Chapter 233: You Haven’t Heard The Rumor? (4)

Despite Hissop’s earlier anxiety, the party proceeded without a hitch.

“...When I was in a bloody fight with the Rock Ants, Lord Keter appeared. No, it was his arrow, to be exact. That one arrow killed the Rock Ants like common insects!”

All eyes were fixed on Orion, the self-proclaimed bastard son of the Browning family and a sword prodigy who hid a sword in his heart, as he regaled the assembled nobles with his tale.

“Alas! Unluckily, the Queen Rock Ant was there. Even Keter’s arrow—an arrow that can pierce armor harder than steel—couldn’t pierce the queen’s carapace. Not even a scratch! I thought then this may be the moment to draw my Mindsword, but I was wrong. It wasn’t us who were unlucky—the Queen Rock Ant was the unlucky one. When Lord Keter nocked his arrow, it wasn’t like any arrow I’d ever seen before.

Ahem!

My throat’s dry, excuse me a moment...”

Whether or not Orion was a true genius of swordsmanship, he certainly had a talent for storytelling. He deliberately paused the story to draw it out, milking the crowd’s attention.

There were plenty of other entertainments for the nobles who didn’t like listening to stories: a shooting stall that handed out prizes for hitting a ten-meter target, and even fireworks—the Sacred Order of Sefira fired arrows into sky lanterns, detonating the flash powder inside and creating a burst of colorful explosion.

“Ooooh! Oh ho ho!”

The nobles clapped like children. Sefira’s preparations were flawless. Of course, it was actually Ultima, Veiga, and Daat who had come up with these ideas; all Sefira had done was simply accept and execute those plans.

“Archery turned into a circus act?! Are we trying to make the Sefira family into a traveling troupe?”

Panir objected fiercely, but Reganon persuaded him.

“It’s not clowning. It’s a demonstration of archery’s greatness. That could attract nobles who want to join the order.”

“The technique could be leaked...!

“We showed everything at the Southern Sword Tournament already—there’s nothing to fear.”

“...Just this once, then!”

This was Sefira’s first social party and their first archery exhibition. There was nothing to dislike for the nobles, many of whom were seeing all this for the first time. On top of that, the picky guests were being watched and managed down to the last detail by Sefira’s family and vassals.

Panir and Reganon were handling the Old Nobles’ Circle; Myle and Anis kept the marriageable young ladies entertained; and Sefira’s knights took charge of the hot-blooded, ex-knight nobles with an arm-wrestling competition.

Meanwhile, Krona, the Lord of the West and an expert in space-time magic, and Daat had entered the tent over an hour ago, but they still weren’t out yet. Princess Iris had taken a walk around Sefira’s scenic grounds with Veiga, but feeling that it wasn’t enough, he produced another attraction.

“Have you ever tried pudding, Your Royal Highness?”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a dessert developed by the royal chef of Belfario, the kingdom of gourmets. We’ve invited that chef to make it here. Please try it.”

The famed chef of Belfario, whom they had spent tens of thousands of gold on, was making desserts live in front of the guests. Not just the princess, but other young ladies gathered around in curiosity. Everyone in Sefira prepared as one, united by the hope of buying time in case Keter was late.

Even the helping hands loved Sefira and were fiercely loyal, so they were doing their utmost to ensure there were no mistakes in the hospitality. If everything continued the same way, everyone felt confident they could hold out for three more hours. Then suddenly...

“Wait! So when exactly is Lord Keter going to show up?!” a drunken shout rang out across the party.

* * *

Volus, the eldest son of the Bydent family and the apparent heir, was a top surveillance target for Sefira. Yet for some reason, he sat quietly in a corner, sipping his wine.

What’s this? Is he just going to watch?

Even as time passed without a sign that Volus would do anything, everyone from Sefira did... not let down its guard.

He must be trying to lull us into a false sense of security.

Instead, they watched Volus’ every move with even wider, sharper eyes.

Volus, who had the glare of a dozen knightly orders upon him, quietly sipped his wine in a corner.

Lucas wine, twenty-year vintage... a decent choice, neither cheap nor pretentious. Well played, Sefira.

There was nothing malicious in Volus’ gaze as he scanned the party grounds.

They prepared carefully and thoroughly. They even won over those hostile nobles. And above all...

He glanced at the tent where the Krona was, then at Princess Iris, who was sampling the pudding.

