1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

141. Oh, Erucel (3)

The arena began to fill with the roar of the crowd.

It was an unexpected turn of events, and those who had bet against the odds erupted in cheers.

The first-year students of Adel Academy watched with wide eyes, marveling at the unusual sight of Erucel.

“I’ve never seen anything like that in a duel.”

—

“Indeed. That alone was quite the blunder…”

Watching this unfold, I too felt a flicker of confusion.

His movements appeared far smoother than when he had dodged my attacks at the end of our training.

‘…That fellow. Wasn’t he supposed to be less capable than this?’

‘It’s thanks to his mental composure. He’s reacting instantly by observing the enemy’s movements.’

Is that what Donathan meant?

‘Because he learned to endure the pain of being hit harder when he fled, he’s now adapted to take less damage.’

‘Exactly, Hessel. By not retreating on purpose, he’s corrected his habits while taking light hits.’

If he steps back, he faces a strong blow.

If he doesn’t step back, he receives a lighter one.

By attempting to evade with minimal movement, he’s been gently corrected in his actions.

The very notion of fleeing has diminished, allowing him the luxury of cold, rational thought about how to evade.

Yet, it was not a phenomenon easily accepted.

‘No matter how you slice it, can a person really change that much in a single day?’

When I asked, incredulous, Donathan replied.

‘He was already refined by that old man, Kouloran. All we did was lift the lid off a completed dish.’

With that, I found myself understanding.

After all, the man once known as the Sword King of the South was his master.

…Hmm, Kouloran must have had quite the struggle.

That old man had surely done everything he could.

Still, the reason that fellow remained as he was until now was that there were realms even Kouloran could not mend.

Overcoming his fear of Hessel was ultimately a problem he had to resolve himself.

“Damn it, if I had known it would come to this, I would have bet on it…”

Once again, Eruzel effortlessly dodged Meldon’s attack.

* * *

Eruzel evaded the relentless onslaught with an indifferent gaze, weaving this way and that. Meldon, unable to contain himself, lashed out with his wooden sword.

“Are you just going to keep dodging!!”

Eruzel did not hear his words.

Only the teachings of Kouloran echoed in his ears.

—Ah, don’t run away! My swordsmanship is designed to corner the target; how many times must I say it for you to understand?

The old man’s swordsmanship was rooted in standing tall, defending with minimal movement.

Like a rock, steadfast, he slowly invaded the opponent’s territory, pressing forward.

To do so, one must not evade; the attack must be met with the blade.

—”Block it with a sound! Let the sword in your hand resonate with the impact. In that state, let your aura flow. Imagine capturing the recoil with your aura.”

The technique of the Dark Force Sword was to absorb the opponent’s strength and make it one’s own.

Eruzel lifted his sword, taking his stance.

Crack!

He clashed with the blade aimed at his head, beautifully parrying Meldon’s vertical strike.

Eruzel stepped in closer. Meldon, wiping the beads of sweat from his face, hastily swung a horizontal cut.

Eruzel gripped the wooden sword wide, as if holding a long spear.

Crack!

Meldon’s attack was deflected by the vertically held wooden sword.

As he stepped back, his eyes trembling, Eruzel spoke in a calm voice.

“I hope that wasn’t your full strength.”

Meldon’s veins bulged with anger.

His patience was thin; he could not simply brush off the arrogant words of a first-year student.

‘Has he lost his wits over a mere spar?’

Originally, he had only intended to break a few limbs.

If it came to killing, the professor overseeing the match would surely intervene.

But at that moment, Professor Gomon stood in a position where he could only see Eruzel’s back.

Even if he poured all his strength into a lethal strike, it was clear he would not be able to react in time.

‘Let me show him that even a wooden sword can kill.’

Meldon concentrated his entire aura into the blade.

A sharp aura flared up around the wooden sword. With all his might, Meldon swung the sword toward Eruzel’s side.

It was the moment he lifted his head to witness the expression of impending doom on his opponent’s face.

Ping!

