Chapter 164

Chapter 165. Can You Feel the Difference in Power? (4)

In the history of team tournaments, the fastest match time, excluding surrenders, is 4.2 seconds.

However, that record, which had remained unbroken for decades, was shattered just moments ago.

2.7 seconds.

It was a record set by Keter.

“D-did he die?”

“I don’t think there’s even a body left…”

The audience buzzed with murmurs. To their eyes, the match seemed to have ended in just one second.

Although the dust cloud obscured the view, the sheer power of Keter’s Milky Way had already been proven.

And it wasn’t just one shot—it was six. Even a 5-Star Master would struggle to withstand such overwhelming force. How could Regan, a 4-Star, and knights below 3-Star possibly endure it?

Gulp.

The sound of swallowing echoed faintly across the vast arena, like a distant echo.

As the dust settled, the audience was both fearful and expectant, wondering if scattered pieces of flesh would be revealed.

Finally, the dust cleared, and what appeared was…

“They’re alive!”

“How are they still alive?!”

“Are they even breathing?!”

Regan and the three knights were in a state beyond description—words like “battered” or “tattered” didn’t suffice.

Their swords and armor were shattered, and even their body hair had been completely scorched off. They were reduced to their most primal form. Their bodies were singed, but not fully cooked.

The referee didn’t even need to check closely before shouting at the top of his lungs.

“M-match over! Winner, Team Keter! Hey, medics! Get up here now!”

The waiting medics rushed onto the ring. A team of physicians, pharmacists, and doctors examined Team Regan’s condition.

Each of them used their own methods to assess the team’s state, and they couldn’t hide their shock.

“How is this even possible?”

“They’ve sustained severe injuries, both externally and internally. Yet they’re not dead… They’re teetering on the edge of death…?!”

“All four of them have nearly identical injuries… This is impossible, even if it was intentional!”

All eyes turned to Keter. At this moment, there wasn’t a single person in the arena who wasn’t looking at him.

Being the focus of tens of thousands of eyes is an immense burden. Even seasoned veterans or lords responsible for thousands would feel the pressure.

And yet, Keter was a young man who hadn’t even undergone his Coming-of-Age Ceremony. It wouldn’t be surprising if he panicked under such pressure—but instead…

Thud!

Keter raised his fist triumphantly, basking in his victory.

“Woo, woo… WOOOOAH!!”

As one spectator erupted into cheers, a thunderous roar of applause followed.

“The Divine Archer of Sephira!”

“Keter! Keter!”

The audience loved Keter, who, without a care for the next match, ended the fight in an instant with his ultimate move from the very start.

Other teams often held back, conscious of various factors.

They fought using basic swordsmanship to avoid revealing their family techniques or conserved their Aura for future matches.

Some teams even fought without using Aura at all, relying solely on swordsmanship.

But Keter was bold. He didn’t hold back. From start to finish, he showed off his ultimate move.

“Lord Keter! Tell us the name of your technique!”

“Tell us, tell us!”

The excited crowd clamored for Keter to reveal the name of his technique.

Keter seemed to ignore them as he prepared to leave the ring.

But just before he left, his casual remark reached the audience’s ears.

“Milky Way.”

With a cool, indifferent demeanor, Keter revealed the name of his technique and walked away. The audience began to cheer for him like fanatics.

* * *

Team Rajis’ waiting room.

Having watched Keter’s match, Rajis glanced at the bracket and muttered.

“Reckless. If he used a technique of that magnitude, he must have exhausted all his Aura… Is he not thinking about the next match…?”

No matter what anyone said, the top three contenders in Group A were clear.

Keter of Sephira.

Sword Dragon Rajis.

The Sword Witch, Henya.

Barring any surprises, these three were almost guaranteed to meet in the semifinals and finals of the team tournament.

With that in mind, it was best to conserve Aura as much as possible. The more Aura you expend, the longer it takes to recover.

“…Perhaps it’s not arrogance, but confidence.”

The divine power Keter displayed in the Battle Royale was extraordinary. It wasn’t just about raw destructive power and flashiness.

‘Keter completely controls the flow of battle. He dominates not only space but also the emotions of his opponents. Even I, who only know the theory, feel like Keter has mastered it all.’

