Chapter 401
Episode 119: The Banquet at Sword Emperor City (6)
The central arena of Sword Emperor City was known as the largest in the world.
Unless you were a follower of Hailan, it was a place you simply couldn’t visit on a whim.
As the outsiders stepped into the arena, they couldn’t help but catch their breath at the absurdly vast and elongated space before them.
In the center, Hailan’s knights stood in formation.
At Ron’s gesture, the knights parted to the left and right, blocking off the spectator stands.
The seats filled quickly and orderly.
Jin and Lata faced each other in the very center of the arena, with Ron taking his place between them.
Despite the massive crowd, not a single breath was heard. Everyone silently hoped for their chosen fighter’s victory.
“Lata Prochi, Jin Runkandel.”
“Yes, Sir Ron.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know the history between you two,” Ron began, “but as a senior warrior and the master of Sword Emperor City, I must offer you one piece of advice.”
“Please, speak.”
“Under no circumstances are you to cripple or kill your opponent. Anyone who breaks this rule will face my sword personally.”
This warning was clearly aimed at Lata. Even those unaware of their backstory could see the one-sided hostility Lata harbored.
Murder was strictly forbidden at this banquet, just as it was at Runkandel’s exclusive bridge party.
“I will keep that in mind.”
“Glory awaits the victor, and lessons the defeated. I expect a fight worthy of my grandson and all gathered here.”
As Ron stepped back toward the stands, a knight struck a massive drum on one side of the arena with all his might.
Doo-woong!
The signal to begin the duel.
Before the echo faded, Lata launched the first strike.
Like Fei, he wielded twin swords.
Jjeong!
The blades clashed with Sigmund’s, producing a deafening roar.
‘As expected, his strikes carry serious weight.’
Cracks formed in the solid floor beneath their feet. Many in the audience hadn’t anticipated such powerful exchanges from the very start, and were visibly shocked.
“I thought you’d yield the first move, given your seniority and reputation.”
“I’m not generous enough to do that for someone I don’t like.”
Jin smiled slyly.
“Well, if we set aside seniority and fame, and look purely at skill, this is the natural order.”
Lata couldn’t stay angry at that.
He felt it the moment their swords met.
‘The stories about his rampage in the Garden of Blades… they weren’t lies.’
The twin swords, “Ghost,” trembled under the immense energy Jin wielded. The shiver running through the blades sent a chill down Lata’s spine.
He was strong.
Lata had always thought Jin survived by luck or because his subordinates made mistakes. Even if his younger brother had joined the mission without his knowledge, he believed failure was impossible with Grimol guarding him.
But he was wrong.
‘This was a task for me and my direct subordinates from the start. Or at least, it should have been handled by captains like Grimol.’
He had underestimated the weight behind the name “12th Cavalry.”
Though not widely known, Lata had once fought and defeated another cavalry unit from Runkandel.
Bang, kaang, crack!
The three swords clashed repeatedly, shaking the arena with explosive sounds.
Jin’s strength was undeniable, but Lata’s fury hadn’t diminished.
He still believed he wouldn’t lose to Jin. After all, Lata had defeated countless formidable foes without fail.
Even enemies who seemed unbeatable eventually knelt before him. The future of Runkandel’s 12th Cavalry would be no different.
On the other hand, Jin felt no profound emotion facing Lata.
Even considering Ron’s strict order not to kill, Lata’s sword didn’t feel truly threatening. Despite the twin blades brushing past his face and piercing near his ear at every moment.
‘…Have I only been fighting opponents too strong lately?’
It had been less than a month since Jin fought the entire Runkandel force at full strength.
He had narrowly escaped death multiple times in that battle, which meant he had broken through his growth barriers.
In other words,
Jin’s sword had matured since then. It carried insights impossible to achieve at his age, with a depth even masters would struggle to read.
He seemed to anticipate the trajectory of Lata’s sword before it moved.
“It looks like Runkandel’s 12th Cavalry is faltering.”
“It’s too soon to say the Ghost Captain will fall.”
Those who hadn’t reached mastery made such predictions.
But the warriors who saw the fight clearly struggled to hide their astonishment.
“Is that really the 12th Cavalry?”
“At this rate, the Ghost Captain will surely be defeated.”
Amid the conflicting opinions, Ron was certain.
Jin and Lata were living in entirely different worlds.
‘That demon has already stepped into the realm of the superhuman… The Ghost Captain has great potential, but he’s still stuck in the mortal world.’
