Chapter 212: The Helian Tournament (1)
On the day of the tournament, the entire capital seemed to converge on the coliseum. In no time, the tens of thousands of seats were filled to capacity. Vendors selling food and drinks were busy enticing the crowd.
“Surely, Archibald is the strongest contender for the win, right?”
The spectators were abuzz with excitement, eagerly debating the upcoming competition. The hottest topic was who would claim victory in the Masterclass category.
“Archibald made it to the finals last time. He lost, but it was by a hair.”
The winner of a category cannot compete in the same category again. So, the argument went, Archibald, who came in second last time, was practically the champion.
“Well, you never know. Bradley Heath wasn’t competing back then.”
A man sitting nearby chimed in with a counterpoint. The Helian Tournament was held every four years. During the last tournament, Bradley Heath was still in the Highclass category and couldn’t compete in the Masterclass.
Since then, Bradley Heath had advanced to the Masterclass, and much earlier than Archibald. There was no doubt about Bradley Heath’s superior talent, which is why the man considered him the favorite.
“True, Bradley Heath is a genius, but Archibald has far more experience in the Masterclass.”
“Have you only watched a few tournaments? There are plenty of times when a talented knight surpasses their seniors.”
The two continued their heated argument until a man sitting in front of them turned around and spoke.
“You gentlemen seem to be out of the loop.”
“And who might you be?”
“Does it matter who I am? You mentioned Archibald and Bradley as the favorites, but I beg to differ. There’s a new knight on the scene who’s quite extraordinary.”
The two men perked up at his words.
“A new contender?”
“This knight reached the Masterclass in his early twenties.”
“What? Early twenties?”
The two men were incredulous. Bradley Heath had reached the Masterclass in his late twenties and was hailed as a prodigy not seen in decades. Yet here was someone who had achieved it even earlier?
“They say he’s a knight named Damian Haxen from the Kingdom of Apple.”
However, the mention of the Kingdom of Apple made the two men skeptical.
“The Kingdom of Apple? He’s not even from the Empire.”
“A knight from another kingdom as a contender? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”
Historically, the Helian Tournament had been dominated by knights from the Empire, a testament to their superior skills compared to knights from other kingdoms. It was a source of national pride, after all.
“Anyway, Archibald will win!”
“Nonsense! It’s Bradley Heath!”
The two men resumed their argument, raising their voices once more. The man in front clicked his tongue and turned back around.
“Anyone want to place a bet? Test your insight and luck by predicting the winner!”
A boy with a makeshift betting stand slung around his neck was making his rounds.
“Hey, kid, come here.”
“Yes! Want to place a bet?”
“That’s right.”
The man placed a handful of gold coins on the stand.
“Five gold coins on Damian Haxen.”
It was a significant sum, but the man showed no hesitation.
Inside the coliseum, in the waiting room for the competitors, Michael Ryanbloom surveyed the other knights.
“Seeing them up close, the Empire’s knights really are something else.”
Even if they were all wearing the same armor, you could tell them apart. The Empire’s knights exuded a much stronger presence.
The waiting room was a mix of knights from various backgrounds. Not all knights were present, though. Those from prestigious families in the Empire had private rooms.
“The Empire has many old families,” Damian remarked, sounding disinterested.
It wasn’t surprising that the Empire’s knights were superior. These old families possessed advanced mana techniques and swordsmanship. Plus, the Empire was a hub of wealth and resources, making it easy to acquire potent elixirs.
“And don’t pretend you’re not sizing them all up. I know you are,” Damian teased.
Michael scratched the back of his head. He had once been an incredibly arrogant knight, convinced there was no greater genius under the heavens. Meeting Damian had changed him, but not entirely.
“Honestly, if it weren’t for Lady Rachel, I think I could beat them all.”
During their stay at the villa, Michael had sparred with Rachel several times, losing every single match. Given her talent as the Sword Queen, it was to be expected. In his past life, Michael had never defeated her.
“So, are you planning to just let her win?”
“Of course not. I intend to settle the score.”
Michael’s eyes sharpened with determination. Damian chuckled, predicting that Michael would likely lose again. But life was unpredictable, and Michael’s talent was not to be underestimated.
“By the way, how’s the tournament structured?”
“There are six matches per day for each category.”
With so many participants, the number of matches per day was high.
“No worries for the Middleclass. I don’t see anyone stronger than her,” Michael said, glancing at Veronica.
Among the knights from the Empire and other kingdoms, none seemed stronger than Veronica. Still, it wasn’t a time to be complacent.
“Ugh… I’m bored,” Veronica muttered, leaning against the window.
“I want to cut off ears and noses, make them round… slip blades under the skin and tear it apart…”
Having not killed anyone for days, Veronica’s mental state was becoming dangerously unstable. It was a wretched nature, needing to kill to feel at ease.
“Isn’t it risky to let her compete? What if she kills someone?”
Most of the competitors were knights from the Empire or other kingdoms. There were a few wandering knights, but they were rare.
“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
“As expected of you, brother.”
“Veronica, come here.”
At Damian’s call, Veronica trudged over.
