Chapter 43

Rimer stood at the edge of the training ground, grinning as he watched Raon and the Third Prince face each other. The anticipation of their match made him hum a tune involuntarily.

'Of course, the bet too.'

The prospect of winning a bet from Owen after the match was an added bonus.

He didn't for a moment think Raon would lose.

"You look happy."

Duke Tartan approached and stood beside him, his face expressionless.

"I am. It's exciting to watch young talents clash with all their might. How could it not be?"

"You've changed a lot, you mad sword demon."

"Even a rascal like you has become a fine duke. Why should I stay the same?"

Rimer chuckled, glancing at Duke Tartan.

"Your approach to the prince yesterday was all for this match, wasn't it?"

"Of course."

"What are you thinking? It's not like you to do such cumbersome things."

Duke Tartan turned to him, sending a strong pressure. He looked ready to draw his sword if Rimer was up to no good.

"It's an opportunity for them to grow. Maybe not for Oma, but the children of the other Six Emperors don't often get to fight each other."

Rimer answered without looking at Tartan, his voice light but filled with seriousness.

"...Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were joking, but you really have changed."

Duke Tartan clicked his tongue and turned his head back to the training ground.

"The knights participating in today's match are all from Owen. To be on par with them, they must be quite skilled."

"Of course. Who raised them?"

"Hmph, showing off. But that kid…."

He pointed to Raon, who was warming up by rotating his wrists and ankles on the training ground.

"Who is that monster? I almost missed him. His sword technique and footwork are beyond the level of a trainee."

"You're not as sharp as you used to be."

Rimer chuckled and pointed to the Third Prince, who was standing confidently on the opposite side.

"But why didn't you warn him, even though you knew? The Third Prince seems to think Raon is just a throwaway pawn."

"That young man is the future of the Owen Kingdom, but he hasn't experienced defeat yet. I thought it would be better for him to face it in a safe environment."

Duke Tartan had understood Raon's strength but chose not to warn the Third Prince, hoping to teach him a valuable lesson.

"The Third Prince is strong, though. Even a genius swordsman like Raon won't easily defeat him."

"Hmm…."

Rimer shook his head, a confident smile on his face.

"I have a different opinion."

"You're as stubborn as ever."

"Then, how about one more bet?"

"Again?"

Duke Tartan frowned.

"You really love betting, don't you?"

"Then, let's make it a simple drinking bet."

"Fine. But what kind of bet…."

Rimer held up five fingers.

"Raon will end your hopes in five moves."

"Rubbish! I admit he's strong, but five moves is impossible!"

Duke Tartan glared and clenched his fists.

"Then, let's bet. Deal?"

"Fine! I'll take it."

"Indeed, you're as fiery as ever."

Rimer chuckled and rubbed his hands together.

'It's been a while since I had a free drink.'

* * *

"Hmm."

The Third Prince of the Owen Kingdom, Grier de Owen, wasn't looking at Raon in front of him but at Runan and Martha below.

'This will be a good fight.'

Since he first arrived, his interest had been solely on Runan, Setun, and the blue-haired man who had shown equal strength. The illegitimate son in front of him barely caught his attention. Despite his good looks, his aura was too ordinary.

'I need to end this quickly.'

Using aura on the illegitimate son in front of him seemed like a waste. He decided to easily defeat him with physical strength and save his full power for the next match.

"Are you ready? Let's begin the match."

Rimer stepped forward and raised his hand.

"Final match. Begin!"

"Hah!"

As soon as Rimer lowered his hand, Grier drew his sword.

Clang!

He kicked off the ground and charged straight at Raon, intending to end it with one strike.

However,

'Huh?'

Raon, who was right in front of him, vanished in an instant.

'Where…? Ah!'

As he turned his head to find Raon, a fierce wind came from his right.

'Sword!'

Grier felt the wind from the sword and quickly ducked.

Whoosh!

Raon's training sword grazed his hair, sending a chill down his spine.

"Chit!"

Grier spun his body and swung his sword to the right.

Whoosh!

A precise strike aimed at Raon's calculated position. But Raon was not there again.

Swoosh.

The sound of a snake slithering on the ground, Raon moved to the left in the blink of an eye.

'What…?'

Grier gritted his teeth and quickly used the kingdom's footwork to chase after Raon.

"Haah!"

He swung his sword at the retreating Raon. A powerful aura-infused strike aimed at the ground.

'It's over!'

He blocked the escape route and struck. There was no place to run.

"Huh?"

Just as he thought it was over, he met Raon's eyes. The calm, unmoving eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

Clang!

Raon's body bent like a reed and moved forward, his sword drawing a half-moon.

The world seemed to spin with his sword.

As he stood there, mouth agape, a strong impact hit his back.

"Ugh!"

An involuntary groan escaped his lips.

"What…."

He lifted his throbbing head. Raon stood far above him.

Grier then realized he had fallen off the training ground.

"Ugh… Ah!"

The Third Prince, feeling the pain in his back, froze as he lifted his head.

Raon's red eyes looked down at him from above. In that moment, he was reminded of the absolute ruler of this land, Glen Zighart.

'It's him.'

The Third Prince swallowed hard, his hands trembling.

'It's really him!'

* * *

"Dear me."

Rimer covered his mouth to hide his laughter and looked at Tartan.

"What now? The match ended in just two moves, not five."

"..."

Tartan didn't answer. He stared at Raon, his mouth agape, not at the fallen Third Prince.

He wasn't the only one. Everyone in the training ground looked at Raon in shock.