The amount of Aura and techniques can be acquired with innate talent. It’s rare, but within reason.

However, the combat sense Keter displayed made Rajis feel an insurmountable wall.

Clench.

Rajis tightly clenched his fist.

Some may not admit it, but Rajis was certain. Keter was an overwhelming force. He surely still had reserves.

But Rajis had no intention of yielding the title of the Southern Sword.

‘To create an ideal, just world, I must first become the Kingdom’s greatest swordsman. That is the first step of my plan. If I can’t even become the Southern Sword, I cannot change the world.’

There might be other paths, but they would either require more lives than I have or take an impossibly long detour.

Becoming the Southern Sword, and then the Kingdom’s greatest swordsman, was the fastest and surest path.

“In this tournament, I will burn everything I have.”

Rajis believed this was the trial given to him by the heavens.

A trial bestowed by the heavens—

A trial to surpass Keter!

“I will prove that justice will never be broken.”

With his hands clasped as if in prayer, Rajis solemnly swore.

* * *

“Lady Henya, your semifinal opponent has been decided. It’s Team Rajis.”

The voice of a teammate reached Henya’s ears as she trained in a motionless stance.

Henya simply opened her mouth and spoke.

“The final opponent will be Keter, right?”

“Yes. Who would have thought he’d use Milky Way from the very first match all the way through…?”

Unlike Henya, who devoted every spare moment to training, her teammates spent their time analyzing the strengths of opposing teams through screens.

With this strategy, Team Henya could defeat their opponents with minimal effort, preserving their stamina and Aura.

But analyzing Team Keter was pointless.

In the first match, they effortlessly crushed their opponents with six shots of Milky Way. In the second match, Keter unleashed six more shots of Milky Way, defying everyone’s expectations that his Aura would be depleted.

As a result, their opponents lost the will to fight.

“W-we surrender.”

Having seen what happened to Team Regan after being hit by Milky Way, no one dared to block or dodge it.

The second team surrendered, enduring the humiliation, and the third team naturally followed suit.

By the fourth match, there was no surrender, but the outcome was obvious to everyone. Four more critically injured fighters were added to the treatment room.

Thus, Keter reached the finals using only one technique from start to finish, and as everyone predicted, the three strongest fighters met at the top.

Now, who would face Keter in the finals would be decided in this semifinal.

The clash between Team Rajis and Team Henya.

Rajis was recognized as one of the “Seven Young Geniuses of the Lilian Kingdom” by the mysterious organization “Mystic Gate,” earning the title of “Sword Dragon.”

Meanwhile, Henya, the daughter of Lord Eslow, had earned the title of “Sword Witch” through her numerous monster-slaying achievements, including defeating the B-Class Named Monster “Knight Slayer.”

The common citizens were busy debating who would win, their voices hoarse from excitement.

“Sir Rajis is a genius among geniuses in swordsmanship! I’ve never seen such a noble sword in my life! Lady Henya is incredible too, but she can’t match Sir Rajis’ swordsmanship!”

“What do you know about swordsmanship? Just think about it—how can someone wielding one sword defeat someone with two?”

“Oh, come on! Does having two swords mean double the strength?”

“What? You idiot! Then fight with one arm! I’ll fight with two!”

“Is that even the same thing?!”

The citizens, heated over who would win, were busy proving their points with their fists.

Even among the nobles and knights, no one could easily predict the outcome.

However, two people were certain of who would win. One was Rajis, and the other was Henya.

They both believed without a doubt that they would win. It wasn’t based on complex calculations of swordsmanship compatibility, fighting style, or condition.

It was will and conviction.

Rajis had to win for the sake of justice, and Henya had to become the Southern Sword for the sake of love.

“Wid, I’ll definitely do it.”

Henya fiddled with a flower necklace made from a leaf stem. It was a charm Wid had given her, wishing her safety in the tournament.

“I pray more for your safety than your victory, Lady Henya. I’ll always be waiting in the same place, so please come back safely.”

Henya’s eyes burned with determination as she recalled Wid’s words.

“Wid. If I don’t become the Southern Sword this time, there won’t be another chance. That’s how it feels.”

