacking. I fail as an author. I hope I can get through this tournament quickly...

Despite having a thousand participants likewise to the rest, Group D was considered to be weakest. Not only in terms of strength but also in names known overall by the people of the Cresuilge Kingdom. Nevertheless, the Stage of Knights remained the same. Crowds cheering loudly, warriors roaring their hearts out as they exchanged blows after another, the event’s atmosphere and display of bustling competition was omnipresent. Because such a group was less-known, it gave the nameless warriors the needed opportunity for a grand spotlight for themselves to show their strength, and let their names be known by all.

Before the light of yesterday, two participants in the south corner of the Stage of Knights had been nameless. But now, their names were renown by almost all of the folk spectating the southern corner. And it was only a matter of time until one of their names would be famed above the other, spread by the mass, and the defeated, becoming a memory of the past, left only to amplify the name of the emerging victor.

(Such a fearsome child . . . even after so many clashes he still remains fixed in that position.)

George Kavwood resisted the urge to wipe off the sweat that muddied his hair and carefully analysed his opponent. He noticed that he too was unlike his former self. Although his defenses with the bo staff was steely upholding his protection, it was no longer at a level of being impregnable. It was a good thing that he had managed to make effective use of his skip time to not only rest, but to focus most of his attention on the Orphanage boy. After all, he was the one who pulled off a victory against Dean Fernsby. The person he was most cautious of out of his unremarkable sub bracket.

There were only a couple of times that he allowed Dalis to be able to exploit his range advantage against his fancied falchion. Unfortunately, another number will soon be added to the count. He did not expect Dalis to give him a surprise kick blow towards his torso.

While the distance was only short, he had immediately retreated foreseeing that Dalis would launch an aggressive assault instead of his defensive attack pattern.

Thus, lead to the stalemate of the two nameless warriors eyeballing one another.

(But in all seriousness . . . how is such a young youth able to keep up with me? Granted he has not moved as much as me in this battle, but I have my shoes and I’m quite fit for my age.)

Though he may be in his forties, as an adult male, his inherent physique should be enough to have the edge over him. Not to mention that his shoes had been enchanted to allow the wearer’s legs to be more agile and swift. And yet, it was hard to tell if those shoes could hold a candle over him in that category. Perhaps the child had some hidden equipment or it was simply the exhaustion from the drawn out battle that led him to believe this point.

As George was immersed in his thoughts, Dalis waited patiently. He hadn’t let his guard down as this was the first person that did not come into battle against him with underestimation. From beginning to now, there were several times that his opponent had separated from him and fallen into deep thought. Unfortunately, he could not exploit these openings due to being quite fatigued from previous battles and Dean keeping his wary guard.

Suddenly, Dalis saw George’s expression change from a stern look, to a hesitant expression, then promptly to a face of an irritated tiger. Dalis stood still and braced himself for what’s coming.

With a tap of his shoe, George bolted towards Dalis at unprecedented speeds. The blue glow that was shining on his shoes began to suffuse brighter and brighter, accelerating the speed of his dash. That was not all, however, as the falchion he wielded also began to glow.

Dalis recognised that he was unable to evade the attack and could only brace the impact. Naturally though, he did not dare to try fully take the strike and prepared to intercept the force outwards.

Reaching Dalis’s side, George leaned forward and gave a hack-like slash towards the upper chest. Dalis used the mid-proportion of the bo staff to block and attempted to push away the strike, but the force was a little too great and he lost his footing.

Being able to strike down Dalis brought up an arousement of delight and thus Dean continued to bring down the hack of his strike. However, the sword was unable to grind through to meet the flesh of its target as Dalis persisted to hold up the attack with his weapon in mid-fall. George quickly twisted his weapon, holding it like a cane, and pressed downwards to another spot, slipping through the staff. But Dalis predicted this and matched his movements to protect his chest.

All of this happened in a span of less than two seconds and Dalis’s body was met with the floor. George was merciless and his eyes glinted with no remorse. Like Dalis in his fight with Dean, he ruthlessly began to deliver a series of slashing blows towards Dalis without stopping. Before long, to the audience’s dismay, they found this scene of brutality awfully familiar!

“He’s ruthlessly beating his opponent down like that kid!” a man cried out in disbelief.

“How shameless is that noble?! He doesn’t have any armour!!” Another voice pitched out in disgust.

What was most intriguing about this scene was not the fact that George is brutally attacking a fallen child with no armour, nor was it that this scene was a copy of that boy—alas, to think that same boy who brought that nightmare was subjected to taste to his own medicine! It appears he brought this unto himself!

But to believe that this was a reenactment would be questionable. George’s attacks were desperate and concentrated, solely focused on penetrating through everything above the waist. Unlike the savagery illustrated by Dalis, his wild swings were simply too clean. More importantly, he was not thinking on where to strike and was only letting his instinct drive him. It was due to these reasons that Dalis was able to block blow after blow despite his huge disadvantage, making George panic to continue his frenzy.

Yet, this revelation did not mean Dalis was not struggling. He couldn’t afford to carelessly try and find a way to turn the tables as his focus was all on protecting himself. At first, he was waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity but that had been a grave mistake. The speed of his falchion thrusts were increasing, but Dalis had assumed that it was George’s desperation. While that was true, the major reason was from the falchion itself! By the time Dalis had noticed the unusualness, the blue shine on the falchion had emerged to the point that it appeared there was another layer of enchantment imbued into the weapon. Fortunately, the power behind his strikes was a little above from before.

(I have surprisingly managed to reach this point! I must at least win this so I can enter into the top two hundred!)

Since he couldn’t contest the extreme speed of his weapon and was in an immovable state, if Dalis wanted a chance to win, he could only gamble. Without delay, the moment he blocked a strike, Dalis robustly wrestled forward with his bo staff as if he was weightlifting with a barbell, meeting the incoming sword that was already three quarters away from striking him.

*CLANG!!*

The two objects clashed, and the friction caused by the impact made both parties stumble. Dalis tucked his head in to avoid injuring his head from the inevitable smash onto the floor and used his legs to foot sweep George who had lost his footing.

