Darhan Boss stared at his bleeding palms and the sword buried in the dirt. He didn't hesitate. "I surrender! I surrender! I yield!"
He shouted it three times, desperate to ensure Wayland heard him before another strike followed.
The judge acknowledged the result, and Wayland secured another victory.
The trials continued. After Wayland had defeated five consecutive opponents, the recording servant stood up. "Initial screening is complete. Four participants remain in the ninth group. We will now determine the single finalist who will advance. First match: Wayland versus Arulla Catona. Both parties, please enter the circle."
For the first time, Wayland's expression shifted.
The man before him was clad in gleaming white armor, with only his eyes visible through the narrow slit of his visor.
'A real high-roller,' Wayland mused.
He wasn't intimidated, however. While heavy armor provided excellent defense, at lower levels of strength, it was a massive anchor for one's speed.
'I'm sorry, but I'm a magus.'
Wayland raised his right arm, pointing it directly at the wary Arulla.
A faint whistling sound suddenly cut through the air--a noise that seemed to arrive from a great distance.
Arulla, hearing the anomaly, scanned his surroundings with focused intensity.
But the attack didn't come from his left or right. It came from above.
"Starfall."
High-speed magical light tore through the air, striking the thick armor with a sharp, resonant crack.
Inside his helmet, Arulla's face went pale. The impact made his head spin, leaving him dizzy and disoriented--as if he had just stepped off a particularly violent carnival ride.
Wayland didn't stop there.
A magical circle manifested on the ground beneath Arulla's feet.
A pale yellow light swirled along the lines of the formula. The firm earth beneath the knight began to liquefy, transforming into a treacherous pit of shifting sand.
"Quicksand."
Before Arulla could even recover from his concussion, he felt himself sinking.
He struggled violently, trying to crawl out of the pit, but the more he fought, the softer the earth became. He sank deeper and deeper until the sand reached his chest. The suffocating weight of the earth drew closer, and the stench of death began to fill his lungs.
"I surrender!"
The quicksand immediately solidified.
Arulla looked at the calm youth standing in the distance, his eyes filled with the raw terror of a man who had narrowly escaped a grisly death. He gasped for air, his chest heaving under the weight of his armor.
A single raindrop fell onto Wayland's face.
Then a second, and a third. Soon, a hazy, drizzling rain began to fall.
Wayland wiped the water from his face and looked up. To his confusion, the sky directly above him was still clear. He squinted toward the horizon--toward the farm where the actual knightly tournament was being held.
The sky over the farm was choked with thick, ink-black clouds. An invisible pressure was expanding from the center of the storm, making it difficult for Wayland to catch his breath.
"What is that?!"
Shouts of alarm erupted from the crowd.
Within the swirling wind and rain, a massive shadow was taking shape.
It had a gargantuan head with a hideous, demonic face and a pair of curved, blood-red horns. Its lower body remained hidden within the clouds, but its sheer scale--easily over ten meters tall--projected a soul-crushing aura of dread.
"It's a demon!"
"How could the Meikyuu be here?!"
"Damn that Usurper King!"
The crowd was in an uproar. Many knights drew their swords, ready to charge toward the farm to face the monstrosity.
"Everyone, stay where you are! Do you want to throw your lives away?"
Baron Solon McKenning stood up and shouted, his voice cutting through the panic. "There are powerful knights over there. The Meikyuu will be dealt with. Your task is to complete the selection trials!"
The restless crowd slowly began to calm. The trials were nearing their end, and for Wayland's ninth group, only the final match remained.
"Final match: Benno Greco versus Wayland."
Wayland gripped his spear with both hands, settling into an offensive stance.
The steady drizzle fell onto him without mercy, soaking his coarse robes.
Benno raised his sword.
Wayland's spear suddenly vibrated, sending countless droplets of water flying as he swung the weapon behind him.
A series of sword strikes were deflected, the force of the impact scattering the rain like white snowflakes.
Before Wayland could even recover his stance, Benno's broadsword shot forward, a cold, piercing light that felt like a sudden gale.
'This one is actually strong.'
Wayland took a deep breath. He poured a steady stream of magical energy into his spear, forcing it to accelerate.
Intricate patterns lit up along the shaft, and with a low hum, a thin, shimmering barrier of air formed around the weapon, concentrated most intensely at the tip.
Clang!
The sound of metal on metal echoed through the rain.
Wayland's body swayed slightly. A magical circle flared beneath his feet, granting him a momentary anchor in the mud. The invisible shockwave sent a spray of silt into the air. He spun like a high-speed top, flipping through the air as his spear cut through the curtain of rain, sweeping downward with crushing force.
Benno let out a sharp cry and swung his sword upward in a lightning-fast parry. The blade suddenly emitted a low, resonant hum, and a series of white, intricate patterns lit up along its length.
Magical energy began to flow through the patterns.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]