Chapter 161: The Festival of Swords (4)

Chapter 161: The Festival of Swords (4)

"...Sometimes there are exceptions."

"Hey, don't look away."

"Cough, cough! It seems like the elders of Parzan are in a hurry. I can't believe they're starting with such an intense test from the beginning."

Suddenly, the girl began to cough dryly. Judging by her perfectly fine complexion, it seemed like a crafty trick to avoid further questioning.

Setting that aside, the rules were quite unique. Eliminating participants based on the number of weapons instead of the number of people. It seemed to be the reason why they were required to take out all their weapons during the identity check. The guide continued explaining.

"Reducing the number of weapons is simple. Either destroy them yourself and render them unusable, or put them in the furnaces we've prepared. The ones with weapons until the end will be considered the final possessor's."

"What?"

Ronan's eyes widened. This was yet another shocking rule. Given that these were individuals who made it to the Festival of Swords, they likely possessed decent weapons. Allowing them to legally plunder weapons seemed absurd. Confusion like wildfire spread among the participants.

"Damn it, get out of the way!"

"Don't look at my sword like that, you hounds!"

It was ruthless, but it seemed like a brilliant strategy. It was apparent that they aimed to select only the truly exceptional individuals. Now, participants would've to fight with all their might to protect their weapons.

While most participants were scared and distanced themselves, there were also groups of two or three sticking together. They probably coordinated in advance. Seeing them letting this slide, there seemed to be a lenient aspect to the regulations.

"Hey, brother, I have a question."

At that moment, a man with both arms covered in tattoos raised his hand. His face was as ferocious as the axe hanging on both sides of his waist. The guide nodded.

"Yes, go ahead."

"I heard that bloodshed won't be prevented during this event, but this is my first time participating, and I'm curious about the limits... You know?"

The man trailed off, glancing around. His wandering eyes seemed to be yearning for something. Those who made eye contact with him shrunk their shoulders. The sound of several participants chatting tickled Ronan's ears.

"Oh my goodness. It's the Skull Collector"

"Damn it, of all people, why do I end up in the same group as that crazy bastard..."

Seeing an interesting nickname attached to him, it seemed like he was quite a notorious figure. Sporadic information revealed that he was known for beheading people to make drinking cups or that he was a ruthless former rogue. The slow-sliding gaze of the man was still fixed on the self-proclaimed lady who was still putting on airs. A sinister smile adorned his face.

"Can I kill her?"

"If it becomes an unavoidable situation, yes. However, attacking an opponent that has surrendered is strictly prohibited."

"Hehe, I like that."

In reality, it was almost as if there were no rules. The man chuckled with a shrug, and suddenly, the space around him was empty. Belatedly, the girl, who met the man's eyes, furrowed her brows.

"What are you looking at? Ugly thing."

"Hehehe..."

With an amused smile, the man turned his attention back to the front. The lady, who had been repeatedly calling the man a ugly thing, finally relaxed her expression after looking alternately at Ronan and Shullifen. The guide addressed the participants again.

"Does anyone else have any more questions?"

Perhaps due to the mention of death, the tone now carried a heavier weight. A weak-looking young man raised his hand. A sword that looked too good for the armor he was wearing was rattling around his waist.

"I-I want to surrender. Is it possible now?"

"It's not possible at the moment. Only participants who self-destroy their weapons can surrender. I hope you will not approach the Festival of Swords with a light attitude."

"It can't be..."

The implication was clear - unless one was willing to shed blood or abandon their weapon in the process, they had to fight until the end. The young man's face twisted with despair, and his thin legs trembled like a newborn deer.

"Hehe, that's a good sword, kid."

"Do you think you can make it to the furnace?"

Ronan noticed that several participants were glaring at him with sinister eyes. Perhaps surrendering wouldn't be an easy option either. Shullifen furrowed his brows as if he was displeased.

"Disgusting."

With the young man's question, silence fell again. The guide, once again, clapped his hands to capture attention and announced loudly.

"No more questions, it seems. The test will end when there are ten weapons remaining. We've cast identification magic on the weapons you submitted during the identity check, so don't worry about that. Participants without a weapon at the end will be eliminated."

With the final announcement, the guide gestured. Rows of referees dressed in identical uniforms enclosed the arena like a circle. Crossbows were held in their hands at regular intervals, tools to suppress those who violated the rules.

"Everyone get out of the way!"

"You'd better be careful not to fall in. We won't even be able to pick out your bones."

Following that, a gate on one side of the arena opened, revealing a wheeled cauldron. Gloved referees pushed the cauldron forward. Inside the massive cauldron, molten iron bubbled vigorously. The referees positioned the cauldron in the center of the arena and stepped back.

"Now, let's begin."