George could not anticipate this and his bottom was lowered to the ground level like a bird whose wings had been plucked.

“Come on then, I can—”

As George lifted his head, he let out a groan, feeling a pain course through his stomach. It felt as though he was jabbed by a long pole. Regaining his line of sight, he saw another attack heading towards him, and his eyelids reflexively went black again.

“Bah!”

Squinting his eyes open, he saw an unbelievable scene that caused his handsome face to contort in utter disbelief.

“That’s . . .”

“That’s one of Dalis’s self-made special hidden techniques!!” Stilla filled in the gap of Sienna’s words.

“To think those times in the forest were genuinely practical in live-battle . . . Unfathomable.” Sienna's words were in utter praise and wonder, staring intently at the battle that has roped the attention of the crowd.

Melvin hastily jerked up from his seat, almost without standing, and voiced the urgent thoughts aloud, “Bull fucking shit! How the fuck can that insect use his legs to wield the bo staff like his own arms!!! Does he actually have six limbs??!!”

That’s right.

On the battlefield, Dalis’s legs were utilised like any human beings’ arms. Leaned and gripped? between the joints of each of his feet and ankles was a section of the bo staff. Swiftly and expertly, they rotated and moved and swung Dalis’s weapon. Blows after blows were launched out, attacking and hitting the confused George. Although the strikes were not as potent and efficient as when he employs his arms. They contained power and speed sufficient enough to continuously knock down his target. At one point, Dalis playfully conducted a brief deadly spinning maneuver that caught the recovering George off-guard, not permitting him to move from his flurry.

Sorrowfully, George glimpsed one last look at his fueled, beaming falchion and mustered lines that were unfortunately left unsaid, as his consciousness faded to black.

Dalis gazed at his opponent and then let out a sigh of relief. (An opponent who did not underestimate me. I was cornered to the point that I had to reveal my concealed leg ability. I wonder what Melvin will say when I meet him. I’m looking forward to it)


Author Note:

As mentioned in the latest chapter, the next chapter release is likely to be slow, and future releases too. And yes it will be.

There are many reasons why, but I will briefly discuss the main things.



1. Huge Lack of motivation.

I no longer have that intense drive to write. In fact, it's been a long while since I have last written. In fact, everything has been pre-written. I have always been at least twenty + chapters ahead to set the direction of the story.

For the details, they are expressed in the past big announcement chapter I did.

2. I'm a slow writer

I tend to try to make every chapter be at a particular quality but this reaps hours away. I didn't mind in the past even with commitments, but if I don't have the drive to write then this becomes a huge leash.

3. Difficulty of writing.

Chapter 74 onwards was very difficult for me to write. When I reached chapter 76, the chapter became the biggest writer's block. Not only did I actually hate writing it, but it was indeed difficult as I had to think in the train of thought of making Dalis outwit his opponents. The deeper circumstances of the novel meant I did not want to play my intended wild card, and I have to contemplate a lot in order to write it satisfingly. The end result was Chapter 76 which did meet my standards, but it took me a while to write that and it was only going to get increasingly difficult. I had thrown in the towel and left it for my future self.


So what does this mean for the future?

Chapter release will unfortunately be dropped to 1-2 times a week. Likely to be released on Tuesday and Friday.

Quality of chapters will be much lower than before. I won't be rushing, but I won't be taking my time either. However!! Important chapters will very likely have the same standard as before. Such as the final fights of the tournament. That will be given my 150% effort. 150% quality would probably be the Melvin and Hayate face off. As I had previously mentioned, the next upcoming event is huge and will make you readers on the edge of your screens. Please look forward to it.

To get most of that drive back, I will be rushing the outcome of the tournament. I will not regret this. The finals may expand for longer though.

I hope to all my readers that you will continue to support and follow my novel. <3 Although I'm slowly growing, the fact that my viewer count and followers (albeit slowly) are going up provides me the motivative strength to continue to write.

And I will say it again.

No I will never drop this novel.

Not even the heavens themsleves can stop me!
​

​

 

Spoiler: Chapter 78: Shameful Climbing

Ten days have passed since the start of the tournament.

The two hundred victors from groups A-J have been merged into one group and were in the process of being divided into ten arenas, twenty in each arena.

At most, one would need to duel three times, resulting in three left per sub bracket.

Although the crowd was as rowdy and celebrative as ever, the tension between the stage and the seats was quite unalike.

When it came to the field, there seemed to be a profound battle-inducing atmosphere, exuding a pressure that only the strong could emit. This is especially so as this tourney’s event is testing one’s “Power”. Many of them were eyeballing their opponents, sizing each other up, and making notes of the information they had managed to scavenge from the previous days.

Everybody here was a force to be reckoned with.

Though of course there were about less than a quarter of them who had only managed to reach this point due to their good fortune in their brackets. These bunch were stricken with unease and did not have much confidence to measure up with the big boys/girls.

Quite a number of these powerful individuals displayed expressions and gestures of condescension, looking down on the feeble weak ones.

Unsurprisingly, whether it's due to jealousy, underestimation, or the like, a handful of them were leering at the small group of Orphanage children that have come this far.

“I apologise children for my foolish acquaintance to have caused trouble. As of recently he’s been in a foul mood. For someone who furnishes himself with weights and muscles, it came as a huge shock—failing to overcome a juvenile girl.”

“Shawn you bitch. You should be thankful that yours truly doesn’t need to rough you up.” Angrily, Aaron grasped the neat collar of the cinnamon-haired noble knight, raising him a few centimetres off the ground.

“Apparent to you all, he is not the most “civilised” folk out there.” While it appeared he was apologising on Aaron’s behalf on the surface, his mocking smile was a dead giveaway to Dalis. In fact, he had only casted a cursory glance to him, Alexia, and Li Jun.

“There’s no problem with that Mr. Shawn. Sir Aaron just wishes to show how very strong he is to us,” Benito politely and cheerfully responded.

“Very strong? Please Benito, if it pertains to flushing away the “civilised” then it would be a trifle matter for this young mistress. You don’t need to act so goody two shoes for your Father’s sake.” Shaking her head, Alexia scoffed and shot a ridiculing gaze at the two.

