Chapter 179. Swordsmanship Festival (6)

“Cecilia…”

Seeing the 7th-ranked Godok, Hagio’s expression turned serious.

He had heard from Harang. Though Cecilia and her brother Werner had once reveled in slaughter, Harang thought they might now show a different side.

Of course, considering their behavior in the village, it was hard to believe, but hadn’t Hagio himself been living a completely different life since coming to the outside world?

They could change too.

At least, that’s what Hagio had thought.

But.

“She doesn’t look like what you described.”

“…”

Harang didn’t respond.

More precisely, he couldn’t.

Even to him, Cecilia’s current state seemed off.

The aura she exuded was utterly sinister.

Her face on the screen felt chillingly eerie. The audience flinching every time her face was magnified proved it.

The most telling evidence was her emotions.

They were far darker and more negative than when she was confined in the village.

It was an intense, heavy presence that didn’t fade despite the distance between the stage and the stands.

Something’s… wrong.

What had happened to her since they parted?

What could have caused her to step onto the stage with an icy, mask-like expression instead of the smile she had shown back then?

“Harang? Are you okay?”

It was then.

Sheratiya’s concerned voice broke his thoughts.

Harang was slightly surprised.

Her tone was filled with worry, a stark contrast to her usual sharp demeanor.

Was my expression that bad?

Harang touched his face, thinking.

It was probably the most serious expression he’d shown Sheratiya recently.

Realizing his mistake, he forced a slight smile and said.

“Oh… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Your face looks…”

“What’s wrong with my face? I’m smiling, aren’t I?”

“…Your social skills have definitely improved. You even know how to fake a smile. But you need to work on managing your expressions. That’s not a smile at all.”

“Hmm… I see.”

“Yeah, so just be yourself. I won’t pry further.”

“Alright.”

Giving up on the forced smile, Harang returned to his serious expression.

Seeing this, Sheratiya thought.

What’s with that woman… Could she be an ex-girlfriend?

It wasn’t an unreasonable thought.

Similar age to Harang.

Trained in swordsmanship like Harang.

And, above all, quite attractive.

Sure, she looked a bit scary and sharp, but Harang was quirky too, so they seemed like a fitting pair.

Yeah, that would explain his expression. Running into an ex-girlfriend by chance would sour anyone’s mood.

At this thought, Sheratiya’s face darkened slightly.

She thought Harang hadn’t moved on from his ex, and realizing that this bothered her startled her.

Who Harang dated or whether he’s over his ex has nothing to do with me!

Yes.

Harang’s love life was completely irrelevant to her.

Though they maintained a contractual relationship, it was just that—a contract.

Whoever he had feelings for was none of her business. There was no need to indulge in such flights of fancy.

Right. I was just… concerned for a friend because his expression was so bad. That’s all.

Having sorted out her stance, Sheratiya Viyan shifted her focus back to the present.

So, Hilus vs. Cecilia—who would win?

Normally, she’d pick Hilus, the top prospect of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall, but…

Considering the people Harang hangs out with, I want to bet on Cecilia.

It wasn’t entirely baseless.

Who were the people around Harang?

Hagio and Gael. Both were in their early 20s yet possessed terrifying swordsmanship skills. They were so remarkable that it was hard to imagine finding such prodigies elsewhere on the continent.

Of course, assuming Cecilia is on their level is a bit of a leap, but… if I had to bet, I’d go with her. That feels like the bigger payout.

With that thought, Sheratiya quickly placed a bet on Cecilia. It wasn’t a huge sum, but it wasn’t small either.

Seeing this, the people around her frowned.

“That girl’s too into long shots.”

“It’s not even a casual bet. She put down a lot.”

“Huh… Why bother? Does she think Hilus is an easy mark?”

“Exactly. He may not match the seasoned 40- or 50-year-olds, but he’s not someone a kid in their 20s can challenge.”

“Not just that—he’s the only southern prospect who can hold his own against talents from the central or western continent. I think Hilus could make it to the quarterfinals.”

“I’m not sure about that, but I’m certain he won’t lose to that sharp-eyed kid.”

“Such a waste. If she’s throwing away money like that, she should give it to me.”

“She must know nothing about swords.”

Far from respecting others’ opinions, their words were almost accusatory.

But Sheratiya Viyan didn’t flinch.

Instead, she started staring down the audience treating her like a fool, as if daring them to see how the match would turn out.

Some got upset, but it didn’t escalate to a fight, thanks to the intimidating presence of Hagio’s bulging muscles nearby.

Damn it, just you wait.

