Radiant Dragon’s Otherworldly Reincarnation

Chapter 114. At least it wasn't embarrassing (1)

“Hey. Calm down, man!”

“What do you mean calm down!? Our side losing is the fifteenth thing I hate.”

“Why do you hate so many things?”

“Ah! Get off me!”

After kicking away Alex who was trying to restrain him, Patrick shouted towards the tournament stage again.

“Yeah. That bastard is stronger than you. So what!?”

Gerard’s body flinched.

“Are you going to fight only weaker opponents for the rest of your life!? You idiot! Are you going to give up on any fight you can’t win!?”

Gerard's face turned red with shame.

Patrick's words, sharper than a sword, became a dagger that pierced Gerard's heart.

To him, Patrick mercilessly shouted.

“What kind of knight is that!? If you're going to live so embarrassingly, just go stick your nose in dishwater and die. You…. Ugh, ugh…”

“Please, just stop!”

“Grab his legs! His legs!”

“Should I stab him with a knife?”

His colleagues ganged up on him, covering Patrick’s mouth and dragging him back.

But Patrick’s shouts had already spread throughout the entire arena.

The audience stared blankly at Patrick.

“He's crazy.”

“What kind of lunatic is that?”

“I thought he wasn’t normal during his match, but…”

“A truly crazy bastard has appeared in the Atronia Kingdom.”

This was Arcana.

The most prestigious tournament on the continent.

It was a stage where the futures of carefully selected talents from each country were foretold, and where they competed for supremacy to etch great glory into their lives.

In such a place, to beat an opponent to a bloody pulp, and even scream and curse at his own teammate?

No matter how you thought about it, it wasn't the behavior of a normal human being.

And the one who received the rebuke from the lunatic full of crazy spirit was…

“Damn bastard…”

Gerard said, as if spitting out the words.

It was an undeniable fact that the personality of that irritating junior was so foul that even a demon would weep.

Every word, every action was that of a madman.

Sometimes, it felt like he wasn't human but a demon.

But…

‘Damn it. I can't refute it.’

Unfortunately, every word that came out of that madman's mouth right now was correct.

What is a knight?

They are those who take up the sword to protect the nation, be loyal to the royal family, and defend the weak.

If they were to abandon that duty based on the strength of their opponent, they would no longer be knights.

That is the logic of mercenaries, who prioritize their own survival and money above all else.

A knight…

“Must have the courage to not choose their opponents for the sake of their beliefs.”

He voices the fact he knows in his head.

As if to engrave it anew upon himself.

If he considered himself a knight, he should not back down in fear of a strong opponent.

He would rather be miserably broken and shattered than ever do that.

Fighting spirit appeared in Gerard’s eyes.

He looked at Cierion and said.

“I apologize. And thank you for waiting.”

“It's fine. It was well worth it.”

Cierion saw the determination-filled eyes of Gerard and smiled with satisfaction.

Not bad.

This is how it should be.

A knight from the East should have eyes like that.

Cierion glanced at Patrick outside the tournament stage.

Patrick, who had shaken off all the colleagues clinging to him, was glaring at the arena, panting.

“I felt it at the banquet, but he is a remarkable person.”

“It’s true that he’s remarkable. In many ways…”

“I covet him enough to want him as my vassal.”

At Cierion’s words, Gerard’s eyes widened and he said.

“He is a noble of our Atronia Kingdom.”

To Gerard who spoke sternly, Cierion chuckled and said.

“For now, he is.”

“Are you planning to take him?”

At those words, Cierion gave a bitter smile, shook his head, and said.

“It's not like that. I am looking at a bigger picture.”

“……”

“It would be meaningless to talk about it now.”

Looking at Gerard who was glaring at him with fighting spirit, Cierion lifted his massive two-handed sword over his shoulder.

In that state, he said to Gerard.

“For now, let’s focus on the match. Show me your will.”

“By all means!”

With a shout, Gerard kicked off the ground and ran forward with vigor.

* * *

Reality is cruel.

Effort, grit, will.

These are all good words and necessary elements for anyone trying to achieve something.

But in the world, there are walls that cannot be overcome with those things alone.

Gerard fought with all his might, but the difference in skill between him and Cierion was too great.

“Uwaaaaaa!”

Peeeeok!

He charged with all his might, but every time Cierion’s massive two-handed sword cut through the air, Gerard was sent flying like a rag doll.

“Keuk… keuuuk…”

Gerard, sent flying like that, tumbled disgracefully on the ground and collapsed.

Normally, the match would have been decided here.

But Cierion did not deliver a follow-up blow, and Gerard got up again and raised his head.

And to the huge enemy before him, he shouted.

“It’s not over yet!”

And he charged towards Cierion again.

‘Magnificent.’

Cierion was impressed by Gerard’s grit.

Even though he was hitting with the flat of the sword and not the blade, he had received powerful impacts that sent his body flying several times.

Naturally, his body was becoming a wreck, but his opponent showed no signs of giving up.

“Good. Let’s see what you’ve got!”

Now that it had come to this, he wanted to see the end of that grit.

Cierion, burning with fighting spirit, sent the charging Gerard flying once more.

Peeeeok!

“Keoheok…”

Twenty-five times.

That was the number of times Gerard had blindly charged and been hit and sent flying by Cierion’s attacks.

Even the spectators watching the scene were on the edge of their seats.

“Ah… aren't they going to stop it?”

“Isn't he going to die at this rate?”

“Crazy, he's getting up again.”

The difference in skill was all too clear.

But the people were feeling something from the sight of Gerard, who refused to yield to the overwhelming skill difference and continued to challenge until the end.

Anxiety, inspiration, pity, respect…

Receiving the complex gazes of the audience, Gerard stood up for the twenty-sixth time.