“What?”
“Don’t kill anyone in this tournament. Not even a scratch.”
“I’ll try,” she replied, her tone indifferent. It seemed she wasn’t taking Damian’s warning seriously.
Michael watched, half-expecting Damian to discipline her again.
“Remember when I promised to grant you a wish if you reached Highclass before Michael?”
“Yeah, but I failed.”
“If you win the tournament without breaking my rules, I’ll let you try to cut me down.”
Veronica’s eyes lit up at his words.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“You’re serious? You won’t go back on your word?”
“Of course.”
Veronica’s eyes burned with newfound determination.
Michael whispered worriedly, “Brother, are you really going to let her?”
“I said she could try, not that I’d let her succeed.”
“What?”
“I never said I wouldn’t dodge.”
Michael’s expression went blank for a moment.
“The Middleclass event is about to begin! Veronica Sanchez, please come to the arena!”
An official from the Empire called out loudly. Veronica gleefully dashed out and claimed victory as soon as the match started, countering her opponent’s attack and holding a blade to their throat.
“Wow! What was that? How did she do it?”
“Wait, where is she from?”
“She said the Kingdom of Apple.”
The audience erupted in applause, stunned by her skillful move. But Veronica paid no mind to their attention.
“Damian Haxen! You better keep your promise!” she shouted toward the waiting room.
Several more Middleclass matches followed, each ending with cheers from the crowd.
“Brother, it’s my turn next.”
“Go on, do your best.”
Damian offered no advice, confident in Michael’s abilities. As expected, Michael returned victorious, having shattered his opponent’s weapon with his greatsword, breaking their spirit.
“Are weapons supposed to break that easily?”
“Of course not. That’s some incredible swordsmanship.”
“He’s from the Kingdom of Apple too, they say.”
“The Kingdom of Apple? They’ve never stood out in the tournament before.”
The audience cheered, yet murmured among themselves about Michael.
Soldiers stationed around the coliseum announced to the crowd.
The next event is the Masterclass!
The match between Sir Bradley Heath and Sir Ulema Hoplite is about to begin!
Finally, the most anticipated event was about to start.
Bradley Heath stepped onto the arena.
“Bradley Heath!”
“The Empire’s Saint!”
“You must win!”
The crowd’s cheers erupted, but Bradley Heath remained unfazed. His mind was elsewhere, focused entirely on something else.
Bradley Heath’s gaze was fixed on the waiting room. More precisely, he was glaring at Damian Haxen, who stood by the window.
-You can’t beat him.
Since that day, Bradley had intensified his training, pushing himself to the brink every single day.
To defeat Damian Haxen? Hardly. Bradley was confident he was stronger than Damian.
No, his relentless dedication was driven by the Sword Saint. Despite the Sword Saint being a hero of the Empire, Bradley couldn’t stomach those words.
He intended to prove his point by winning the tournament with overwhelming skill.
To show that the Sword Saint’s judgment was wrong.
To declare, “I am this strong.”
“Nice to see you.”
A voice came from the opposite side. His opponent, Ulema Hoplite, was staring at him intently, holding a pair of hand axes—his weapons of choice.
“Not long ago, you were seeking my guidance, and now you’re a Master Class, standing against me. It’s quite surreal.”
Back when he was a High Class, Bradley had once asked Ulema for a sparring session, seeking enlightenment to reach the Master Class.
“I’d love to offer you some advice again, but… I’m in a bit of a hurry myself.”
Ulema was forty this year. If he failed in this tournament, there would be no more chances.
“I understand. I just hope you give it your all.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
Ulema chuckled softly.
“Then let’s begin.”
“Looking forward to it.”
No sooner had the words left their lips than the two knights charged at each other.
Axes and fists clashed repeatedly in the air, each collision releasing a faint shockwave.
Amazingly, Bradley was blocking all the axes with his bare fists, thanks to the aura blade enveloping his fists and forearms.
“Incredible! To hone your aura blade to this level in such a short time!”
Aura blades grow stronger with training, and Bradley’s was as solid as Ulema’s.
“It seems this won’t end easily.”
The Helian tournament was notoriously long, making stamina management crucial. Ulema had no intention of dragging this duel out.
“Bradley, let me show you something interesting.”
Suddenly, Ulema’s arms began to multiply—from two to four, then eight, then sixteen.
Despite his rugged appearance, Ulema was a master of illusionary swordplay, using feints to deceive his opponent’s senses and strike unexpectedly.
“I didn’t use this technique last time because I was teaching you. Let’s see if you can handle it.”
Dozens of arms simultaneously unleashed aura blades.
A massive wave of aura blades surged toward Bradley.
”…”
Bradley’s eyes wavered, trying to discern what was real and what was illusion.
Seeing this, Ulema smirked secretly. Though it appeared a mix of real and fake, they were all real. At the Master Class level, even illusions could be imbued with power, making them tangible.
At that moment, Bradley crouched, his muscles visibly contracting.
Ulema felt a sense of foreboding. Before he could pinpoint its source, Bradley sprang forward.
