Chapter 176. Swordsmanship Festival (3)

Rival.

Receiving Ransel Grantz’s question, Harang thought of a few people.

The first to come to mind was Maya.

Her extraordinary skill, befitting the village’s second rank, and her relentless tenacity.

In fact, he had faced significant danger in the Demonic Palace. Without that moment of enlightenment, his life might have ended there.

But calling her a rival feels… a bit off.

Yes.

His relationship with Maya had deteriorated to the point where a soft word like “rival” no longer fit. If anyone was a rival, it would be Gael, but Maya felt more like an “enemy.”

Of course, I don’t really think of Gael as a rival either… So who else is there?

Harang racked his brain a bit more, but aside from those two, no one else came to mind.

However, those thoughts didn’t linger long.

He realized something. Ransel Grantz hadn’t asked the question to hear an answer but to share his own story.

“Do you, Ransel Grantz, have a rival?”

Thus, Harang turned the question back, and after a brief bitter expression, the other man spoke up.

“Rival… It’s a bit too grand a term for someone like me. But I’m working toward that kind of relationship.”

“I see.”

“Yes, that’s my honest feeling. If someone else asked what emotions I wield my sword with, I’d probably say it’s for the kingdom’s honor or that I swing my sword with chivalry every day.”

“Why lie? A competitive spirit isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“It depends on who the target is. The person I have in mind… is the prodigy of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall, no, the most promising young man in the southern continent.”

“…”

“You don’t know him? Hilus?”

“No, I don’t. Is he famous?”

“Haha… Very famous. Even in the southern continent, where young swordsmen are considered inferior to other regions, people say Hilus is different.”

“Is he much stronger than you, Ransel Grantz?”

“Probably. I got thoroughly beaten by him in the last swordsmanship festival, haha.”

After that, Ransel Grantz spoke at length about Hilus, the swordsman from the Seton Swordsmanship Hall.

How he had reached Graduate at the young age of 20, three years younger than Ransel.

How he had completely shattered Ransel’s arrogance, thinking there’d be little difference between fellow Graduates.

How, four years ago, he had defeated Ransel to win the youth division and was considered the top contender for this year’s youth division as well.

After hearing all this, Harang said with a surprised expression.

“For all that, you don’t seem too upset?”

“Pardon?”

“Isn’t it true? Losing to the same opponent repeatedly could fill you with negative emotions… but you don’t seem that down while talking about it.”

“Oh, does it look that way?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a relief. Honestly, I’ve worked hard to overcome that issue.”

“Overcome?”

“Yes. As you said, Harang… there was a time when I felt consumed by inferiority toward Hilus.”

It was true.

Though he was hailed as the Nadan Kingdom’s top prospect, jealousy and envy were inevitable. For those who wanted to tear him down, Hilus was a perfect weapon.

You can’t beat Hilus anyway.

Hilus will take the win in this festival too.

Every time he heard such remarks, Ransel Grantz felt his insides burn with a deep-seated sense of inferiority.

“Fortunately, I’m much better now. Thanks to you, Harang, I’ve realized that again. Thank you.”

“Was there a turning point?”

“There was. Seeing Gael and Hagio gave me a lot of comfort.”

“…Gael and Hagio?”

“Yes. It’s a bit embarrassing, but… watching those two, far more skilled than me, constantly being blocked and suffering because of you, Harang, yet never giving up… it made me realize my pain wasn’t unique.”

Yes.

Unless you lived in isolation, training your sword alone in the mountains, victory and defeat were unavoidable for a swordsman. Unless you aimed to be the continent’s greatest swordsman, you’d inevitably hit a wall sooner or later.

For Ransel Grantz, that wall was Hilus.

For Gael, it was Harang.

Though he didn’t know for sure, Harang surely had someone he wanted to surpass, and that person likely had their own target as well.

Thinking this way made Ransel’s pain feel lighter.

More precisely… he had learned not to torment himself with inferiority but to use it to become a better person.

“Maybe I’ll get thoroughly beaten by Hilus in this festival too. But…”

“But?”

“It’s okay now. Knowing that even Hilus is training while looking up to someone else. That’s my mindset now.”

“…”

“Hmm, I’ve said everything that came to mind, but it was a bit rambling… I’m not sure if it helped.”

“No, it’s fine. It was very helpful.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Then, I’ll get back to training…”

With that, Ransel Grantz immersed himself in his own world again.

