Chapter 233 (2/2)

Dian didn’t let this opening pass, and pursued him mercilessly, chasing him down and wearing him down with her energy. At some point, the man realized that she could easily overcome him from a distance with her strange energy, and turned around, lashing out towards Dian. But at that point it was too late. She had already ripped away his most powerful images, leaving him reeling.

The match finished soon after that. Randidly’s expression was serious. So it seemed that if he beat Bertarn, his next opponent would be Dian. Although that should reassure him somewhat, based on the fact he had fought against her previously and prevailed, Randidly could find no solace in the news.

Not only was she improving, but based on the determined expression on her face, Randidly knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to do everything she could to win. Her trump, that she had previously held back, would no doubt manifest itself in their match. Well, as long as he pushed her that far.

Randidly supposed that if he simply lost, he would have no need to face it. But then he shook his head, clearing away such thoughts. Her determination… was strange. It was as if-

And at that moment, Dian turned to the booing crowd, scanning it, and after a few seconds, her eyes locked onto Randidly. They gazed at each other for several seconds. Then Dian turned and walked off the stage.

Randidly scowled, standing and heading towards the underground. The meaning of that look was pretty clear. The source of her determination… it was him. But what had he done to earn her ire? Was it the Qualifier? The defeat in the triple elimination portion of the tournament…? Was it as simple as the fights between their respective masters?

Or perhaps the answer was in the fact that she had come to visit their quarters the prior night, asking to see Shal.

Either way, it was not something he should concern himself with currently; there was a match to fight.

After a small time for the referee to repair the stage, Randidly was led up, and brought face to face with the tall, well muscled man that was Bertarn. His gaze was still calm and respectful as their previous fight. It seemed that even after he had obtained a victory against Randidly previously, he didn’t let him swell his head. He focused on his goal and moved directly towards it.

Randidly supposed it was the intelligent decision, but a decisive, flashy victory here against an opponent who underestimated him would be so much easier. In terms of physical specifications, even Randidly’s monstrous Stamina and Regeneration might not measure up to the powerful man before him. It was clear from every line of his body that a lot of effort went into perfecting his physical form. Randidly had no doubt that several of his skills were something like his own Physical Fitness.

Thinking, Randidly’s mood soured further. It was also clear that such a man would be an effective counter to Dian. He was a handsome enough fellow, and after two harrowing and close battles against the unseeded individuals, it was likely projected he would clash against Ciel and lose gracefully.

Meanwhile, Ciel’s graceful Style was more at a disadvantage against Dian, and it would severely weaken the respect that the population had for the Styles if she were to struggle noticeably. It was all a stupid, elaborate play.

Randidly raised his spear. Time to throw a fucking wrench in the works.

*****

Bertarn’s eyes scanned his opponent. There was no fear in this slim, dark haired man in front of him, which made Bertarn wary. He was not a man who took others lightly, and was not a genius like some of the other blessed children of the Styles. No, Bertarn was a man who reached this position through dogged hard work and an unwillingness to give up.

His will was iron, and with that, he had forged a body of steel. The Ghosthound had faced him previously, and had been swiftly overwhelmed in a direct confrontation. Perhaps he had planned something in order to equalize the contest?

Although they had fought previously, Bertarn knew that was immediately after the Ghosthound had been eviscerated by Azriel. Now, without those wounds hampering him, he would likely be sharper.

But still. Bertarn breathed in, breathed out, and then looked directly at his opponent. No tricks would matter. He had confidence in his body, and would demonstrate it by crushing this spear mage.

The referee called the beginning of the match, and immediately the Ghosthound used the skills he had demonstrated previously, creating a Wall of Thorns. Sighing and scratching his neck, Bertarn walked forwards, his spear held loosely at his side. “Do you really think-”

But before he could finish, the thorns burst apart, revealing the Ghosthound, who charged forward with blazing eyes. Within a second, he had arrived before Bertarn, who couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But then his training kicked in, and he narrowed his eyes.

A clever ploy, and he fell for it, getting caught off guard. But now the real fight would begin.