Chapter 132
“The captain himself has requested a sparring match—truly a great honor for Beric.”
At Ian’s words, Captain Jaret gave a slight bow, showing his respect. Beric wiped the bloodied palm of his hand on his shirt and then held it out toward Jaret.
“Hehe. So, shall we have a round? What do you say?”
Maybe it was because he took the compliment at face value, but Beric looked genuinely pleased. Or perhaps he was just satisfied with having thoroughly beaten the guy who’d been picking fights with him earlier. Jaret simply stared down at Beric’s hand with a stern expression, but didn’t take it.
“Not shaking hands?”
“…You’re granting permission for a sparring match? Ian Hielo, Viscount.”
Ian propped his chin on his hand, looking down at him. There was a sharp edge in his gaze. Unlike the usual bare-handed start to a spar, he was already gripping the hilt of his sword, as if determined.
‘He means to kill.’
The reason for this attitude was easy to guess—just like with Barsabe, it stemmed from a misunderstanding involving Petreo. They were about the same age, both former squad leaders, so they must have been comrades for quite some time.
“Hey, man, you’re really full of yourself. I offered my hand first!”
Beric snapped irritably, waving his hand. His cocky attitude and choice of words… he probably needed to blow off steam once in a while. Like in the desert, after going through intense crises, Beric always grew a step stronger.
Besides, realizing there were so many skilled fighters above him would teach him humility and respect firsthand.
“Very well. But there’s a condition.”
“A condition?”
Jaret furrowed his brow deeply. Nothing was more dishonorable than betting on a sparring match. But Ian seemed to read his thoughts and softened his tone.
“It’s not a bet, but would you like one?”
“…Of course not.”
“Since the skill gap between you and my swordsman is clear, if either side wishes, the match will end immediately.”
“Ian… no, my lord! There’s no such skill gap!”
“Well then, will you accept in the name of the captain of the guards?”
Beric was throwing a fit below, but Ian ignored him effortlessly. Unlike the desert, here there was no one to shield Beric if he gasped for breath. So it was better to prepare in advance. Jaret met Ian’s calm gaze and nodded.
“Agreed.”
Jaret was about to draw his sword, thinking to himself that he’d cut out that arrogant brat’s tongue first. But before he could, an impatient Beric lunged at him barehanded. Reflexively, Jaret caught his fist.
Thwack!
“Oh, you’re quick, old man!”
“……”
“Huh?”
Beric tried to pull his hand free, but it didn’t budge. Jaret’s grip tightened, as if he could crush Beric’s hand outright. Panicked, Beric struggled and swung his other fist.
Smack!
“Let go! Are you gonna let go or not?”
“Don’t mess around.”
In the end, both hands were caught. With a sickening crack of bones, Beric screamed.
“Arrgh! You crazy bastard!”
“When sparring, respect and courtesy are basic. Your reckless behavior is no different from a wild animal.”
“Bullshit. Get lost!”
Crunch!
Beric suddenly shifted his weight and pressed close to Jaret’s neck. Without hesitation, he bit down as if to tear flesh. Even the usually unflappable Jaret flinched and released Beric’s hand.
“Did you just bite my neck? Seriously?”
“Wow, that guy’s nuts. That was a good move.”
“Looks rough, but it was smart. Otherwise, you’d never have gotten your hand free. It would’ve been crushed, and you wouldn’t have been able to hold your sword.”
“No way. Not all street kids are like that, right? He’d be a tough opponent in real combat.”
Everyone in the training ground was watching now. The captain of the guards sparring with Ian Hielo, Viscount’s bodyguard! What better spectacle could there be? While Jaret rubbed his neck, Beric smiled and wiped the corner of his mouth.
“Ha! The captain’s really something. I was genuinely surprised!”
“You’re acting like a damn punk, as usual.”
“Yeah, thanks for the compliment!”
