Chapter 177. Swordsmanship Festival (4)

“…!”

“…!”

“…!”

Silence descended over the vast banquet hall.

And for good reason.

An unbelievable statement had come from the mouth of Nigel Nunez, the head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall.

Taking a disciple…?

Is he serious?

No way. Nigel Nunez, who didn’t even glance at the hall’s prodigies… a disciple?

Even the prodigy Hilus was refused guidance because he wasn’t satisfactory!

The head of the swordsmanship hall was 70 years old.

While that might be considered old age for an ordinary person, for a swordsman, it was the peak of their prime. Thus, he had focused more on honing his own skills than teaching disciples. After losing to the Sword Demon, that tendency had grown stronger, and he had been in seclusion for three years.

And now he wants to take this young man as a disciple!

It was a shocking situation.

Everyone questioned whether this was a dream or reality, holding their breath as they awaited the response of the young man called Harang. Naturally, they expected him to accept, wanting to witness the moment the Seton Swordsmanship Hall’s successor was chosen.

But.

“I don’t have any particular intention of doing so.”

“…!”

“…!”

“…!”

Once again, everyone’s expectations were shattered.

A refusal!

To outright reject the gracious offer from the head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall!

It was beyond surprising—it was astonishing.

Who was Nigel Nunez?

The head of the largest swordsmanship hall in the southern continent.

One of the top three Sword Masters in the southern continent.

To kick away the chance to be taught by such a figure?

Why?

“Hmm, hard to understand.”

The head of the swordsmanship hall shared the same sentiment as the others.

It wasn’t boasting. Objectively, his reputation was sky-high. Countless people would pay a fortune just for a single sparring session with him.

And yet, this young man rejected his offer?

Tilting his head, Nigel Nunez spoke again.

“Really? Think carefully. I’m a far greater person than you might imagine, and I can give you what you desire. I acknowledge that you have a talent so great it makes everything else seem trivial, but the greater the genius, the thicker the wall they feel blocking them. I know how to overcome that wall.”

“You know I’ve hit a wall?”

“I do. I’ve experienced it myself.”

“I see. It’s true that my current wall is the final obstacle to becoming a Master.”

“…”

The expressions of those listening to the conversation between the head and Harang turned bizarre. Some doubted their ears, while others gaped, unaware that they were drooling.

Great talent.

Genius.

Such lavish praise was unbelievable coming from Nigel Nunez. Known for never giving empty compliments, he had always used restrained expressions even when evaluating the next generation, including Hilus.

Who is…

Who is this young man?

I’ve never heard the name Harang.

Where’s he from?

The already quiet banquet hall grew even quieter. Everyone focused on the head’s words, and everyone paid attention to Harang’s words.

A silence so profound that even a pin drop could be heard.

Harang didn’t care.

In an atmosphere where most would tremble under the intense scrutiny, he looked into the head’s eyes and repeated the same answer.

“I’m sorry for saying it twice. I have no intention of joining the Seton Swordsmanship Hall.”

“…I don’t mean just joining the hall. I’m offering you the chance to be the sole official disciple of me, Nigel Nunez, the head of the swordsmanship hall. Do you understand?”

“I understand perfectly. And… I’m sorry.”

“Can I hear your reason?”

Hummm-!

Rejected three times in the same spot, the head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall asked with a stern expression.

Though not strong, a presence emanated from him. It wasn’t to pressure his opponent but rather a natural overflow of slight displeasure.

Even so, it exuded an overwhelming aura.

Compared to facing Heitz, the strongest of Acanthus, it felt like standing before a towering mountain.

I’m still far from enough.

Harang sighed inwardly.

He knew rushing wouldn’t change anything, but seeing a Master-level powerhouse always made him impatient. The village’s general manager and the higher ranks of the Black Hydra were likely Masters too. To survive them, reaching the Master level as soon as possible was the answer.

But.

Even if it meant the fastest path to becoming a Master, Harang had no intention of accepting the head’s offer.

The reason was…

“Because I already have an affiliation.”

“An affiliation? Where? Your homeland? That doesn’t matter. The Seton Swordsmanship Hall accepts anyone with talent, regardless of origin, status, gender, or race.”

“It’s not about my kingdom.”

“…Then, are you affiliated with another swordsmanship guild or hall?”

“Something like that.”

Here, Harang deliberately paused.

The face of Mercenary King Austin naturally came to mind. He felt guilty for having done nothing despite their contract, hoping his current answer would help him…

“…I am Harang, the Special Gold Plate mercenary of Austin’s Mercenary Brokerage.”