The strongest among mortals versus the weakest among superhumans.
That was the fight.
Though it looked like Jin was retreating, it wasn’t because he was overwhelmed—it was because he could afford to absorb the attacks with ease.
Ron turned to look at his grandson.
As expected, Dante looked almost dazed, as if he were a devout worshiper who had just encountered a god.
‘You’d expect jealousy or rivalry, but instead, you’re just thrilled by your friend’s achievement.’
It was a strange feeling.
Dante had always believed he was the only one who could look at Ron that way. As a child, he had always seen Ron as the ultimate destination.
At that moment, Ron realized the biggest difference between Dante and Jin.
“Jin Runkandel, that demon, unlike my beloved grandson…”
Had no endpoint.
He probably saw his father, Sirron Runkandel—the world’s strongest knight—as just another “wall.”
He believed the true pinnacle he must reach lay somewhere beyond.
The realization sent chills down Ron’s spine.
It had been a long time since he’d felt such emotions watching someone else’s fight.
Screech—!
Suddenly, a streak of blood traced through the air.
It was Jin’s blood. The twin swords, Ghost, had sliced across the back of his hand. Had the cut been any deeper, his hand would have been severed.
Jin quickly put distance between them.
At least, that’s how it looked to Lata.
‘Why didn’t the 12th Cavalry press the attack and take a gamble?’
The twin swords fell diagonally.
Jin’s stance was already off-balance; it seemed impossible for him to avoid the strike.
The blade cut—
Or rather, it should have.
The moment the twin swords scraped through the air, Lata felt as if time itself had stopped.
‘No, it’s impossible. The distance was perfect…!’
Then, what Lata saw was a single point.
Jin’s blade tip.
He couldn’t understand when Jin had launched such a fierce thrust.
Splatter!
A drop of blood splashed from Lata’s cheek. He narrowly avoided Sigmund’s edge by turning his head.
Such an evasive move was only possible for a warrior of Lata’s caliber.
But Lata knew.
‘He deliberately aimed for my face so I wouldn’t suffer a fatal wound.’
In battle, the face is one of the worst targets.
But it’s also the easiest to protect. A slight turn of the head or a subtle duck can deflect most attacks aimed there.
That’s why warriors often end fights with fatal wounds to other parts—neck or face strikes are rare.
If Jin had aimed for the heart instead, no matter how Lata responded, he would have suffered a crippling injury.
His teeth clenched in frustration.
“Focus, Jin Runkandel.”
“What’s wrong this time?”
“You aimed for the face on purpose…”
“I judged it safer than aiming for the heart or abdomen. If I’d targeted those, you’d have risked death to counterattack.”
It wasn’t a lie.
If that had happened, Jin might have been injured too, but one of them would have been killed or suffered a near-fatal wound.
“And if I fought properly, you wouldn’t survive.”
Frustratingly,
Lata didn’t hear arrogance in those words. Only the honest assessment of someone clearly stronger.
“At least here, in this arena. It might be different if this were a battlefield or my own quarters.”
The Ghost Company’s purpose wasn’t one-on-one duels.
They were mercenaries specialized in efficiently taking down stronger opponents. Lata was their leader.
That didn’t mean his personal strength was lacking, but sometimes the opponent was just too good.
For a while, the two simply stared at each other.
Some in the stands saw it as a new probing phase; others read it as a silent acknowledgment of the outcome.
And Lata felt ashamed.
Not because he lost.
Not because he had challenged someone he underestimated like a reckless fool.
But because he realized his own limitations were smaller than that young upstart’s.
Jin had saved his brother, who had come as an assassin, and hadn’t demanded too much from Lata in return.
Lata had barked like a frightened dog, scared at the thought of losing his brother again.
As silence hung in the air,
Jin suddenly sensed an immense surge of energy radiating from Lata.
“His eyes looked like he’d accepted defeat, though?”
Rata shared the same thought as Jin. It wasn’t him—dangerous energy was radiating from Jin.
So Rata was about to tell Jin to cut off a part of his own body, adopting the mindset of a warrior who accepts the consequences.
After all, he thought it was only natural for Jin to be angry.
But that dangerous energy wasn’t coming from either Jin or Rata.
It was rising from right beneath their feet.
“Get back!”
“Move away!”
The two shouted in unison as the truth hit them.
In the next moment, the entire floor of the training ground cracked open, and something massive surged upward. Ron had already drawn his sword, ready to stop it.