Chapter 150: Chaotic Times (2)

At first glance, Yalta’s swordplay seemed crude and unrefined, but in truth, it followed its own set of rules—honed through countless real battles.

From childhood, he had fought to the death in tribal wars. As the scars on his body multiplied, so did his strength.

Once his body was entirely marked by battle, he had no rivals.

Among the barbarian tribes of the frontier regions, the name Yalta was synonymous with invincibility.

His fame spread across the continent, and the emperor, impressed, offered him wealth in exchange for loyalty. Yalta gladly accepted and joined the Empire to venture into the wider world.

Yalta had confidence.

No one had fought more fiercely than he. A sword grows strong through deadly combat, not through lessons taught by others.

All those sword techniques taught in the Empire were false.

The enemy he now faced was no different from any typical knight of the continent.

Yalta smirked.

“Predictable. But at least it’ll be entertaining.”

He was bored from a lack of worthy opponents.

Yalta was not one to bother pulling up weeds. To him, the knights of Joachim were like plants he could rip out at any time.

But finally, a beast with fangs and claws had appeared.

Not a lifelong fighting beast like himself, but at least a well-trained hound.

“Haaah!”

Yalta roared and swung his sword. A fan‑shaped cutting wave blasted forward.

“So Joachim also has dogs worth eating!”

And the one who stepped forward was Jose, disguised as Hopper.

Jose scowled.

“What did you say?”

Jose was a dog lover with several hounds on his lands. He didn’t care what they ate, but hearing such an insulting remark from an enemy he had to kill filled him with fury.

Jose responded, gripping his sword.

“Dogs are our friends!”

This time, it was Yalta who was taken aback.

He had only spoken metaphorically—and he also loved dogs. For barbarian hunting tribes, dogs were as valuable as humans.

“N-no—it wasn’t that!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I said you’re like a dog. I meant I’d eat you!”

Yalta wasn’t eloquent. Jose, even angrier, continued.

“So you meant it! Die, you ignorant bastard!”

“Wait! But isn’t the cow our friend too?”

“Who’s talking about eating a cow for real! It was a metaphor because you’re a brute!”

“I meant it that way too!”

“What are you babbling, you ignorant barbarian?”

Yalta snapped.

When he first came to the Empire, he had been mocked as a barbarian—and he had smashed all their heads.

“You! Now you insult me for being a barbarian?”

This time, Jose was silent.

Discriminating between dogs and cows was one thing—but racial discrimination was far more serious.

If he wasn’t careful, Hopper—built as a just and brave warrior—could be seen as a racist.

He hurried to clarify.

“It’s not because you’re a barbarian, it’s just that you’re ignorant!”

Yalta cut him off.

“Listen carefully. There is no such thing as absolute superiority of any culture. Every culture develops in its own way based on natural, geographic, and climatic environments. None is inherently better than another. Those who believe their culture is superior blind themselves—and that distorted thinking can lead to dangerous ideas like racial superiority. So, as long as you don’t violate universal human values, learn to respect other cultures instead of mocking them.”

“Ah…”

Jose was stunned. Yalta’s logical response felt like a blow to his own weak point.

Gathering his composure, Jose roared again, sword raised.

“St-shut up already!”

“Hah, resorting to strength now that you’ve lost in logic?”

Yalta sneered.

“Who’s the ignorant one now?”

In the past, he killed everyone who looked down on him.

But it was Graham who taught him if you kill all your critics, you’ll end up alone. So Graham made him memorize a response for these situations.

Grateful to Graham, Jose shouted.

“Who’re you calling barbarian now!?”

Jose’s face turned red. The slime mask—so lifelike—reflected his flush in detail. Seeing that, Yalta laughed even louder.

Jose was humiliated.

“Shut up, you bastard!”

He lunged, searching for an opening in Yalta’s defense.

Yalta’s sword style was savage—and thus unpredictable. But it also left openings.