Though she had never fought Rajis before, Henya had heard of his reputation. He was undoubtedly a formidable opponent.

But more than Rajis, the real monster was Keter, waiting beyond.

Even though she had been utterly defeated in the Battle Royale, Henya wasn’t the type to be broken by a single loss.

Above all, she had a desperate reason to become the Southern Sword.

At first, it was simply to gain independence from her strained relationship with her father, Eslow. But after meeting Wid, she fell in love.

Henya’s heart, once cold and pessimistic, had blossomed like a flower and grown like a tree under the warmth of Wid’s presence.

While she felt a warm happiness, a sense of fear also emerged.

The anxiety that this happiness might disappear. It wasn’t just a vague unease.

If her father, Eslow, learned of Wid’s existence, he would surely test him, and that test would undoubtedly cost Wid his life.

‘I won’t let that happen.’

Henya’s love and resolve weren’t impulsive choices. They were decisions made after countless struggles, and she was certain of them.

“That’s why I won’t lose. I’ll even take down Keter. Even if my soul is worn away.”

And so, the two individuals, each with their own convictions, finally faced off in the semifinals.

Team Rajis and Team Henya.

The level of the knights in both teams was similar. There were no 4-Stars, just 2-Stars and 3-Stars. Of course, there were differences in ability, but they were too minor to affect the outcome.

In a battle between two transcendent beings, both 5-Star Masters of the highest caliber, there was no place for 2 or 3-Star knights.

Boom.

Then, the referee signaled the start of the match.

There were no cheers or chants. Everyone held their breath, watching every move of the two teams.

Swish.

As if by some unspoken agreement, one person from each team stepped forward to the center of the ring.

Rajis and Henya faced each other. Their eye contact lasted only five seconds, but in that time, they realized something.

“Lady Henya. I thought you joined the tournament for mere amusement, but I was wrong. I don’t know the reason, but I can feel the weight of your resolve.”

“Same here. I thought you joined just to gain popularity or show off, but I was mistaken. You also have a reason you must become the Southern Sword.”

“Yes. I will defeat you and surpass Lord Keter to become the Southern Sword.”

“Funny. I feel the same.”

The two spoke as if having a friendly conversation, leaving the audience on the edge of their seats. The distance was too great for anyone to hear their words.

“Why aren’t they fighting?”

“What are they even talking about?”

Just as the silent crowd was about to burst with impatience…

Crash!

In the blink of an eye, Rajis’ greatsword clashed with Henya’s twin swords.

* * *

The battle between Rajis and Henya was a blur of slashes and strikes, impossible to follow with the naked eye.

One moment they were in the center of the ring, the next they were at the far left, and before you could blink, they were at the far right.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The sound of their swords clashing echoed belatedly, as the speed of their exchanges surpassed imagination.

“…….”

“……!”

The audience, far from cheering or chanting, forgot to breathe as they watched the two clash.

The battle was fierce and poignant. It wasn’t just swords being exchanged—it was emotions and convictions, something even the clueless spectators could feel.

Even the restless nobles had become engrossed in the match.

The bloodline of Sephira was also captivated.

“Prince, Prince.”

Shake, shake.

Mail, startled by the sensation of his shoulder being shaken, turned his head.

“Ah, Lady Catherine.”

So absorbed in watching Henya and Rajis’ match, Mail hadn’t even noticed Catherine returning and calling for him. He quickly regained his composure.

Catherine’s return meant she had completed her mission.

“Did you find out why the nobles are so restless?”

“Yes, but…”

Catherine hesitated for some reason. Mail, wary of other nobles overhearing, spoke in a hushed tone.

“It’s fine if it’s just a rough idea. What’s important is that you found something. Even if it’s uncertain, tell me.”

“Well, it’s such a strange rumor, but there’s a witness, so I’m not sure…”

“What on earth is it?”

Curious about both the nobles’ sudden agitation and the outcome of Rajis and Henya’s match, Mail pressed her.

Hesitating, Catherine revealed the absurd information she had uncovered.

“Don’t be shocked when you hear this. Apparently… there are rumors of undead appearing in the city.”