Beric shook his hands off and charged again. Whatever else, his combat learning ability was sharp—he instinctively figured out how to handle Jaret through brief exchanges.
‘If I get caught, I’m screwed! So don’t get caught! Got it!’
He focused his attacks on Jaret’s lower body instead of the upper, keeping low and striking from below. It made it harder for Jaret to catch him like before.
‘Smarter than I thought.’
Thwack! Thwack!
Jaret easily blocked the blows while studying his opponent. It was a habit born from leading troops—analyzing constantly.
‘He’s crude but naturally talented. Strength, speed—no complaints. Most of all, he’s gutsy. That’s something you can’t train for.’
Suddenly, Petreo’s face flashed through his mind. Yeah, it was a shame, but this guy…
“Enough.”
“Huh?”
Beric, mid-kick, froze. He thought he hadn’t left an opening, but with Jaret’s single word, the atmosphere shifted. It felt like he was right in the palm of Jaret’s hand.
Fwoosh!
Bang!
At once, Jaret’s fist, solid as a rock, slammed into Beric’s face. The pain was so intense it felt like his skull would shatter. His vision darkened. He felt his body lift off the ground, then the world flipped upside down.
“Ah, damn.”
He collapsed in one hit. Beric wiped the blood flowing from his nose, his expression stunned. He’d never been hit by a punch so fast and powerful. It wasn’t even comparable to the Qianlyo tribe.
“Wow, it landed perfectly but he’s not out cold.”
“Maybe he passed out with his eyes open? Or it glanced off?”
“No way, his body flew back. How could it have glanced off?”
“Uh-oh. That bastard’s getting up.”
Dizzy and staggering, Beric rose, then started chuckling. Ian leaned against the railing, quietly watching.
“Ahaha. Haha. Man, you really…”
Smack! Thud!
Before he could finish, Jaret’s merciless assault rained down. He grabbed Beric’s neck with his left hand and pressed his foot firmly into his solar plexus. Each time his right hand struck Beric’s face, thick blood spattered.
“Ian, should we stop this? He’s about to pass out. Though, as a side dish, he’s a waste of meat. Ahem.”
Marlo glanced at Ian, concerned. But Ian, having seen Beric’s depths in the desert, knew he wasn’t cornered yet.
“Iaaan!”
Beric, battered and breathing heavily, called out to Ian. He barely blocked one of Jaret’s blows with both fists. His voice was hoarse, as if on the brink of death. The entire training ground fell silent.
“I’m gonna kill this bastard!”
“Go ahead, do as you please.”
“Arrgh!”
Ziiing!
Pew! Bang!
As soon as Ian gave the word, Beric unleashed his magic. Razor-sharp winds whipped around him in an instant. The palace guards, including Jaret, froze in surprise.
‘A magic swordsman?’
Thwack!
Beric used his magic to shake off Jaret and crouched, panting. Blood dripped from his mouth. His eyes burned with the wounded pride of a predator.
“Ah, shit! That really hurts.”
“What’s going on? A magic swordsman?”
“Why? You think I’m going easy because I’m a magic swordsman? Screw that! I just took forty-five hits! I’m giving it all back. Man, this is fun! Huh? Fun! Ahahaha!”
Tat-tat-tat! Thwack!
His movements were on a whole different level now. Spectators struggled to follow his afterimages, while Jaret kept retreating to maintain distance. Wherever Beric stepped, explosive energy surged.
Ziiing!
“Dieee!”
“Hgh!”
Jaret, who caught Beric’s punch, groaned involuntarily. This was a different dimension. Even with magic, this was like a rebirth. And Beric was attacking like a man possessed…
“Damn.”
Ziiing.
“Captain!”
“The captain’s using magic!”
“No way!”
Jaret also unleashed his magic. The guards watching gasped in disbelief. Magic use was usually reserved for fighting monsters.
Everyone was too shocked to speak. The vast training ground echoed only with the fierce shouts of Beric and Jaret.