Eruzel’s eyes sparkled as he launched an attack toward the sword, as if he had aimed for it from the very beginning.

Crack!

The wooden sword shattered. Meldon’s sword.

‘Huh?’

Meldon’s mind became a tangled web.

‘To break a sword imbued with aura?’

That phrase meant the opponent possessed greater reserves of aura and was more adept in its manipulation.

Yet, there was no time left to ponder.

Eruzel’s strike did not cease; it flowed on, relentless.

‘Un, unbreakable!’

Meldon hastily encircled himself with the unbreakable. Even so, his right arm shattered. The shock reverberated through his torso, disrupting even his core.

“Cough…”

Blood erupted from his lips. Meldon’s vision filled with a crimson storm before consciousness slipped away.

Thud.

Eruzel looked down at the unconscious Meldon and spoke softly.

“If the professor had not halted my blade, you would be dead.”

The shadow blade absorbed the opponent’s strength, merging it with its own before unleashing it in a single, deadly strike.

Had it not been for that, Meldon’s spine would have been shattered.

Eruzel shifted his gaze from Meldon to Professor Gomon.

The professor, with a dazed expression, lowered the staff he had aimed and shouted.

“The victor is Eruzel Ben Tenest. This match belongs to him!”

Cheers erupted at the emergence of a new champion.

“I won fivefold!”

“Ahaha, that Meldon b*stard. I’ve always disliked him for looking down on people; serves him right!!”

They seemed to be those who had won money from gambling and others who bore grudges against Meldon…

In the midst of it all, Professor Gomon approached and whispered.

“Hey, you nearly caused a murder here. No matter how much he tried to kill you, you shouldn’t have gone that far.”

“…I-I’m sorry. I’m still not accustomed to the technique.”

“Be careful next time. Ahem, anyway, well done. I’ve been hoping these unruly ones would get a good scolding someday.”

“Excuse me?”

Eruzel found the professor’s reaction puzzling.

He had only ever seen the professors dote on them.

As a professor himself, he must have been among those who favored them.

“I know because I graduated ten years ago; when you’re coddled in the academy, you can become so arrogant that you might end up dead outside. I hope these kids can get their act together after this.”

Professor Gomon, who spoke thus, did not seem to harbor a deep disdain for them.

Though he was strict, it felt as if he secretly wished for their success.

Eruzel raised his right hand, snatched away from Gomon, high into the air.

Amidst the swelling cheers, questions rained down.

“You lot are really trying to seize the Ten, aren’t you?”

“Are you truly planning to drive us out?”

It was true; they aimed to take control of the Ten.

They had to tear apart the nonsensical rules that bound them.

Eruzel swallowed hard, preparing to respond loudly.

In that moment, attention shifted to a glimmering golden head.

As Eruzel fixed his gaze there, others turned their heads as well.

‘That man? What is he plotting now…?’

Hersel pushed through the crowd, ascending the steps of the arena. Mircel followed closely behind.

“What, what are you all doing? Right now.”

Hersel ignored Eruzel’s words and clapped him on the shoulder.

“For the first time in your life, I’m proud of you, my brother.”

“I’m proud of you too, Third Brother.”

Mircel mimicked Hersel’s tone, thumping his thigh.

Eruzel felt a surge of anger.

The very people who usually regarded him as a pest were suddenly showering him with praise.

And weren’t they the demons who had mercilessly beaten him for two days straight?

“Tch.”

Eruzel clicked his tongue, and Hersel scanned the audience. His chilling gaze silenced them all.

Seemingly satisfied with the quiet, Hersel nodded and spoke in a low, resonant voice.

“Did someone ask if we’re trying to seize the Ten? Yes, we intend to strip them of their power.”

A hand shot up, eager to inquire.

“Then, when is the next contest for it?”

Everyone swallowed hard, their eyes fixed on Hersel’s mouth.

The corners of his lips twisted upward.

“Everything is already arranged, so why trouble the professors?”

