Chapter 226: Clash! The Cult Appears!
"By the way, Lady Beatrix. Did you watch the previous Bushin Festival matches?"
As the announcement for contestant entry began, Iris asked with some curiosity.
Beatrix nodded slightly:
"I've seen a bit."
"Then who do you think will win this match?"
"The winner... hmm~"
After merely a moment's thought, Beatrix answered without hesitation:
"Mahiro."
"Uh... Lady Beatrix?"
The decisiveness of this response made Iris feel as if she had just said it casually.
"He's truly strong, on a completely different dimensional level. I've experienced that sense of powerlessness myself."
After pondering for a moment, Beatrix added this explanation.
Well, that reason was somewhat convincing.
After all, Beatrix had indeed fought against Mahiro and lost to him.
But the atmosphere around them gradually became subtle.
The nobles' gazes toward Beatrix began to turn strange.
What Beatrix said made some sense, but using one's own defeat to highlight the opponent's strength...
Most normal people wouldn't use that as an example, considering it shameful.
Yet Beatrix appeared so composed.
Was it something to be proud of or boast about?
Amid this subtle atmosphere, the two contestants preparing for the Bushin Festival finals made their entrance.
The first to appear was John Smith.
As if teleporting, he instantly appeared on one side of the arena.
His attire remained the same as before—a striped shirt paired with a thin black tie and black suit, wearing leather shoes on his feet.
And on his face, he wore a white mask covering the upper half.
No one had seen his true face to this day.
"Ara, so this is the impostor you've been talking about?"
In the spectator seats, Yukime observed John Smith, who had suddenly appeared in the center of the arena, with great interest.
Delta, sitting nearby, sniffed and nodded vigorously.
"That's right, Delta would never mistake the scent."
"In that case, this servant thinks this match is going to become quite interesting..."
As soon as she finished speaking, Yukime immediately felt several piercing gazes directed at her from around her.
She didn't need to guess—it was the members of Shadow Garden sitting nearby.
"Stinky fox, do you actually think that impostor can beat the boss?!" Delta demanded.
Her tail was slowly drooping, and her eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
"Hehe, how could that be?"
Yukime smiled innocently: "This servant has complete confidence in our master. Rather, our current master seems quite angry~"
The moment her words fell.
The wind suddenly stopped.
Even the noisy spectator seats fell into complete silence.
It wasn't that time had stopped, but everyone could feel an enormous magical power suddenly permeating the arena.
"Wh-what's happening?"
"Why does it suddenly feel so cold?"
"S-something seems to be coming out from there, it's terrifying..."
Someone in the audience said this, and instantly all gazes converged on the empty player tunnel opposite.
From the deep, dark player tunnel, an extremely terrifying magical aura suddenly surged forth.
The air trembled slightly.
The sweltering temperature seemed to plummet to freezing point in an instant.
It was as if the winds and clouds had shifted!
The clouds appeared to press lower, slowly swirling in the sky above.
Everyone enveloped by this aura couldn't help but tremble!
It even gave them the illusion that what was about to emerge wasn't a contestant, but a released flood beast!
All watched the player tunnel with both anticipation and fear, swallowing nervously.
They seemed desperate to know what kind of existence would step out from there...
But the next second.
This terrifying magical pressure suddenly vanished without a trace.
In its place, a figure had appeared on the other side of the arena at some unknown time.
It was none other than Mahiro.
As before, his hands were still empty.
But unlike before, his expression was now filled with calm.
Like the calm before a storm, he carried an imposing aura without showing anger.
He gazed indifferently at the person standing opposite him.
"So scary, boss... De, Delta has never seen this before..."
Delta involuntarily swallowed, all her fur standing on end.
Yet it wasn't just her—no one had ever seen this side of Mahiro before.
Completely different from his usual gentle image, he had become cold and unfamiliar.
However, as the two entered, they weren't greeted with thunderous cheers like before.
Only the silent stillness of crows.
A dead silence without even the chirp of insects.
But the audience still eagerly anticipated this fierce battle between dragons.
After all, both competitors had impressive records, having never lost a single match since entering the tournament.
Moreover, John Smith had defeated the former champion Claire Kagenou.
While Mahiro was even more terrifying—he had actually defeated the legendary "War Goddess," the Sword Saint of the elf race!
So, which of these two dark horses would have the last laugh?
They were quite looking forward to it.
"The finals—John Smith versus Yotsuba Mahiro! Begin!"
The host's voice echoed throughout the arena.
But strangely, neither John Smith nor Mahiro moved at all.
Yet a hurricane swept through the center of the arena, bursting with countless sparks.
The continuous clashing of metal could be heard.
