Chapter 113: Anticipation is the Essence of a Gift (2)

If swordsmen had Aura Swords, then archers had Aura Arrows. Anis and Taragon had already demonstrated this today.

But the Aura Arrow Keter now nocked on his bowstring... was on an entirely different level. This was not a simple aura-infused arrow—it was an arrow of light.

Keter pulled the string lightly, then released it. A flash exploded across the field. At the exact moment Keter let go of the string, the Arrow Wings floating behind him all fired simultaneously.

Kaboom!!! Crash!!

The ground split apart, churning violently where the Aura Arrows tore through it. The Diamond-class and Amantir-class mercenaries, and Burgundy managed to dodge them and barely deflected the follow-up arrows.

However, the Platinum-class mercenaries could not handle the aftermath of the Aura Arrows. Although they weren’t hit directly, even the shockwave of the arrows that brushed past them was enough to make them fall to the ground.

Keter’s Aura Arrows had transcended the concept of arrows. They were siege weapons—ballista. Even the arrows suspended like wings behind him held deadly force, each one carrying enough power to kill.

Clang!

The Diamond-class mercenary’s sword shattered as he tried to block an arrow. In mere seconds, ten mercenaries had been wiped out.

Only two remained: one Amantir-class mercenary and Burgundy, the Orichalcum-class warrior.

“...A monster?”

“This... this can't be archery. This isn’t even human!”

The mercenaries watching trembled.

Anis and Taragon had thought Keter was a good fighter for an archer, but Keter had already surpassed the realm of archery itself.

Despite witnessing Keter’s overwhelming might, the Amantir-class mercenary and Burgundy didn’t lose their fighting spirit. They exchanged glances, then moved.

Tap, tap, tap, tap!

The Amantir-class mercenary dashed to the side, circling around, trying to aim for Keter’s blind spot. Meanwhile, Burgundy charged at him head-on.

Zzzzt!

Two Aura Arrows appeared on Keter’s bow. The string released, but there was no sound. However, the arrow was so fast that it didn’t leave a visible trace.

Burgundy saw the arrow coming straight at him and was shocked.

The arrow... is curving?!

The best way to block an arrow was to predict its trajectory. But this one was bending mid-air, making it impossible to predict.

I have to dodge it sideways!

Arrows moved in a straight line; even when shot in an arc, they ultimately followed a direct path. If Burgundy moved to the side, he could escape its trajectory. But with his path locked in a forward charge, even dodging a few inches was difficult. But he had to try.

Rrrip!

The sound of something being pierced rang out. But Burgundy wasn’t the one hit. It was the Amantir-class mercenary behind Keter.

How?

Burgundy thought back and remembered that Keter had shot two arrows, with one aimed at him. This meant that he had shot one at the Amantir-class mercenary.

Keter shot the arrows forward. How did his arrow hit someone behind him?

Burgundy came to understand this mystery after hearing the mercenaries watching shout in disbelief, “Fuck! Am I seeing things right now?! That arrow just made a U-turn! Twice!”

“Is it magic? Is Lord Keter a mage?”

“The magic that I know doesn’t work like that!”

Keter had fired an arrow in a straight line, but it had curved twice and hit the enemy behind him in the back. If the Amantir-class mercenary hadn’t used Aura Armor, he would’ve had a gaping hole in his abdomen.

The mercenary wasn’t dead, but he was completely incapacitated.

Now, only one opponent remained: Burgundy. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The other mercenaries were just as shocked.

From the moment they met Keter, they knew he wasn’t normal. He was a noble who fought barehanded and brawled with mercenaries.

But now, they understood. Keter wasn’t just reckless; he saw through everything. He seemed like he was doing things randomly and however he wanted, but every move was calculated.

“Where the hell did this monster come from...?”

Burgundy let out a long sigh and then dropped his sword. It wasn’t surrender.

“Keter. I’ll give it my all, too.”

Fwoosh...

A wave of aura ignited from Burgundy’s right hand and formed a blade.

It was an Aura Sword, the symbol of a Master.

Seeing that, Keter raised an eyebrow and shot an Aura Arrow. That one shot drew in the arrows in the Arrow Wing like a magnet and rained down on Burgundy.

It was one shot, but twenty arrows came from it—all aimed at Burgundy.

Burgundy, who had Aura Swords in both hands, stepped forward and swung three times. To the average eye, he had swung only three times, but it looked different to some. To a Diamond-class mercenary, it was nine times; to an Amantir-class, it was eighteen times; to Keter, it was thirty-eight.

Dozens of sword paths filled the air, painting the image of a wolf in the air. That wolf devoured the arrows. This was the technique that had made Burgundy an Orichalcum-class mercenary: Beast Flow Sword Dance.