The murmurs of the crowd began to swell. One by one, as if sensing something amiss, their eyes widened.

“The arrangements have been made…”

“Could it be, right now?”

“…It must be, perhaps.”

Hershel took a deep breath, pointing a finger toward the citadel.

“Kerndel of the First Division. Rimlan of the Third. They know we’re watching from there.”

It was the terrace of the Adel Tower. There, two figures flinched.

Hershel, with a mischievous grin, coaxed the crowd into a frenzy.

“Have they not heard? Or are they simply afraid? Such a lack of response.”

At that, a few people began to stomp their feet, creating a rhythmic thud.

They were the people of Shulafe.

Eruzel, sweating coldly, glanced back and forth between Hershel and them.

‘If they’ve managed to bring these people into their fold, they must have planned this from the very beginning.’

The stomping soon established a beat, and the crowd, in unison, began to chant the two names.

Thud.

“Kerndel.”

Thud.

“Rimlan.”

Perhaps thinking an earthquake had struck the parade ground, even the professors inside the citadel leaned out of their windows.

Eruzel gazed at the citadel, contemplating.

‘With this kind of pressure, they should be bursting forth any moment now. If not…’

A torrent of jeers would rain down.

For the top students of Frost Heart, this would be a tremendous disgrace.

In such an atmosphere, any claim to a challenge would be futile.

It would only appear as a cowardly attempt to buy time.

Eruzel could sense, without even looking, the faces of the two named individuals contorting in dismay.

Thud.

“Kerndel.”

Thud.

“Rimlan.”

The roar of the students was so immense that it could be heard by the monsters lurking below.

* * *

Listening to the cheers, Adel looked up at the terrace.

As soon as Eruzel claimed victory, this was the thought that crossed his mind.

The reason was simple.

If I were to present a challenge in written form, it would open the floodgates to a gambling den.

The stakes would be set, and likely, the majority would wager all their coins on me.

If that were to happen, Kherndel would surely find it suspicious.

Moreover, granting him any leeway could lead to unforeseen schemes, so I could enjoy the benefit of preemptively blocking such moves.

“Every time I see him, he leaves me in awe with his strategy, Hursel.”

“Indeed. By now, he’s probably in a daze.”

The two figures on the terrace vanished from sight.

There was no doubt they were descending toward this side.

* * *

The light from the glass dome ceiling began to dim.

The sun was setting. The chandelier hanging above ignited its own flames.

This place, lined with bookshelves and wooden furniture, was the Emperor’s library.

Aol sipped his tea.

The old man sitting across from him popped a grape into his mouth, struggling to lift one of his heavy eyelids.

“Have you heard the news? A dungeon tower has been discovered in the territory of Orbella.”

The man before him was the Emperor of the Empire, Idras Dean Rungard.

At his question, Aol nodded.

“I have.”

They were alone in this space. It was permissible to speak freely. It had been over forty years since he first accompanied his grandfather to meet the king. Enough time to foster a sense of intimacy.

“Still, it’s infuriating. They discovered it ages ago, yet only now do they make it public. Tsk, tsk.”

“Isn’t it a good thing? It means they’ll pay more attention to the tributes.”

“Who knows who desires wealth and glory? A little heads-up wouldn’t hurt. I spoiled that brat when he was young. It’s disheartening, you know.”

Idras let out a deep sigh.

“Lately, mysterious events have been occurring one after another, and it’s driving me mad. Why do all these things come crashing down on me just as I’m nearing my end?”

The worries of the old king were surely not trivial.

—

There were many occurrences beyond the sudden rise of towers.

From unheard-of sea monsters assaulting the shores to floods sweeping through villages, strange phenomena erupted in succession.

“Events that happen once in decades are all occurring at once in less than two years. It is certainly peculiar.”

This was not just happening in the Empire, but across the world.

And every time such events unfolded, the ones who benefited the most were the religious sects.

For it was human nature to always question the divine about the mysteries before their eyes.

“Looks like the cult will expand its influence again.”

