Radiant Dragon’s Otherworldly Reincarnation

Chapter 115. At least it wasn't embarrassing (2)

The tournament continued.

In the process of repeated wins and losses, everyone did their best, but those who left a deep impression on the audience were few and far between.

However, there were also those who had not yet competed but had already left a strong impression on the audience by their mere presence.

Proven geniuses who were already considered championship contenders.

One of them was now being announced by the referee.

“Antorius Denar!”

As the name was called, the audience stirred greatly.

“Ooh! Finally!”

“He's here. He's finally here.”

“I’ve been waiting for this.”

The 12 Paladins, the undefeated guardians who protect the Saint Louis Holy Theocracy.

The next-generation candidate closest to that sublime title.

A man called the future of the Holy Theocracy, who had already been granted a miracle at the age of ten and was known to have reached the 5-star realm in pure swordsmanship.

That man was Antorius Denar.

Silver hair and golden eyes.

Wearing pristine white armor without a single speck of dust, and holding a holy sword engraved with sacred characters against the floor with both hands, his figure was truly that of a holy knight straight out of a myth.

“Ooooh… how holy.”

“Indeed, just looking at him is different. So different.”

“Oh, Yupinel.”

Those with deep faith made the sign of the cross and, holding the holy relics around their necks, naturally began to pray.

Who could express dissatisfaction at such a holy and sacred sight?

Who would dare?

“Annoying as hell.”

Ah, there was one person.

Seeing Patrick with a look full of dissatisfaction, the other colleagues sighed.

“Ah, why?”

“Isn’t he annoying?”

“Where? What did he do?”

“His very existence is annoying.”

To the despairing Alex, Gerard patted his shoulder and said.

“I understand. It’s natural for a demon from hell to oppose a holy being, isn't it?”

Yes.

That made sense.

But the problem was…

“The problem is that the demon is on our side.”

“Let's just give up on that part.”

“You seem to have had a strange realization.”

“There’s not much to life.”

“……”

Alex felt sorry for his friend whose mood had changed after being beaten to a pulp.

‘What do you brats know…’

Patrick still looked at the tournament stage with a displeased gaze.

Seeing that white lump-like guy exuding a holy atmosphere and standing there proudly…

“Seriously, this sucks.”

Perhaps it was because it reminded him of similar types from his past life?

It greatly displeased Patrick.

‘Those damn monks.’

Patrick, or more accurately, the Radiant Dragon Great Master Jin Cheon, had quite a few issues with Shaolin and the Emei Sect.

[Hohoho. As a Buddhist, what more could one wish for than to attain enlightenment and become a Buddha? This humble monk simply yearns for learning.]

[Amitabha! If not I, then who will go to hell?]

Did this make sense?

Those bastards who claimed they had to give up meat and marriage and devote themselves to training to become a Buddha would beat people to death, claiming they would go to hell.

If Buddha actually saw what Shaolin or the Emei Sect did, he would have said, ‘Just pick one, you bastards!’ and planted their bald heads vertically into the earth.

‘In the end, they solved most of their problems with force, just like me, yet they justified all their wrongdoings by attributing them to the will of Buddha. Aaargh… thinking about it makes me angry again.’

[This is all the will of Buddha. Please, benefactor, try to understand.]

[The will of Buddha is vast and infinite, so this monk cannot grasp its true meaning. But is it not about doing one's best to inquire and strive within one's means?]

[Amitabha, this humble monk will surely repay the Great Master’s kindness in the next life. The timing is not right at present.]

[Ahem, benefactor, why are you so attached to material desires? Life is but a fleeting moment that passes by….]

“Aargh, just thinking about it makes the back of my neck…”

As Patrick grabbed the back of his neck and grimaced, his colleagues whispered.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I have no idea.”

“Let’s not try to understand a madman.”

“That’s right.”

Regardless, Patrick was fully immersed in the memories (?) of his past life, his blood pressure rising in real-time.

There were more than a few incidents that made him so furious he was on the verge of qi deviation just by thinking about them.

Patrick ground his teeth and said.

