Sadin moved with focus and precision.
'Turn your body to the left to evade.'
He twisted his sword's path midair and struck to the left. Despite allowing a fair hit, his opponent managed to minimize the damage in that brief moment.
Sadin swung his sword as if ready to cut off the man's arm entirely, but all it did was crack the bone.
'Is this the source of your confidence?'
The mana held in his heart began to boil. The cold mana circulated through his blood vessels, spreading throughout his body.
Soon, the surrounding air started to freeze.
"How long are you going to keep dodging?!" he shouted.
This time, he aimed to the right. He thought the strike had landed well, but unfortunately, it only sliced a small piece of flesh.
Blood dripped from the man's side. Watching it, Sadin couldn't help but smile.
"That smart mouth of yours is surprisingly quiet now. Why? Are you only just realizing the difference in level between us?"
Yet, despite his words, the man stood there, unbelievably calm. His purple, jewel-like eyes remained tranquil, like the surface of a pitch-black sea.
At that moment, the man suddenly smiled. An inexplicable sense of unease crept up Sadin's spine.
"What's so funny? Have you gone mad?" he demanded.
—I thought something was strange.
Sadin frowned. "What are you talking about?"
How could this man be so confident? Clearly, Sadin had the advantage, yet his opponent stared back at him with unnerving composure. Those eyes, filled with unshakable confidence, irritated him to no end.
—Those eyes… they seem a little special, don't they?
The man's voice reached him directly. Their eyes locked. Did he notice? Or was he just observing?
No, there was no need to panic. Even if he knew something, what could he possibly do?
Nothing would change. After all, what could the successor of a fallen count's family accomplish?
"Are you wagging your tongue because you're afraid? Don't worry. I'll make sure to harass you relentlessly until you beg for your life," Sadin said coldly.
—You will regret saying that.
Sadin scoffed inwardly. But then, the man's lips moved.
His voice was so quiet that Sadin couldn't catch what he said. However, the atmosphere around them shifted abruptly.
Sadin's instincts screamed a warning.
'First, I must attack!'
His muscles tensed, and he kicked off the ground, swinging his sword at full force. He tried to activate his power, but something felt off—terribly off.
Uh…? What was happening?
"――!"
Crunch. The sound of breaking ribs echoed sharply.
'What is this…? Why is there such power…?'
There was no time to think. A kick flew toward him.
Sadin barely blinked before the man's foot appeared right in front of his head.
He turned instinctively, narrowly avoiding a direct hit, but the second blow came faster than he could react.
The impact sent him staggering back, his breath knocked out of his lungs. A sharp pain tore through his chest as if his organs were being crushed. He barely managed to stop himself from being thrown out of the ring.
"Haa… Haa… What the hell is this…" he gasped.
He didn't understand what was happening to him.
…This body.
Was this really happening?
Sadin slowly got up, his entire body trembling. He groaned and spat onto the ground—dark red blood splattered at his feet.
His right arm refused to move, hanging uselessly at his side. It was broken.
He looked forward and saw his opponent walking toward him, step by step.
Thud. Thud.
Each footstep made his heart pound harder. He recognized this feeling. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Horror.
"You… What on earth have you done…?" he demanded.
The man smirked, raising the corner of his mouth.
"Isn't that what happens when you can't see even an inch ahead of you?"
At that moment, Sadin recalled his father's words.
[Not yet supported. Rundel will survive until the end. That is the strength we possess.]
"… I haven't given up yet," he muttered.
"Is that so?" the man replied.
Sadin grasped his sword with his left hand, his right arm dangling uselessly behind him.
He still had one final card to play—something he had never thought he would use against a mere commoner.
It was a martial art passed down only to the heads of the Rundel family, a technique that symbolized their lineage.
"The Frozen Land of the Sword," he whispered.
Though his body was tattered and barely holding together, he could still mimic the technique if he poured all his remaining mana into it.
'I don't support. I don't support. I never support.'
A will bordering on madness. A determination that defied even fear.
But then, words no one expected came from Zail Sieghart's mouth.
"Then I can't help it. I lost."
Zail raised both hands in surrender, his expression helpless. The entire crowd stared in disbelief.
"I felt the wall. In fact, I can barely stand right now. It's clear that I've lost. Instructor, tell us the result."
He admitted defeat with a resigned look on his face. Only then did the instructor announce the outcome.
"The winner of this match is candidate number 3, Sadin Rundel!"
Sadin looked shocked and frustrated, while Zail Sieghart approached him with a calm smile and extended his hand.
"What the hell is this…!"
"It was a good match, Prince Sadin," Zail said.
Sadin wanted to smash his face in right then and there, but too many eyes were watching. Losing his temper now would only tarnish his reputation further.
He forced himself to take Zail's hand. As he leaned in, he whispered venomously,
—I will kill you for sure. You will regret what happened today.
Zail's lips curved faintly.
—If you really want to commit suicide, then go ahead and do it.
Sadin bit his lip hard and turned away, leaving the stadium with trembling shoulders.
Zail watched him go, shrugging before glancing up at the stands. He spotted Frey Caligo watching him with wide eyes.
Charlotte, standing next to her, sighed and shook her head.
"That guy is completely insane. What on earth is he doing? Tsk."
Frey continued to stare blankly at Zail, her thoughts spinning as she muttered softly,
"… That's right. He really is crazy…"
Thump. Thump.
She didn't realize her heart was beating wildly, uneven and fast.