Chapter 166: Do You Feel The Difference in Power? (5)

The Undead were monsters that symbolized necromancers. The appearance of them was never a matter to be taken lightly. By nature, the Undead were immortal. The concept of vital points didn’t apply to them; even if killed, they would simply rise again.

Such Undead were not commonly seen. Though classified as monsters, they were not born through reproduction but created solely by dark mages. Due to centuries of persecution and purging, dark mages, especially necromancers, the most dangerous of them all, had become nearly impossible to find. So news of a necromancer’s appearance was hard to believe.

“Undead, you say... Are there witnesses?” Myle asked, and Katherine nodded.

“There are quite a few people who claim to have seen skeleton soldiers, not just one or two people. Some of the witnesses include knights and nobles.”

“If multiple credible people saw actual skeleton soldiers, then this is serious. Shouldn’t the tournament be halted and the city swept for the necromancer?”

“It’s not over yet. Apparently, something else happened too.”

Katherine pointed toward a section of the noble seating area.

“My lord, do you see those empty seats scattered around?”

“Hmm...”

Myle squinted. As Katherine said, there were indeed empty spots. However, he wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t pointed them out. After all, most of the nobles didn’t interest him.

“This is another rumor, but apparently a few nobles have gone missing as well.”

“Missing?”

“Yes. Because the Undead sighting overlaps with this, there’s a disturbing rumor going around that a dark mage is kidnapping people and turning them into Undeads.”

“If all that’s true, then no wonder the nobles are so on edge. I get it now... but...” Myle said, pressing his temple, clearly getting a headache. “It shouldn’t just stop at nobles being on edge. Undead have appeared in the city, and nobles have gone missing. Shouldn’t the city be locked down and the perpetrator hunted immediately?”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to find out why that’s not happening yet.”

Katherine had asked the guards and knights directly that if these incidents were happening, why they weren’t informing the public or taking control. Their answers were always the same.

“I don’t know. I’m just following orders.”

Though Katherine had uncovered the reason behind why the nobles were so tense, it only made Myle just as uneasy.

“Should we even be sitting here like this right now?”

He didn’t feel an immediate personal threat. But Myle could finally sense for himself the uneasy atmosphere in the city. It felt like a warning sign—like something big was about to erupt.

But doing something that would draw everyone’s attention while others remained seated was not easy. Katherine and Myle, both rational thinkers, couldn’t understand the nobles’ inaction, yet they too found it difficult to act on their own.

That was the norm. He might have done something already if he had been alone, but in a crowd, people were heavily influenced by those around them. Even when they knew something was wrong, if no one spoke up, they would stay silent.

It was a false sense of security—that nothing could possibly happen in a city under the direct rule of one of the Four Lords. They all took on a conservative attitude, waiting for someone else to act first; if they acted first and things went wrong, they would be the ones to blame.

Myle, lacking experience with such crowd psychology, couldn’t bring himself to take action despite feeling the growing dissonance.

Crash!!!

A sharp sound rang in his ears. Rajis and Henya’s duel had reached its peak. The tide of battle showed Henya pressing the attack, while Rajis calmly dismantled her offenses. Henya’s twin swordsmanship, sharpened through Keter’s advice, had pushed Rajis to the brink. But Rajis’s responses were flawless. He didn’t force a dodge or counter. He simply defended, completely unshaken.

Growing impatient, Henya finally made a bold move, and Rajis, as if waiting for it, struck back. He won the battle of patience. Now the tide had turned, and Rajis began his counterattack.

His swordsmanship, Flawless Immortal Raiment, was, true to its name, perfection. It was fast, heavy, sharp, and unpredictable—a combination of every advantage of swordplay, with no apparent weaknesses. Rajis was especially skilled at feints. Henya was repeatedly thrown off by these, unable to break out of her defensive posture.

Realizing she couldn’t win with twin swords alone, Henya began using her advanced footwork technique: Flashing Lightning Step.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

She blitzed around the wide arena, aiming from all sides. Her speed was undeniable, but the reason why swordsmen didn’t learn Agile Footwork became clear.