Where did this Daat come from? Why is Veiga, the son of one of the Masters of Swordsmanship, helping Sefira? And, most important of all: where did the massive sum of money to build this party come from?

A vein bulged on Volus’ forehead, who was remaining expressionless.

Sefira... You’re trying so hard to survive. You’re tenacious but, as expected, still sloppy.

Others might have been willing to let it slide, but Volus could not accept that Keter was absent. That didn’t mean Volus would do something himself; he wasn’t ignorant like the other nobles. Instead, he gave a signal to a man nearby.

The man took the cue, downing a gulp of strong whiskey.

“Wait! So when exactly is Lord Keter going to show up?!” he roared at the top of his lungs.

The shout cut through the music and lively chatter. It naturally drew everyone’s attention.

The alcohol and the promise of a hefty payout from Volus made the man bold enough to begin stirring the crowd.

“Isn’t it strange? They are dragging things out and stalling. The guest of honor is Lord Keter, yet he hasn’t even shown his face. Isn’t that odd?”

His breath stank of liquor, and his cheeks were flushed, but his words were nothing but logical.

The faces of the entertained nobles began to change. Hissop felt a chill.

Volus, you bastard.

Volus sat perfectly still, but Hissop knew that the only person who could have instigated such a stunt was him.

When Volus and Hissop’s eyes met, Volus raised his glass and smiled. Though furious, Hissop couldn’t act rashly. If he tried to shut it down now, he would only draw more attention to the issue. But he couldn’t simply do nothing either—he was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Damn it, damn it!

Hissop bit his lip until it bled as he realized he had fallen for Volus’ scheme.

Why did I assume Volus would act? I should have anticipated this situation as well...!

Hissop scrambled for an answer: what could he do right now to steer the crowd’s attention away from the issue?

No. Deflecting the topic would only look like a feeble excuse.

While Hissop floundered, Myle stepped forward.

“He’s right. Keter is rather late.”

“...!”

Myle stepped forward in agreement with the agitator’s words. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to him as he acted like the spokesperson for the family. Myle calmly met their gazes.

“How do you picture Keter? Speaking as his older brother, I’ll tell you: Keter does whatever he wants.”

As Myle began slandering Keter, the nobles stayed quiet and stared at him with interest.

“He’s headstrong and reckless, doing whatever he pleases without listening to me. But!”

Myle paused to make eye contact with each and every one of the nobles—even briefly with Princess Iris—then continued.

“He always keeps his promises. I swear in my heart that though Keter may be late, he will appear at this party... Still, it won’t undo the damage to the evening’s mood.”

Seeing Myle prepare something, the nobles’ expectations began to grow. The question of Keter’s whereabouts was long gone.

“I’ll show you something only for those present: the bridge duel, Sefira’s traditional training drill.”

The bridge duel was a training method where archers fought each other on a narrow bridge. It wasn’t on the program for this evening, but Hissop had caught on quickly and sent two holy knights to stand by Myle.

“An archer’s drill? I’m intrigued.”

“A duel? Does that mean they’ll fight?”

There was nothing a crowd loved more than a fight. As excitement rippled through the nobles...

“Enough of this idle chatter,” said a heavy, chilling voice.

A man strode toward Myle, and the nobles split to make a path.

Myle kept his composure and called the man’s name.

“Lord Vector of Browning.”

“I won’t mince my words. I’m here to shatter Sefira’s archery,” Vector stated his purpose bluntly, glaring at Myle like a beast. “The patience ends now. Bring Keter. He’s here somewhere in Sefira, isn’t he?”

Myle couldn’t lie and say Keter was present; he feared Vector would then search Sefira from top to bottom. At that moment...

“I don’t understand why you bother looking for Keter, Vector.”

...a man approached Vector, his tone disrespectful.

“Taragon...!”

Taragon, now armed with a portable crossbow, stepped in front of Vector.

“Keter doesn’t need to handle someone like you. I can do it myself.”

“You dare speak to me like that? Do you know who I am?”

“You insulted Myle, my older brother, first. And we are from comparable master families. What’s the problem?”

“You’re at best a three-star, and you think you can...? Hah. My sword shows no mercy.”

“Good. My arrow doesn’t stop either.”

Sparks of tension crackled as Vector and Taragon locked eyes. The nobles watched the standoff with hungry interest. Hissop and Myle exchanged glances

What shall we do, Hissop?

Stand back. Right now... we have to trust Taragon.

