Lord of Caldera

Chapter 194

This explanation, though meant as a reminder for the nobles in the Platinum Council, was mainly for the benefit of the commoners in the audience, who were listening intently to Viscount Torben's words.

"If a fighter kills their opponent by mistake, that may be forgiven. However, if they take the life of a defeated opponent despite a clear victory, they will be disqualified immediately."

After explaining the final rule, which the marquess had insisted upon, Viscount Torben turned to the candidates.

The rules had been set, but they hadn't yet decided who would go first.

"Then, the first to step forward will be..."

"It's me."

"Chieftain?"

Viscount Torben and the other nobles flinched. No one expected Ragnar, the most formidable contender, to step forward first. They had assumed he would wait until the end, as usual.

Ignoring the nobles' glances, Ragnar walked up to Viscount Torben.

"I will go first. Any objections?"

"No, none... but..." Torben stammered.

"Good. Then there's no issue."

Ragnar nodded and glanced to the side, picking up his weapon. It was an enormous ax, almost indistinguishable from a halberd, as large as a small tree.

Whoosh.

"Can... can a human really swing that thing?"

"I heard he decapitated a dragon with that..."

Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd. Even the nobles, who had seen him wield it before, looked uneasy. It was a strength that seemed beyond human.

After a few warm-up swings, Ragnar turned toward the candidates' area and called out.

"Sylas Corleone!"

"...!?"

"Come forward!"

"This... this madman..."

A ripple of shock passed through the nobles. The two strongest competitors in this trial, standing in opposition. To be honest, most considered the other candidates mere bystanders next to these two, so for them to start with a match against each other was astonishing.

What is he thinking?

Has he abandoned his plan to make a dramatic entrance?

"Let me show you."

Suddenly, Ragnar's ax twisted to the side, causing Sylas's sword to twist downward as well.

"Huh?"

As Sylas staggered slightly, Ragnar's ax shot high into the air. A faint smile played on Ragnar's lips.

Battlefield experience and technical mastery. No matter how strong you are, these are the things you lack.

To Ragnar, Sylas's only true weakness was his lack of experience. He couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen—hardly old enough to have seen much combat. How much experience did he have applying his swordsmanship in real-life battles? How often had he clashed weapons and bodies in true war?

Probably never. Maybe if he were a son of the North, but he's from the East.

The East was a peaceful region. Even if he had faced life-and-death situations, the frequency would be limited. His natural talent must have carried him this far, especially against creatures like dragons, where brute force was paramount.

And that will be your downfall.

No matter how powerful, even a young dragon falls prey to the fangs of an experienced predator. Certain of his advantage, Ragnar brought his ax down.

Thud!

"Gah!"

But before he could feel the ax connect, Ragnar was hit with a sudden blow to his chest, sending him flying backward. His breath was knocked out, and he felt as though his ribs were shattering.

"Cough... cough!"

Ragnar stumbled back several steps, coughing. Sylas made no follow-up attack but calmly retrieved his sword from where it had fallen.

"You've got some decent techniques there. And here I thought you'd just rely on brute force," Sylas said with a smirk.

"W-what did you do to me?"

"What did I do? I just hit you with this."

Sylas tapped his shoulder nonchalantly, and Ragnar's face went rigid as he processed what had happened. Experience more on My Virtual Library Empire

In that brief moment, he abandoned his sword and used his shoulder to hit me square in the chest.

He had adjusted his stance to reduce the impact, slipped inside to simultaneously evade and counterattack. Simple enough in words but nearly impossible in real combat.

Warriors typically avoided releasing their weapons, bound by an ingrained reflex, and instinctively retreated under attack. But Sylas had made both those decisions simultaneously without a moment's hesitation.

This wasn't the choice of a novice. Only a handful of veterans on the battlefield would reach such a state of mind.

"Experience and technical mastery to counter strength? That's all well and good."

Sylas shot Ragnar a sharp grin.

"But I have experience in plenty."