“This little chick seems to have grown some balls to still act so arrogant while knowing that, I Aaron Malconburn, will be kicking another kiddy like you off the stage.”

“Ara? You were my arena opponent? It appears that you will be indebted to me Benito.”

“Now now, we can save the battle when we get called up.” Benito frantically waved his arms to dissuade them as he hurriedly got between the two of them.

“That’s what I plan. After all, I do not bother to filter the problems themselves unless they are begging to my knees,” Alexia boasted.

“You fucking—”

“Well then children, we will be taking our leave. Make your father proud Benito.” Shawn turned around and headed off, leaving behind Aaron.

Aaron watched him depart, and then tailed after him after bidding a series of provocative words to the children, mainly conveyed towards Alexia, of course.

Benito let loose a heavy sigh from his mouth. Then he noticed he was being stared at by Alexia.

“You owe me one.” She pompously smiled with her hands crossed and chest held up high.

Everyone was rendered speechless.

Li Jun seemed a little odd as though he had attained some respect for her.

Dalis rolled his eyes twice from this chain reaction.

While Benito’s face was simply priceless.


***


Following the commencement, Alexia and Benito exchanged parting words with the children and left to their respective arenas. There were now only two children remaining.

“How confident are you in winning your matches?” Li Jun sternly asked.

Dalis stopped in his tracks and shook his head.

Li Jun gazed at him in the eye. “We have come for experience. Digest everything you can. I know your path will be very difficult, but I believe you can one day stand beside us. That is why when you see the disparity, do not neglect yourself.”

Rare surprise could be seen in his nonchalant face and then a thin smile rose. “Thank you Li Jun,” Dalis replied. “Your path of weapons will be arduous. I now believe that with your mindset, you may be able to succeed,” he added.

“Hmph. So you too had no faith.”

“Bluntly, yes. But I envy you.”

“Envy? You?” The reactions of surprise were reversed. Though Li Jun was soon able to draw a conclusion. (Blinded by his appearance, indeed this should be natural.)

Li Jun’s eyelids drooped a little, and Dalis felt like he was an abandoned animal being sympathised with. But he was used to it, so he was rather unfazed. (Perhaps it would be more appropriate to have stated: you and the rest.)

As they were engaged in their deep conversation, the commotion of departing participants snapped them out of their attention.

“I will be going. May Caleyar bless you with his blessings.”

“Good luck to you too,” Dalis replied, cordially.


***


“It looks like both of ours luck have yet to run out. Truthfully I feel ashamed instead of being happy.”

The chatty woman, Anabel Jangemo, produced a hefty swing of her broad, single edged blade, arcing to meet Dalis’s steel bo staff.

From the blow of the force, Dalis was pushed a few steps back.

(Such power! Despite being a cutting sword, with a broad, single edged blade, the straight blade meant the sword was not optimised for cutting as it could not produce the slicing effect of a curved blade. Enchantments . . . )

Anabel laughed from his reaction. “I am not a body consolidator by the way believe it or not.”

“Your blade strikes are like bludgeons . . .” Dalis groaned as though he was retorting.

“Well of course! Otherwise my partner and the rest of my regime would be damned if we used those gentlemanly weapons. Don’t make light of our Cresuilge Kingdom’s heavy cavalry sword!” Proudly, she puffed out her cheeks.

(Since I essentially do not have any armour against her weapon . . .)

He spread his stance, bending his left knee and stretching his right leg.

(And because she lacks prowess in duels . . .)

He pushed off, kicking soil in his wake.

(I will go all in!!)

Sliding through, he avoided the incoming mighty cleave and began furiously rotating his staff, spinning his legs like a boat propeller shredding through water at full-speed.

(Damn sneaky kid!)

Lulled by a false sense of security, she began to desperately trade attacks in retaliation. As well as being taken by surprise, she had never seen a blunt stave used in such a vigorous fashion that she found it difficult to find an opening.

Many of Dalis’s angled rod attacks met their target, but her armour reduced the impacts by a sizable margin.

Soon, the momentum was unable to be maintained due to the rebounds and her sword strikes.

“My chance!”

Anabel closed in and struck her tempered high carbon steel weapon into Dalis’s exposed left lower quadrant region.

“Bah!”

It sliced through the leather as if it were slicing tofu, hitting his skin and releasing canals of blood to splatter the floor. Dalis was slashed to the floor.

Yet, Dalis would not let her go unscathed: he wanted payback!

Enduring the pain while mid-fall, Dalis spread out his knees as a frog and thrusted his legs out.

His actions resembled a crossbow launching a heavy arrow.

Completely perturbed Anabel stumbled back in aching pain, almost falling.

“Gyaaah!! So merciless! You actually dare try to go for a lethal blow.” She rubbed the side of her pale neck, which has swollen red, in anguish. To her, it felt like she was speared by a javelin rather than being shot by an arrow.

The judge wore an unsightly expression. He deliberated if a disqualification or a penalty should be issued.

This is a contentious issue prevalent in many of Cresuilge’s “Power” tournaments. Oftentimes, especially those from lower class backgrounds, there have been instances where people were “forced” to conduct lethal blows of which may result in maiming.

Disregarding those with malicious intentions, people found they were unable to do anything against those who wore powerful armoury. And in order to achieve victory, their only real chance was to strike the areas of vulnerability such as the head, neck, etc.

Naturally, this was a breach of rules. But on a number of occasions judges have left the incidents to slide as long as they did not abuse the tacit handicap. After all, it wasn’t objectively fair.

Thus, it was solely up to the judge to decide.

The judge saw the child’s bad condition and let out a sigh. “Participant Dalis, you have a warning. Try and avoid lethal blows if possible.”

However, it did not seem that Dalis heard his words. He had somehow lifted himself back to his two feet and darted to the unattentive Anabel.

“Brutal body consolidator!”

“Believe it or not, I am not a body consolidator.”

His response caused her to fall in a moment of stupefaction. “Brat! I think you need to watch your manners!”

Before Dalis could jump on her, she held the sword with two hands, tightened the ribbed leather steel grip, lifted the sword up high, and slashed at the floor as though she was anchoring it with a thrust.

