Chapter 130. That’s It. Let’s Just Swing Our Swords (1)

“Did you see?”

“I saw. The sword clearly bent in mid-air.”

“He controlled it freely. The sword moved in response to his hand movements.”

“Could it be, psychokinesis?”

“No, it wasn't magic. It wasn't an artifact either.”

“Indeed, there was no mana arrangement at all.”

“Then are you saying he did it with aura?”

“It is possible. Aura is also just an energy based on mana. In the stage of processing it within the body....”

“Ahem, that is impossible. Isn't that a theory that was concluded 200 years ago.”

“Your school of thought may not know, but our school has not concluded it. If the origin of mana and aura is the same, there is a possibility of substitution.”

“What did you say? In that case....”

The Tower of Truth's waiting room.

There, the mages were engaged in a heated debate.

The subject of their debate was, of course, the existence of Patrick Schneider who had used the Sword Control Art.

A bundle of curiosity.

Beings who live their entire lives exploring and researching something.

That is what mages were.

And to such beings, Patrick had shown the Sword Control Art and psychokinesis.

Unknown techniques that they had never seen before in their lives.

The mages were already not even paying attention to the results of the Arcana.

Right now, their minds were solely occupied with how to research Patrick Schneider's strange techniques.

Even Riman Ciera, who was lying collapsed in a corner of the waiting room, was outside their interest.

“Excuse me, Sir Yulian. Will Riman be alright?”

Unable to watch any longer, a companion cautiously asked, and a mage in the middle of the debate said.

“It's fine. Leave him be.”

“He won't die?”

“Is this the first or second time? The priests have treated him, so his body will be fine.”

“Tsk tsk tsk, he got hit by Primordial Mana, so he'll have to rest for a while.”

“We told him countless times not to do that....”

“Anyway, he's so stubborn.”

Riman's failure was familiar to the mages.

It wasn't the first time, after all.

Combining the properties of the four elements to extract Primordial Mana.

This was a theory that had come out quite a long time ago.

It was a theory that was over 500 years old, but it had been discarded.

The thing called Primordial Mana was extremely unstable.

Its power was mighty, but it was so sensitive that it would explode at the slightest misstep.

In the end, it was concluded that it was a power that humans could not control.

But in the world, aren't there non-mainstream researchers who go against the tide of the world with the groundless confidence that 'others can't, but I can'?

One of them was Riman.

A talent who was not even a pure mage but a Magic Swordsman, yet was more knowledgeable in theory than most mages.

Such a Riman was a talent that the Tower of Truth boasted of, and at the same time, a headache as an eccentric researcher.

He could not let go of his lingering attachment to the Primordial Mana that everyone else had given up on and continued to cling to it.

[There can logically be no power in this world that cannot be controlled. Primordial Mana also must have its own properties and characteristics. If we just find them, we can control it. It must be controllable for it to be logically correct.]

And Riman, despite not being a mage but a Magic Swordsman, continued his research on Primordial Mana.

He was a genius and an eccentric.

“Tsk tsk tsk, I wonder when he'll give up.”

“His talent is a waste, a waste.”

The supervising mages looked at Riman with pity.

And then....

“First, once the Arcana is over, let's abduct that young man named Patrick, no, secure... no, what was it....”

“Recruit.”

“Ah, that's right, let's recruit him.”

“How should we do it?”

“We have to do something. It's obvious what young people like.”

“Indeed, money, women, honor, power. We have to bring him in even if we have to give him everything we can.”

“Other countries will compete, but when it comes to money, our Tower of Truth has the most.”

“Let's definitely bring him in. Besides freely controlling the sword in the air, there might be other secrets.”

“Hahaha. A walking research subject.”

Patrick should have known.

That he should not have provoked the curiosity of the race known as mages.

***

“You seem to have a lot of complaints.”

Garcia flinched.

“No, sir. Grandfather.”

In front of Garcia was the Sword Saint.

This time, he was sitting in the Empire's waiting room, watching the matches.

He, who had not even come to the waiting room when his grandson was fighting, had made an exceptional visit this time.

He spoke to his grandson.

“Are you not pleased with the bye?”

