Sword Saint's Reincarnation-Chapter 70: Tournament (5)

Rylan held Jacob’s stare, narrowing his eyes. This could be a mere coincidence created by a lack of personnel, but it was unlikely. Now that the tournament was nearing its end, the number of battles was much lower, and the Academy had managed to handle all of them from the beginning. Considering Professor Jacob’s personality…

Did he ask to be a judge here just to watch me lose? Or maybe tip the scales himself by abusing his authority?

Of course, there was no way to know for sure. Rylan’s eyes grew colder as he continued to stare at Jacob. Finally, he moved his gaze to the other judges and to the man standing in front of their table. None of them were looking at him. With smiles and shining eyes, they only looked at the youth who stood in the middle of the square arena. Rylan followed their gaze and studied his soon-to-be opponent, whose name he had learned before even reaching the square.

Isaac was tall and thin, with green hair that reminded Rylan of leaves and golden eyes. He wore a dark green robe with golden embroideries that formed the shape of a large tree on his back, complementing his white skin. The fabric was reminiscent of some of the finer robes Gerard owned. Underneath, Rylan noticed simple leather armor, though it wasn’t complete, likely not to weigh the boy down. Rylan analyzed Isaac with critical eyes, sizing up the boy’s proportions, from the size of his muscles to the length of his fingers and limbs.

His body’s lacking.

It was obvious that Isaac had never tried to train his body. Naturally, Rylan would exploit this in full. At that moment, as he approached, Isaac turned to face him with crossed arms. A cold smile adorned his expression as he raised his chin with a haughty expression. Rylan only shook his head as some of the voices from the crowd reached him.

“That’s Rylan Flameheart?”

“If he made it this far, he’s probably quite good. Anyone here heard of him?”

“Doesn’t matter how good he is. This match only ends in one way.”

As he neared the square, the conversations gradually died down. The judges finally turned toward him, except for Jacob, who had been staring at him all along. The man standing in front of their podium stepped forward, walking to the middle of the square. He had an average build, with black hair and brown eyes. His face was adorned by a professional smile that revealed no emotions. Pulling out his wand, he stopped once he was between Isaac and Rylan, then brought it closer to his mouth.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the man’s voice rumbled throughout the arena as he spoke. Rylan noticed that it was being amplified by the wand and a Skill. “Here, we will witness a grand battle! The real tournament has only just begun!”

Oh, so he’s an announcer of sorts.

“On one side,” the announcer continued. “Isaac Hutchdal! A genius who reached the Third Circle at sixteen years old! Famed for his victories against other noble children in the city, he has risen to the peak of the capital’s young generation! An unstoppable force that is expected to reach the end of this tournament!”

As the announcer spoke, the stands got quieter. However, Rylan could feel a rising tide amidst the silence. It was the sort of anticipation that Roland had been all too familiar with. The desire to witness a powerful individual’s prowess firsthand.

“At fourteen years of age, Isaac Hutchdal baffled the capital by completing an E-rank quest almost on his own! Once he was fifteen, he won the friendly tournament that several noble houses organized! Now, he’s seeking to rise to the top in this tournament and is expected to easily enter the Royal Magic Academy!”

Rylan cracked his neck.

This might be interesting.

Even though the announcer was just trying to build up the atmosphere: as a good announcer should: he was also granting Rylan small tidbits of information. The man’s words were carefully selected, seeking to both hype up the crowd but also not reveal too much about Isaac.

The announcer continued to sing Isaac’s praises for almost two more minutes. Each time he finished a sentence, Isaac raised his chin a bit more. Rylan only shook his head at this.

“On the other side,” the man finally looked at Rylan, confusion filling his eyes. He hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Rylan Flameheart! Eighteen years old, Second Circle! By overcoming all of his opponents, he reached this stage!”

There were no flowery words or any statements about Rylan’s achievements.

They expect me to lose.

The voices from the crowd reached him.

“Second Circle at that age? The fuck? How did he even make it this far?”

“His opponents must have sucked. How bad do you have to be to lose against someone like that?”

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“This match is gonna be boring as hell.”

He grinned. Of course, he would be happy to prove them wrong.

The announcer looked at the judges. All of them stood up at the same time, pointing their wands or staves at the square arena. Walls made of mana coalesced, surrounding it completely. After a few seconds, the arena was encased in a mana barrier. The announcer stood outside, as did the judges.

“Now,” the announcer spoke even louder, his voice echoing throughout the stands. He raised his free hand and froze in place with a smile for a few seconds. The crowd leaned forward. Abruptly, he brought it down. “Begin!”

Rylan pulled out his wand, but Isaac only continued to stare at him without even moving.

“You,” the boy said after a few seconds, pointing at the sword on Rylan’s waist. The crowd went completely silent, as if trying to listen to his words. “Why do you carry that around?”

Rylan tilted his head.

“I’m a swordsman.”

Isaac’s face went blank.

“A swordsman? Not a mage who likes swordsmanship, but a swordsman?”

Rylan nodded with a grin.

“At my core, yes. For now.”