*HUMMMMMM*

A humming sound hung above the ground, causing a dizzy quake to tremor.

Dalis felt his entire being become paralysed into a fit of intense vibrations, toppling back down to the floor with his face flat on the ground.

“Brat I can’t tell if you are promising or cunning. Don’t think I can’t see you hiding that stave of yours.” She slowly raised the sword and returned to hold it in her comfortable right arm, no longer wielding it in a two handed fashion.

“. . .”

Scrutinising and eyeing the stave and the boy like a hawk, she slowly approached Dalis.

(Can never trust these naughty brats like him. He is probably playing dead to drop my guard.) “You think I’m stupid? You know that with your wound, you can’t feign dead forever.”

Still no response.

(Is he actually knocked out?)

She lowered her upper-half to peer a closer look. Afterwards, she turned her head to take a glance at the judge.

Then.

She felt a thump through her feet and saw her sight go upside down.

“Eh?”

Splat!

Likewise to Dalis, her face fell flat on the floor.

Anabel cursed in her mind and quickly rolled her face up.

Stradling on her abdomen was Dalis. At her face was a taut fist.

With his movements restricted, this was all he could do.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Is this a threat?”

“I cannot win against you. I can only resort to shameful acts like this.”

“You won’t get that far, and you will definitely be unable to last in the next round even if you did manage to defeat me.” Her eyes laid on the blood stained area.

“Indeed. But I require at least one victory in this stage.”

Anabel was unable to decipher the thoughts of this child. He appeared too mature-looking for a young youth and besides his nonchalance, he gave off an apathetic vibe.

(Does this child actually want to win?)

“Do you actually want to win?” she seriously asked.

Dalis eye’s widened in surprise. Unknowingly, his raised fist had considerably shortened and weakened.

Most surprising of all, such a simple question ended up chipping a minute of time for his answer to arrive.

“. . . Somewhat so, indeed.”

Anabel wanted to say more, but she saw that his wound was progressively worsening to an alarming state. If he did not receive a brief first-aid, he would not even be allowed to enter another match.

“Alright young one. I want to hear about why you want to win next time we meet. In fact, look for me! You don’t have a choice. That’s Anabel’s homework for you.”

Dalis was dazed once again.

“Judge, this calvary woman here concedes defeat!”

“W-Wait are you sure?” the judge couldn’t help but reflexively question.

“Right on!” Without delay, she began to give Dalis a shoulder.


Author Note:

Good news! I got the drive to write again.

Bad news! Exams coming up.

Interesting news! I am writing a rewrite of this novel with some small LitRPG elements added. That novel will follow the same storyline, but there will be differences. I won't be dropping this novel though so dw. More info will be said when I offically release it.

 

Spoiler: Chapter 79: Before the Final Trial

“Dalis. Cold feet is the last thing I would expect from you. Come on, where is your energy? This is the finals! You made it there! You need to proudly walk out there and show them what you are made of!”

“Understood, but Sister Edna . . .”

“Dalis? Why are you here?” Noticing Dalis, Silla briskly approached him. “We just sent you off!! They are going to be calling everyone up soon. You’re not causing trouble again are you?”

Returning her displeased, untrusting gaze, he shook his head. “There was something I needed to discuss with Sister Edna. That is all.”

“Hmmm . . .” Her eyes narrowed further and moved to Sister Edna. “Okay!” She clapped her balled hand on top of her open palm. Since time was of essence, she did not pursue the matter.

“Stilla. Let’s escort this troublemaker. He’s a little cold on his feet having managed to reach into the finals.”

“Ah? So that’s why! Dalis, don’t be nervous. If it’s you, I’m sure you can pull off a victory. You are my little brother after all.” With a reassuring smile, she skipped on the soles of her feet.

“That’s right. If it’s Dalis, I’m sure he can give us a big surprise,” Sister Edna chimed in.

Dalis’s steps came to a stop, and he affectionately turned to Sister Edna. “Sister Edna, you are expecting too much from me.” His countenance sharpened. “But I will fulfill your expectation.”

Sister Edna gave a light sigh. “Not just mine. Think about the others.”

“*Cough* Yes, I will not let the rest down.” Dalis peered over to the pouting Stilla.

As the three walked down the steps, their ears caught wind of the chatting crowd. While most of the talk was about the upcoming contestants, some of them having noticed Dalis began to speak about him.

“That child from the Orphanage. There’s a rumor right now about how he has a deformed mana seed,” a woman spoke.

“To make it this far at such a young age, he definitely is a prodigy,” a travelling merchant replied.

“Prodigy??? Pfft. Don’t make me laugh merchant. He’s just a rookie with insane luck. Haven’t you seen or heard about his matches? They were all no names besides the final matches,” a middle-aged retired knight rebuked.

“That’s right. It would be a different story if it was one of those internship students or the Commerce Apostle’s son but him?! What a fucking joke. He actually managed to get two skips after *cough* “defeating” a calvary knight,” another person followed up.

“Two skippies in a row. Ah so that’s the lucky kid who got a free skip in his arena and then skipped Tristen Harding at the end. After those blood boiling battles, to think that bloke had to retire and let some kid be placed above him. Must’ve been humiliating.”

“Such a shameless and powerless child will become a Vanquisher in the future? How worrying . . .”

The ill comments continued to pile up.

Stilla was on the verge of lashing out in a fuss, but Dalis stopped her before she could.

“I am fine Stilla. There is no falsehood in their words. It was all luck. That’s all it came to,” Dalis said in monotone.

He really didn’t seem to be fazed and accepted the treatment.

“But—”

“Stilla, Dalis. Let’s not dally and move ahead,” Sister Edna ushered, cutting Stilla’s words short.

Dalis thoughts drifted to yesterday.