“Let’s see your skills. Let’s see if you have the skills to back up your arrogance. Kekekekek. If you don’t, things are going to get difficult for you.”

It was Patrick, trying to vent the anger accumulated from the Buddhist sects of his past life in a strange place.

* * *

‘Damn it, why from the very first match…’

The one who came up as Antorius' opponent was one of the magic swordsmen from the Tower of Truth.

His skill as a swordsman was at the early 3-star level, but he could use two Soul Weapons.

That was enough to be considered on par with a 5-star knight in a real fight.

He had thought that with his skills, he could easily make it to at least the third round.

But he never expected to meet such a monster in his first match.

The opponent, standing confidently in the arena, had an expression as if he wasn't even in his sights.

“Arrogant bastard…”

As a promising talent among the magic swordsmen nurtured by the Tower of Truth, his pride couldn't help but be hurt.

‘I will not lose easily. I’ll show you what I’m made of.’

Now that it had come to this, even if he lost, he would not go down quietly.

He prepared himself, thinking of taking at least an arm, and gripped his Soul Weapon tightly.

“Begin!”

The referee's signal sounded, and the magic swordsman's side was the first to release their power.

“Canela, Sirius!”

As he shouted loudly, the earrings and necklace he wore glowed and became armor that covered his body.

“Ooh… so that’s a Soul Weapon.”

“The one used by magic swordsmen…”

“I’ve never seen one before.”

Even rarer to see than a knight's aura was the Soul Weapon wielded by a magic swordsman.

It was a combat magic tool created by the Tower of Truth, and special training was required to use it.

The more Soul Weapons one could handle, the greater the power and versatility of the magic swordsman.

Having released both his Soul Weapons, he created a fireball and a vortex of wind in the air.

Then…

“Go.”

As he pointed at the target with the tip of his sword, the fireball and the wind vortex simultaneously descended upon the enemy.

In the process, the fireball swallowed the wind, growing in force until it became a firestorm.

The flames, gaining momentum, lunged at the enemy like a writhing snake.

Kwaaaaaang!

From within the fiery explosion, a searing heat spread out, felt even by the audience.

“Incredible.”

“Did… did he kill him?”

“Such power…”

It had always been said that among the three great powers, the magic swordsmen of the Tower of Truth had the strongest attack power.

Their power was that great.

The pinnacle of destruction, created by developing magic solely for the purpose of combat.

It seemed that the opponent would be burned away without any resistance in that vortex of flames that could melt even steel.

But…

“Oh, Yupinel.”

With a small mumble, a golden flash of light erupted from Antorius' body.

Paaaat!

The light instantly pushed back the flames and scattered them.

And when the flames cleared, Antorius' body was revealed, completely clean without a single hair singed.

“He broke my attack with pure holy power?”

The opponent had a look of disgust.

But to nullify the attack he had unleashed with all his might from the very beginning just by releasing holy power…

“A real monster.”

Then, the opponent who had been silent until now opened his mouth.

“It seems pointless to continue. Will you still proceed?”

In that moment, he felt a surge of emotion.

Shame and anger rose simultaneously, and he shouted.

“Don’t look down on me!”

And at the same time, he cloaked his sword in super-hot flames and shrouded his body in wind, charging forward.

He used the wind to make his movements swifter and clad his sword in the energy of flames.

By doing this, his sword could exert power equivalent to a 4-star aura, and his movements would exceed the average speed of a 5-star knight.

According to the analysis from the Tower, fighting in close combat this way yielded a win rate of over 70 percent even against an ordinary 5-star knight.

“Take this!”

Having approached the opponent, he swung his sword down with force.

His sword, heavily imbued with flames, seemed about to slash the opponent's shoulder diagonally, but…

Kaaaaang!

“Keuk…”

A powerful counterattack, an upward slash from below, nullified his attack.

He gritted his teeth at the powerful counter, which almost made him lose his grip on the sword.

‘Brute force is all he has…’

But with the power of the wind Soul Weapon Sirius, he should have the advantage in speed.

So, for now, he would create some distance…

“Heok!”