At that, Garcia hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth.

“Since I have received a bye twice, I believe there will be other talk later even if I win.”

“So?”

“I am afraid that it may tarnish Grandfather's name by mistake.”

At that, the Sword Saint smirked and said.

“You speak as if you will naturally win.”

At that, for the first time, something similar to dissatisfaction appeared on Garcia's face.

Although it disappeared as soon as he met the Sword Saint's eyes, he thought to himself.

‘Winning? That's a given.’

He was Garcia Reynardo.

The successor who would follow the strongest knight on the continent.

Winning the Arcana was merely a gateway that he was naturally supposed to pass through from the moment he was born.

“Foolish boy. Do you still think so after watching all the matches?”

“I know that Antorius is strong. But I believe I can sufficiently overcome him.”

“Antorius... yes. You will probably beat that fellow.”

“...Are you saying there is another problem?”

“Can you not see it for yourself?”

Garcia agonized.

If there was a possibility of anyone blocking him in this tournament, he thought it was Antorius of the Holy Theocracy.

As rumored to be the youngest Paladin candidate, he possessed tremendous divine power, and his sword level did not seem bad either.

But other than that....

“I do not know. I heard a rumor that Riman Ciera, the rising star of the Tower of Truth, was great, but he was eliminated, was he not?”

“Who was it that eliminated that Riman Ciera?”

“Ah, that lucky... ahem.”

Only then did Garcia recall the existence of Patrick.

In fact, when he saw the previous match, it was amazing.

To be able to beat someone up so undignifiedly in this glorious tournament called the Arcana was amazing in a sense.

‘The one named Alex that I fought was like that too, are all the people from the Kingdom of Atronia like that?’

But that was about his personality being amazing.

And in a bad way.

If judged solely on skill....

“To be honest, he does not seem that great.”

At Garcia's words, the Sword Saint sighed.

“Pathetic fellow.”

“……”

Garcia lowered his head deeply.

It wasn't that he agreed with the Sword Saint's words and was reflecting.

It was just a reflexive submission to the Sword Saint's scolding.

To such a grandson, the Sword Saint said.

“Remember this. That fellow named Patrick is a genius. He is probably stronger than you.”

“...Yes.”

“And he is a complete hooligan with no manners to be found.”

“...Yes?”

“No, ahem….”

The Sword Saint cleared his throat and glossed over it.

And he spoke to his grandson again.

“If you get a match with that fellow, go all out from beginning to end.”

“All out, you say?”

“Yes. Only then will you be able to find even a slim chance of victory.”

“……”

“No, perhaps even that may be difficult.”

At the Sword Saint's words, Garcia frowned in displeasure.

‘Patrick Schneider?’

He seemed to be a person with a very eccentric personality, but his skills did not seem that great.

‘He's that great?’

His grandfather had never evaluated someone else so highly before.

‘I will see for myself just how much.’

Jealousy and curiosity.

And an arrogance that could not be suppressed no matter how he tried, coexisted within Garcia.

***

The day of the Arcana semi-finals.

Finally, the tournament to look at the next generation's future of the continent had reached its final stages.

Talents chosen from all over the continent were gathered to hold the tournament, and now only four remained.

Garcia Reynardo of the Venator Empire.

Antorius Denar of the Saint Louis Holy Theocracy.

Cierion Baisus Yusef of the Yusef Kingdom.

Patrick Schneider of the Kingdom of Atronia.

The moment people saw the list of these four, they immediately realized.

“The final will be between the Sword Saint's grandson and Antorius, right?”

“It seems so.”

“In that case, they'll probably be separated in the semi-finals.”

“Of course. Then, the problem is who fights who....”

“Does it really matter? In the end, it will be the Sword Saint's grandson and Antorius who advance to the finals.”

“It's unfortunate for their opponents, but they're basically just stepping stones.”

“Still, advancing to the Arcana semi-finals is an achievement to be proud of, isn't it?”

“That's true.”

As the audience predicted, the organizers seemed to want to pit Garcia and Antorius against each other in the finals.

Antorius Denar VS Cierion Baisus Yusef.

