Chapter 113. Who Are You to Act So Friendly? (4)

“Mmm, this sense of fulfillment.”

Patrick wore a proud smile.

The sight of him wiping the sweat from his forehead with a refreshing smile was filled with a sense of fulfillment.

It could have been a scene from a refreshing chapter of youth.

“Ugh… keuuu…”

If it weren't for the lump of bloody flesh squirming at his feet.

Jayton.

No, what was once called Prince Jayton, was twitching and moaning intermittently, but its original form was no longer recognizable.

His entire body was swollen from being beaten evenly all over, without missing a single spot.

“You… you… youyou…”

The referee was at a loss for words, looking at Patrick who had made Jayton into such a state.

How in the world could someone do that to another person?

No matter how much this was a legitimate duel, Jayton was the prince of a nation.

To batter a prince like that?

Was that something a sane person could do?

“Aren’t you going to make the call?”

When Patrick spoke languidly to the referee, the referee replied.

“Intentionally killing an opponent is a foul, resulting in a loss.”

“Ah, don’t worry about that. He’s definitely not going to die.”

It was true.

Right now, Jayton's entire body ached as if he were dying, but no bones were broken and no internal organs were damaged.

In other words, he had been beaten to within an inch of his life, but his life was not in danger.

“I’m an expert in this area. He’ll be all better after resting for about two weeks, so don’t worry.”

“Keuuung…”

There was no other choice.

In the end, the referee sighed and said.

“Patrick Schneider wins.”

“Ahem!”

Having received the declaration of victory, Patrick puffed out his chest and walked down from the tournament stage.

And upon his return, his colleagues’ congratulations…

“Is he human?”

“Why ask? Didn’t we already establish he’s a demon, not a human?”

“That’s true. Still, I didn’t know he was this bad.”

“He’s worse than a demon.”

Did not pour in.

Looking at his colleagues' disgusted expressions, Patrick said with a sullen look.

“Ah, I might have been a liiittle bit harsh. But I had my reasons. If you hear my reason, you’ll be convinced that I didn’t overdo it.”

At Patrick’s serious argument, Alex suddenly became curious.

A justifiable reason for meticulously turning the prince of a nation into a bloody pulp in front of his own people?

If such a thing truly existed, he wanted to know.

So he asked.

“What is it?”

“He was being annoying.”

“…Is that all?”

“Yep.”

Seeing Patrick nod his head confidently, Alex lost the strength to stand.

He leaned a hand against a wall, bowed his head, and sighed.

“Why a guy like this… No, it’s better to have him as an ally than an enemy… but still, why?”

What could be done?

Life is originally hard.

The matches continued.

Representatives from each country came forward one after another, competing with their skills, and the representatives of the Atronia Kingdom also went through their matches.

Isabella, Alex, and Patrick all won, and Kalin Trinaldo, who competed after them, also won.

He had a good draw, facing an opponent of a lower realm than himself, and was able to win safely.

Thus, four out of the five representatives had won.

As a result, the corners of Professor Leyte’s mouth continued to curve upwards.

“Hehehehe. Four consecutive wins. Four wins in a row. Hahahahaha. How about that? You bastards. We got four straight wins.”

Seeing Professor Leyte, who seemed to have left his dignity as a professor back in his home country, Kalin said.

“Was the professor always like that?”

“Let him be. How happy must he be?”

“That’s true.”

It wasn't that he couldn't understand Professor Leyte's feelings.

Hadn't the Atronia Kingdom recorded the unprecedented humiliation of three consecutive total defeats?

The responsibility for that humiliation naturally fell upon the professors in charge of the Knight Faculty's education.

The constant accountability inquiries.

The ever-worsening budget cuts.

The looks of pity that went beyond mockery to feel sorry for them.

All of that would now change.

“Hehehe. I can’t wait to return to our country and see the faces of His Majesty the King and the nobles. You’re all dead!”

Is it really okay for a knight to act like that?

Just then, the referee called the last representative of the Atronia Kingdom.

“Gerard Teseira!”

“Sir!”

Gerard answered briskly and climbed onto the stage.

And before going up, he turned to where his colleagues were, gave a thumbs-up, and said.

“I’ll come back with our fifth consecutive win.”

“We’re counting on you, Gerard.”

“Do well.”

“You can do it, senior.”

Alex, Isabella, and Kalin all encouraged Gerard warmly.

And Patrick…

“Senior.”

“Hm? What is it?”

Could it be that this guy was going to offer some advice before the match?

To Gerard, who held such expectations, Patrick said.

“Stop posturing and just fight with all your might.”

“……”

Of course.

What was I expecting?

Sighing, Gerard went up onto the tournament stage.

And Patrick, who remained behind, said quietly.

“Even if you’re going to lose, you should lose without being a disgrace.”

At those words, Alex, who was next to him, frowned and said.

“Are you saying Gerard can’t win?”

“Yep. He can never win.”

“Gerard is strong. He's at the very end of the 3-star realm and is skilled enough to advance to 4-star at any moment.”

“That 3-star this, that 4-star that.”

Patrick let out a deep sigh.

I'm tired of patting these acorns on the back for their height contests.

Anyway…

“Whether Senior Gerard is strong or weak doesn’t matter.”

Patrick pointed with his chin at the man who was already on the stage.

“He can’t win against that guy.”

