Chapter 281

Jaret lightly vaulted over the railing and descended to the floor below. Though the height was several meters, his movements were light and precise. Behind him, the Imperial Palace Guard gradually gathered. Each individual exuded an imposing presence, but clustered together in their uniforms, they were downright overwhelming.

Naturally, all eyes turned toward the scene. It was such a natural flow of events that no one found it strange—not even those overseeing the trial.

“Is that the Third Captain?”

“Aren’t we supposed to continue the trial? This should be an automatic disqualification.”

“Hold on a moment. Everyone’s frozen, right? Do you think you can just watch him whenever you want? If you’re lucky, you might catch a glimpse during a monster battle.”

“‘If you’re lucky’? What if you’re not?”

“Then you die the moment you step into the fight.”

Whispers and murmurs swelled into a buzz. The rank of Third Captain was an honor bestowed only on the strongest in the empire, wasn’t it? The battles of ordinary magic swordsmen were already breathtaking—what kind of power would a captain wield? The anticipation was hard to quell.

“Beric.”

“Why call me? Even if you ask me to go easy, I won’t.”

Jaret shrugged off his uniform jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The way he buttoned up his shirt was so neat it almost seemed reverent. Though a bit of a wild card, he was still an outsider participant. As the host, it was only proper to show respect.

“If you ask me to go easy, I will. But keep your bravado in check and don’t risk your life. Remember, you just got out of the hospital.”

“Ugh. What a worrywart.”

Beric made a gagging motion and waved his hand dismissively—a clear refusal and mockery. The guards frowned, about to snap back, but Jaret raised a hand to stop them.

“Did fighting Xiaoshi get under your skin that much?”

“Yeah! It sucked.”

“Do you even know why I did it? Or why you did?”

“Nope. What’s the point? It’s already done.”

Ziiing! Ziiing!

Swoosh!

Beric surged with magic, raising his black sword. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as his red hair whipped around him.

Maybe it was the sharp little fangs showing.

He looked like a demon born from a blazing inferno.

“Beric, fall back! There’s no shield there!”

“Damn it, are you listening? My eyes are going haywire! Expand the shield!”

“Ian!”

The mages watching from above shouted in alarm. Some quickly turned to Ian, silently pleading for him to rein Beric in.

But it was too late. Beric leapt into the air, swinging his sword with renewed determination.

“I’m the captain—!”

Bang! Crash!

It happened in an instant. Jaret grabbed Beric’s face, unleashed his magic, and threw him backward.

Beric tumbled, hitting the shield wall with a cloud of dust rising. Jaret calmly approached him.

“This is a trial, after all. Please follow the rules, Beric. No attacks outside the boundary. Unlike previous sparring, there are no weapon restrictions. You may forfeit, and if you become unable to fight, I will stop the trial at my discretion.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re mumbling to yourself. I can’t hear a thing.”

As Beric dusted himself off and stood, a guard behind him finally snapped, unable to hold back any longer. His tone was more than just annoyed—it was outright insolent.

“Shut up! You don’t know your place, crawling all over the place like that! You don’t even respect the dignity of the captain’s title, you fool!”

“Fool? If I’m a fool, then you’re an idiot.”

“W-what did you say? I-iidiot?”

To hear that from Beric! Romandro and Jin burst out laughing simultaneously. The author probably had no idea just how big a slap in the face that was.

Beric pointed his sword at the palace guards and shouted,

“You should be rooting for me! Think about it! If the old man dies here, the captain’s seat opens up, right? Then two people get promoted, maybe even three! You idiots, do I have to spell this out for you? Tsk tsk.”

A miraculous twisted logic. The guards gaped in shock. His mindset was something else entirely. Judging by his attitude, he’d definitely be a good fit for the guard—but should they really have someone like him as a comrade?

All the guards turned to Jaret with identical looks of disgust.

“No way. He’s crazy. That’s grounds for disqualification.”

“Captain, show him what’s what!”

“Yes, no need for anything else. Just half-kill him so he can’t join. I’ll work twice as hard to cover his share. If possible, I’ll even give up my salary. I mean it.”

Beric whistled and winked at the guards, especially at the one who offered to give up their pay—twice in a row.

“I’ll remember you. When I become captain, you’ll work for free. I’ll use that money to buy meat.”

Screeeech!

A whistle pierced the air, as if cutting off Beric’s words. Romandro judged that with so many watching, further argument would do no one any good.

Beric waited a moment, gripped his sword again, and charged at Jaret.

Tap tap tap!

“Did you know?”

“…?”

“The more holes in my stomach, the stronger I get!”

Bang! Crash!

Ziiing!

Once again, Beric’s attack was stopped midair. Jaret had summoned his sword.

The lightning they’d seen in the Chetur district blossomed all around again. Flashes of light swirled, coalescing into a sword in Jaret’s hand.

Magic dripped in droplets.

Sparks scattered as they hit the ground.

Crackle! Sizzle!

“Beric. Close your mouth. You’re gonna bite your tongue.”

“Watch your old man, cornball!”

Jaret knew Beric well—not just his skill, but his personality. No matter how much you tried to crush him, he wouldn’t break. His resolve and fighting spirit were unyielding, backed by undeniable talent.

He was truly gifted. Jaret’s decision to unleash his magic without holding back was an indirect acknowledgment of Beric’s strength.

Bang! Crash!

Clang! Clang!

Every clash of their swords sounded like the heavens themselves were shaking. The transparent shield vibrated, sending ripples through the air.

Those watching up close hesitated, stepping back. They feared the shield might shatter—and that could mean death.

“Amazing…”

“The weight is different. Definitely different.”