At Aol’s words, Idras let out a wry smile.

“Ha ha, indeed. At this rate, even the imperial palace might be consumed.”

The relationship between the Sun’s Church and the King was far from cordial.

They often displayed suspicious signs, as if they had some hidden agenda.

Yet, they were not plotting a rebellion, nor did they show any signs of challenging the imperial authority.

However, there was one thing that puzzled them: their bizarre obsession with the relics emerging from the magical realm.

“If they were aiming for power, it would have been easier to deal with.”

“Indeed. It’s utterly incomprehensible. One might even suspect that their growth in the Empire is merely a means to effectively gather those relics.”

At Idras’s words, Aol found himself thinking that might indeed be the case.

The relics from the magical realm were all managed by none other than Gilum, the brother of the Empress.

Gilum seemed to have some connection with the cult, even sharing information gleaned from the relics with them.

What their intentions were remained a mystery, but Aol instinctively sensed it was nothing good.

“Oh, right. Speaking of which, something rather interesting came in recently. I managed to sneak this out without Gilum knowing, so take a look.”

Idras rose from his seat and pulled out a book.

With a creak, a bookshelf opened, revealing the hidden vault within.

He unlocked the vault.

Clank!

Inside lay a single stone tablet.

As Aol gazed at the runes inscribed upon it, he asked, “What is this?”

“To put it simply, it says this: a child conceived in the magical realm will bring down false faith. Of course, we suspect that refers to the ‘Sun’s Church.’ So, tell me, do you have something to say to me?”

Idras’s gaze bore into him.

The old man’s eyes seemed to delve deep, as if seeking to unravel Aol’s innermost thoughts.

—

Aol closed his mouth, his expression blank. Idras let out a soft chuckle.

“If you don’t feel like sharing, that’s fine. After all, it’s your wayward son who has come to visit. The reason I invited you was to show you this.”

Aol broke his stoic facade, his eyes widening in surprise.

A wayward son could only mean Hessel.

But to be searching for relics…

“Is it Hessel?”

“Yes, Hessel ben Tenest. That infamous scoundrel. Yet, judging by your reaction, it seems you were unaware until now? Then perhaps you don’t know this either?”

Aol doubted his ears as he listened to Idras’s next words.

The tale of hunting down a training instructor still felt unbelievable.

“The Bloodstained Viper, Vermi, his head is currently on display at the headquarters.”

“…But what is the Bloodstained Viper?”

“Ah, my friend. I suppose a mere strongman wouldn’t catch your eye. There’s a fellow who’s begun to make quite a name for himself among the vagabonds. Your son, still a student, managed to capture such a one.”

Aol felt a pang of disappointment that his son hadn’t shared this with him directly, yet a flicker of pride warmed his heart.

Perhaps his emotions had shown on his face, for Idras spoke with a hint of indifference.

“Ah, how fortunate you are to have such a child. My sons are too busy waiting for me to die.”

“Isn’t that the secret to Your Majesty’s longevity?”

It was a reasonable assumption, considering the disdain he felt for sons who coveted his position.

Idras fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.

As Aol took a sip of tea, he asked, “But why did you send three of your sons to Frost Heart?”

“They all chose it for themselves.”

“Hm, whatever the case, it must be quite lively there.”

Aol shook his head.

“They are kind-hearted, unlike me. Hessel, too, has recently changed his ways; he has become quite mature.”

Idras wore a look of disbelief.

“Cough, that one?”

Aol bared his teeth in a grin.

“Perhaps he listens well to his professors and maintains good relations with his peers. With his younger siblings around, he’ll surely show a brotherly side.”

* * *

Near the dueling grounds, Kerdel of the first match and Rimlan of the third match arrived.

The preceding bout was a clash between Rimlan and Mircel.

I whispered softly into Mircel’s ear.

“Mircel, just break both of that b*stard’s arms.”

“Cleanly? Or should I shatter them into pieces?”

“If he acts like a jerk, shattering them into pieces is just fine.”