Chapter 327

The summer breeze was sultry. Cumulonimbus clouds, as thick as battleships, streaked across the azure sky of the archipelago. Zaifa took a deep breath and opened her mouth.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a challenger other than Nabirozze.”
“Schlieffen Siniban de Grancia sees you.”
Schlieffen sent for her. He was dressed in his battle uniform, emblazoned with the family seal. His beautiful dark blue hair shone in the sun.
They stood face to face in the center of a vast arena. The circular space, covered in white paving stones, was large enough to hold an entire country town. It was the Grand Circle, the largest arena in the Empire.
“First opening since the war.”
“I never thought I’d live to see you and Jaifa get married–I think I’ve run out of luck in my lifetime.”
The crowd was roaring with excitement at the unprecedented match. Despite the rising heat, the Grand Circle was packed to capacity. Everyone had come to watch the decisive match between the two swordsmen.
“I was expecting either you or that Ronan kid. Has he been defeated by you?”
“Uh, no. He didn’t show up at all. Apparently, he wasn’t interested in being a swordsman in the first place.”
“Kkkk–you’re an ass.”
Zaifa snorted. In truth, she had expected this. Ronan had never seemed interested in an honorary position like swordsmanship. Just then, an irritated voice rang out from the guest box.
“You old man talks a lot. You should be thanking me for coming when you’re busy enjoying your newlywed life.”
“There you are.”
Turning her head, Jaifa smirked. Ronan sat with Adeshan in the best seats in the Grand Circle. The seats around him were filled with his friends, including Asel and Marja.
“Come to think of it, you were married. You’re in the prime of life.”
“I can’t believe it. You forgot to mention that after all the booze at the reception?”
Ronan smirked; he and Adeshaan had been officially married just a few days ago. Held in the great hall of Phileon Academy, as Adeshan had wished, the wedding was attended by most of the people they had ever known.
Jaifa was one of the first guests to arrive. He left a quick note of congratulations and then left to get the liquor for the reception. Of course, we sent him a gift of enough liquor to cover the entire cost of the wedding, but that was after the wedding was over.
“Do you know how much I’ve been trying to fix this, and how much dragons love to drink–you would have been killed by Sister Navardose and Orsay!”
“You should have left it alone. I don’t know about the Fire Mother, but I’ve always wanted to fight that demon dragon.”
“I won’t say a word. Schlieffen, blow that wretched cat away!”
Ronan cupped his hands over his mouth. Nabiroze, seated directly behind him, grunted in agreement.
Instead of answering, Schlieffen turned his head and looked out into the audience. Iril was staring at him, hands clasped together. Her large, deer-like eyes were filled with worry.
“Mr. Schlieffen.”
Ilya muttered. He was well aware of Schlieffen’s skills, but it was a different story against Jaifa.
The greatest swordsman of all time. Despite the pleas that he shouldn’t have to fight, Schlieffen was here to fulfill his oath to himself. Looking back to Jaifa, Schlieffen opened his mouth.
“I have no intention of losing.”
Just then, a middle-aged man in a colorful suit walked up to the podium. The room fell silent as if cold water had been poured over it. It was the master of ceremonies, the Emperor of the Empire, Valon 44.
“Oh, look at all the gray hairs. You look like you’ve been through a lot.”
“Ronan, shhh—!”
Only Ronan whistled in admiration, and Adeshan, seated next to him, covered his mouth. His long, white hair was a reminder of the hardships the Emperor had endured after the war with Nebula Clazier. He looked around the arena slowly.
“To be able to see this landscape again, it’s overwhelming.”
“I see Your Majesty.”
Schlieffen and Jaifa dropped to one knee and bowed. The Emperor smiled gently. After clearing his throat a couple of times, he spoke.
“I will not speak long, for none of you are unaware of your rank and name. This is the moment that will decide the fate of the International Sword, so do your best.”
“What, that’s it?”
“I wish you the best of luck.”
With those last words, the Emperor turned his back. Ronan was stunned by the deceptively simple speech. Returning to his seat, the Emperor was flanked by the Elders who presided over the Sword Festival.
“So when do we start—”
Ronan muttered something in a questioning voice. The blurred form of Zaifa shot forward. Schlieffen reflexively raised his sword. A thunderous boom rang out. Zaifa laughed as she watched the Unworldly and Failed Lord flicker before her eyes.
“Now I’m not getting pushed around.”
“Thanks.”
Schlieffen replied. Despite Jaifa’s surprise, he had not been pushed back a single step. He had come a long way from his first greeting, and the crowd, realizing what was going on, began to chatter.
“Bah, what just happened?!”
“Oh my God—!”
To their eyes, Zaifa seemed to disappear for a moment and reappear again, and then the blades clashed and the battle resumed. Ka-! A towering unyielding sword fell toward Schlieffen’s head.
“Hmph!”
With a twist of his shoulder, Schlieffen dodged the blow by a mere sheet of paper. Bang! The heavy blade sliced through the paving stones like a tofu. Schlieffen clutched the hilt. The bluish blade of the Pale Rod vanished into the wind.
Zaifa was about to pull her spear from the ground. Schlieffen swung the hilt sideways, and a gust of wind swept over Jaifa. Wounds carved across his body like dozens of birds of prey had clawed at him. The wind was like a sharpened sword, strand by strand. Blood gushed over his black fur and soaked the floor.
“Brat.”