Bradley hurled himself into the torrent of aura blades, enveloping his entire body in an aura blade at the last moment.
Ulema’s aura blades shattered completely.
“Did he really block it like that?”
Even for a martial artist, enveloping one’s entire body in an aura blade was incredibly difficult. Bradley had done it only for a fleeting moment, a reckless move that could have torn him apart with the slightest mistake.
But he succeeded, and the reward for his audacious gamble was sweet.
In an instant, Bradley reached Ulema and launched a punch.
Caught off guard, Ulema couldn’t react in time. He took the blow to his chest without a chance to dodge.
“Ugh!”
Ulema spat blood as he was knocked back. Bradley pursued relentlessly.
Bradley’s fists rained down without pause. Ulema swung his axes in resistance, but it was futile. The blow to his chest had slowed him down, leaving him struggling to defend against the barrage.
”…I… I concede.”
Finally, Ulema admitted defeat. The referee immediately declared Bradley the victor.
“The winner is Sir Bradley Heath!”
As soon as the outcome was announced, the audience erupted in cheers.
“I told you! Bradley Heath is the favorite to win!”
“Wow! Bradley Heath! The Empire’s Saint!”
The crowd’s reaction was overwhelming, chanting Bradley’s name in jubilation.
Bradley Heath spread his arms wide, basking in the adulation of the crowd.
”…The Empire’s Saint indeed. Remarkable.”
Ulema Hoplite watched with a bitter expression before leaving the arena.
The audience’s cheers showed no sign of abating.
-Now, let’s proceed with the next match.
The referee had to intervene to calm the crowd, as the schedule demanded the next match begin.
-Sir Jose Brendan and Sir Damian Haxen, please come to the arena.
At the referee’s call, Damian stepped onto the arena.
He glanced around, seeing the packed audience.
His gaze shifted to the VIP section, the best seats in the Colosseum, lavishly furnished with tables and chairs.
There sat a blond man with a weary expression.
‘Howard Adelaight.’
Damian silently mouthed the man’s name.
The Emperor of the Empire, the man blessed by gold.
In his past life, Damian had seen this man only once.
When he killed Dorgo, this man had been by his side.
“You’re much younger than I expected.”
A voice interrupted his thoughts. Turning, he saw a burly man—his opponent, Jose Brendan.
“Just reached Master Class, and you have the misfortune of facing me.”
Jose Brendan shook his head, a gesture that was oddly irritating.
“My name is Jose Brendan. Embarrassingly, I’m known as the Iron Wall.”
Jose Brendan displayed his weapons—a massive shield large enough to cover his bulk and a short sword.
“This is my specialty.”
Jose Brendan lifted the shield and slammed it into the ground, a gray aura blade enveloping it.
‘Impressive.’
In his past life, Damian had never encountered a Master Class like Jose Brendan.
That didn’t mean Jose Brendan’s skills were lacking. The sheer area covered by his aura blade was testament to his prowess.
“Think you can break through my shield?”
Jose Brendan taunted. Damian chuckled softly.
“Breaking through might be tough, but smashing it? That I can do.”
“Haha, you’re an amusing fellow.”
Jose Brendan laughed heartily, seemingly taking Damian’s words as a joke.
“If you don’t believe me, I’ll just have to show you.”
Damian took a deep breath, spreading his power throughout his body.
His body, enhanced by the elixir, responded to magic more sensitively than ever.
An unprecedented strength surged through him. Damian bent his knees slightly, the power within him boiling over.
He straightened his knees, propelling himself forward. The ground shattered under the force of his leap.
Damian’s body shot forward like a beam of light, reaching Jose Brendan in the blink of an eye.
“What?”
Jose Brendan’s face registered shock. Unfazed, Damian swung his sword, Dawn.
“Ugh!”
Jose Brendan hastily braced himself, raising his shield imbued with an aura blade.
Dawn struck the shield with a deafening crash, shattering it to pieces.
The impact sent Jose Brendan flying backward, not just pushed back but launched into the air.
“Ugh!”
Jose Brendan quickly regained his stance. But as he looked ahead, his eyes widened in disbelief.
Damian Haxen was right in front of him.
He had chased Jose Brendan down immediately after sending him flying.
His speed defied logic.
”…Are you insane?”
As Jose Brendan muttered in disbelief, Damian Haxen swung Dawn again.
Jose Brendan hurriedly raised his sword to block.
The two blades clashed, aura blades colliding.
Dawn sliced through the sword effortlessly.
It continued its path toward Jose Brendan’s neck, but Damian halted it just in time.
The aura blade grazed his skin, leaving a thin line of blood.
“I think I’ve won. Would you agree?”
Jose Brendan nodded, his face blank with disbelief. Only then did Damian withdraw his power, the dawn-like aura fading away.
There was no eruption of cheers. Instead, a deathly silence settled over the arena.
”…Oh.”
Even the referee, who was supposed to announce the victor, was momentarily stunned.
“Th-the winner is Damian Haxen!”
The referee finally managed to shout, snapping back to reality. Only then did the crowd erupt into cheers.
Damian Haxen’s victory was decided in less than a minute after the match began.