Chapter 58: Late Night Festival ②: Extreme Battle

The arena at midnight. VIP area.

Not all, but a number of first-class explorers were watching.

Alhazard Abramelin, seated in the high seat, stroked his beard and spoke:

“Your disciple really intends to win, doesn’t he?”

“Of course. That’s why we’ve gone through all this preparation. I suppose you already know what we did and how, don’t you?”

The witch’s emerald eyes gazed at him mysteriously.

Alhazard Abramelin sighed.

“…Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be so overprotective.”

“Oh my, to care so much for a disciple is only natural for a master.”

“That’s true. It seems you’ve also grown because of him. How delightful.”

“Originally, Kon was already an adult, though.”

Alhazard Abramelin laughed at the annoyed witch.

Seated directly below them were Pakira and Megadia Megalopolis.

Pakira had Dagaa on her lap, curled up and asleep.

“…Strong, huh.”

“Yes. Stronger than expected.”

“I didn’t know Wof was that strong…”

“He must have gotten stronger. The witch must have done something.”

“True enough.”

“Are you really that shocked you didn’t know?”

“Well… perhaps a little.”

Pakira answered softly, intertwining her two white tails.

Megadia murmured quietly:

“Wof-kun… he’s quite popular.”

“…Indeed.”

“Heroes tend to have preferences, so I suppose that’s fine by me.”

“Is that so?”

Pakira showed a displeased expression.

Megadia chuckled softly.

“I’m just saying I don’t mind.”

“You…”

Pakira gave a side-eye glare.

Megadia pressed a finger to her lips and smiled alluringly.

“I’m still serious about wanting him as a hireling back then.”

“He’s already an explorer now.”

“Oh, that doesn’t mean you can’t hire an explorer.”

“True, but there’s the biggest barrier: the female fox.”

“Oh my, oh my, white cat. Do you have business with Kon?”

The witch spoke from above to Pakira, her smile radiating a captivating elegance.

Pakira stroked Dagaa on her lap and replied calmly:

“Eavesdropping, I see. A refined taste, witch.”

“Oh my, I merely spoke in a voice that the kittens could hear.”

“Is that so?”

“I thought it was just a normal volume, witch.”

Megadia interjected with mild exasperation.

The witch gave an ambiguous smile.

“Hmm… so you have no business with Kon, then?”

“More importantly, should a master really be taking his eyes off his disciple’s crucial battle?”

When Pakira spoke, the witch fell silent, and Megadia gave a faint, wry smile.

Dagaa yawned slightly, blinking his red eyes.

In that brief moment, a scene flashed in the corner of vision:

Wof lying in a pool of blood.

I was flustered and panicking.

I had overused my hand of cards and lacked the decisive edge. Then a thought struck me:

It’s trivial, but the [Rave Move] doesn’t come with the “Gauntlet of the Silent Saint.”

That Gauntlet of the Silent Saint had also been shattered.

It would auto-repair, but somehow I felt guilty toward the witch.

For me to have shattered Alweld’s armor and inflicted wounds was a major achievement.

But to do so, I had spent all my [Knife Magic] and it was now on cooldown.

The last resort, [Rave Move], had only one use left. [Deep Silent] was approaching its usage limit.

The attacks I could still use were [Vanish] and two knives.

I slightly regretted not bringing an extra knife.

Alweld possessed swordsmanship far beyond mine, along with [Crush] and [Impact].

And [Breach], perhaps a relic of collapse or destruction.

He said he hadn’t intended to use it on anyone, but I understood why.

It was quite an honor for him to use it against me.

But his offensive options were numerous—and his strength even greater. I knew it, but it was too strong.

Not just the relics, but his swordsmanship too.

I think he had natural talent, but most of Alweld’s skill was the result of relentless training.

Alweld was a man who did not see training as a burden.

That’s why he possessed a strength so enviable it was almost infuriating.

Under his armor, Alweld wore black inner clothing.

There was a hole in his side. The wound was shallow, and the bleeding had already stopped.

Alweld spoke:

“The witch’s refinement in shaping you to this level in such a short period is remarkable. And you… you’ve risen to meet it. That’s something to be proud of.”

“Thank you.”

I felt genuinely happy. Being acknowledged by Alweld von Rutvelt was an honor.

Alvered’s black eyes held a gaze so sharp it felt like they could cut.

“Even so, I don’t intend to lose.”

“Neither do I.”

I made up my mind. I would use [Rave Move].

But Alweld acted first.

“[Crush]!”

“Sei!”

I didn’t use [Vanish]—instead, I countered with [Crush].

Alweld launched his attack without flinching.

“[Blechen]—[Impact]!”

“[Vanish]!”

I neutralized [Blechen], but the following shockwave was unavoidable.

There was no time to swing my knives—no, I could make it in time.

This was my last [Rave Move].

“One Slash Demon Cleaver!!!”

The sword strike, delivered with all my strength, cut through [Impact].

It struck Alweld, leaving a rough vertical slash on his body and sending him crashing into the wall.

At the same time, I was also cut. A swift slash carved a vivid horizontal gash across my torso.

In that instant, Alweld counterattacked—no, it was a counter.

I vomited blood and collapsed to the ground. Blood pooled around my abdomen.

I saw that Alweld had also fallen.

“…”

Fighting against my fading consciousness, I managed to pull a small vial from my pouch and drank its contents.

The wound healed instantly, my mind cleared, and all fatigue vanished.

There’s no rule against using a recovery potion or elixir.

Even so, feeling a twinge of guilt for it, I stood up.

Alweld leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and coughing blood.

Through the gaps of his golden hair, his eyes looked at me—darker than night itself.

A shiver ran through me. I felt it—

For the first time, I thought I had caught a glimpse of Alweld von Rutvelt’s heart.

Perhaps just a fraction of it, something no one else could see or touch.

As I stared at him, I pulled another small vial from my pouch.

“Alweld-san.”

I tossed it to him.

Alweld received it, a look of suspicion on his face.

“Let’s settle this in the next five minutes. You understand what I mean, right?”

“…Ah.”

He nodded and drank the vial’s contents.

His wounds healed, and he stood up.

Then, for the first time, he smiled—an almost joyful grin—and chanted:

“I am a thousand gods who protect the king. Pseudo-Divine Relic [Thousand Kill Arcos]!”

The final battle with Alweld von Rutvelt had begun.