Chapter 98

Chapter 98

Chapter 98

Chapter 98

“Victory! The ‘Black Prince’ of Saxon has triumphed!”

“Even having broken the Fight Club’s rules by employing an avatar, they could not break him!”

“This proves that the renown of the Empire’s greatest prodigy is fully justified!”

The jubilant exclamations of the spectators rumbled throughout the venue, drowning out the murmurs of the elite “Shadow Court” hitmen who were deployed around them.

“…Does he already possess the mastery required to voluntarily project the ‘World of Ideas’?”

The one who spoke these words was an individual wrapped in a dark trench coat and covered with a bird-beak mask. It was the voice of Master Baro, known as the Sword of Death.

“Without possessing skill of that magnitude, coming out of the Fight Club alive would be a fantasy.”

“Ha, ha, he is a truly exceptional boy,” Dale commented with total nonchalance, while Master Baro let out an oath of amazement. At that very moment, the executioners with bird-beak masks vanished in unison, exhibiting the arrogance typical of Guild City agents.

Currently, they had established themselves as the most fearsome network of assassins on the entire continent, now repurposed as loyal servants to Dale.

Once the executioners had left, Dale turned on his heels. He had secured his victory in the top 32 phase. By knocking down the Holy Knight’s envoy, he managed to reduce the number of aspirants who would reach the Black Market.

Dale walked with a firm step and directed his hand toward the fallen warrior’s belt. There was the golden skull insignia, the access credential for the Black Market that the Holy Knight had entrusted to his emissary.

Crack!

He shattered it using all his strength.

That was the primary motivation for which the high nobility’s delegates risked their existence in the Fight Club. The smaller the number of rivals, the greater the chances of success. Although taking their lives was not a strict requirement, pushing them out of the way was always the best option.

The fact that an opponent begged for his life and opted to capitulate did not represent an undesirable outcome either. Few things were as degrading as seeing the emissary of a distinguished lineage begging for mercy.

Dale turned around and retired from the combat stage. A considerable amount of time would pass before he had to dispute his next match, so he considered it appropriate to dedicate that time to examining the other rivals.

Although the opponent broke the codes by resorting to an avatar and Dale only deployed the World of Ideas as a protection resource, that event constituted a highly unusual occurrence.

At the moment the guidelines were violated, the members of the “Shadow Court” who remained on alert went into action, led by the implacable Sword of Death at the head of his minions.

He occupied the highest rank among the Seven Swords of the Continent. Unless an aristocrat of immense power took matters into their own hands directly, no common emissary would have the slightest chance of resisting a rival of such caliber.

Those who were part of the Fight Club were fully aware of this reality.

However, when finding themselves at a crossroads between life and death, reason usually takes a back seat. A warrior’s self-esteem prevents him from bowing his knee and yielding, just as he cannot resign himself to perishing without putting up a fight. For a combatant, capitulation entails a disgrace much more bitter than death itself.

After Dale’s triumph, another confrontation corresponding to the top 32 round took place.

In this match, one of the high-born envoys lost his temper and invoked the avatar that was strictly banned in the Fight Club…

“Haha, behold this disoriented fool.”

Master Baro himself, the Sword of Death, prepared to face the imposing adversary.

He was dressed in his bird-beak mask and dark clothing, carrying a pair of sharp blades. His technique was based on the simultaneous handling of two swords.

Facing the warrior who invoked the avatar, the master’s weapons were stained with a scarlet-hued energy.

Accompanied at all times by the “high-ranking assassins” of the Shadow Court under his command.

He likely judged it excessive to counter a spiritual projection using another similar one.

The executioners’ blades sought to strike vital areas, but before that could happen, a burst of scarlet projectiles, charged with intense energy, rained down from every possible direction. Each of the assassins executed the scarlet blade technique of which Master Baro was so proud.

Subjected to such a numerical disadvantage and such overwhelming skill, not even a warrior backed by an avatar had the slightest chance of coming out on top.

“Gah, ugh…!”

The scarlet impacts riddled him everywhere. The vital fluid gushed forcefully from his critical points, causing the environment to become permeated with a dense scent of iron.