*Flashback*

“Dalis you managed to make in the final thirty. Congratulations!” Allen huddled an arm on his back.
“Honestly, I still find it unbelievable that you managed to get that far,” Jessica gasped out.
“Your luck . . . is simply too good.”
“Hmph insect it is as Koji states. I am compelled to ask, are you proud of yourself?” Melvin asked with a voice full of mockery.
“Melvin. Don’t be a douche about it. He made it to the finals we should be congratulating him,” Sienna intervened.
“Oh? And are you going to congratulate him? Aren’t you Dalis’s number 1 admirer?” Melvin shot back, words tinged with poison.
A pregnant tension descended.
Sienna with an unsightly look worn on her face froze for a moment. She faced Dalis, but her movements were slow and felt heavy.
Living under the same roof, they all knew that she was put on the spot.
“There’s no need to congratulate me.” Dalis interjected Sienna before she could speak.
“I achieved to this point through sheer luck. My last actual opponent even gave the victory to me.” He paused and let the words sink in. “Thus, I am undeserving of praise,” he added.
From then on, an awkward atmosphere was met between Dalis and his roommates.

*Present*

They have arrived at the end of the steps. Some of the children were present there, seemingly worried.

“Don’t worry guys! I found Dalis,” Stilla called out.

“There you are Dalis! You had us worried there. I thought you retired,” Allen said.

“I was worried too,” Sun Hee spoke up.

“Yup. I thought yesterday’s stuff got to your head. Where’d you go?” Jessica asked.

“I had something to discuss with Sister Edna. That is all.”

“Sister Edna? Well you’re here now.” Sienna chuckled though a little awkwardly.

“Eh? Where’s the rest?” Stilla quizzically enquired.

“Ah they said that Dalis would probably come back so there was no need to send him off a second time,” Allen replied.

“Oh okay. Jeez at least Melvin should have come here too,” Stilla muttered.

“There’s a lot of movement beginning to go on right now. I think it’s about to start any minute.” Jessica pointed to the Stage of Knights.

Dalis nodded in assent. “I will be going.”

“Good luck!” Sun Hee, Jessica, and Sienna blessed in tandem.

“Dalis we will be cheering for you!” Allen declared, filled with motivation.

Dalis turned to Stilla.

Stilla walked up to Dalis and took his arm.

“Woaaaahhh!!” She heaved it straight up in the air. Their eyes crossed with one another. One eyes wide open, and the other eyes sparkling.

Dalis was momentarily speechless. Stilla laughed as she saw Dalis’s dumbfounded expression. She continued to heave his arm up and down.

“Woaaaahhh!!”

“Woaaaahhh!!”

“Woaaaahhh!!”

By the fourth “Woaaaahhh!!”, Dalis regained his senses. Naturally his available hand moved to deliver a karate chop to Stilla’s forehead.

“Woaaatt are you doing?” Seemingly infected, Dalis questions her.

“Cheering you on and getting your fighting spirit back! You can’t hide your feelings from your Big Sister!”

“. . .”

“Looks like there’s not enough spirit.” Stilla readied her arms.

“Wait hol—”

“Woaaaahhh!!”

“Woaaaahhh!!”

“Woaaaahhh!!”

“Enough.”

“Owwiie!” She rubbed her poor forehead. But Dalis knew that, she practically took no damage. It wasn’t that she was trying to act cute: it was only a natural reaction.

Dalis released the grip on his arm. Exhaling deeply, he gazed at Stilla in the eye.

“Thanks.”

“Hehe~ No biggie~”

Dalis found her adorable. Shaking his thoughts to the side, he turned back and moved to meet his real big sister.

She had a really wide and lovely smile on her face.

Caught off guard, Dalis’s heart was sent aflutter.

“Will Sister Edna do something similar?” Dalis teased her.

Sister Edna flushed red, but it gradually faded in no time, replaced with a profound but caring look.

“Dalis.”

With a call, she approached him.

“Yes?”

“*Ahem*” In Dalis’s eyes, she looked hesitant to speak.

(Perhaps she’s searching for the right words?) “Don’t worry, please speak your mind Sister Edna.

Dalis’s utterance caused Sister Edna’s words to be stuck in her throat. (I have to keep this brief.) Changing her mind, she let out another harrumph. Then, she spoke:

“Whether you win or lose doesn’t matter. Whatever the minds of others may think, you’ve become someone Big Sister can boast and be proud of. Now go on and keep your chest up high! Win!”



***



“ . . . Now to our nation’s powerful courageous warriors.” Richard Relza’s turn in the conversation caused everyone to turn their attention to today’s stars.

“To you thirty, I must first congratulate you all for reaching this far. Although our strength has heavily diminished since the Great War, I sincerely believe that each of your prowesses, in highlight to strength, are no different from those of the past. —Even if this may not be so as of present, in the boundless future, your limitless potential will certainly and I say certainly!” With a clap of solemn thunder, he resumed and roared,

“Will uphold the strength worthy of the knights—the knights of the Cresuilge Kingdom!!!”

"WOOOOOOOOOAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The crowd was thrown to a mad fit of cheers. All of the people from the Cresuilge Kingdom were burning with undying fiery spirit. Even if they were not a knight they themselves felt as though they too should become knights.

Once the noise drowned down, the King swept his almighty gaze to the thirty surviving warriors.

“Now, I ask of you. Are you willing to dive into the final trial?”

“Henry Raymond!”

Having all the attention focused on him, he was startled from the sudden call. But, as expected from a knight who had survived to this point, it only took a moment for him to recover.

“Yes, my King!”

“Olivia Damcott!”

“If that is what your Majesty seeks, then I humbly accept. I shall take on the trial!” She saluted.

“Aaron Malconburn!”

“Of course! Your Majesty!” He swung his huge aggressive-looking heavy machete and returned it to his back, ignoring the incredulous onlookers.

When people looked to the King for his reaction, they found that he was quite pleased from Aaron’s actions.

Inevitably, a domino effect was created. At least half of them understood the importance of this implication. Olivia Damcott was one as well, and she appeared to be quite bitter.

(Although I heard that the current Cresuilge Kingdom’s King was lacking compared to the previous rulers, he doubtlessly is a King.) Dalis silently chucked. (With his words and this momentum, nobody will reject participating in the final trial. That will taint the honour of not just themselves, but also the Cresuilge Kingdom itself. How shrewd.)

