Chapter 116: The Laurel Crown (1)

Sven held his nose.

It hurt, but he also felt happy. Tears welled up from the pain, but the feeling in his hand told him his sword had cut some part of Oliver’s body.

Breathing through his mouth due to the nosebleed, Sven stood up as best he could.

“Haah, haah…”

Blood was running down Oliver’s thigh.

“You… you bastard…!”

Murderous intent gleamed in Oliver’s eyes. He wanted to rush at him immediately, but he limped, unable to walk properly due to the wound.

Sven smirked. The lower half of his face was drenched in blood, revealing teeth completely stained red.

“Huhuhu…”

His body had already reached its limit. The pain from his broken nose was unbearable. But when the adrenaline started to flow, he entered a strange state of euphoria.

“I, Sven Gein… if I die, I won’t die alone.”

As Sven laughed with his blood-covered face, the audience was caught in a strange mix of emotions. At times he seemed ridiculous, at times terrifying, and at times incredible.

“A berserker…”

Someone murmured that. And it was true. Sven, with red-stained teeth and sword raised against Oliver, looked like a mad warrior straight out of legend.

“Sven!”

The citizens of Liberta chanted his name. At first, only those around him could be heard, but soon the entire coliseum crowd joined in.

“Berserker Sven! Berserker Sven! Berserker Sven!”

Sven burst into laughter, looking at Oliver’s face. When would he ever live a moment like this again?

With the world shouting his name, he charged at Oliver Elgast, the Imperial knight of pride.

His enemy was stronger. He admitted that. But something beyond skill was pushing him forward.

The luck of the moment.

And that luck was on his side.

Oliver no longer looked relaxed as before. With a demonic face, he swung his sword at him. The attacks came from every direction, like a torrential rain.

But every trajectory seemed strangely clear.

In the midst of his hyper-accelerated thoughts, another name crossed Sven’s mind.

Yuri Briol.

What would’ve happened if the one standing on this stage was that son of the third prince of Briol? No, that was a foolish thought. Not worth pondering.

Sven laughed and counterattacked. Their swords clashed.

There was a burst, and both broken blades spun through the air and landed on the stage.

Both were disarmed. All that remained now were their fists.

Without either making the first move, they began to throw punches. Oliver was faster. Sven took several hits and was driven back.

“Die, you bastard!”

Oliver’s fist struck Sven’s abdomen.

“Guhak!”

Sven clutched his stomach. Blood spurted from his mouth. Even so, his body stiff, he smirked at Oliver.

“Hey… you’re not even close to the third prince’s kid.”

“What did you say?”

“That guy, the one even I can’t beat…”

With those words, Sven collapsed to the ground. Oliver had won. The judge raised both hands and declared the victor.

[Victory for Oliver!]

The crowd responded with applause and cheers. At that very moment, Oliver also collapsed.

“Kh…!”

When delivering the final blow, Sven had kicked him in the thigh. Striking right where the sword had cut, the wound worsened even more.

Oliver couldn’t get up and was paralyzed.

The judge approached.

“Are you okay?”

“I can’t walk.”

“I’ll bring a stretcher.”

“Damn it…”

And so, a curious spectacle unfolded—both the winner and the loser were carried away on stretchers. Oliver had won, but the crowd chanted Sven’s name.

***

An unexpected twist occurred.

Although Oliver had defeated Sven, the injuries he suffered prevented him from continuing in the tournament.

Those who advanced to the semifinals were Laurent, Hasan, and Froin. Laurent, who was set to face Oliver, beat the Imperial knight who replaced him.

Froin performed well against Hasan but fell in the final exchange.

In the end, two remained.

Laurent and Hasan.

Thus, they prepared for the final battle of the tournament, staking their honor and competing for the emperor’s medal.

“This is the royal box, Your Highness.”

“Thank you.”

Yuri also attended the stadium to watch the final. Laurent had made it this far, so he couldn’t miss supporting him.

“But Your Highness, why are you so injured?”

“I met a new master and was training.”

“Another? You sure have a lot of masters.”

“I didn’t formally become his disciple, but I consider him a master.”

“You should rest a bit.”

The master Yuri referred to was none other than Inariel. With Hernando’s somewhat reluctant permission, Yuri had been training with Inariel in his workshop.

But Simon, unaware of this, took his words as a mere joke.

“In any case, Sir Laurent has reached the final.”

“Laurent versus Hasan…”

“Who do you think will win?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Obviously Sir Laurent!”

Yuri, arms crossed, observed the stage. The judge stepped up with a magical device and called for attention.

[At last, we’ve reached the final stage of the tournament. It’s been a long journey. Many knights have known both the joy of victory and the sorrow of defeat here. We’ve witnessed with our own eyes the blood and sweat they’ve shed.]

The judge took more time than ever.

After livening up the atmosphere a bit, the announcer pointed toward one side of the stage.

[Here comes the prodigious knight of Briol, Laurent Flandre!]

Laurent appeared with sword in hand and a slight smile on his face. He didn’t seem nervous at all.

[And facing him, the pride of the Empire. A supernova who came out of nowhere and defeated all the strong opponents—Hasan.]

From the opposite side, Hasan appeared.

As he walked toward the stage, he paused for a moment and looked toward the stands.

Soon, his gaze locked onto Yuri, who was seated in the front row. Without saying a word, Hasan stared at him intently, then stepped onto the stage.