“…!”

Upon contemplating that scene, the reality became evident.

The “high-ranking assassins” of the Shadow Court who obeyed Master Baro… were far from being simple common criminals. They had received formal training and adopted the combat style of the Sword of Death, who held the top position among the Seven Swords of the Continent.

Their combat level rivaled the high nobility’s chivalric orders, with the difference that they did not abide by any ethical combat code. They did not seek a direct or honorable confrontation, but acted as executioners who took others’ existence without the slightest hesitation.

Being faithful devotees of the deity of the shadows, they showed deep reverence toward Dale, whom they considered the “Black Apostle.”

There are multiple ways to consolidate loyalty. Absolute fidelity weighs more than simple camaraderie, financial resources outweigh fidelity, and devout fervor is placed above money. Under that premise, the reliability that the “Shadow Court” offered was unbreakable.

“This is the magnitude of the Shadow Court army that will be under my direction…”

Upon realizing this, Dale’s heart rate increased notably.

Counting on the support of the Night Raven Knights, commanded by the famous Sir Helmut, together with the Shadow Court executioners trained by Master Baro, he now had a truly formidable war arsenal.

“Pay attention and listen clearly.”

Fixing his gaze on the warrior who remained prostrate with the blades pointing at his vital organs, the individual in the bird-beak mask, “Master Baro,” raised his voice.

“Before you commit an imprudence that ensures you a one-way trip to the Kingdom of the Dead, I suggest you bow your head and admit your defeat.”

That was a direct warning toward all who competed in the Fight Club. Immediately, a scarlet-stained steel crossed the air, delivering the final thrust.

The vital torrent splashed the environment and the severed head rolled inertly across the surface.

A mantle of silence covered the venue while a gust of wind swept through the place. By the time the atmosphere calmed, Master Baro and his minions of the shadows had completely vanished.

Just as the World of Ideas employed by a sorcerer does not constitute an absolute faculty, that same principle governs a warrior’s avatar.

The determining factor does not lie in the spiritual projection or the World of Ideas themselves, but in the intensity of the concepts that are imprinted on them.

By way of illustration, the spiritual projection of the Saint Magdalene Knight who measured forces with Dale exhibited a purely albino tone, representing his own faction. It could well be categorized as the “notion of the faction,” but in no case did it reflect the conviction of an individual warrior. As the conception of steel strengthens, the spiritual projection acquires an equivalent identity and power.

It is not the “notion of the faction,” but the particular conception cemented through one’s own combat style.

Paradoxically, the grotesque porcine form that the Holy Knight’s spiritual projection adopted evidenced the limitations of his own skill.

After a short period, another of the duels that generated the most expectation within the Fight Club began.

Ray Uris, the boy adopted by the Blood Duke.

Despite having an undeniable status within the Imperial Capital and the Red Magic Tower, unlike Saxon’s “Black Prince,” he had remained an unknown figure to the rest of the continent, patiently waiting for the ideal moment.

And on this occasion, Ray Uris himself was in charge of breaking that anonymity. The panic he instilled by using dark arts against the leader of the Calimala Guild had been nothing more than a simple preamble.

“What an unusual demonstration!”

“Who would have imagined that, added to the firstborn of the Saxon dynasty, an infant of such a young age would participate in the Fight Club?”

“Given that he is the adopted son of the ‘Blood Duke,’ he must undoubtedly possess a strong justification to have been admitted.”

Those in charge of narrating the encounter overflowed with enthusiasm in their interventions, while the opponent drew his weapon. Presence in the Fight Club was usually reserved almost exclusively for practitioners of the art of the sword. In a conventional duel between a sorcerer and a swordsman, particularly within a ring, the chances of victory were highly adverse for the magic user.

However, Ray Uris remained completely unmoved.

A turbulent current that intertwined dark and scarlet magic began to manifest under his feet. That mystical force that he had consolidated through the bond between darkness and the scarlet gleam, added to his own mystical energy, accelerated the revolutions of the core in his chest.

As the rotation of his core gained speed drastically, a whirlpool composed of dark and scarlet tones began to spread.

“Three cores…!”