A violent downward slash—Jose deflected it, then aimed for Yalta’s wrist.

Many saw him as a brute swordsman, but in truth, Jose was technically skilled.

Blood spurted from Yalta’s hand.

Jose thought he’d gained the advantage.

But then something unbelievable happened.

“Eh?”

He hadn’t sliced the wrist. Yalta wrapped his hand in mana, catching Jose’s blade.

Though blood gushed, Yalta’s expression remained impassive.

“What are you doing?”

“Ugh…”

Jose applied force—but the sword wouldn’t budge. His hand trembled.

Yalta twisted his mouth into a crooked smile.

“You continentals, always relying on cheap tricks.”

Jose responded sharply.

“‘Continentals’? That’s discriminatory. Just like what you said earlier!”

“Eh?”

Yalta paused, then kicked Jose in the stomach.

“Bah, I don’t care anymore. Continental scum.”

“Kugh!”

Still, Jose wouldn’t drop his sword. Instead, Yalta was the one who had to release it.

Though powerful, grabbing the blade instead of the hilt was dangerous. Keeping hold while kicking could cost fingers.

Jose stepped back, regaining balance.

“In the end…there’s no point in arguing.”

Indeed, Yalta was one of the Ten Greats.

Yet not unbeatable. Yalta sensed that Jose was no easy foe—so he wiped the grin from his face and readied his sword.

Their mana techniques clashed at the meeting point—sparks flew.

Suddenly, Jose conjured the sea of Brusen and smiled faintly.

“Ten Greats, eh…”

A boy had once swung his sword daily by the sea, dreaming of one day joining the Ten Greats—and beyond, to become a supreme knight like Fiore Briol.

He had a long path ahead, but he sensed he had reached his first major milestone.

“I’m no longer intimidated by the Ten Greats.”

As predicted, Yalta was strong—but he no longer inspired fear. Jose felt unstoppable confidence surge from his chest.

Before reaching Joachim, Jose had dueled the third prince of Briol on a coastal cliff—and there he achieved what he longed for meeting Yuri Briol, witnessing his genius, and unlocking new personal growth.

Sharing their inner visions with that swordsman, they both saw a state of being they hadn’t even known existed.

Since that day, Jose fully believed he had achieved a level comparable to the continent’s strongest. Now it was time to prove it with his sword.

“Yalta.”

“What?”

“You don’t deserve the title of one of the Ten Greats.”

“What did you say?”

“You don’t have it.”

“What?”

Jose took a deep breath, raised his sword vertically, and unleashed a blazing energy like a flame.

“The essence.”

Then he stomped hard.

Boom!

From his feet, a network of mana spread in all directions. That network anchored his body to the ground.

In that instant, Jose looked like a gigantic tree with roots deeply embedded in the earth.

Next, as if aiming a cannon, he directed the tip of his sword directly at Yalta.

From its blade, mana began to burn.

“Try blocking this.”

A ray of light shot in a straight line toward Yalta. An extremely compressed mana arrow advanced straight toward a single point, obliterating everything it touched in its path.

It was a blade impossible to block.

Jose’s cutting energy pierced through space and concentrated directly on Yalta’s chest.

He opened his eyes wide. It wasn’t an attack he could ignore.

It was too fast to dodge and too powerful to block.

He had to react somehow, but Yalta missed the moment.

And stood there, watching like nothing was happening.

Just as Jose’s attack was about to reach his chest.

Clang!

Someone intervened.

“Yalta! Recover the judgment!”

“Sir Graham?”

Graham, who had deflected Jose’s attack, rubbed his elbow. The impact had been so strong that he probably wouldn’t be able to use it for a while.

“Why didn’t you do anything, Yalta?”

“That…”

Yalta fought by instinct. But his instinct didn’t react to the attack he had just received.

In other words, he didn’t sense the danger. That’s why he didn’t move.

Upon vaguely understanding the meaning of that.

Yalta grew enraged.

“I just let my guard down, Sir Graham.”