The gate closed, and fifteen referees simultaneously blew their horns. Boooooo! A loud sound echoed throughout the arena. The first to break the silence was the young man who had inquired about surrendering.

"Aaargh! Please, no! I'm going to surrender!"

He screamed, rushing towards the cauldron. Simultaneously, other participants who had been watching him closely rushed out.

"Stand right there, coward bastard!"

"Give me your sword!"

Various types of weapons appread. Judging by the manic voices of the pursuers, it seemed they wouldn't be satisfied with just taking the sword. In fact, the moment they heard that murder was allowed, it was something expected. After all, people who crave the taste of blood could be found anywhere.

"Ahaha, kid, if you weren't prepared for this, you shouldn't have come!"

At that moment, one of the pursuers leaped, kicking the ground. Perhaps by strengthening her leg strength with mana, the height she jumped was ridiculously high. In the hand of the lightly armored woman, a curved dagger sparkled like a claw.

Swish! With a dazzling spin, she descended towards the young man. It resembled a predator swooping down on its prey. The distance between the young man and her was less than 3 meters. Suddenly, a chilling breeze passed by her.

-Shirk!

"Huh?"

The woman, sensing something odd, tilted her head. A thin line appeared above the curved dagger. At the moment when her dagger was about to tear through the young man's back. Snap! Along the line, the curved dagger split in half, springing up and digging into her right eye.

"Aaargh!"

Thud! Losing balance, the woman fell headfirst to the ground. The sound of a broken neck softly echoed. The woman's body went limp as she twitched.

"You, you...!"

The pursuers quickly stopped in their tracks. Standing amidst them was a young man, silently holding up his sword. Shullifen, with the sword raised in silence, spoke.

"Leave the ones surrendering alone."

"Rising Star of the Empire...!"

The calm yet heavy voice evoked an image of a calm sea before a storm. An aura infused with a tempest swirled around Shullifen's azure sword. Overwhelmed by the momentum, the pursuers stepped back.

"Unlucky bunch."

"Urazil, what kind of luck did we end up with...!"

He wasn't an opponent they could handle. It was a mystery why they had forgotten about his existence. At that moment, the young man who had been running without looking back finally threw his sword into the cauldron. Clang! The molten iron swallowed the sword without leaving a trace. The young man collapsed, his legs giving way, and cried out desperately.

"Aaargh! I-I surrender! I surrender!"

"Participant number 34 has surrendered. Please exit."

It seemed like they assigned new numbers even to those they didn't know. The side gate at the corner of the arena opened. The young man left, sobbing, with both hands raised above his head. Referees with crossbows prevented others from attacking him. One of the pursuers, who had been watching Shullifen all along, sneered.

"Hey, how about we stop this and team up? If it's you, you're already confirmed to pass. We'll bring guys with good weapons, and you... ugh!"

Shullifen swung his sword without a word. Simultaneously, a gust of wind blew, and the weapons the pursuers held shattered into pieces. Broken spears, longswords, and maces fell to the ground. The faces of the pursuers turned pale.

"Ugh...!"

"Will you continue?"

Shullifen asked. Now they had to steal weapons from others if they wanted to continue fighting. The pursuers hesitated, then slowly raised both hands. Watching the whole scene from start to finish, Ronan chuckled.

"What a mess."

He was indeed a noble. Such individuals probably foster fantasies about nobility in the minds of the common folk. The overwhelmed pursuers quietly exited through the side gate. The girl, who had been standing next to Ronan, widened her eyes in amazement and spoke.

"Hoo... your handsome friend is quite good too."

"He's an alright guy. What, you don't know who that bastard is?"

"Yeah. I don't have much interest in the affairs of the world."

The girl shook her head from side to side. It sounded like the kind of talk you'd expect from old folks who've experienced everything in life. Grumbling, Ronan furrowed his brow.

"By the way, that's my technique, he just copied it. Unlucky bastard."

It was a technique Ronan had shown a few times during their travels through Dainhar, but it seemed like he had learned it entirely. This is why Ronan didn't like the genius types. Suddenly feeling a subtle sensation, Ronan glanced down. The girl, stretching out her hand, was grabbing his butt.

"Hmm... it's troubling. This side seems more solid, though."

"Aren't you going to get your hands off me?"

"Tsk, it's tempting."

The girl clicked her tongue and lowered her hand. Somehow, it felt like he couldn't let down his guard even a little. Shullifen stood in front of the cauldron and did not move, as if determined to protect the right to surrender.

With his sword sheathed, he indicated that he had no intention of attacking unless attacked first. Only then did the participants who were staring at him slowly began to move. There were no more participants who surrendered. One by one, the standoff structure collapsed into a chaotic skirmish.