Dale managed to perceive it with total clarity. Immediately after, Ray Uris snapped his fingers. At once, a wall of fire came to life between his position and that of the warrior.

“A move destined to maintain separation.”

That was the conclusion Dale reached; however, his assumption proved wrong.

Zas!

The burning bonfire began to mold a defined figure.

──A death knight wrapped in flames.

The dark mystical energy concentrated within possessed a magnitude too high to be considered a mere elemental manifestation of fire.

It represented an amalgam of the Black Tower’s dark arts arcana integrated with his own scarlet magic.

The fire protection, and even the flaming skull that was glimpsed inside, constituted the living representation of a “Death Knight conceived by a dark sorcerer.” Likewise, a huge burning sword rested in the creature’s hands.

“A servant of death imbued with scarlet magic…!”

And the summoning was not limited to a single creature. The fire continued to spread, giving rise to new servants of death. The temperature they gave off was so suffocating that approaching their radius of action made breathing impossible. Those servants of death did not possess a biological constitution, but were structured purely by tongues of fire.

Not even Dale himself managed to hide the impact that had on him.

Furthermore, the steel carried by the burning Death Knight did not correspond to an ordinary flaming blade.

It projected… an external energy. And this was not limited to a single tone.

A purely dark and reddish hue. A combination of shadows and scarlet gleam, a gloomy energy provided with an edge that evoked the color of blood. The dark-toned Death Knights initiated their offensive.

Moments later, after the warrior exchanged blows repeatedly with the burning entity, he opted to bend his knees hurriedly while shouting his surrender at the top of his lungs.

“I surrender, I surrender! I abandon the fight!”

As degrading or unsustainable as that action might be, it always represented a better option than losing his life. It was preferable to having a meaningless outcome without having had the opportunity to appear in the “black market.”

At least he possessed the sanity necessary to discern that aspect.

“I accept your capitulation.”

Ray Uris snapped his fingers. Continuing the aggression once the surrender had been manifested constituted a severely punished offense. The fire Death Knights took positions around him, interrupting any attempt at advancement.

However, unexpectedly…

“Gah, ugh, ack!”

From one moment to the next, the warrior brought his hands to the neck area, desperately looking to get air.

“…!”

Dale understood the nature of what was happening instantly. Ray Uris was deliberately spreading a “lethal gaseous component.”

Highly harmful emanations derived from combustion.

He was consciously channeling the dispersion of the lethal emanations generated by the flames of the Death Knights, taking advantage of the phenomenon of carbon monoxide (CO) asphyxiation in order to block the absorption of oxygen into the bloodstream.

The warrior’s body collapsed completely, devoid of vitality as he perished from asphyxiation.

An executioner lacking tone, aroma, or flavor.

“Wow, what a setback.”

Ray Uris let out a small laugh loaded with cynicism.

“It seems that I took his life without having that intention.”

Showing a false naivety accompanied by a total lack of remorse.

“In an environment where one risks one’s existence, it is natural that these kinds of unforeseen events take place.”

The ferocity and unbridled nature characteristic of the Fight Club. Even existing regulations that forbade harm to those who capitulated, “it is natural that these kinds of unforeseen events take place.”

It was the outcome the crowd was waiting for, and for that reason shouts of approval erupted at Ray Uris’s demonstration. However, Dale was unable to share the enthusiasm.

The rigor of the will imprinted on each Death Knight. The skill required to shape it through the flames.

And the external energy that his steel manifested: control of such characteristics over the art of the sword was not something a simple sorcerer possessing the third core should possess.

Under no circumstances did it correspond to a step that a “simple third-core sorcerer” could climb. It was a reality that Dale had already realized previously.

“He certainly presents himself as a worthy opponent to face.”

While evaluating the landscape, Dale meditated deeply to himself.

A short time later.

Once the confrontations corresponding to the top 32 phase were concluded, Dale proceeded to retire immediately from the Fight Club facilities. He set off on his way toward the core of the metropolis, the sector in which the combat venue had been established.

“Arte della Lana.”

The site where the manager of the Wool Guild, one of the seven largest corporations, was located.

Chapter 98