“And lastly—you Dalis, young boy from the Caleyar Orphanage. Though many question your rising, none can dispute you too have become one of the top thirty. For someone as young as you and not from our country’s origin, it is not strange if you exempt yourself here.”

The King stared at Dalis eye to eye.

A reigning invisible pressure can be felt in the air.

Many understood. He was testing the boy.

Regardless of his background and age, the sheer luck he had in this tournament was unprecedented. Almost all of the people could not accept it.

Being a tournament that tested one’s power, only strength can allow people to come to terms with his outcome.

However, that was impossible. To those that know Dalis, they knew he had no such power. Thus, there was a need to show him off in another light.

While it was unclear of the King’s intention behind this or whether he had any in the beginning, there was one sole answer that Dalis had to abide.

Seeing Dalis’s composure, unfazed by the pressure, the King gently nodded. He had a better impression of the boy. (I will not make things too difficult for him then.)

The King went straight to the point.

“I ask of you, Dalis. Are you willing to dive into the final trial?”

. . .

. . .

. . .

“Yes. Your Majesty.”


Author note:
Late again, sorry... I have exam weeks starting in 2 days. Though I probably can still do another chapter as long as I have the energy to. Admittedly, I'm more focused on the rewrite of the series.

Now, for my readers who are still with me... Rejoice! From this point onward, the chapters will be filled with a lot of intense scenes and action. It actually requires a lot of preparation, so the rewrite version will be better, but I will still do my best to make it entertaining to read here. Comedy? PFFTTT What's that?

The Dalis story is going hardcore serious now.

 

Spoiler: Chapter 80: Suspense

The lottery had begun.

It was unlike a standard roulette that was used before.

All eyes were drawn in above the elliptical Stage of Knights.

Although it appeared to be a manifested projection like a ghostly spirit, the translucent entity exuded an immense, profound regal presence. In comparison to the regal bearing of the King, indisputably the entity was in a whole different league.

The entity could only be described as a transcended figure.

In the eyes of the Cresuilge Kingdom, this figure was god itself.

He was the revered man that held the name of Cresuilge.

One of the few legendary figures of mankind’s entire history to have reached the final height of a “Hero”.

Not only was he known as the Divine Knight of War, he was the one who merged the hegemonies that reigned the ancient past into what is now founded as the Cresuilge Kingdom today.

Yes, this entity was—

—Cresuilge Stradfold Relza, the first and true King.

This would be the 93rd time he would appear in the Knights of Kingdom tournament.

The entire Stage of Knights was silent. Feeria’s themselves did not dare cause trouble.

When the King bowed to his progenitor, the Stage of Knights echoed with a harmonised thud. The people of Cresuilge Kingdom dropped to one knee with their heads down in tandem.

The rest did not follow suit, but they did bow their heads down in respect.

Following a pregnant silence, the people of the Cresuilge Kingdom rose back to their seating, just after the current King.

The movements were so perfectly united that it was as though this practice was meticulously coordinated and choreographed.

However, the truth was everyone simply knew. They knew when they were required to rise.

It was Heaven-defying.

Cresuilge Relza, who has barely moved since his emergence, slowly approached the thirty warriors in line, hovering down.

Once he reached a fair distance between them, a mystical ray of divine light rained down, spreading to each of the warriors.

When it radiated to Dalis, he felt somewhat uncomfortable. An indescribable sense of fear tingled the back of his spine. But he felt it was harmless, so he paid it no heed. If he had to describe the process, it felt as though he was being basked in the sun, and it was a little hard on him because he had sensitive skin.

(Itchy!) The divine light rays had increased in intensity.

He felt that everybody was peering to him, but the lingering gazes then gradually shifted.

Enduring the urge to itch, Dalis noticed that some of the other warriors were also experiencing the same intensity as Dalis. But unlike Dalis, they did not show any signs of discomfort.

(Such biased treatment?! Is it because I am not from the Cresuilge Kingdom?!) Dalis complained in his mind, continuing his poker face.

When the last warrior was lit to the appropriate degree, the rays of light began to fade away.

Amidst the divine rays of light was Cresuilge Relza. Following the gradual fade of the light, he too receded.

“Our Great Founder has gestured to us with his grace. Ordering has been established. The first six initially shun to the brim will now do duel against the respective Knights of Majesty.”

“Against the Knights of Majesties?!”

“How thrilling!”

“This . . . is impossible . . .”

A few of the chosen warriors couldn’t help but gasp their thoughts into the world even within the King’s presence. The rest of the warriors had hardly flinched from the announcement. They were prepared or had expected this pronouncement.

Meanwhile, the audience resumed back to their joyous celebration mood. However, the next set of words from the King completely overturned the level of noise generated thus so far.

“Although each Knight of Majesty will be facing one of you six in turn, as soon as the duels end, and if they are not defeated, they will proceed to face the next assigned ordering. Continuously, until all thirty of you are defeated in battle. Once that is completed, the 93rd Knights of Kingdom Tournament will be finished.”

“HOLY!”

“That means that each of the Knights of Majesty will be facing five of the lasting participants! Today!” a merchant cried out.

“Yeah! And there’s definitely going to be a time limit involved. The Stage of Knights has returned to the elliptical flooring. I conjecture that one battle will take up the entirety of space!” The noble sitting aside the merchant responded.

Pandemonium spread like wildfire amongst the crowd.

“My King! I apologise for speaking out of line, but you are looking down on us.” One of the warriors stepped in.

“Are you questioning our Majesty’s declaration? Remember, this setting of organisation does not hold purely on our Majesty. The Distinguished Families as well as the Knights of Majesty themselves must have decided on this together.” A female knight strode to the warrior and reminded.

The King paid no heed to the two and went on, shocking more people with the next set of revelations.

“Each duel will have a ten minute time limit. If one of you valorous knights are able to stand ground until then, you have the opportunity to concede defeat and become a well-privileged knight, as well as have the choice to become a disciple of one of the Knights of Majesty. If you continue onwards and emerge victorious, you will be a winner! Conferred to be another Knights of Majesty! However if you end in defeat . . . then there will be no reward.”

Now even the female warrior was baffled.