He declared his affiliation with utmost confidence.

“…”

“…”

“…”

Silence fell again.

A deathly stillness settled over the hall.

And for good reason.

A mercenary, of all things.

To kick away the chance to be the disciple of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall’s head because of a contract with a mere mercenary brokerage.

Did that make sense?

“Madman!”

“Just break the mercenary contract!”

“Even if it’s a Gold Plate, does this make sense?”

“Is he joking? With Nigel Nunez?”

It wasn’t just the others who thought this.

The head of the swordsmanship hall briefly wondered if Harang was mocking him.

But only for a moment.

Looking into his unwavering eyes, he realized.

This young man genuinely meant it.

That he valued his loyalty to the Mercenary King more than a late-coming opportunity.

“…That’s a shame.”

“I’m sorry again.”

“No, no need to apologize. The Mercenary King has a fine subordinate. I’m jealous.”

“I’m not his subordinate.”

“Oh? So it’s purely a contractual relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm… Then we’ll meet again when your contract ends. I hope you’ll give me the answer I want then.”

“I can’t guarantee that.”

The head left room for possibility until the end.

Harang refused to give the desired answer until the end.

Their conversation ended there.

As the head quietly left without another word, people began murmuring.

“…What just happened?”

“I mean, the picky head of the swordsmanship hall…”

“Great talent? Genius? What did he see in him?”

“No matter how I look, I can’t tell. Is he deliberately suppressing his presence? No, that can’t be. A kid in his 20s, no matter how much he tries to hide his strength, it’d be obvious because it’s clumsy.”

“Hmm… That aside, the youth division might get interesting.”

“What? What do you mean… Oh!”

“Aha!”

“That’s how it works.”

People exclaimed as if they’d realized something late.

Their gazes shifted to Hilus, the southern prodigy, then back to Harang.

They were curious.

Could this kid, praised so highly by the head, defeat Hilus, the top contender, and reach the top of the youth division?

It’s obviously impossible… but I can’t just dismiss it.

Right. He’s young, but Nigel Nunez himself praised him. It wouldn’t be surprising if an upset happened.

Most in the banquet hall compared the two. Some lighthearted folks voiced their thoughts or made small bets.

Of course, Hilus wasn’t deaf to this.

Visibly displeased, he stared at the black-haired young man, Harang, with a hardened expression.

Who is this kid?

He couldn’t understand.

Sure, his well-trained physique was impressive for his age.

But that was it.

If he showed sharp presence or something remarkable, it might be different, but Hilus couldn’t see anything special.

That’s why he was irritated.

No, beyond irritation, a fiery anger surged in his chest.

“Phew.”

Exhaling heavily, the southern prodigy glared at Harang even more sharply.

Hilus had lived his life surrounded by admirers. Even in the Seton Swordsmanship Hall, where the continent’s finest talents gathered, he shone as the greatest, always accompanied by praise, admiration, and envy.

But he had a sore spot: he had never earned the approval of Nigel Nunez, the head of the swordsmanship hall.

Of course, he thought it was understandable.

The head was among the top-tier Sword Masters, so it was natural that Hilus, barely in his early 30s, didn’t meet his standards. He had worked tirelessly day and night to change that.

But…

Grind.

Hilus ground his teeth.

To think that a kid who appeared out of nowhere had instantly captured the head’s attention.

He couldn’t accept it.

He absolutely couldn’t accept this situation. His emotions overflowed, showing on his face, and before he knew it, he found himself walking toward Harang.

“…You’re Harang, right?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hilus.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard of your reputation.”

Harang responded politely.

Seeing this, Hilus wore an ambiguous expression.

He was angry. He wanted to pick a fight somehow.

But there was no justification.

If he showed hostility just because Harang was praised by Nigel Nunez, what would people think?

They’d spread rumors that the Seton Swordsmanship Hall’s top prospect is a petty person.

That couldn’t happen.

Though he’d come this far driven by emotion, there was nothing he could do.

Realizing this, Hilus clicked his tongue inwardly and offered pleasantries.

“…To be praised by the head, I’m jealous. He’s not someone who compliments easily.”

“You’re too kind…”

“No, don’t be too humble. I’m really looking forward to your skills. I hope we have a good match in the youth division.”

Hilus intended to end the conversation there.

But he couldn’t.

Harang’s next words plunged him into shock.

“I’m not participating in the youth division.”

“What? Then…”

“I plan to compete in the main event, with no age restrictions.”

Once again, all eyes focused on Harang.

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