"Phew…."

Tartan finally exhaled and straightened his back.

"What was that? How did he use that footwork so smoothly? His sword technique was also perfectly timed. I didn't see everything."

Tartan's gaze remained fixed on Raon. The footwork and sword technique he displayed were far beyond that of a trainee.

It was more shocking that he defeated the Third Prince with appropriate movements rather than sheer power.

Raon seemed to have a special talent that allowed him to perform beyond his actual abilities.

"That's why I said Raon would win."

"I knew that too. But I didn't expect the Third Prince to lose so easily without showing his full strength…."

"I'll make a reservation at a tavern. See you tonight, I only drink expensive stuff, you know?"

"Tsk!"

"Wait, a moment!"

As Tartan clicked his tongue and turned his head, the Third Prince struggled to stand.

"Ah, it's not over. It's not over yet."

He refused to accept defeat and climbed back onto the training ground.

"Prince, Prince!"

"Hmm."

Tartan approached the Third Prince with a bewildered look, while Rimer scratched his chin and smiled with interest.

"You shouldn't…."

"Your Grace, I haven't shown my full strength yet!"

The Third Prince pushed past Tartan and stepped forward.

"If I had used my full strength from the beginning…."

"Ah, damn! What a pain in the ass!"

Marta, stepping onto the training ground, curled her lip.

"Why is a prince so obsessed with winning and losing? It's like looking at some kind of scum."

She turned her head and looked down at Buren, who was standing still.

"Ugh…."

Buren, remembering his past, bit his lip and frowned.

"You…."

"Hey, Prince. I'm being as nice as I can. Pack your bags and get lost before I start cursing."

Marta mocked the Third Prince, ignoring Buren's glare from behind.

"Don't speak so rudely. Do you know who this is…."

"I'm a direct descendant of Zighart too. I won't kneel to anyone."

Marta didn't back down even in front of Duke Tartan.

"Enough!"

Rimer stepped onto the training ground and raised his hands to cover the faces of the two.

"The match is over, but let's hear from the participants. Raon."

"Yes."

Raon, who had been silent, nodded.

"What do you want to do? You're the one who should decide."

Raon slowly turned his body and tilted his chin.

"The instructor said there was a bet for this match. The match is over, and there's no reason to fight anymore."

"Ugh…."

The Third Prince's clenched fists trembled.

"Prince, let's go…."

"I admit my defeat!"

The Third Prince pushed away Tartan's restraining hand and stepped forward.

"I underestimated you and didn't properly assess your abilities. I'm embarrassed and ashamed, but if I leave like this, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. Please, let's fight again!"

The Third Prince placed his sword on the ground and bowed deeply.

"Prince, Prince!"

Duke Tartan tried to lift him, but the prince didn't budge.

"Hmm…."

Raon felt the Third Prince's sincerity through his blue eyes.

'Bowing like this…'

The Third Prince of the Owen Kingdom, under the protection of Duke Tartan, must have had a strong support base. It was unexpected for him to bow and apologize so openly.

"Hey, Third Prince. Stop this nonsense and get…."

"Marta."

"Tsk."

At Raon's call, Marta clicked her tongue and stepped back.

"Hmm…."

Duke Tartan swallowed hard, watching the scene.

'Not just strength…'

He had made the direct descendant of Zighart back down with just a few words. The Third Prince wasn't the only one who had misjudged Raon.

"Fine."

Raon nodded and stepped back from the training ground.

"But this is the last time."

"Of course!"

The Third Prince didn't use informal language anymore, showing respect as a warrior.

"Let me know when you're ready."

Rimer smiled, as if he had expected this, and stepped onto the training ground.

"Ugh…."

The Third Prince took out a lion-shaped necklace from his armor and stared at it intently. He seemed to have made a decision, gritted his teeth, and tore the necklace off.

Whoosh!

A powerful wind pressure surged from his center, nearly doubling his aura. It wasn't just aura; the energy from his trained body was also felt.

"Hiding such power…?"

"Phew!"

Buren and Marta frowned at the overwhelming aura emanating from the Third Prince.

"Third Prince! That's…."

"It's not the time to hide my strength. I want to fight this one with all my might."

The Third Prince let the wind flow through his hair and raised his sword, showing his determination to fight at full strength from the start.

-Not noticing the opponent hiding their strength, what a fool.

'Still, I can win.'

-You think you can win when the other side has more aura and a more complete body?

'Shall we bet?'

Raon nodded.

-Ha! Of course! I'll take it.

Ras's message appeared with a snort.

[<Rage> proposes a bet.]

Condition: Defeat the Third Prince of the Owen Kingdom, Grier de Owen.

Success: +4 to all stats.

Failure: Generate 10 points of <Rage> emotion.

'I accept.'

He accepted the bet as soon as the message appeared.

'Another easy target.'

If Rimer was the easy target at the Zighart gambling den, Raon's easy target was Ras.

He suppressed his smile and drew his sword, knowing from the start that the Third Prince was hiding his strength.

With the determination to win and the Third Prince's hidden strength now revealed, the second challenge would be beneficial for training. Unexpectedly, he had another easy target.

"Then, let's go."

The Third Prince focused his gathered strength in his legs and stepped forward, charging like a wild beast and nearly collapsing one side of the training ground.

"This time, it will be a good fight."

There was something to gain.

Raon stepped forward and swung his sword.

Boom!

The Third Prince's sword, enveloped in sky-blue aura, clashed with Raon's sword, which was wrapped in red flames.