Zaifa’s eyes narrowed. Schlieffen, who had landed the winning blow, stepped up to the plate. But Zaifa was unperturbed by his injury and drew his Unwaldo and swung. Bang! A heavy blow, faster than expected, struck the pale rod.
“Ugh!”
Schlieffen gritted his teeth. The knife ship that had been pushed back hit him in the ribs, making it hard to breathe.
‘The pain of the wind must have been considerable.
It was the strength of an undefeated swordsman. But Schlieffen wasn’t about to take it easy, either. He straightened himself up and plunged into Jaifa’s arms. The Failed Lord’s blade had returned to its original form.
“Mmm—!”
Jaifa frowned. The pace had been faster than he’d expected. The gap between him and Schlieffen had closed too much for Richie to counter with a long unwind. Schlieffen was just about to thrust. Zaifa, who was pretending to swing a spear, surprised him with a kick. As if waiting for it, Schlieffen leaped up and stomped on his knee.
“Oh?”
Jaifa’s eyes widened. He’d seen it coming. Using his knee as a stepping stone, Schlieffen soared nearly 10 meters.
“Kaaaaaah!”
“Off, awesome.”
The audience gasped at the unimaginable height. Zaifa didn’t panic, though, and adjusted her stance. It was good that he had read his numbers, but it was hard to dodge a blow from below while up in the air like that-not that Schlieffen wouldn’t know that much common sense.
“Let’s see your skills.”
This position meant he could try his hand at a sword fight. With a clatter, Zaifa gripped the shaft of his spear. The dark mana radiating from his hands coated the blade. His auror slicing through space acted like a sword. Reaching a high point, Schlieffen began to fall. He swung his sword wildly as he descended, his feet in a stance.
“Ha!”
A roar of agreement rang out. At the same time, two half-moon-shaped swords crossed and shot out, each one long and wide enough to span the arena from tip to tip. Nabiroze, who was watching the match, let out a small gasp of admiration.
“Are we there already?”
It was almost as large as his own sword qi. The power must have been immense. Just then, Zaifa’s arm, which had been watching the sword qi, disappeared from view. As the arc of the Unworldly Sword returned to its rightful place, a single black line appeared in front of Schlieffen’s eyes.
“That’s—!”
Ronan’s eyes widened. He’d seen it before, when they’d hunted wyverns together. It was a rift in space that tore through everything it touched. Schlieffen’s sword qi was torn apart by the black line. With a bang, the sliced sword energy exploded, hitting the arena floor instead of the zaifa. Ronan, who had scrambled to his feet, shouted urgently.
“Dodge, asshole!”
Everyone in the audience probably agreed with him. Unlike Ronan, Schlieffen was unable to draw mana. But instead of dodging, he sped up, his face just about to touch the black line. Shriek! A sudden gust of wind twisted Schlieffen’s trajectory downward ever so slightly, the rift in space narrowly missing his body and hair.
“Hustle.”
Jaifa laughed. He liked the guts to go at it head-on. But with his devilish fuselage vision, he was confident he could destroy the Schlieffen no matter how it came out.
His grip suggests he’s going for a short, quick shot. Zaifa, who had come up with the answer in a flash, was just about to counterattack. Suddenly, dozens of slashing lines were drawn on the spearhead of his Unworldly Sword.
“What.”
Jaifa shed a tear of embarrassment. The shattered polearm clattered to the floor. Schlieffen had been damaging him since their first fight, and now it had finally paid off. He threw the spear away and tried to retaliate with his bare hands, but it was too late. Poof! The pale rod pierced Jaifa’s tail, sending him crashing to the floor.
“You’re a dick—.”
Zaifa snarled, the chill that radiated from his icy blade freezing the entirety of his tail and the ground around it. He turned, intent on ripping it off. Releasing his grip on the hilt, Schlieffen leaned back and whispered, “I’ll be damned.
“Storm.”
There was no time to say anything. A whirlwind ripped through the ground, wrapping around Zaifa. Each strand was as sharp as a razor blade as it tore a giant hole in the cumulus clouds passing over the arena. A thunderous cheer erupted from the silent audience.
“Waaaaaah!”
“Schlieffen, you bastard—!”
Ronan clenched his fist and cheered, it was a great fake. Zaifa’s form, swallowed by the wind, was nowhere to be seen.
Given the history of Schlieffen’s Aurors, it was unlikely they would be safe. I was looking forward to this battle. Suddenly, a black line cut through the vortex, and the wind tore from side to side.
“What the—!”
Schlieffen’s face hardened. He felt threatened, and before he could take a defensive stance. The zaifa flew in front of him like a flash of light. At the same time, a flying black fist slammed into his abdomen.
“Kaboom!”
Blood gushed from Schlieffen’s mouth. He had clearly been hit in the stomach, and it felt like his spine was going to be crushed. With a bang, he was thrown in a straight line and crashed into the wall of the arena.
“Mr. Schlieffen!”
Iril screamed. Zaifa, who had blown the schlieffen away, froze in place. His body was literally soaked after exiting the vortex. With each step he took, black puddles formed at his feet. Beneath his fur, more than half of which had been ripped off, his pale skin was exposed.
Of course, Jaifa didn’t look exhausted at all. If anything, the fighting spirit that bloomed over her broad shoulders seemed to deepen.
Ten claws flashed across his pale fingers. It was Zaifa’s true sword, the one that had defeated Nabiroze. With a bang, the staggering Schlieffen bounced to his feet, and Zaifa laughed eerily.
“It’s fun, isn’t it?”