Episode 98
Chapter 32: The Battleground of Cosmos (9)

As the two combatants paused briefly, the crowd erupted in unending cheers. Some were anxious over the sudden reversal, others shouted wildly, their hopes rekindled by the gamble’s new turn.

Amidst the roar, Jin’s voice couldn’t reach the stands. The two locked eyes, standing still.

“Don’t hold back.”

The moment Dante heard those words, a wave of embarrassment washed over him.

‘I see… maybe it did look like I was going easy on you.’

In any fight, the moment a warrior hesitates to strike their opponent, their blade dulls. It’s a pitiful thing before an enemy, and downright disrespectful when facing a worthy rival.

Whether or not to unleash Hailan’s secret technique was never the real issue.

‘Is there anything more shameful than not giving your all to an opponent you’ve acknowledged?’

To fight with unwavering resolve.

If the match ends without that, neither victory nor defeat holds meaning.

“I showed you a weak side. Let’s start again.”

Dante said softly, extending his blade forward—a gesture of respect, inviting Jin to clash swords once more. Jin quietly met the blade, and a gentle scraping sound echoed.

Astonishingly, at that moment, both felt a strange sensation.

The cheers faded like an echo falling off a cliff, the surroundings darkened, and it felt as if only the two of them remained in that space.

The belief that fighting until one falls could be such a joyous moment.

They didn’t need to voice it to share the feeling. Both had slipped into the prophetic vision that skilled swordsmen often experience when facing a worthy rival.

“Then, let’s begin again.”

Huff.

Whoosh.

They each took a breath simultaneously.

Without hesitation, the two blades clashed again, this time sparking fiercely—unlike the respectful touch before.

Amid the sounds of cracking, explosions, scraping, and tearing, shards of swordlight scattered like fragments.

The exhaustion that had shown on their faces was a lie. From the start of the match, Dante swung his sword more fiercely than ever before.

Jin, too, screamed and unleashed every last ounce of strength.

Clash.

As shockwaves sent blood and sand flying like shards of stone in all directions, the crowd’s cheers gradually quieted.

Why did the stands fall silent at the very moment they should have been roaring with excitement?

Because they were overwhelmed. To the audience, the boys fighting looked like giants, and not a single moment was worth blinking away.

Though the battleground had been active for over ten years, nothing like this had ever been seen.

Those who came seeking cheap brutality were now blessed to witness a true duel between genuine warriors.

Gambling no longer mattered. Of course, after the match ended and the thrill faded, some would laugh and others would cry.

But at this moment—

Everyone was simply in awe of the boys’ swordfight.

‘Maybe I underestimated Dante too. I thought he was exhausted, but where is this fierce strength coming from…?’

Blood seeped onto Jin’s lips. He’d bitten them without realizing it while parrying Dante’s attacks.

His swordsmanship was a talent seemingly gifted by the heavens.

But his stamina and strength were utterly ordinary—no, below average for someone so small and frail.

How much effort must he have poured in? How many times had he knelt in despair and frustration to overcome such a fatal weakness as a warrior?

Those who have struggled to the brink can recognize the efforts of others. Jin, too, in his past life as a crippled Runcandel, had thrown himself into hellish training every day just to break through the barrier of a mere one-star rank.

And so he saw Dante’s past.

The image of him crouched in a dark training hall, screaming at his small, thin reflection in the mirror, whipping himself through countless brushes with death.

And through it all, never once letting go of his sword.

It was like looking at a past version of himself.

But unlike that past self, Dante never failed in the end…

‘It makes me want to cry.’

Dante’s rough voice was the product of a lifetime of struggle to overcome a curse-like inferiority.

A shiver ran through Jin.

After wandering through that dark labyrinth and rising to become the next head of Hailan, the very force that drives him to push harder every day than the day before—

It’s simply because he’s captivated by the sword.

Otherwise, even born into a great noble family of the empire, life would be nothing but a dull play.

That was who Dante was.

‘Jin Runcandel. The thirteenth of the Runcandel line.’

As their bodies swayed with the sword strikes, Dante thought of Jin.

‘You were born with everything.’

The Runcandel bloodline every warrior dreams of, the blessed body that carries that lineage strongly. At fifteen, he’d already reached five stars, and now at sixteen, he stands toe-to-toe with me, proving it with his blade.

A talent among talents.