Myle gave Taragon a look, to which he gave a thumbs-up.

Trust me, Myle.

Vector was known as a five-star warrior. A three-star like Taragon beating him seemed unlikely, but strength wasn’t everything.

Myle stepped aside. The crowd made a wide circle, forming an impromptu arena.

Vector backed away, saying, “Whatever happens, don’t blame me.”

“I’ll make you cry like a kid,” Taragon shot back.

The two backed away and faced each other. Even so, the distance was far too close for archers, but Taragon didn’t take issue with it.

Voong...

An Aura Sword appeared on the back of Vector’s right hand.

Vector, who used the Four-Sword Style, fought with wrist swords instead of regular swords. However, he only drew one of his four swords. The message was clear: one sword would be enough to handle Taragon.

Click!

Meanwhile, Taragon loaded a crossbow bolt cartridge into the crossbow mounted on his wrist.

“I’ll save you from your arrogance,” he said.

“...?”

The nobles watched the unfamiliar crossbow with curiosity, and Vector treated it with contempt. That was when Taragon pulled out a portable ballista strapped to his back and fired a bolt straight at Vector.

The motion was smooth and fast, but still slow enough for Vector to react. He could have dodged, but a swordsman dodging an arrow was considered shameful.

Should I block it straight on...? Huh?!

A sudden urge to dodge flashed through Vector. The bolt that Taragon had wasn't ordinary; it was far larger than expected, about as thick as a man’s forearm.

Clang!!

Vector, who prized his dignity, conjured an Aura Sword and met the bolt head-on.

Crack! Whoosh!

He managed to stop it, but the impact shattered his Aura Sword and sent shards flying. Blood streamed down his face.

Clink!

Taragon calmly reloaded the massive ballista bolt and leveled it again.

“I’d be grateful if you kept fighting me with one sword.”

* * *

Vector, having sampled the portable ballista, Sefira’s new weapon, gave up his stubbornness in a single instant. Two Aura Swords sprouted from his wrists—this was the Two-Sword Style.

Taragon acted like he was going to fire the ballista again, but instead slung it back onto his back and began firing the crossbow on his wrist.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh!

Unlike conventional crossbows that had to be reloaded every single time, Sefira’s crossbow could spit dozens of bolts in succession. Although the design was unfamiliar, Vector blocked it admirably.

Clang clang clang!!

Vector, whose arm was practically a sword, batted away the bolts with the minimum motion required and closed the distance on Taragon, but Taragon wasn’t standing still either; he was constantly moving while launching bolts. The circular arena had already collapsed; the onlookers stepped far back to avoid getting drawn into the fight.

Meanwhile, a frown formed on Vector’s face as he couldn’t seem to close the distance.

A crossbow that fires automatically... Its power hasn’t dropped at all either. And to be that accurate while running... He trained with that for a while.

Nobody had seen Taragon use a crossbow at the Sword of the South Tournament, which implied he had been training with the weapon for less than a month.

Yet his skill level is pretty good. Not bad, Taragon. You used a weapon to erase the gap in strength.

However, Taragon was inexperienced. Bolts weren’t infinite. The ability to fire many in succession was impressive, but eventually the magazine would run dry.

Now!

Click.

As Taragon went to swap in a fresh cartridge, Vector took that opportunity and accelerated.

“So sloppy.”

At that moment, Taragon sneered at Vector, and Vector instinctively raised both hands to protect his head.

Clang clang clang!!!

The crossbow now seemed to be firing without bolts, but Taragon was actually using bolts made of aura. A bolt overlaid with aura couldn’t damage an Aura Sword, but a bolt formed entirely of aura could.

Splatter!

Vector’s clothing tore, and the sick sound of flesh being cut rang out. Taragon had exploited Vector’s complacency—the assumption that Taragon wouldn’t be able to attack without a real bolt.

“You’re the best at being cocky, Taragon.”

Vector’s anger bled into his voice as he stretched both hands out, even though he was still out of reach of Taragon. This was the Browning Two-Sword Style: Blond Cut; what had been a one-meter wrist sword extended tenfold to ten meters, aiming for Taragon’s left arm.

“I’ll take that left arm.”

Taragon seemed not to expect Vector’s Aura Sword to extend ten meters and failed to respond. At this rate, his left arm was sure to be severed.

The nobles watching screamed at what Taragon did next.

“Aaahhh!!”

“H-he’s insane!”

Taragon bent forward. Instead of his left arm, he offered his head,

“...?!”