Garcia Reynardo VS Patrick Schneider.

The matchups were announced.

As everyone expected, it was a lineup designed for Garcia and Antorius to clash in the finals.

But whether the final match would go as they expected was questionable.

***

“Antorius Denar, forward!”

Antorius Denar, who made a grand entrance with his silver hair, changed by the blessing of the gods, flowing in the wind.

As he stepped into the arena, the referee called his opponent.

“Cierion Baisus Yusef, forward!”

Cierion took his two-handed sword and advanced to the arena.

In front of him, the knights of the Yusef Kingdom lined up on both sides, knelt, and bowed their heads.

“This is unnecessarily grand.”

“Your Highness.”

The one who answered Cierion's words was the supervising instructor of the Yusef Kingdom's Academy.

As someone who held a formal knighthood and was also a professor at the Academy, he did not need to kneel to Cierion, who was originally a student.

The reason he knelt and showed respect like this was because to him, Cierion was not just royalty, but the lord to whom he had sworn his loyalty.

He spoke to Cierion on behalf of everyone.

“Please prove that our choice was not wrong.”

At that request, Cierion did not say whether he could or not.

He just passed by everyone, stepped onto the arena, and left a short word.

“Watch closely.”

That one word was enough.

The youngest Paladin candidate?

The future of the Holy Theocracy?

Such things were meaningless.

At least, compared to the tiger that had been crouching in the small country of the east, they were nothing.

“Go and return!”

“Go and return!”

Sent off by his subordinates, Cierion Baisus Yusef stepped onto the arena.

Towards Cierion, who had stepped onto the arena, Antorius said.

“You keep me waiting long.”

“Are you displeased?”

“Not at all. Advancing to the semi-finals... it is a sufficient cause for celebration for the Yusef Kingdom. Congratulations.”

“……”

“Even if you lose here, do not be too disappointed. You are….”

“That's enough.”

“What did you say?”

Cierion cut Antorius' words off and said, pointing his sword.

“I was going to listen for a bit, but it's impossible. As expected, trying to exchange words with the hypocrites of the west makes me want to vomit.”

“……”

“Shut up and draw your sword, pretty boy of the Holy Theocracy.”

“I will see if your skills match your confidence.”

Antorius turned his back with a displeased expression.

And immediately after the two were in position.

“Begin!”

The referee's starting signal was heard, and at the same time, Antorius emitted divine power from his entire body.

“Oh, Yupinel!”

A golden divine power erupted from his entire body.

Antorius, who had won so far with the overwhelming pressure of his divine power without any real fight.

How powerful the golden dawn he emitted was had already been sufficiently proven.

But....

“Hap!”

Pooooong!

This opponent was different.

Cierion emitted aura from his entire body and resisted the divine power that Antorius was emitting.

The standard way to fight a Paladin.

To fight while emitting aura from the entire body to nullify the pressure of the divine power.

It wasn't that the previous opponents didn't know this.

It was just that they couldn't do it because Antorius' divine power was overwhelmingly strong.

But....

“Ooooh….”

“He's holding on. He's moving?”

“Amazing. To think the prince of the Yusef Kingdom's skills were at that level....”

Cierion was easily shaking off the pressure exerted by Antorius' divine power.

The audience was also impressed by the sight, and so was Antorius.

“Amazing.”

To nullify Antorius' divine power meant that his level was at least 6-star.

To have achieved such a level at that age meant that he was a talent no less than the Sword Saint's grandson.

Cierion withstood Antorius' divine power and walked forward, step by step.

And he pointed his two-handed sword and said.

“Winning comfortably with the power of a god ends here. Draw your sword, hothouse flower of the Holy Theocracy.”

“Hothouse flower….”

Every single word the opponent said was grating.

That tone, that gaze, which insulted the entire Holy Theocracy that served the gods and maintained order on the continent.

All of it was grating.

“I will show you the skills of that hothouse flower.”

Antorius finally drew his sword.

And Cierion beckoned with his fingers and said.

“Come at me.”

Simultaneously, the two rushed forward and clashed.

In the sound of colliding auras, someone watching said softly.

“That's my move.”

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