“Surviving ten minutes to become a well-privileged knight? Pfft that’s easy.” Aaron spoke aloud and then mockfully stared down at the rest of the participants. His eyes particularly laid rest on the warrior who stepped in. “If you’re a true knight, you won’t let things end in that manner. Don’t you all agree?” But his words were directed to everyone.

“That shouldn’t need to be said,” Olivia agreed wholeheartedly.

“For you two with your backgrounds, it does not come off as a surprise. The allure of becoming a well-privileged knight would naturally not entail much enticement. For someone like myself, I will be doing my best to survive. A knight named Callum Walker spoke.

Aaron and Olivia did not reply to his words. They could tell from his tone that his words were not said as an insinuation. He was simply speaking the truth, and he appeared to have no shame for proclaiming his goal. But the fact they knew who he was likely played a part in the peacemaking.

“Zip your mouths. Look who’s in front of you.” One of the warriors whispered, loud enough for the rest to hear.

Fortunately, the King was magnanimous. He took a blind eye in their discussion and rudeness as it was dealt with quickly.

. . .

. . .

The King’s speech went on for a while longer and he began to finish up.

“Valorous warriors. If there are any concerns, now it is the time to speak up.”

“My King, I have one query.”

“Speak up, Henry Raymond.” The King jutted up his chin.

“If I am not mistaken, the scheduled duels are skewered to hold an advantage for those who compete with the Knights of Majesty later. Even with the Knights of Majesties being eligible to receive a small treatment of wounds in between the rounds, I feel that it would not be sufficient from the accumulation of fatigue and injuries not of light,” he said in a concerned manner.

The King’s lips curled to form a smile. He did not need to say anything as words were soon voiced to illuminate his query.



***



The time was nigh.

Dalis stood alone on the empty Stage of Knights, on the side distant from the King.

He was the challenger; the first challenger.

The crowd was still bustling, but were evidently much quieter in suspense of the coming arrival of one of the Knights of Majesty.

Still as water, Dalis was silent.

For a young boy early in his teens, his composure drastically contrasted from the average boy at his time of youth. From all directions, he had people staring down upon him, over 90,000 people mind you, and he was required to be the first to wield his weapon against one of the most powerful knights in the whole world.

The majority of knights would be unable to maintain a cool-headed calmness. And this was pertinent to the other valorous warriors. Each of them had at least seen one of the strengths of the six knights in display. They knew that they were not existences that should be underestimated, including the youngest Knights of Majesty.

Those who had survived the Great War were the most understanding of how terrifying the Knights of Majesty are. The spectating Callum Walker, who was next after Dalis, had his hands balled to a fist, tightened to white. Secretly hoping that the one who came across that entrance would be one of the existences he did not wish to face.

Dalis’s eyes remained concentrated and fixed on the entrance.

All the bad-mouthing, the laughters, the cheers, the small talk, not a string of sound was reached into his ears. His ears, only to be perked for the judge and the unarrived foe.

Who will his opponent be?

Will it be that man most renowned to have had barely come out alive after his whole battalion was killed in action in the eradication of a feared one-eyed centipede. After which he was surrounded, forced alone while bearing grievous wounds, to kill over three hundred voracious demonic beasts, rabid to feast off on the corpse of the monster?

Or perhaps it may be the newly founded hero greatly feared and known as the “Hawk”, who was second to the deceased Queen in the Cresuilge Kingdom in terms of turning the tides of war. Utilising her wits, she had not only aided significantly in the logistics, but she had boldly and daringly in spite of her youthful age and lack of experience, confronted and persuaded the five nation leading heads to implement her devised plan: a devised do or die plan. Pulling off a miracle with her cunningness and prowess which ascended her as a hero and allowed her to reign considerable command in later operations.

Whichever of the six Knights of Majesty that walked outside of that entrance, he/she would be an absolute force to be reckoned with.

Dalis knew in his heart that he probably couldn’t even survive three minutes in a head on duel against these renowned figures: this was an overstatement.

Strangely though, this did not make him feel despondent. Outwardly, he appeared calm. But inwardly he was experiencing jittery.

(Am I anxious? No . . . What is this creeping sense of feeling?)

It was as if this was something he had not been able to do for a very very long time.

. . .

?!

The ruminating Dalis, suddenly for the first time, had adjusted his line of sight.

Yet . . .

Dalis did not turn his head.

 

Spoiler: Chapter 81: Athena Relza; Princess of the Cresuilge Kingdom. Duel!

His eyebrow raised a little as he stared at the flooring of the other side, focusing on the middle.

Nothing was happening, but why did his eyes move here?

(Sound?) He perked up his ears to try and listen to where the source is coming from.

Barely thrumming in his ears was a melodious sound. It almost sounded as though it was a tune played from a musical instrument.

Gradually as the sound ringed louder, he found it came from the ground.

At that moment, the flooring he had his eyes peeled on, shone in a dazzling golden light. Motes of golden light swirled and twirled forming a circle while a ray of yellow light surged out from the inside as a ray, shooting a few metres above the ground.

Dalis knew what was happening.

Somebody was teleporting or transfering into this space. It was not like Feeria’s formulated spells that had its formulated patterns. The transfer resembled like the time he was sent out from the Pre-Soldier Exam.

The biggest difference was that it was quite fancy, and there was a clear power generated. Interrupting the transfer would mean one would need to force through all that light and divine energy.

When the light appeared to dim a tinge, the light flashed. Then, an outline of a figure was seen through the dazzling light.

As if to welcome the figure’s entrance, slowly the light began to disperse, opening the drapes of the curtain to reveal the figure. Melodious sounds, continuing to thrum.

When she appeared, it was as if the whole world was brought to a still.

Her beautiful looks were incredible. Incomparable. She drew everyone’s gaze without an exception.

Her long golden hair cascaded from the back of her head to her waist billowed out in the air, revealing a dark blue ribbon that interlaced the curls of her braided hair, which culminated to a dark blue rose bow attached at the end of the braid. Those behind would not be able to miss the two locks of short hair sprouted out from each side of the bow.

Dalis’s eyes did not blink, not leaving her in his sights for a moment. Taking in her sapphire-blue eyes, he saw the sparkling glint shimmer as though it was shimmering light from the summery oceans.