Kaboom boom boom boom!

A wolf composed of thirty-eight slashes collided with twenty Aura Arrows. Sparks of aura exploded in every direction, raining down like blue embers.

Burgundy had deflected everything—the dozens of arrows and Keter’s Aura Arrows—but his entire body was numb.

His palms were bleeding, and his forehead dripped with sweat.

“Stomach,” Keter said calmly.

A chill ran down Burgundy’s spine. There was already another arrow on Keter’s bow, but it didn’t look like an arrow. The tip wasn’t sharp but round, and the shaft was long. The tip and the shaft were the same size and thickness. It looked more like a wooden stick rounded out at the edges but purely made of aura.

Crackle...

It wasn’t just aura—it was extremely compressed aura.

The arrow illuminated like a bolt of lightning, and it pulsed as if it was going to explode at any minute. It could no longer be called an arrow.

Keter pulled the string.

Burgundy’s heart pounded, not from fear, but from a warrior’s thrill.

“What’s that move called?”

Before he let go of the string, Keter answered, “Milky Way.”

Keter let go of the string. For an instant, sound disappeared. Only light exploded, filling the entire training grounds and turning the darkness of the night into daylight. Those watching could hear nothing but ringing in their ears. They couldn’t see anything because of the bright light.

Then, the light subsided, and the ringing in their ears stopped. Their eyes were red, but they could not take their eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of them.

A strip of blue light, symbolic of aura, cut through Keter and Burgundy. It twinkled in the night sky like stars.

The strip shot up from where Burgundy was standing. It then exploded, like fireworks, each path leaving a blue strip. It was beautiful. The light faded and disappeared, then burst into stardust. It was snow made of aura, created from Keter’s Milky Way and Burgundy’s Aura Sword.

Burgundy was blown back ten meters. A deep crack settled in the ground. His hands dripped blood, and his Aura Sword was gone.

Crack.

In the silence, Keter’s bow crumbled into dust and flew into the wind. The bow was unable to withstand the force of the shot.

“...”

“...”

Everyone looked at Keter differently. It was fear, past admiration.

The situation was tense, but Keter broke the silence.

“What are you staring at? Let’s eat, you bastards.”

And just like that—all the tension vanished.

* * *

The Sefira’s dining hall, large enough to seat over a hundred guests, had been transformed into a rowdy tavern for the night.

“Drink! Drink! Noblemen’s liquor is something else! I could drink this forever!”

“Hahaha! Eating noble cuisine—what a luxury!”

“Here, take a tip! Hahaha!”

Because Keter had given advance notice to Jacques, the food and alcohol had been prepared in abundance.

The mercenaries feasted, showering gold coins upon the servants serving their food and even tipping the chefs.

Among them sat Anis, Taragon, and Keter. Keter, in particular, was indulging like a beast, eating and drinking alongside the mercenaries.

“Eat as much as you want for the whole month—it’s all free!”

The word “free” sent the mercenaries into a frenzy.

“Keter! Keter!”

“Free! Free!”

“No noble in the Lillian Kingdom is as generous as you, my lord!”

“Then drink, you bastard!”

“Aye, my lord!”

Glug, glug, glug, glug!

Keter stood on the table, pouring a jug of wine down into the open mouths of the mercenaries. No one would believe that Keter was a nobleman. This looked more like a band of outlaws celebrating after a successful raid than a gathering in a noble’s estate.

Initially, the mercenaries had been wary of the request. The Sefira family had never once hired mercenaries, but they were asking for an endless number of them. If that was all the contract had stated this, no one would have come.

But the fact that it paid five times the standard payment and had the guarantee of Keter’s credit, backed by the regional director of the Lillian Kingdom Regional Mercenary Headquarters, made them come.

That second point was the most baffling. The mercenaries wondered who the hell Keter was that even the regional director vouched for him?

“Lord Keter! What’s your relationship with Director Marun?!”

One mercenary, emboldened by alcohol, asked Keter directly.

Keter waved him off.

“Listen, you idiot! Me and that guy—yeah! We eat together! We go to the damn bathhouse together! We do everything together!”[1]

It was the truth—from his past life, that is.

Even drunk, the mercenaries clapped in admiration.

“No wonder! I knew you weren’t just anyone the moment I saw you! You’re already connected to Marun himself!”

“Hohoho! Those fools who underestimated Sefira are as good as dead now!”

“My lord! Let me pour you a drink!”

“Can I call you Big Brother?!”

While the drunk mercenaries sweet-talked Keter, there was one table that didn’t match the mood. It sat in a gloomy silence, as if belonging to another world entirely. The food and wine on it remained almost untouched. It was where Taragon and Anis sat. Even the mercenaries avoided approaching them, as their expressions were too grim.

“Did you know?”

