SWNOVELXO Chapter 26
Chapter 26: Knights’ Competition (5)
Saeorin’s next opponent was a man named Zeraon Sigurd, who wielded a greatsword as large as his own body.
He exuded an infinitely solemn and tranquil aura, like standing before an immovable boulder.
Watching the opponent walking toward me from a distance, I swallowed dryly.
As the tournament progressed, many participants stepped into the colosseum to showcase their swordsmanship.
However, among them, the only one wielding a greatsword of that size was Sigurd.
It was a type I had never encountered before.
Yet, I didn’t feel nervous. Drawing upon the memories engraved in my mind, I attempted to predict Sigurd’s movements.
A linear attack reliant on brute strength, wide slashes that dominated the space around him—yet such attacks would likely leave him vulnerable in close combat.
‘Could it really be that simple?’
Even I, seeing him for the first time, could point out apparent weaknesses.
The noble family’s sword, honed over many years, wouldn’t be so easily exploited.
Surely, he had his own ways of countering.
There wasn’t much time to think further—I had to face him with my blade shortly.
I drew my sword and stepped forward.
A faint cloud of dust followed under my feet.
Sigurd didn’t rush toward me. Unlike other competitors, he walked slowly, steadily closing the distance between us.
Was it a way to conserve his stamina? Or just plain arrogance? Pushing aside my fleeting doubts, I moved forward.
Crackle!
The moment my foot touched the ground, blue lightning surged through my consciousness.
The bolt, streaking past the white snowfield, soon carried a chilling frost.
The Frost Wolf’s Step
Encased in blue lightning, the stride of the wolf that roams the white snowfield approaches its prey silently, only to explode into action when the moment calls for it.
That moment was now.
Fwoosh!
The instant my foot struck the ground, my form blurred. I sprinted toward Sigurd, leaving behind a trail of icy mist and faint afterimages.
At that very moment, Sigurd raised his right leg and slammed it down onto the ground.
Boom!
The shockwave erupting from the ground rattled my stance. Beyond my disrupted posture, I saw Sigurd lifting his greatsword high.
‘He discharged mana…’
Releasing concentrated mana to create a shockwave—an advanced technique designed to compensate for the inherent weaknesses of wielding a greatsword.
Only nobles who had trained extensively in mana control since childhood could pull it off.
At most, he could use it two or three more times before exhausting his mana. Yet, avoiding its effects wasn’t an option for me.
I gritted my teeth. My stance was broken. To regain the momentum lost to my opponent, I needed to get out of this spot.
Whoosh!
The enormous greatsword grazed past my hair as I vanished, leaving behind an afterimage. I had used a sudden burst of mana to escape the spot.
The moment I evaded danger, an opportunity arose.
Crash!
As the greatsword smashed into the ground, I seized the opening.
Though the strain on my ankle from the mana burst was significant, I could still move.
Tat-tat-tat!
I leaped over the massive greatsword and swung my blade. A rapid series of strikes followed, creating a strange resonance as they collided with the greatsword.
But my strength was insufficient. The sudden drain on my mana disrupted the flow of my once-seamless mana control technique. A critical miscalculation of my own condition.
As my blade cleaved through the air with a cold, azure gleam, I laughed to myself.
At least I had achieved my goal.
Clang!
In a flash of gleaming light, a dark, grimy hand shot up from below and seized the blade.
‘Gauntlets.’
I’d heard of them—gloves designed to protect the hands. Not only could they grab a blade without injury, but they were also excellent weapons in their own right.
“Your movements are decent, but your swordsmanship lacks depth.”
Sigurd’s calm voice carried a mocking tone, causing me to bite my lip. He was right—I knew there was no depth to it. My improvised swordsmanship was still in its infancy, like a child taking its first steps.
Crack!
No matter how much strength I exerted, the blade wouldn’t budge. I immediately twisted my body and kicked out with my leg.
Thwack!
Aiming for his head, the strike was disappointingly easy to catch. Without hesitation, Sigurd flung me aside with the hand that held me.
Thud!
“Ugh…!”
The force was overwhelming. Unable to recover from the broken stance, I spun uncontrollably through the air.
At that moment, Sigurd moved. He wrenched his embedded greatsword from the ground and launched himself forward.
Boom!
Another burst of mana erupted, sending a deafening roar through the arena and shattering the earth. The resulting shockwave propelled Sigurd forward at tremendous speed.
His form shot toward me like a streak of light.
‘This is it.’