“Keuk… cough…”

His leg was broken.

His shield was half-destroyed, and his armor was no better than rags.

His wrists were swollen, his vision was dizzy, and he forcefully swallowed the blood rising from his throat, but his mouth was already full of the taste of blood.

Any chance of winning, let alone doing anything, had completely vanished.

Even in that state…

“Not… yet…”

He stood up.

And raised his sword to face him again.

“Excellent.”

A heartfelt word came from Cierion.

His skill wasn't that great.

Cierion had plenty of subordinates stronger than Gerard.

But that grit and will were so impressive that he wanted to tell those subordinates to learn from him.

“What are you doing? …I can still… cough… go on.”

The sight of Gerard, limping with one broken leg and holding a half-shattered shield, did not seem pathetic at all.

Anyone who held a sword and walked that path could never mock that sight as pathetic.

Cierion said.

“Gerard Teseira.”

He grasped his two-handed sword with both hands and lifted it above his head.

“I will remember your name.”

“Hehe…”

Gerard let out a hollow laugh.

And for the first time in this match, a brilliant blue aura began to gather on Cierion’s sword.

‘Is it coming?’

Seeing that sight, Gerard gritted his teeth and focused his aura on his half-shattered shield.

He couldn't dodge with a broken leg anyway.

‘Then I can only endure.’

In preparation for the coming impact, Gerard gathered all his strength.

And…

“Come on!”

He shouted not with his mouth, but with his soul.

And to that, Cierion responded.

“Take this.”

In an instant, Cierion’s massive two-handed sword fell with tremendous force.

And a blue aura exploded forth from him.

Kwakwakwakwakwakwa!

The shockwave of the blue aura tore up the floor of the arena as it flew.

A rough and powerful aura, with no trace of sharpness or refinement.

It was like a storm.

And that storm of aura engulfed the battered Gerard.

“Kraaaaaaaaaak!”

Gerard was swallowed up by the storm of aura like a small boat caught in a tsunami.

The storm of aura did not stop there but continued to advance…

“Wha… Whaaaa!”

“Run!”

“Noooo!”

It sent the spectators in the path of the aura into a panic.

Kwaaaaaaaaaaang!

Fortunately, the aura did not hit the spectator seats.

“Such cowards…”

Cierion had controlled the range and power of the aura from the beginning.

Besides, the defensive magic inscribed on the outer walls, made by the Tower of Truth, would not collapse so easily.

And what people saw after the storm of aura disappeared was…

“Wha… Whaaaa…”

“Good heavens.”

“How powerful must it be to…”

There was the sight of Gerard, embedded in the wall as if he had been crucified.

Confirming that sight, the referee shouted loudly.

“Winner, Cierion Baisus Yusef!”

The match was decided.

Awe and shock.

And a little bit of fear.

The spectators watching the confidently descending Cierion were in a great stir.

“Woooow…”

“No way.”

“Is he a monster?”

“What is with Arcana this year?”

“Aren't there too many monsters?”

The Sword Saint's grandson, the youngest paladin candidate, and so on.

It was always the case that the representatives from the three great powers were monsters.

But this time, strong individuals who far surpassed the average of their age group were emerging from places other than the three great powers.

Jayton, the hidden weapon of the Magellan Kingdom.

Patrick, who had beaten that Jayton to a pulp.

And now, Cierion, who was descending with confident steps…

It was rare in the history of Arcana for a warrior of this caliber to come from a place other than the three great powers.

“Maybe, this time, the winner will come from a place other than the three great powers?”

“Nah, no way…”

“You never know, right? Patrick from the Atronia Kingdom, that crazy… ahem, young man, and Prince Cierion from the Yusef Kingdom are showing skills beyond their age.”

“But it’s the three great powers. They've swept all the championships for the past several decades.”

“That’s in the past. This time, we don’t know, do we?”

“No. On the contrary, this time is the most dangerous. The Sword Saint’s grandson is participating.”

“Ah… come to think of it…”

“Plus, a genius who is the youngest paladin candidate in history has joined from the Holy Theocracy. I don’t know about the Tower of Truth, but they must have some secret weapon.”

“True, the Tower of Truth was always like that.”

The debate was fierce between those who cautiously predicted a winner from outside the three great powers and those who insisted that the existing powerhouses, the three great powers, would still hold the championship.

In fact, the very existence of such a debate was encouraging.

Considering that previous Arcanas' main point of contention was which of the three great powers would win, this year’s Arcana could be called a veritable upheaval.

“I’m sorry. Because of me, our country’s chance for a clean sweep has disappeared.”

Having regained his senses, Gerard first apologized.

At that, Professor Leyte smiled gently and said.

“No. As a representative of the kingdom, you fought a match to be proud of. Hold your head high.”

As Professor Leyte consoled him, the other colleagues joined in.

“It was excellent.”

“That's right, senior. Honestly, you just had bad luck with the match-up.”

“Even if I had gone, I couldn't have done better than you.”

The comfort from his colleagues eased his heart a little.

But he still couldn't be at ease.

Because the final hurdle remained.

“Ahem, Patrick?”

Gerard spoke cautiously to Patrick, who was standing with his arms crossed and a sullen expression.

“Hey, I tried my best, you know.”

“Did you do your best?”

“…I think so.”

“Either you did or you didn’t. What’s with the ‘I think’?”

At Patrick’s blunt words, Gerard’s shoulders slumped.

To such a Gerard, Patrick said casually.

“Well, at least it wasn't embarrassing.”

“……”

“So I’ll let it slide this once.”

“……”

It was by no means a compliment.

But for that guy, who was worse than a demon from hell, to acknowledge him this much was a great thing.

“Patrick.”

“What?”

“Thank you.”