Even the ground was torn with fierce, terrifying scars.
"...What's happening?"
Everyone stared dumbfounded at the situation in the arena.
But no one could answer this question, even as they analyzed the situation without blinking.
They couldn't discern anything.
It was as if the two were engaged in some hidden confrontation that was affecting reality!
Finally, someone noticed the clue.
"Look, what's that?!"
Following the shout, they saw faint, barely perceptible silver lights sweeping through the air.
Was that... threads?
Indeed, they were threads.
Countless silver threads surged and danced beneath the overcast sky, filling the surroundings of the arena.
And the weapon Mahiro wielded in response was also—
Threads.
But unlike steel wires, his threads were constructed from pure magical energy, yet their hardness and toughness were in no way inferior to magic-infused steel wires.
Thus, the two engaged in a long-range duel.
However, the first to lose patience was John Smith.
Or rather, Mahiro broke the stalemate.
Swish—
The magically constructed threads suddenly transformed into a cage that descended around Smith, instantly tightening—
Rip!
Thousands of threads tore through Smith's figure, yet there was no tactile feedback.
It was an afterimage.
Completely unscathed, John Smith abruptly appeared behind Mahiro, similarly swinging down his threads.
Clang—
With just a slight twitch of his fingers, the metallic clashing sound rang out once more.
Threads collided with threads, silently straining against each other, interweaving like a fishing net.
If a feather were to fall at this moment, it would likely be shredded to pieces by these crisscrossing threads.
Yet amidst their confrontation, gazing at the half of the face concealed by the mask, Mahiro was the first to speak:
"What, not playing with your slimes anymore? Switched to using threads?"
"Oh? So you've recognized me after all. As expected of my fated rival."
He didn't seem surprised at all—or perhaps John Smith had anticipated this before stepping into the arena.
After all, even his slime suit couldn't conceal his identity earlier, let alone such a crude and simplistic disguise.
"Pfft..."
Yet Mahiro's tone of mockery remained unchanged as he calmly asked:
"I just want to ask you one thing."
"What?"
"Was it you who injured Claire?"
"Correct."
"For Claire's sake, give me one reason not to kill you, Cid."
"How should I put it... I have a habit of clearly distinguishing between things that are important to me and those that are not."
John Smith spoke quietly.
Even through the mask, one could see his eyelids slightly lowering.
"To keep my mind unburdened... I have a goal I want to achieve no matter what, but that goal lies far away. So, throughout my life, I've continuously been cutting ties and letting go."
"Go on."
"As people age, the things they cherish tend to multiply."
"Making friends, finding lovers, securing jobs... The people and things they value keep increasing like this."
"But I, on the contrary, have been persistently cutting ties and letting go."
"That's unnecessary, this is unnecessary—I've discarded many things like this."
"In the end, what remains are the things I simply cannot abandon."
"I live only for that tiny fraction I cannot discard. Everything else is essentially irrelevant to me."
Though both were unleashing lethal moves with their hands, it seemed as though they were merely chatting during practice, as if probing each other.
"Your nonsense is equally irrelevant to me."
Mahiro casually blocked the incoming threads and coldly asked, "I just want to ask you—which category have you placed your sister Claire in?"
Though he already knew the answer, he still wanted to hear it from Cid's own mouth.
"Naturally, she falls into the disposable category."
"Good. You've chosen the path to your death, Cid Kagenou."
Having obtained the definitive answer, Mahiro no longer wished to hold back. Immediately, endless darkness began spreading from beneath his feet.
It had been broad daylight just a moment ago.
Yet in the next instant, night had silently fallen.
The sky was now shrouded in endless darkness and a canopy of glittering stars!
"...What in the world is this?!"
Perv in the VIP seats was so shocked his jaw nearly dropped.
Was this something a human could possibly achieve?
After joining the cult, Perv had believed he'd witnessed the pinnacle of this world's power. But now, everything before his eyes delivered a harsh slap to his face!
Even Beatrix, as a long-lived elf, felt profound shock at the scene outside the window.
Altering the heavens and earth.
A power akin to that of a deity.
The rotating stars in the night sky were clearly visible!
And standing beneath this starry night, controlling the flickering constellations, he appeared like an emperor of darkness, his crimson-glowing pupils overlooking all living beings!
Just as all the nobles in the VIP seats were stunned by the night enveloping the arena...
The door to the private box silently opened.
A figure quietly slipped inside.
Tap, tap—
In the dead-silent venue, only these sounds echoed.
The footsteps quietly approached the upper VIP seats, heading toward the puppet-like King of Oriana seated beside the King of Midgar!
"Die, Perv!!!"