‘And yet, from you—’

Why do I feel such desperation? Born into a world called the heaven of warriors, why do you seem so desperate and frantic, like someone who’s only ever watched that heaven from afar?

‘Why does your sword carry such deep emotion? Is it because you’re the youngest, and the throne feels so far away? No, you’re not the kind to fret over order.’

Is it simply because you want to be the best?

Or is it because you, too, have shuddered in despair as many times as I have? Maybe even more?

‘Who are you, Jin Runcandel? No, it doesn’t matter. Today—’

Today is the day that proves my past efforts were not in vain.

He tightened his grip on the sword again.

Crack.

He felt a hairline fracture in the bones of his hand. A chill of pain ran through his body, but Dante smiled without flinching.

No matter…

Each time he moved his sword, the cracks in his hand widened, but his posture never wavered. His shoulders, chest, waist, even the soles of his feet trembling on the ground—

They began to rattle precariously, as if about to shatter.

But Dante did not curse his frail body.

‘This is just because I love fighting.’

Yet despite the smile on his face, the tide of battle inevitably began to turn in Jin’s favor.

‘Dante’s body… is breaking down?’

Jin, pressing his blade so close it felt like skin, could not have missed that fact.

The moment he regained the upper hand, Jin felt not joy, but anger.

‘Why haven’t you used Hailan’s secret technique yet…? Is there some other move I don’t know?’

No.

Now retreating, Dante was a beast fighting with every last breath. His eyes still burned with fierce fighting spirit, but this time, he was truly exhausted.

Beyond mere fatigue, he was slipping into complete collapse.

‘There was definitely an opening. And you no longer hesitated to strike me. So why—’

Now it was Jin’s turn to decide.

To strike or not to strike. No need for long hesitation.

‘If I lower my sword now, it would be an insult to you.’

Clang!

Jin’s horizontal slash shook Dante’s body. A few bones that had been barely holding together snapped, and before Dante could turn his head to follow Jin’s movement—

Bradamante’s second flash of light was already scattering.

Fortunately—

The blade faltered with hesitation.

‘Damn it! Why now?!’

Gritting his teeth, Jin twisted the blade’s trajectory aimed at Dante’s chest.

The recoil from forcing the blade off course loosened Jin’s grip.

Bradamante slipped from his hand, flying to the dirt floor, and at that moment, Dante’s sword pointed at the back of Jin’s neck.

It only looked like it was aimed. The sword wavered with Dante’s collapsing body.

By the time the second strike came, Dante had already lost consciousness.

Thud!

Dante collapsed onto the dirt.

Jin panted heavily, blinking wildly as he looked down at him.

Time seemed to freeze.

Even the crowd held their breath.

Jin’s mind was a chaotic mess. Not a trace of triumph—only a complex heat spreading through his body.

He hoped Dante wasn’t dead. But the certainty that he might be made him afraid to bend down and check.

Instinctively, he sank to the ground and felt for Dante’s pulse, but his own pounding heart drowned out any sensation.

‘I have to call a healer…!’

Just as he opened his mouth to shout for help, another boy leapt from the stands into the arena.

“My lord!”

Behind him came his bodyguards.

Veradin Ziphl, sprinting wildly across the arena, his hands glowing with green magic.

He had been preparing healing spells since the match’s midpoint, worried that one of the two might be lost here.

“Veradin…!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll save him!”

Kneeling before Dante, Veradin began chanting spells.

One after another.

Veradin demonstrated an incredible feat, chanting three different healing spells simultaneously, but Jin couldn’t take his eyes off Dante.

Veradin’s expression as she cast the spells was grim. Not even ten seconds had passed, yet the sheer amount of mana she was drawing was staggering—sweat poured down her entire body like rain.

Despite the powerful healing magic capable of instantly mending even severe injuries, Dante remained completely unresponsive.

Both Jin and Veradin felt their hearts burning with anxiety.

Finally, Veradin withdrew her magic and shook her head weakly.

“It’s no use. This isn’t something magic can fix…”

His insides were twisted beyond repair.

Not a single bone was intact. Worse still, his aura was raging uncontrollably inside his broken body. Even if Saint King Miklan himself performed a miracle, regeneration would be nearly impossible.

“Jin.”

Suddenly, Veradin whispered Jin’s name.

“About Dante…”

“Listen carefully. This has to stay a secret between the three of us.”

With that, Veradin reached into her cloak and pulled something out.