“You are moving faster, but your sword has grown slower,” Rajis said coolly. “I may not be able to match that speed, but I have no reason to try.”

He didn’t bother chasing Henya. He knew that eventually she would have to close in to strike, and he would block her then. Once he knew the direction, defending wasn’t difficult.

Unlike Rajis, who remained in one spot, Henya was constantly on the move, naturally burning stamina and aura at a much faster rate.

“

Huff, huff...

”

Eventually, her sprinting stopped. Her disheveled hair alone was enough to show her exhaustion.

Rajis slowly raised his sword and said, “Lady Henya, do not despair. Your twin swordsmanship and movement techniques rival my own Flawless Immortal Raiment. It’s only that, in the confines of this ring, my technique had the advantage. If we were on a battlefield, the result could have been different.”

“Don’t act like the victor. The match isn’t over yet.”

𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

“Allow me to end it, then.”

Rajis raised his sword, striking the sky. Then, an overwhelming pressure pierced the arena shield and weighed down on the entire coliseum. It was Flawless Immortal Raiment: Dull Sword. The slowest, yet unavoidable sword in the world, descended toward Henya.

Looking up at it, a wave of complex emotions washed over Henya.

I can’t block it. I can’t dodge it either.

She didn’t want to admit it, but her genius instincts told her that this was a certain defeat. Losing here meant she would enter the semifinals losers’ bracket. If she won there, she would place third. If she lost again, she would finish fourth.

It’s meaningless. If I don’t place second in the team tournament, even if I beat Keter and win first in the individual tournament, I still won’t be first.

If either Keter or Rajis took first or second place in the team event, Henya’s placement wouldn't matter—she wouldn’t be the victor.

I won’t become the Sword of the South...

She had no regrets about her fight, as she gave it her all. But still, she felt like crying. She wasn’t losing anything right now, but by not becoming the Sword of the South, she feared she wouldn’t be able to protect Wid.

Still, I won’t give up, not on the tournament, not on protecting Wid...!

Knowing it was futile, Henya still threw everything she had into one final strike with her twin swords toward Rajis’s descending Dull Blade.

* * *

Henya, who had resisted against the Dull Blade, ultimately collapsed with severe injuries. Enraged, her teammates rushed at Rajis, who was now exhausted, but he wasn’t alone either. His teammates defended him, and once Rajis regained his strength, he swiftly defeated all three of them, securing a spot in the finals.

Thus, the final two teams were decided: Keter and Rajis would face off in the championship match—a result the audience had long awaited. The knights of Group A, who had already finished their matches, and the knights of Group B, scheduled to fight the next day, mostly favored Rajis.

“If we’re just looking at destructive power, Sir Keter has the edge, but when it comes to technical mastery, no one compares to Sir Rajis’ Flawless Immortal Raiment.”

“Neither the Sword Witch nor the Red Wolf had any real weight behind their swordplay. That’s why they couldn’t withstand Keter’s powerful arrows. But the Sword Dragon is different—he has strong swordsmanship that they lacked. I think he’ll be able to break through those arrows.”

“As long as he can get close, I believe Sir Rajis will win.”

Of course, not everyone was betting on Rajis.

“You’re missing the point. Keter isn’t just an archer. Did you forget how he deflected all of the Sword Witch’s twin sword techniques in close combat?”

“And he’s using techniques that are practically magic. No one can match Sir Keter in terms of unpredictability.”

“Hmm... Certainly, Rajis’s combat style leans more toward thorough offense and defense rather than unpredictability or variability. Will Keter’s unorthodox style be enough to break through that? I think it’s possible.”

Meanwhile, the nobles were watching the finals from a different perspective.

“Whoever wins this final is almost guaranteed to place in the top three in the individual tournament too, unless something drastic happens. One of them will become the Sword of the South.”

“If Keter becomes the Sword of the South, Sefira’s political position will change dramatically.”