Vector was also shocked. All he wanted to do was sever Taragon’s arm, but Taragon suddenly thrusting his head forward had thrown him off. If his sword continued down that path, Taragon would be decapitated and die.

How could he be this crazy?!

That wasn’t what Vector wanted. He didn’t want Taragon dead, and plus, this was supposed to be a duel.

“Agh!”

Vector was forced to change his attack path and cut off a chunk of Taragon’s hair instead. The sudden change faltered his stance, and Taragon seized the opportunity: he rolled forward to close the gap and aimed his ballista at him.

“Checkmate.”

Taragon aimed it at Vector’s completely unguarded face. Unlike Vector, who had tried not to kill, it was clear that Taragon was prepared to kill Vector. Vector could see it in his eyes.

He’s serious.

Vector sensed in Taragon a genuine intent to kill him, and, without realizing it, activated a technique.

Swish.

Taragon’s portable ballista was sliced away, and blood spurted from his finger. With Vector’s stance completely ruined, how had he managed to strike Taragon? The secret was in his legs.

“So that's the Four-Sword Style?!”

“I wondered how he uses the Four-Sword Style. The secret was in his legs!”

Leg swords: Vector created Aura Swords on both arms and both legs and fought with them as a Four-Sword style.

Freed from danger, Vector used his technique with a furious expression.

Four-Sword Style: Playful Rampage.

An impossible number of sword aura rained down over Taragon. With nowhere to dodge, Taragon wrapped himself in Aura Armor, but that was what ended the match.

“You’re annoying.”

Vector’s Four-Sword Style slammed into Taragon’s face.

Four-Sword Style: Hand-Leg Blossom.

Swords from both of Vector’s arms and both legs pierced Taragon at once. His Aura Armor tore like paper, and blood sprayed. It looked like the end, and the onlookers believed the match was decided. However, Taragon refused to yield.

Whack!

Taragon slammed himself into Vector, but he blocked with his palm.

“Give it up. I cut the tendons in your wrist. If you don’t get treatment now, you’ll never use it again,” Vector murmured.

“Screw you.”

“What?!”

Taragon spat a rough insult like a mercenary and swung. Vector scowled.

“Stubborn as ever. You’re only shortening your own life now.”

Stabbing Taragon more with the Aura Sword would lead to a fatal injury; since the match was effectively decided, Vector retracted his Aura Sword and began punching Taragon.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh!

Staggering, Taragon couldn’t block or dodge and took the blows. Bruises and blood covered his face and body, and a dangerous amount of blood sprayed everywhere.

“The duel is ove...” Vector shouted toward Hissop.

However...

Thud!

Taragon, who’d been staggering, charged with a drop kick. Vector blocked it, but staggered two steps back.

Covered in blood and mud, Taragon rose and said, “I could... do this all day.”

“Both you and Sefira are insane.”

Seeing no one from Sefira stopping the fight and Taragon’s will to fight to the death, Vector felt a chill down his spine.

“If you want to die, fine. Die with honor.”

Voong..

Vector formed an Aura Sword in his left hand and drove it toward Taragon’s neck. Taragon also charged and swung his right hand. Neither planned to dodge. As the nobles watched, not even breathing or blinking...

Pitter patter!

Both people stopped, but not by their own will. Someone had appeared between them and saved Taragon; it was a silver-haired man wearing a white mask.

No, this man didn’t only save Taragon.

Vector swallowed hard. An arrow condensed with aura had stopped right in front of his neck. Taragon hadn’t been unarmed—he had concealed an arrow in his right arm and had been about to drive it into his neck. If the masked man hadn’t appeared to block it...

Both Taragon and I would have been dead.

Vector couldn’t accept that. He had been on the verge of utter victory, and now it was a draw. His outrage focused on the masked man who had stepped in.

“Who are you, scoundrel? How dare you intrude on a sacred duel like this!”

Vector rumbled his presence with great force. His presence as one of the strongest five-star Masters unsettled the atmosphere. But the masked man who had appeared out of nowhere remained nonchalant.

“Don’t you know who I am? You haven’t heard the rumors?”

“You’re wearing a mask. How would I kno...”

Wham! Crash!

The masked man’s fist hit Vector squarely in the face. Vector flew several meters and smashed into a table. In the blink of an eye, the masked man pinned Vector’s chest with his foot as he tried to rise.

“I’m the crazy one in this family.”