What Gerard faced upon climbing onto the stage was a man with fiery red hair and blue eyes.

The man, with a strong impression, smiled at Gerard.

“The progress of the Atronia Kingdom is surprising.”

“Thank you, Prince Cierion.”

Cierion Baisus Yusef.

The prince of the Yusef Kingdom and a representative in Arcana stood there.

He seemed to have a favorable impression of Gerard, wearing a faint smile.

“It was truly excellent. Well, there was one excessive person in the middle… Keke…”

“What’s so funny?”

“Ah, my apologies. It’s not that it was funny, but rather satisfying. That guy Jayton, I was planning to smash him if I got my hands on him, but I never expected someone would beat him so brutally.”

“……”

“Thanks to that, I feel quite refreshed. Please tell your junior that he was excellent.”

“I’ve never in my life…”

Gerard shook his head.

He never thought there would be someone who would witness that atrocity and call it excellent.

Come to think of it, this person was strange too.

When Patrick had spoken rudely at the banquet, this was the man who had been the only one in the hall to smile and agree with Patrick's actions.

‘Birds of a feather flock together; there’s no way a person on the same wavelength as that bastard could be normal.’

Having made that judgment, Gerard said bluntly.

“Even if a knife is at my throat, I refuse to praise that damn bastard. So if you want to, do it yourself.”

“Is that so? Then I shall.”

“……”

Why is he being so obedient all of a sudden?

Wasn’t he a madman?

This makes me the bad guy, doesn't it?

To the troubled Gerard, Cierion said with a relaxed smile.

“Well then, shall we begin as well?”

And he raised his weapon.

“Ah…”

For a moment, Gerard was in awe.

The weapon Prince Cierion used was a two-handed sword.

It was a greatsword wielded with both hands, but it was much larger than a typical two-handed sword.

It was so absurdly sized that it looked less like a sword and more like a pillar ripped from a small house.

“Are you really going to use that?”

“Of course. Why, do you think I can’t?”

Cierion lightly swung his two-handed sword.

Whoooosh!

The pillar-sized two-handed sword was swung with a heavy sense of weight.

So fast that the wind reached Gerard, who was standing at a distance.

‘Incredible.’

He had seen knights who used two-handed swords from time to time, but he had never seen one so enormous.

Yet, Cierion handled that massive two-handed sword so lightly.

He could be certain.

This man was strong.

“Gerard Teseira of the Atronia Kingdom. I will do my best.”

“Cierion Baisus Yusef of the Yusef Kingdom. I will face you.”

“Begin!”

Simultaneously with the referee’s signal, Gerard held his kite shield forward and took a cautious stance.

No matter how well he wielded it, the opponent's weapon was a massive, heavy weapon.

If he could watch the first attack carefully and deflect it, he could then close the distance and fight.

Fortunately, the weapon Gerard used was a broadsword, shorter than a longsword.

Considering its thick, short blade that exerts power at close range…

‘If I can just close the distance, I have a chance of winning.’

Having finished his calculations, Gerard focused his mind as much as possible to respond to the first attack.

Slowly, slowly…

Gerard, who was closing the distance slowly without rushing, was concentrating on when the opponent's two-handed sword would fly towards him.

And…

“Here I come.”

“Huh?”

He was momentarily taken aback by Cierion’s quietly heard voice.

Did he just announce his attack?

He must know what I’m aiming for, yet he’s giving a warning?

“You insult me… Heop!”

The anger that welled up inside Gerard instantly turned into bewilderment.

Cierion’s two-handed sword flew towards him.

No, to be precise, it was flying and then it disappeared.

At least, that was all Gerard could feel.

Kwaaaaaaang!

“Keoheok.”

When Gerard was a child.

He had been recklessly playing in the stables and got kicked by a horse's hind leg.

He had broken ribs, suffered internal injuries, and had hovered on the brink of death for several days before barely surviving.

‘Why is the memory of that time…’

Gerard realized.

That he was currently flying through the air.

Just like when he had been kicked by the horse as a child.

“Keuk!”

If this continued, he would be out of bounds.

Gerard hastily twisted his body and plunged his sword into the ground.

Kwakwakwa!

He used his sword to brake, but Gerard’s body still came to a precarious stop at the very edge of the tournament stage.

In front of him, a long mark was carved where his sword had been stuck into the ground.

‘If I had been just a little later…’

To Gerard, who gulped, Cierion approached leisurely and said.

“You have good grit. Tsk, I was trying to win without injuring you if possible.”

At his regretful words, Gerard’s face flushed.

He had been hit without even seeing the opponent’s attack.

Yet, the one who was hit felt almost no pain.

This was because the opponent had struck him with the flat of the massive sword, not the blade, to send him flying.

‘If he had properly cut with the blade…’

The match would have been as good as decided.

Even without aura, a weapon of that weight would have been more than enough to split his body in half.

‘It can’t be helped.’

Gerard realized.

There was a massive skill gap between him and his opponent.

He didn't know why, but that Cierion had shown him favor and consideration.

But what would change if he, who had survived by taking that consideration as a bait, were to cling on shamelessly?

A more miserable defeat?

Then, is there any reason to fight?

Gerard sighed, raised his hand, and said.

“Refe…”

“Hey. You! Damn! Good-for-nothing! Senior bastarddddd!”

It was then.

Patrick’s enraged voice echoed in Gerard’s ears.

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