Yet, those mesmerising eyes were not of aesthetic appearance alone. They kindled and embodied something special.

Dalis knew what this was.

It was strength.

But that was all Dalis could perceive through his keen eyes. There were definitely more.

He answered the call to his racing heart.

“Princess Athena. You are beautiful.”

*drip*

There was a splash in the ocean of her eyes.

Her perfect porcelain skin bloomed with a slight flush of red. The crevices of her gentle lips widened as her lips parted.

“Thank you.”

Athena’s silvery voice was like the voice spoken from a goddess. The heartfelt appreciation in her utterance shook all the hearts of men and even many women to topple into a disorder that could be defined as love-struck.

Crown Prince Kayle was amused.

Dalis’s inner thoughts that gave him the feeling that this was not the most beautiful girl he had ever seen were completely overturned in that moment of reply.

If he wasn’t so captivated, he would surely curse himself and give himself a thousand lashings for such bullshit, rude lingering thoughts.

It was guaranteed that all the men from the Cresuilge Kingdom would curse him for that. Much like they’re doing right now. Cursing under their breaths, and gnashing their teeths in pure jealousy.

“She really is so beautiful. Hehe, even my little brother was so awed that he had to tell her how beautiful she was,” Stilla said.

“Such powerful destructive force . . . Hmph! Looks like the insect wants to pollinate a flower much too looked for,” Melvin scoffed. But he was clearly pleased.

“Melvin, I hope your words are not improper.”

“Of course, Sister Edna. But perhaps the insect has other plans.”

“Excusee me?”

“Ah?!” Melvin yelped. Removing his eyes from the stage, he turned his head to face Sister Edna.

“Is something the matter, Melvin?”

“A-ah, no Sister Edna. All is immaculate, there are no issues!” Melvin quickly turned back to the front. (Sister Edna seems a little frightening today . . .)

Dalis felt a slight chill run from his spine.

He did not know why it suddenly came to him, but it helped him focus on the upcoming battle. His eyes that were captured in adoration flickered, replaced with a valiant look.

Promptly, Athena’s eyes which were already valiant sharpened. She began to walk a little closer from her position and readied her enchanted steel shield. With a refined move of her right slender arm, she unsheathed her lustrous platinum longsword. The crowd leaked out awes of excitement.

From a single glance, Dalis knew that weapon was definitely a forged treasure. It’s surface alone was so smooth and yet glassy like the beauty of diamonds.

There was no waver, however, from Dalis. After walking for a bit, he simply stood still.

Seeing this, Athena appropriated her distance to be akin to Dalis. Until they were a fair distance apart.

Not close, but not far.

Neither had an intention to move from their spots.

There were no exchanges of words either.

“Courageous Warrior Dalis, from the Caleyar Orphanage and Princess Athena Relza. Are your preparations ready?”

“Yes.” They both replied in tandem.

“The first match of the trial will now commence!”

Those words were like a gun trigger shot to start a running race.

With a decisive kick of the foot, Athena dashed off to Dalis at fast speeds.

(So fast!) Dalis was briefly struck, daunted.

But he quickly recovered and prepared to meet the incoming Princess.

As her golden hair danced in the air from her whooshing speed, she delivered an arced swipe of her sword.

Dalis boldly went into her strike with his own steel weapon and met the blow.

*CLANG!*

(Not good!!!) Right when he felt the force and the vibration ring through the rod to his hands, he felt his hands go numb. He was pushed back, toppling, but through his defensive he managed to maintain his ground.

Yet, without a moment of break, Athena was already on her way to deliver another strike, this time going for a straight thrust to the middle.

(Shit!)

He was forced to immediately duck down from the strike; he had no other option to go due to his moment of overbalance.

While he ducked, he slid himself to bridge the gap.

Athena did not expect that he would slide himself closer, so she was a little lagged to defend herself. But as her shield was close and at bay, she was almost certain to block the damage from his weapon.

?!!

She felt a short pang of slight pain come from her right solleret, forcing her right leg to bend outwards. He had gone for a foot sweep!

Athena quickly drew in her sword as Dalis’s bo staff was ready to perform a quick jab.

Clang!

The friction between the weapons continued, they pushed at each other. However, Dalis was steadily being overpowered and it only worsened for him as Athena’s grip changed from defensive to offensive. Dalis also did not have the upperground, and his body was being pushed back, knees grazing the floor.

Dalis let out a groan and let himself be flung away when she had least expected it.

But Athena seemed to have anticipated that, and so the power behind her blade was optimised.

Dalis was sent flying twenty metres away.

“Ugh . . .”

Although he managed to break the fall, due to the graze from his knees and having to try and withstand that strike, he could only mitigate about 65% of the blow.

Beads of sweat trickled down as he endured the pain. When he had his moment to look at his opponent, he was baffled: Athena was already charging at him.

(Merciless!)

Alarmed, he shrugged off the pain and positioned his posture to be fully in defense mode. It hurt like hell as he bent his knees, but he grit his teeth and stared at Athena defiantly.

CLANG!

Dalis felt her powerful strike. Once again, it threatened to release his bo-staff but he was ready this time, remaining firm. Dalis did not have time to process why the strike had lesser power than before as another strike was on its way.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Sword strikes after sword strikes came at Dalis’s way. Each strike was clean with absolute precision to their trajectory. No surprise, Dalis’s steps were being moved back again.

He had no room for any comfort at all.

Her movements were aggressive, fast, and weighed a power that Dalis was always forced to struggle to fend against. Dalis’s breathes were amok and Athena’s breathing was too shallow to be heard from the continuous sounds of metals clashing.

“This is the finisher!”

Finding an opening to Dalis’s stance, Athena’s front foot passed her back foot in a passing step, delivering a conclusive lunged strike.

“AHHH!”

Dalis was thrown into the air from the sheer force, tumbling down to the ground.

Metres away, face flat on the floor.

Blood seeping from his tattered clothes.

To the spectators—

—there was no sign of him getting up.


Author note: A rewrite of the series is coming eventually! Cover art is ready!

 

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