But his face was completely contorted with fury. He was no longer holding back.

He gripped his sword hilt tightly, puffed up his muscles, and the mana pulsed violently around him, kicking up dust.

“I’m really going to kill you.”

His aura had changed.

Jose, watching him, stepped back with some disappointment. He hadn’t expected Graham to intervene.

“Of course. It couldn’t be that easy.”

It seemed things would get a bit harder from now on. That’s when the lord of Joachim shouted from behind.

“Retreat for now! Come, Hopper!”

The Joachim troops began to pull back.

While Jose was facing off against Yalta, the rest of the army was also fighting intensely.

With Yalta, their main force, distracted by Jose, the Joachim troops had achieved some success.

“Hopper! We can fight again another time! Strategically, we must retreat now!”

“Understood.”

Jose nodded and gave Yalta a big grin.

“Hey! See you, you savage bastard!”

“The continental guy is running away?”

“Running, you say… If your nanny hadn’t stepped in, you’d be on the ground with a hole in your chest right now.”

“Shut up!”

Yalta snapped. It clearly hurt his pride to have been so close to death.

Jose backed away while talking to the lord of Joachim and threw one last provocation.

“Next time we fight, bring your nanny too! I could tell you pissed yourself, so you’ll need someone to clean you up!”

With that, he turned and began retreating without looking back, along with the Joachim troops.

“Son of a bitchhhh!”

Yalta screamed with veins bulging from his neck, about to charge after him. But Graham stood in his way.

“Don’t stop me!”

He growled and brought his face close to Graham’s. However, Graham remained unfazed.

With a calm expression, he placed a hand on Yalta’s chest and shook his head.

“You’re agitated. You mustn’t fight like this.”

“I’ll decide whether to fight or not!”

Yalta yelled like an enraged child. Normally, he followed Graham, but when he got this mad, he wouldn’t listen to anyone.

Graham spoke quietly.

“Yalta. Breathe deeply.”

After snorting for a while, Yalta pursed his lips, then exhaled long and hard.

He repeated the process a few times and then, still hot on the forehead, rubbed it with his palm.

“Sorry. I lost my temper, Sir Graham.”

“Don’t be swayed by your emotions.”

“Yes, yes… but even so…”

Yalta growled in frustration.

“Why don’t we pursue them if they’re fleeing?”

“There’s no need to spill more unnecessary blood. There could be a trap in enemy territory.”

“Ugh…”

He respected Graham, but every time he said such old-fashioned things, he couldn’t help feeling annoyed.

“Fine. If you say so, Sir Graham, it must be the right decision.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

“It’s nothing.”

“By the way, did he say his name was Hopper…?”

“That bastard’s name is Hopper?”

Yalta looked in the direction his opponent had gone.

“He’s no ordinary guy. Not much weaker than me. Next time, I’ll tear off his head and put it in a display case.”

For Yalta to acknowledge someone like that, Hopper must have skills close to the Ten Greats.

“Someone like that was hiding in Joachim…?”

The three brothers from the sweet potato field who beat their soldiers, that Hopper who faced Yalta.

Obstacles not in the plans were appearing.

Who would’ve imagined that Joachim was hiding so much talent? In chaotic times, the heroes who lived in anonymity came to light.

Yalta still hadn’t fully calmed his rage.

“We don’t know what those mountain hicks are plotting. Let’s advance by burning the city.”

“No. We won’t.”

“They tried to poison the emperor! There’s no reason to show mercy to a country like this. That’s how you scare them into surrendering.”

“I don’t intend to punish innocents for the sins of others. We’ll capture the king of Joachim and make him pay.”

Graham was resolute.

He had accepted the position of commander with the intent of minimizing casualties. And indeed, Graham maintained strict control of the army to prevent civilian losses.

If not for him, the imperial army’s advance would’ve left mountains of corpses.

“Ugh…”

Yalta looked at him with an ambiguous expression.