Isaac looked into Rylan’s eyes for a few seconds. Then, he began to laugh and covered his eyes with his right hand. Once some of the crowd started giggling alongside him, his laughter only became louder. Rylan raised an eyebrow. Still laughing, Isaac slowly spun in place.

“What do you think? Can a swordsman beat me?” he asked the crowd. Even more people laughed, including Professor Jacob. Rylan glanced at him; the man’s eyes were filled with gloating as his expression contorted into a mocking sneer.

Rylan shook his head with a sigh.

How childish.

Isaac clearly liked the attention and he hadn’t learned not to underestimate any opponent. Regardless of his achievements, he was still just a kid. With cold eyes, Rylan let Isaac finish his little show. People in the stands began to stand up and shout.

“Hey, swordsman! You’re in the wrong place!”

“How did you even make it this far?”

“Go ahead and use your swordsmanship! See how that ends!”

Like a rising tide, more and more of the crowd mocked Rylan. With every second that passed, Isaac raised his chin even more.

“Don’t embarrass yourself and just give up now. You’re only at the Second Circle, even though you’re eighteen,” Isaac said, looking at Rylan with a mocking sneer as the crowd’s laughter slowly died down.

Rylan slowly looked around, beholding all the disdain and mockery. It wasn’t related to the person he was or the things they had done; they were laughing at everything Roland had represented and the path he had chosen. Roland had still reached the peak. Rylan chuckled, somewhat amused, and looked at Isaac.

“Against someone like you, I’d win even if I were in the First Circle,” he said once his voice could be heard properly.

Isaac frowned as the whole arena quickly went silent. Some people laughed again.

“And here I thought I’d already seen arrogant people before.”

“Shut up, he’s going to use his super duper swordsmanship. How could he not win?”

“I want to see how badly Isaac Hutchdal will beat this guy.”

Rylan shook his head with a sigh.

“…Really? Let’s see it, then,” Isaac said after a second, pulling out his wand and starting to chant.

Rylan recognized it as Fireball’s chant. Without letting his opponent finish, he suddenly shot to the right, pointing his wand at Isaac. They finished their chanting at the same time.

“Fireball.”

“Water Bullets.”

The air and mana in front of Isaac ignited into a glowing sphere, then flew toward Rylan in a curved trajectory. The ability to change the trajectory of a Third Circle spell was respectable, but that was it. Rylan didn’t feel threatened at all. His mana coalesced into water and shot toward Isaac.

Just as the two spells were about to collide, Rylan waved his wand. The Bullets rippled and went around the large Fireball, barely grazing its outline and going past it. A wave of heat hit Rylan as he continued to run, making him let out a breath with a calm expression. He leaped to the side, letting the Fireball pass and hit the ground a few meters behind him. It exploded and scorched the stone floor in a burst of fire and heat. The spell missed him completely.

The Water Bullets reached Isaac, but only managed to hit his Magic Shield, pressuring it from different sides. Ultimately, they failed to pierce through it and dispersed. Rylan narrowed his eyes.

He can cast pretty fast.

Isaac maintained his mocking expression as he lowered Shield.

“Is that all?” he asked with a scoff.

Rylan shook his head.

“You talk too much. Like an annoying child.”

Isaac’s face darkened. He gritted his teeth and started chanting. Rylan started running again, circling Isaac from some distance away.

“Earth Spikes!” the boy exclaimed with a frown.

The floor underneath Rylan rippled like water.

Trust your instincts.

There was no need to try and cast a Magic Shield. Even without circulating his mana, his body was powerful enough on its own to handle this. All he needed to do was believe in Roland’s memories and battle sense to dodge everything by a hair and waste the least amount of energy possible.

The first Spike ripped its way out of the floor, piercing the air straight toward Rylan’s side. It was much larger than the ones Rylan could cast. Once it was about to reach him, he spun in place with perfect timing, just barely avoiding it. The divided air reached his face and rustled his hair, but he continued to chant. The second Spike came from right in front of him, piercing at his heart. Rylan tilted his body and stepped to the side, avoiding it.

Because the Earth Spikes don’t disappear until the spell is dismissed, they can limit my movements even if they don’t hit me.

The number and size of the Spikes were determined by the caster’s skills. Not only were Isaac’s Earth Spikes larger, but there would also be more of them. Still, Rylan kept a clear mind. There was no need to worry too much. He could do this.

Two Spikes shot out diagonally from the ground behind him. As if he had eyes on the back of his head, Rylan jumped up, stepped on the first Spike, and used it as a foothold to avoid the second one with a flip. The moment he lightly landed on the ground like a leaf falling on a lake’s surface, he pointed his wand at Isaac: who was staring at him dumbfoundedly: and lunged to the side.

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“Magic Missile.”

It was the spell he could cast the fastest. The translucent arrow made of blue mana pierced through the air. Isaac hurriedly started chanting, but he wasn’t fast enough. The Missile reached him before another Magic Shield could take shape and dug into his left shoulder. Carefully controlling its power, Rylan let the spell disperse.

“Fuck!” Isaac yelled, instinctively grabbing the injured shoulder with gritted teeth. Tears formed in his eyes as blood stained his pristine robe and fell to the floor.

The arena was completely silent.