“This guy…”
Thwack!
It felt like fighting a beast barehanded. Jaret pushed Beric back and drew his sword. A cold chill, like winter frost, rippled along the blade’s edge.
“You’re only hastening your own end.”
“Ah, you want to use swords? Fine by me.”
Clang.
Berrick grinned and drew his sword in response. His eyes glowed a fierce red, like molten lava bubbling beneath the surface.
“Earlier, I only trimmed the chest hair. I didn’t get to see how well it slices through flesh. Ah, I’m so excited!”
“You’re insane. You’ve lost your mind.”
“Didn’t you know? You can’t survive in this world with a sane mind!”
Ziiing! Ziiing!
Sizzle!
The sword, reacting to Berrick’s magic, flared with a violet blaze. In an instant, scorching heat filled the air, and thick smoke curled around them, almost suffocating.
Amid the haze, tiny sparks of lightning flickered. Jarrett hesitated, unfamiliar with the sword’s strange aura.
“What on earth is that sword…?”
“I don’t know! I just picked it up on the way here!”
“Berrick!”
“Huh?”
Just as Berrick lunged forward to swing his blade, Ian shouted sharply. Reflexively, Berrick stopped and turned around.
“Didn’t I tell you not to channel magic into the sword?”
“Ah, right. But can’t you just let it slide this once?”
“No.”
At least until they figured out what that sword really was.
While Berrick pleaded, Ian and Jarrett exchanged a quick, secretive glance.
“Well, since we don’t know what it is, might as well see what it can do—”
BAM!
Jarrett seized the moment and struck Berrick hard on the back of the neck. His fist was wrapped in magic, and if it had been anyone else, their neck might have snapped.
“Ugh!”
But who was the target? Berrick only let out a short grunt before collapsing unconscious. At the same time, the sword’s violet flames flickered out, returning to its original black.
An awkward silence fell over the training ground. The guards rushed over, checking on their captain.
“Sir, are you alright?”
“What should we do with him? Arrest him?”
“He was just sparring. Arrest? No way.”
“Sir, you’re bleeding!”
Barsabe fumbled for a handkerchief and gently supported Berrick’s neck, murmuring softly.
“Sir, I’ll tell you more once you’re treated. I brought something of my father’s.”
Jarrett’s eyes widened at the unexpected words, but this wasn’t the time for that conversation. With his men’s concern surrounding him, he left the training ground, and Ian headed down to the first floor.
“Berrick, you okay?”
“Ugh…”
“Tsk, tsk.”
Ian crouched down and pressed his hand to Berrick’s forehead. Just like in the desert, magic was the best remedy for restoring strength.
Ziiing.
Ian’s eyes glowed golden, and slowly, the furrow in Berrick’s brow began to smooth out. Marlon, who had followed them down, couldn’t bring himself to step on the bloodstained floor.
“Is he… dead?”
“No. He’s not one to die so easily.”
“Th-That sword from earlier… what was it?”
“…”
Ian shrugged, clearly as clueless as the rest. The heat from before was gone, and the sword lay cold and black on the ground.
Meanwhile, at the Romandro estate.
Madam Vivianna was enjoying a peaceful moment working on her cross-stitch when she sensed someone outside. Mini felt it too. She dashed to the door and opened it to find a courier standing there.
“Good day. Is this the Romandro residence?”
“Yes, it is. Do you have mail for us?”
“Yes. It’s from Mayor Karenna. May I deliver it here? The recipient is listed as Ian.”
“Perfect. Ian is staying here. Please, give it to me.”
“Please sign here…”
Mini took the letter and stamped it with the estate’s official seal. The envelope was quite thick. Vivianna set down her embroidery and asked,
“Mini, what’s the letter about?”
“It says it’s from Mayor Karenna.”
“Let me see.”
Unlike illiterate Mini, Vivianna could read the words on the envelope.
‘…Report on the Bandit Interrogation?’