Though the sounds came from the fighters, the spectators felt the echoes deep in their chests. They couldn’t even blink, eyes glued to the duel.

Inside, it was like another world. Explosions of light and flame bloomed, smoke blurring vision. The two figures appeared and vanished intermittently.

Beric blocked, then Jaret blocked. Beric attacked, then Jaret countered…

“Romandro. I can’t keep up.”

“Me neither, Your Highness.”

Just following their movements with the eyes was exhausting. Yet they exchanged blows in the blink of an eye—a seamless connection of sword against sword. It was almost an art form.

“No way… how is he even holding up?”

Barsave leaned on the railing, pressing his forehead with his palm. A full minute had already passed. Having sparred with Jaret several times, he knew how long that was.

He could barely defend while retreating, but Beric was landing effective counterattacks.

Damn it.

“What the hell is that guy?”

“Captain! Don’t go easy! You can’t!”

“He’s way lighter than when he first came to the palace. Maybe he really does get stronger the more holes he gets in his stomach?”

“When he was hurt, all the mages swarmed to pump magic into him. That’s why. Don’t believe that nonsense.”

Even the other guards were unsettled. Barehanded combat was heavily influenced by size and weight, and Beric was already ranked high. Those who’d been complacent in the top ten were now quietly tense.

Bang! Crash!

Suddenly, Beric’s body flew through the smoke and slammed into the shield. He clutched his side, blood spurting from a fresh wound. The crimson liquid pooled on the floor.

“…Ah, damn it.”

“Beric!”

“Hey, you idiot! You’re gonna tear your belly open again!”

Jin and Romandro shouted from the railing, alarmed by the injury. But Beric only frowned and glared into the smoke.

That damn old man. If this is what he’s like now, who knows how strong he was in his youth.

Swish.

Jaret emerged from the smoke, walking steadily to stand before Beric.

“…!”

“Captain!”

His left arm, the white shirt soaked in blood—not Beric’s.

“Give it up. Beric.”

“Bullshit. Don’t tell me what to do.”

He wanted to go all the way.

Jaret clenched his fist tightly, exhaling raggedly. He tried to keep calm, but it was tough. Beric was reckless beyond measure, fast, and had incredible stamina.

Swoosh!

Jaret raised his sword like a whip.

A fierce, all-out strike came crashing down. Beric barely dodged by rolling to the side, but the relentless onslaught was enough to make his head spin. Blood smeared across the floor, tracing his movements.

“Ah, damn it!”

“Shut up!”

Every time Beric summoned his strength, blood trickled steadily from his side. At this rate, he might end up sprawled in the magic department’s hallway again for a while. Just as Romandro was about to step in and call a halt—

Swish!

“Ugh!”

Beric’s sword slashed cleanly across Jaret’s jaw and ear. Seizing the moment as his opponent staggered back in surprise—

“Huh?”

“What’s he doing?”

Beric himself took a step back, then quickly glanced upward, scanning around until he spotted Ian. Without hesitation, he leapt up toward him.

Everyone watched, puzzled, wondering what on earth Beric was up to.

“Ian!”

“…Beric?”

Clinging to the railing, Beric stretched out his other hand toward Ian. And with utter confidence—

“Give me some mana.”

He was asking for mana? The palace guards were horrified, collectively protesting. They lunged forward as if to drag him down immediately.

“That’s cheating! You coward!”

“Get down! You’re disqualified if you leave the training grounds!”

“Hey, disqualify him already! What are you waiting for?”

But Beric just twitched his ear, pretending not to hear. He even sniffed disdainfully, as if mocking them.

“Hey, you blockheads.”

“Wha—? Again with the ‘block’? You little—!”

“Didn’t you hear the old man earlier? No attacking outside the training grounds. I’m staying put, aren’t I? And he said we can use any weapons we want.”

“Since when is mana supply a weapon?”

“If it’s not a weapon, then what is it? When you fight, even a random stick lying around counts as a weapon. If you don’t like it, why don’t you try it yourselves?”

If only I could.

Beric beckoned Ian to come closer. If he joined the palace guards—or even better, took command—Ian’s influence would skyrocket. That meant expanding the magic department’s power base.

Who else but a mage would supply mana to the palace guards in this situation?

“Ian, hurry up. My side hurts.”

“Beric.”

“Come on, move it. I’m dying here. The old man’s surprisingly spry for his age.”

He even mimicked a stern tone. Ian smiled faintly, shaking his head as if to say, “You’re hopeless.”

With a smooth motion, Ian stepped closer and grabbed Beric’s arm. The nearby mages, caught off guard, followed suit.

“Ian, are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s not against the rules.”

“No, it’s not that…”

Beric joining the palace guards as Ian’s subordinate was practically announcing it to the world—sealing the deal. It was a declaration of intent to plant their faction firmly within the palace guard, even at the risk of controversy.

Especially now, when all eyes were on the magic department…

Zzzzzzt. Zzzzzzt.

Ian decisively activated his mana and passed it to Beric. His golden eyes glowed as his hair fluttered slightly. This wasn’t just about Beric’s victory—it was the spark to ignite a power struggle.

“Let’s go, Beric.”

“Feels good to eat after a long time!”

Thud!

Beric grinned with satisfaction and jumped down. Below, Jaret was wiping blood from the top of his head. He instinctively raised his right hand to block, but it was clear something was off.

Crackle! Boom!

Jaret’s lightning-fast mana blade shattered into pieces. Amid the sparkling embers, their eyes locked. Beric smirked and winked one eye.

“Old man, I told you earlier—I’m not going easy on you.”