When was it?

Antorius had closed in on him just as he thought he had backed away to create distance.

Then, his hand gently came to rest on his body.

“N… Nooo!”

“Farewell.”

And in the very next moment, a sound like a large drum bursting erupted.

Peeeeong!

Simultaneously, the opponent, who had received a powerful impact, was sent flying out of the arena and embedded into the wall.

“Antorius Denar wins!”

As the referee declared the victory, cheers erupted from the audience.

“Oh… ooooh…”

“Woooow! As expected of the three great powers.”

“Did you see that at the end?”

“He just touched him lightly, and the person went flying?”

“Is that a miracle of God?”

“Amazing. Truly amazing. How can he perform a miracle of God at such a young age?”

Among the excited people were the participants of Arcana themselves.

Of course, that included the representatives of the Atronia Kingdom.

“Incredible. The miracles of the Holy Knight Order are truly on another level.”

“It’s beyond common sense.”

“Mmm…”

Alex and the other colleagues were immersed in emotion, having witnessed a divine miracle firsthand.

Kalin, who seemed to have a deep faith, even watched Antorius descending from the stage with a reverent gaze.

And Patrick…

“Haa… what am I to do with these pathetic fools?”

He was looking at his colleagues with very pitying eyes.

To such a Patrick, Alex said.

“Why are you picking a fight again?”

“Rip out your eyes before you talk. A divine miracle, my ass.”

“You saw it too, didn't you? Just by touching the opponent, he sent him flying. Even after seeing that…”

Kwang!

Alex’s jaw dropped.

Patrick had shown him the exact same thing right in front of him.

He lightly brought his fist to the wall, and with a strong impact, a mark of destruction the size of a human head was left on the wall.

To Alex, who was staring blankly at the falling stone dust, Patrick said.

“This isn't a miracle, it's a technique, you pathetic humans.”

“…A technique?”

“Yeah. A miracle over a mere power emission? What nonsense.”

At Patrick’s indifferent words, the faces of Alex and the students turned bright red.

Inch-punch, power emission, penetrating force.

The types were varied, but the technique of ‘Power’ was a bare-handed technique widely spread throughout the Central Plains, regardless of school.

The principle was simply to project kinetic force at point-blank range to exert physical power.

The power varied depending on who used it, but the technique itself was something anyone could use with just the know-how.

“And you call that a miracle or the power of God. Tsk tsk tsk, such ignorant fools.”

Stab, stab, stab.

Daggers pierced the chests of Alex and the others who were called ignorant by Patrick.

What was this feeling of injustice, as if they had heard words they should never have heard from that bastard?

Do you know what was sadder?

The fact that, at this moment, they couldn't even refute Patrick's point.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

It seemed there was nothing as painful as being hit with facts.

Just then, Professor Leyte approached with a bitter smile and said.

“It’s no wonder you don’t know. That’s a bare-handed technique used by the priestesses of the temple in the Holy Theocracy.”

“Professor, you know of this?”

At Alex’s question, Professor Leyte nodded and said.

“As you all know, the priestesses of the temple are not permitted to use weapons.”

“Yes. We know that.”

Alex and his colleagues nodded like good students.

And Professor Leyte calmly continued his explanation.

“But they also need a means to protect themselves when they are active outside. So I heard they train in bare-handed martial arts.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s not common, but the priestesses who have trained their bare-handed martial arts to the extreme are called Monks.”

“Ahh… so there was such a thing.”

“They are not a common existence. I heard they are so rare that there are less than ten of them in the Theocracy.”

Hearing Professor Leyte’s explanation, Alex and his colleagues nodded as if they had learned something new.

At that sight, Leyte secretly clenched his fist, pleased with the fact that he had established his dignity as an educator for the first time in a while.

‘This is what you call experience, you brats.’

To such a Professor Leyte, Patrick spoke as if in admiration.

“Professor Leyte.”

“What is it, Sir Schneider?”

“You know, you sound just like a real professor.”

“……”

I am a real one, you bastard.

It was Professor Leyte, looking at a distant mountain and wiping away his tears.