A chilling instinct ran down my spine. Bracing for the imminent impact, I summoned all the mana within me.
The mana coursing from my heart enveloped my entire body, imbuing my blade with icy cold energy.
Whoosh!
The air tore apart as the incoming slash closed in. My sword met his greatsword head-on.
Crash!
The collision of mana-charged blades caused a massive explosion. I twisted my sword upward immediately.
The clash produced a series of sharp, grating sounds before both my body and blade were flung backward with a resounding thud.
Whirl!
Spinning through the air, I landed on the ground, falling to one knee. Exhaustion weighed heavily on my entire body, and my mana reserves were nearly depleted after two bursts of energy. My sword lay far out of reach.
However, my gaze didn’t follow the distant weapon.
Instead, I grasped the long sword planted firmly in the ground beside me.
During duels between knights, it wasn’t uncommon for weapons to break or fly out of reach.
To prevent fighters from becoming defenseless, the colosseum was outfitted with spare weapons scattered throughout.
The sword I now held was one of those reserves.
It bore no engraved memories, untouched by human hands. Swinging the gleaming blade, I pointed it at my opponent, signaling that the fight wasn’t over.
“Hah…”
A low breath escaped me, scattering a thin mist of cold air. If things continue as they were, I would surely lose. My gaze swept across the numerous weapons scattered around the colosseum.
Swish.
I shifted my stance. My legs, braced like sturdy trees, firmly supported my body. Raising both hands, I gripped the sword high.
Even my breathing began to change. The calm, measured breaths I had been taking transformed into something fierce and primal. I didn’t need to replicate this perfectly.
Through my memories, I extracted only the parts I needed. As I did, my inner world began to shift. The white snowfield vanished, replaced by a towering, imposing mountain.
My mana surged violently, wrapping around my entire body. It was unruly, ferocious, and singular in purpose: power. To achieve that purpose, the mana moved, swelling my muscles.
‘From the summit of the highest mountain, a gaze imbued with the might of a conqueror looks upon the world, commanding dominion over all…’
Boom!
Sigurd stomped the ground again, launching himself forward. This time, I didn’t move. Meeting his charge, I flashed a fierce grin.
As the chant continued, my mana grew even wilder. For a fleeting moment, Sigurd caught a glimpse of the massive mountain that had formed behind me.
Thunderclap Mountain-Shattering Blade
The sound of the slashing sword resembled a thunderclap, and the force imbued in the strike was said to be capable of shattering mountains.
Crash!
Sigurd’s greatsword charged forward in a straight line, meeting my blade mid-swing.
The resulting impact sent a bone-rattling shockwave through the arena. Weapons scattered around were blown away, and my hair shot upward in the turbulence.
Neither of us retreated.
Then, with a sharp, resounding crack, Sigurd’s massive sword shattered like glass.
The immense mana coursing through it had exceeded its limits, scattering shards of metal in all directions.
Looking down at the remnants of his weapon, Sigurd finally spoke.
“Was this your plan all along?”
I didn’t respond. I had no energy left to answer. I had poured all my mana into that last strike. My body was on the verge of collapse.
Sigurd glanced at his broken weapon—a sword that had withstood blows against massive rocks but had now failed him.
Before entering the tournament, he had ensured his equipment was in perfect condition. Yet, despite that, the weapon was now shattered.
“What did you do…?”
Recalling the fight, Sigurd pieced it together. The three strikes from the first exchange and one final strike just now—four in total. What he had dismissed as futile resistance had, in fact, been deliberate.
I had endured. Smiling through the pain, I stared at him down, waiting for this moment.
‘I might die…’
“I concede.”
Sigurd admitted his defeat. His weapon was broken, leaving him unarmed. Yet, despite this, I didn’t press the attack.
Sigurd could have continued the fight—after all, there were spare weapons available in the colosseum. But fleeing to grab another weapon felt disgraceful.
His opponent had embodied the perfect spirit of knighthood. It was his loss.
“Winner: Saeorin!”
As the result was declared, I barely managed to lift my trembling hand. Weakly, I clenched my small fist and tapped my chest twice.
It was the White Frost Tribe’s greeting, reserved only for those they acknowledged as strong. I had recognized Sigurd as a formidable opponent.
As Sigurd exited the colosseum, I released the breath I had been holding.
“Urgh…!”
A stream of dark, crimson blood flowed from my lips. The reckless shifts in mana had wreaked havoc on my insides. With my face pale, I collapsed onto the ground.