Swish—
A sharp longsword flashed like white light.
Without the slightest hesitation, Rose drew the slender sword at her waist and thrust it toward Perv!
But in the next moment, an immense force struck her blade, immediately deflecting it.
"What?!"
Rose couldn't believe it, but then she suddenly felt a chill at her neck. She leaped backward, leaving the uppermost VIP seats and landing below.
A strand of golden hair drifted silently through the air.
It was her hair, cleanly severed without a sound!
Had she remained there a moment longer, it would have been her head that was severed!
"Rose?!"
Iris was the first to exclaim in shock, springing up from her seat and staring incredulously at the crouching girl.
The gazes of the other nobles simultaneously fell upon Rose.
Slight expressions of surprise appeared on their faces.
That ungrateful daughter who attempted to assassinate the King of Oriana had actually appeared openly in the venue!
What was she trying to do?
Her drawn weapon made it perfectly clear.
This was an assassination attempt!
As for Perv, he was now drenched in cold sweat. He instinctively touched his neck, confirming his head was still attached.
But he was momentarily too terrified to speak, his legs trembling slightly.
Madwoman!
An absolute madwoman!
How dare you attempt an assassination here!
Feeling underestimated, Perv was blinded by rage and no longer intended to capture Rose alive.
However, just as he was about to issue the command, faint footsteps from behind made him halt his words.
It felt as if some far more terrifying presence was standing behind him.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
Ignoring the nobles' astonishment—and even Princess Iris herself—Rose directly aimed her rapier toward the high platform.
Her honey-golden eyes were filled with intense gravity.
Tap, tap, tap—
The sound of footsteps broke the deathly silence that had frozen the VIP seats.
A man emitting an unusual aura gradually emerged from behind Perv.
He had hair like blazing flames and slowly descended the stairs, stopping on the second step from the top.
"You've performed well, Rose Oriana."
"Who are you?! Why are you protecting that scoundrel Perv? Are you in league with him?!"
It was an obvious conclusion.
But the man shook his head and chuckled lightly:
"In league? He's not worthy. He's merely my subordinate."
The man spoke leisurely, his gaze sweeping over Rose's entire body with contempt and aggression.
"As for who I am... people call me the 'Transcendent Spellsword' Mordred. I am the Ninth Seat of the Order of the 'Knights of Rounds.'"
"Tch..."
Hearing this title, Rose's eyes widened slightly, her pupils trembling faintly.
The Knights of Rounds of the Diabolos Order...
She had once privately sought out Teacher Natsume and learned about the Order from her.
Among them, the twelve Knights of Rounds were the supreme rulers of the Order!
For example, that bald bishop in the Sanctuary called himself the Eleventh Seat of the 'Knights of Rounds,' 'Avaricious' Nelson.
"So you're with that bald guy!"
"Oh? You mean Nelson? Though we're both Knights of Rounds, my strength is entirely different from his, little girl. So surrender quietly. I might even spare your life and let you become the king of Oriana. You seem far more useful than that waste."
Mordred stood there, his calm voice tinged with a hint of laziness.
What are these people even talking about?
Iris was utterly bewildered by the scene before her.
Outside, Mahiro, the swordsmanship instructor, suddenly used abilities as dark as night, even summoning falling stars to attack.
And in the VIP room, Rose—a wanted criminal—had appeared here!
Not to mention this self-proclaimed man in the venue.
Just what is going on...?
"I refuse."
Rose responded sharply, simultaneously pointing her rapier at the man who called himself Mordred.
"Is that so? That's your answer, Rose Oriana..."
Mordred let out a soft sigh, as if his fading breath carried words like "what a hassle."
Then, he slowly drew the greatsword at his waist.
"Although this could easily kill you, as long as I control the power carefully—just severing your legs and one arm should be enough to activate the Black Rose."
As the words fell.
Rose's scalp tingled again.
That sensation from before had returned!
But this time, a golden figure stepped in front of her.
Clang—
A clear ring of steel, scattering air currents.
The invisible slash was effortlessly blocked.
Simultaneously, another figure had silently appeared behind Mordred.
Clang
Another explosive clang echoed.
But this time, it was Mordred who blocked the attack from behind.
"Oh? A descendant of Olivier? Do you intend to interfere as well? Beatrix, the Sword Saint of the elves."
"I won't allow anyone to harm my niece."
Beatrix declared.
Before Mordred could execute his slash, she leaped aside, evading his blade.
Placing herself directly in front of Alpha.
"Your niece..."
Mordred's eyes narrowed into slits as he gazed at the elven maiden with flowing golden hair and a black dress.
"So it's you... the little girl I failed to capture back then..."