Yuri murmured.

“What are you staring at me for?”

Before the final began, the judge pointed toward the royal box and shouted.

[Before starting the final, His Majesty the Emperor has personally come to honor us with his presence. All subjects, please stand and show your respect.]

At the highest point, with a full view of the stage and stands, were the Emperor and his family. Yekaterina was at his side.

Everyone except the royals stood to pay homage.

After a few moments, the judge raised his voice again.

[Now it’s time to decide who is the strongest. Laurent, the prodigious knight of Briol, and Hasan, the Empire’s supernova, are about to face off for their fate.]

Both stood calmly, staring at each other.

[Then, the duel—]

The judge glanced at the royal box. Then, the knight next to the Emperor blew a horn.

[Begin!]

The judge stepped back. And right then, their swords clashed.

A loud bang rang out once, and soon the sounds repeated. Like a woodpecker tapping a tree, the two swords struck nonstop.

They were so fast that, after clashing on one side of the stage, they reappeared instantly on the opposite side.

There were no feelers or words exchanged. As if the only goal was to bring the other down as quickly as possible.

The exchanges didn’t stop, and the audience never stopped marveling. Even to the naked eye, the level was incredibly high.

The spectators began shouting their favorite knight’s name.

“Go, Laurent!”

“Hasan, defend the Empire’s pride!”

Yuri spoke.

“Jared, Simon, Guinness…”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Cheer him on.”

As soon as he said that, the three stood up and began cheering for Laurent. The number of people supporting Laurent and Hasan was almost the same.

Citizens not just from Briol, but also from Liberta, Brusen, and the Holy Kingdom cheered for Laurent in unison. Even some Imperial citizens shouted Laurent’s name instead of Hasan’s. Sometimes, appearance mattered more than nationality.

Amid the commotion, Yuri reclined in his seat and watched the battle closely. It seemed like they were just clashing blindly, but in reality, both were laying traps.

“I see…”

Laurent was skillfully repeating certain moves to make Hasan think he had a habit or tic, while Hasan was gripping his sword shorter than usual to throw off Laurent’s sense of distance.

Both were setting the stage to capitalize on a single opportunity.

Yuri watched the battle with great interest, waiting to see who would make their move first.

“So this is where you were.”

Then, a voice was heard. Turning around, Yuri saw Jose crossing the stands toward his seat.

“May I sit next to you?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

Simon, Guinness, and Jared squeezed in to make room for him. Though Jose was large and it got a bit cramped, they managed.

“Who does Your Highness think will win?”

Before Yuri could answer, Jared spoke for him.

“Of course, Sir Laurent! Come on, cheer for him.”

And he immediately began shouting Laurent’s name. But Jose didn’t seem convinced.

“I don’t mean cheering for our companion—I mean objectively analyzing their strength.”

“So you think Laurent will lose?”

“Personally, I lean toward that.”

Jose leaned forward.

Laurent and Hasan were fighting near the side where Yuri and Jose were seated.

Hasan thrust toward Laurent’s side, who calmly blocked and immediately counterattacked. Hasan rolled to the ground to dodge and create distance.

The two began circling each other on stage, observing one another.

It was the first time since the duel began that they reached a stalemate. Neither attacked first.

“Hasan is hiding his play. He has two tricks prepared. In contrast, Sir Laurent has only one.”

“Apart from holding the sword shorter, what’s the other?”

“So you noticed that, huh?”

Jose smirked.

“The other is a secret. If I tell you now, it wouldn’t be fun.”

“And how do you know?”

“Well, I hate to say it, but we trained together recently.”

“With Hasan?”

“Yes. He came a few days ago and asked me to check his technique. In return, he asked me to keep it secret.”

“And what was the result?”

“I couldn’t stop it. If you don’t know it beforehand, you can’t defend against it.”

Yuri looked at Jose.

If a knight like him couldn’t resist the technique, then Laurent likely had little chance either.

“What kind of technique is it?”

Yuri also knew techniques that were impossible to stop unless known in advance. One of them was the “wounded fake art” he had taught Simon some time ago.

Yuri looked at Simon.

“It’s not that technique, is it?”

“Huh?”

“My fake wound…”

“Of course not.”

Yuri tilted his head and looked back at the stage.

Laurent was the first to move. The motion he had been repeating involved opening his hand and then wrapping it around the hilt. Each time he did this, he raised the sword and struck down forcefully.

This time, too, he opened his hand and gripped the hilt. Hasan, by reflex, tensed up and prepared to defend.

But it was a trap. Laurent feigned lifting the sword, then suddenly twisted and slashed toward Hasan’s legs.

“Whoa…”

Yuri let out a low murmur. Laurent’s sword cut cleanly at Hasan’s exposed leg.

However, Hasan quickly retreated, narrowly avoiding the blow. Although he took a cut to the thigh, it wasn’t deep.

The problem came afterward.

“Laurent!”

As if by mechanical reflex, Hasan counterattacked with a horizontal slash. The distance between them was too great for the sword to reach.

And yet…

Suddenly, Hasan’s sword extended.

He gripped the hilt’s end and forcefully extended the blade.

Laurent, retreating calmly, couldn’t react in time to the sudden lengthening of the sword and was struck in the chest.

Splash!

Blood sprayed.