Let’s see who wins.

As the audience engaged in a silent battle of wills over bets, the two participants on stage were also glaring at each other sharply.

Cecilia spoke first, a faint smile on her lips.

“The stands are noisy. Are they betting on us?”

“Hmm… Maybe. But the bets might not even go through.”

“Why’s that?”

“The outcome’s too obvious. Anyone can see I’ll win, so how could there be a bet?”

“You’re arrogant.”

“Not arrogant, just self-aware.”

“Talking so confidently, you’ll be twice as embarrassed when you lose. Why not hold your tongue?”

“If you’re trying to rattle me, you’re mistaken. I’m not swayed by such things.”

“For someone claiming that, you’re responding to everything I say.”

“That’s because…”

“Enough. The match is about to start, so let’s end this talk.”

“What? You throw out whatever you want and cut the conversation off?”

Despite claiming he wasn’t swayed, Hilus' face reddened.

And for good reason. Since reaching Graduate at 20, everyone had respected him—peers and seniors alike. In the southern continent, his status was enviable even to a kingdom’s crown prince.

But…

To be treated like this?

It was absurd, and a hollow laugh escaped him.

This wasn’t the vigor of a young swordsman—it was outright rudeness, and Hilus had never tolerated disrespect.

I’ll make you suffer a humiliating defeat. Be ready for at least one big scar on your face.

Hilus gave a sinister smile. It wasn’t quite killing intent, but the malice he harbored mixed with his presence, heavily pressuring his opponent. It was a dense fighting spirit that would make even a veteran swordsman flinch.

But Cecilia was unfazed.

Instead, she deepened her smile and lightly swung her sword, and seeing this, Hilus belatedly realized something was off.

“Match, start!”

But he couldn’t think further. The referee signaled the start of the match.

She’s just a kid in her early 20s. Even if something feels off, she can’t surpass me. I’m Hilus, the next head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall!

Crunch.

Biting down hard, Hilus shot forward. His sword, faster than his feet, aimed for his opponent’s face.

A merciless, terrifying attack!

The vicious scene, as if he’d cleave her head off, drew suppressed groans from the stands.

But.

Clang-!

“?”

The audience’s expectations were spectacularly defied.

After easily deflecting the incoming sword,

Whoosh-

Slash!

She swung her sword at twice his speed, severing Hilus' right arm.

“Argh, AAAAHHH!”

A scream echoed through the arena.

Blood sprayed across the stage.

The crowd was stunned.

Not just the audience but the Seton Swordsmanship Hall’s officials, other participants, and medics—all were momentarily overwhelmed by the shock.

“…T-The match… Cecilia wins!”

“Medics! Medics!”

“Get the priests! Hurry!”

The referee declared Cecilia’s victory.

But no one focused on that.

The image of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall’s greatest prodigy clutching his severed arm and wailing burned into everyone’s minds.

“…Cecilia.”

Watching all this, Harang shot up from his seat.

His target… was Cecilia, calmly leaving the arena as if nothing had happened.

***

Hilus vs. Cecilia.

A match between young swordsmen unfit for the main event ended with Cecilia’s victory, defying all expectations.

That alone was shocking, but the details were even more astonishing.

“Cutting off Hilus' arm…”

“Can they heal it?”

“The cut was clean, and the priests rushed in immediately, so daily life shouldn’t be an issue. But…”

“…It’ll be hard to wield a sword like before.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Man, that’s brutal.”

Those discussing the festival shook their heads.

Accidents were common in swordsmanship matches, but Cecilia and Hilus' fight was one where such an outcome could have been avoided. The skill gap was significant.

Yet this result suggested… Cecilia had acted with malice.

“Of course, you’re only disqualified if you kill someone, so there’s no rule violation, but she’s bold. To do that in the Seton Swordsmanship Hall’s home turf.”

“Exactly. She’s safe during the tournament, but what about after… Hmm!”

People buzzing about Cecilia suddenly fell silent.

The subject of their discussion was passing by.

“Should we clear out?”

“Yeah, why were we talking out here? Let’s find a tavern.”

“Right, let’s do that.”

“Sounds good.”

Everyone left with grim expressions.

And for good reason. Beyond the grim tales, there was something about her presence that repelled people.

Gloomy, damp, reeking of blood.

No one could endure that stench-like aura.

Except for one person.

“Cecilia.”

“…”

Hearing a low voice call her, Cecilia turned around.

And smiled.

With a faint smile similar to when she faced Hilus, she called her opponent’s name.

“Harang.”

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