Taragon finally broke the silence, making Anis lift his head.

“Know what?”

“That Keter was

that

strong.”

“...I knew he was strong, but not

like that

.”

“Me too. I knew he was powerful... but I never imagined the gap was

this

wide.”

“Indeed...”

Silence again.

Anis chewed on jerky, while Taragon downed another glass of wine.

After a while, Taragon spoke again, “Anis.”

“What is it now?”

“What didju think of de Amantir-class mercenary?”

Taragon, who wasn’t good with alcohol, began to slur his words.

Anis set down his food with a darker expression and replied, “...I feel ashamed for ever looking down on mercenaries. They’re strong. So strong that my current self can’t even compare.”

“Hehehe, hearing dat frum you make me feel a bit better. I was almost crushed by despair.”

“And Keter took down that same Amantir-class mercenary with a single

arrow.”

“Keter say he only used aura. Dat means we can do it too, right?”

“We can’t even properly use Aura Arrows yet.”

“...”

Taragon drank again. He didn’t even bother with snacks anymore—just wine, glass after glass.

Thud!

His glass hit the table, and he wiped his mouth.

“What do you think Keter is? Who is dat guy?”

“It doesn’t matter now. Stop talking nonsense.”

“Nooo, Anisss, you hav’to question it. You saw it too, didn’t you? Keter’s archeryyy... To be frank... it’s better than Sefira’s Zodiac Archeryyy...”

“...Letting the alcohol control you. Fool. if you have something to say, say it sober.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But I want to get drunk today.”

“Hmph.”

Anis got up. The servant who was watching them asked where he was going.

“I just want a breath of fresh air. No need to follow me. Get my younger brother a cup of cold water.”

Anis had left the table. Taragon, now alone, grabbed his glass then set it down again. He had finished all the wine.

Clank!

A glass dropped onto the table. The glass overflowed with wine, staining the table purple.

Taragon raised his head.

“Instructor...”

“Instructor? What instructor? It’s Keter here.”

“...”

“Why are you looking away? Scared of me? Am I too strong for you?”

Keter, grinning, pulled out a chair and sat down.

Taragon stammered.

“N-No! It’s not that!

“Oh? So I’m not scary? Does that mean you think I’m weak?”

“No! That’s not what I meant either!”

Taragon frantically waved his hands.

Keter wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Live boldly, kid. Just because I’m fucking stronger than you right now doesn’t mean you should shrink away. Why? In the end, the one who survives isn’t the strongest; it’s the one who stays alive that’s the strongest. While we’re both still alive, no one can say who’s stronger in the end. Right, Big Brother?”

“B-Big Brother?!”

“Wanna call me Little Brother? I would like that.”

“No, no! I am older! I’m your Big Brother.”

“Then take this, Big Brother.”

Keter poured him another drink.

A wide smile appeared on Taragon’s face as Keter called him his big brother.

“S-sure, Little Brother.

He gulped it down. Taragon didn’t know until today that liquor could be this sweet. It was like eating spoonfuls of honey.

“Phew!”

“Big Brother, you held out well against Squad Two. But you got wrecked against Squad Three with that Amantir-class mercenary, huh?”

“Ah...”

The sweet taste of alcohol suddenly turned bitter. He had been drinking to forget his aura limitations, but Keter brought it up again.

“I’m just not good enough... but I’ll work hard.”

“No, it’s not about effort. How do you win when you don’t have enough aura?”

“...Right? I’m not the bad one, right?”

For technique and physical strength, one could expect a sharp rise if one trained to the extreme. However, aura was honest. No matter how much training or suffering one endured, there was always a limit.

Gaining a year’s worth of aura required a year of training. Depending on the type of techniques, the most one could get was double or triple that. Sefira’s aura cultivation gave one year and six month’s worth of aura from a year of training. To be frank, it was a mid-level aura cultivation technique.

However, it had an advantage no other aura cultivation techniques had: stability. Sefira’s aura cultivation was extremely stable, although no one acknowledged it much.

With two months left before the Sword of the South Tournament, Taragon could, at best, gain three or four months’ worth of aura.

Normally, thirty years’ worth of aura was needed to reach three-star, and fifty years’ worth of aura was needed to reach four-star.

Taragon used to only have sixteen years’ worth of aura, but now had twenty-one years’ worth after consuming the Pure Spirit Pellet, bringing him up to a two-star level. However, he still needed nine years’ worth to reach three-star.

At Sefira’s training speed, it would take six years, and Taragon knew that better than anyone. It was hopeless.

As Taragon sat there, drowning in the harsh reality of his limitations, a sweet, devilish whisper slipped into his ear.

“Elixirs for sale.”

1. This is a reference from Nameless Gangster, a famous Korean movie. ☜