“He won’t be called the Sword of the South, more like the Bow of the South.”

“Hm, I want to stop that as a swordsman.”

The nobles allied with Galahind were equally frustrated.

“Damn it! Nothing’s working!”

They had tried poisoning Keter with a poisoned elixir, but he found out. They had hidden a group of three-star assassins in the waiting room, but they failed miserably. Even Regan, their most trusted warrior, had been taken down with a single arrow. As such, Galahind's patience had completely worn out.

“Pashian is our last hope... Damn it, Keter, you’ve lived too long!”

Galahind handed Pashian something stronger than the Rage Potion: the Rage Elixir. The creator of this elixir swore that a three-star knight could gain the might of a five-star Master, and a five-star would gain the power of a six-star Grandmaster. Of course, the side effects were far more severe.

Initially, Pashian refused outright.

“You know our relationship is not founded on absolute loyalty, my lord. I will not destroy my own future for this tournament.”

It was a firm refusal, but Galahind had no one else left to rely on. He couldn't back down after all he had suffered from Keter.

“Your future... I will take full responsibility for it. Even if you lose, I will guarantee the future of your children’s children. I believe that should be good enough.”

“Hmm...”

“I’ll even give you my silver mine. That should seal it.”

“The silver mine...!”

While not as valuable as gold, silver was still a precious resource. As it was almost a necessity in alchemy, there was an eternal demand for it, even after centuries.

“If you sign the contract with Infinite Bank, I will gladly drink the Rage Elixir.”

“Excellent. But you must give it your all. Use that Martial Spirit of yours to take Keter down.”

“I already planned to.”

Both Galahind and Pashian believed the power of the Rage Elixir combined with the Martial Spirit would be enough.

It was risky, especially since the longer and more specific the declaration, the harsher the penalty if broken. Still, Pashian didn’t hesitate. When he faced Keter in the individual tournament, the upcoming third round, he was ready to stake his entire life as a swordsman and use Martial Spirit.

I probably won’t be able to wield a sword ever again... but with a silver mine, I don’t have to fight to survive.

He could simply pass down his aura cultivation techniques, Martial Spirit, and swordsmanship to his descendants. However, noble status and immense wealth—those were things not easily obtained by any means, and they were exactly the life Pashian longed for above all else.

If I lay the foundation and pass it down... I could even seize the Galahind family someday.

Pashian had trained solely for his ambition, and that was why he signed up for this tournament. He didn’t think this was the end of the road, but his resolve was now set.

I’ll risk everything and kill Keter.

As Pashian’s determination strengthened, the Group A finals were about to begin.

“It’s Rajis!”

“Sir Rajis! He’s...not exactly handsome, but he’s cool!”

“At least wear a helmet!”

The crowd cheered as Team Rajis entered the arena. Then, it was Team Keter’s turn to walk up, but something was off.

“Woohoo! Keter! Kete... wait, where’s Keter?”

“Why are there only three of them?”

Only three team members stepped onto the ring. It was Team Keter, but Keter was missing.

“He’s probably just running a little late.”

“Let’s wait a bit, please.”

Keter’s teammates tried to calm the crowd with careless statements. It seemed like they also didn’t know why he was late. But five minutes passed... then ten.

“...”

As the wait dragged on, the referee finally stepped in.

“According to the rules, we can only wait ten minutes. Please bring Sir Keter from the waiting room immediately.”

“Understood.”

One of his teammates rushed to Keter’s private waiting room. It didn’t even take three minutes for him to return.

“What? Why are you back by yourself?”

“When is the match starting?!”

The audience’s irritation filled the stadium.

The flustered teammate finally said, “Sir Keter wasn’t there... but there was a note.”

“A note? Are you saying he just disappeared and left a note? That makes no sense.”

“Let me see it,” said the referee.

He took the note. It was a small slip of paper, barely enough space to write a few words. It was written in elegant cursive.

The referee read, “Have the finals without me...?”

Shocked, everyone turned to look at each other, blinking in disbelief.