Harang walked back to his private training ground, thinking.

This emotion doesn’t help me much either.

As Ransel Grantz said, Harang had many people he needed to surpass.

But honestly, he had never felt inferiority toward them. He was confident that, given enough time, he could overtake them all.

The question is how much time I have.

Still, like Philip Portville’s emotions, Ransel Grantz’s feelings were hard for Harang to relate to.

But that was okay.

He was gradually realizing something.

That the world was full of diverse people.

That the world was full of diverse emotions.

Even if I can only draw power from negative emotions now…

Hearing Ransel Grantz’s story gave him confidence that one day, he’d be able to draw strength from healthier emotions too.

Whoosh-!

WHOOSH-!

Arriving at his private training ground, Harang swung his sword.

The enemies he had to face were still formidable, and he felt he didn’t have much time.

But I feel much better.

WHOOOOSH!

Harang’s expression was brighter than before as he swung his sword vigorously.

***

A month later, Harang, representing both the Nadan Kingdom and Austin’s Mercenary Brokerage, arrived at the Seton Swordsmanship Hall.

It’s massive.

He was in awe.

Though called a swordsmanship hall, its territory felt larger than the capital of an average nation. The main building was grand, reminiscent of a kingdom’s castle. He immediately understood why the Seton Swordsmanship Hall was considered one of the top one or two martial forces in the southern continent.

“Lord Harang, do you enjoy banquets?”

“I don’t dislike them. Why?”

“Before the swordsmanship festival officially begins, the deputy head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall has invited the swordsmen for a pre-festival gathering. It’s not mandatory, but… it’s a chance to meet the swordsmen you’ll face in the main event, so I thought attending might be beneficial.”

“I’ll attend.”

Harang nodded readily.

He was curious about his opponents in the main event, but there was also Mercenary King Austin’s request.

He told me to show my face at every opportunity and make it clear I’m with Austin’s Mercenary Brokerage.

It wasn’t difficult.

In the past, such interactions might have led to conflicts, but now Harang was a proper “outsider.”

Though he couldn’t charm a room like a socialite, he was confident he could stick by Ransel Grantz and introduce himself to a few participants.

Observing people’s emotions could be interesting too.

Thus began the banquet of the Seton Swordsmanship Festival.

Dressed in fine attire for the first time in a while, Harang surveyed the room and felt a slight disappointment.

He had expected many people with unique, vibrant emotions, like Philip Portville or Ransel Grantz when they wielded their swords…

The emotions here feel so similar.

It was true.

He didn’t even need to try to read them; their expressions said it all. Most were busy flattering the prominent figures of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall with fake smiles.

It’s probably because this is a banquet. They’ll feel different when they swing their swords, right?

Consoling himself, he couldn’t help but feel a bit let down.

The most disappointing was Hilus, the prodigy of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall, whom Ransel Grantz had spoken of as a desired rival.

From what I sense… he’s not that impressive. Ransel Grantz praised him so much, I thought he’d be extraordinary…

At this level, Harang thought Ransel Grantz, who had been growing rapidly, might have a decent chance against him.

Of course, if Hilus was intentionally suppressing his presence, that would change things, but Harang trusted himself. He trusted his sharper, keener perception compared to other swordsmen.

If he was last year’s youth division champion… there won’t be much to see in that division.

As he was scanning the banquet hall with these thoughts,

Hiss-!

“!”

Harang’s expression hardened, and he placed his hand on his sword’s hilt.

But the other party was faster.

An old man who had appeared before him like a ghost stared at Harang with an expression of utter astonishment.

He spoke.

“What’s your name, young man?”

“…I’m Harang.”

“Your age? How old are you?”

“22. Who are you, sir?”

“Me? I’m Nigel Nunez, the head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall.”

“Gasp? What?”

“The head is here?”

“Didn’t they say the head was in secluded training?”

“That’s really the head!”

Hearing the head’s voice, some gasped and murmured, and others raised their voices in response. Like ripples from a stone thrown into water, attention focused on the head.

Nigel Nunez paid it no mind.

His focus was solely on the black-haired young man, Harang.

He spoke again.

“Harang.”

“Yes, Head.”

“Would you like to be my disciple?”

“…!”

“…!”

“…!”

Everyone in the hall froze in shock.

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