Chapter 324: Fierce Battle

“Three thousand gold coins—I bet on Ronin!”

“I’m backing Karada—his speed is faster!”

“How can a commoner possibly defeat a noble? I’m placing my gold on Ronin—he cannot lose!”

“Hahahaha! Noble strength doesn’t have to show in every duel. I believe in Karada’s power!”

The king had not opened a betting pool, but that did not stop the nobles in the stands from making their own wagers.

It was now the final championship match, and neither combatant’s strength could be easily judged.

This was the perfect moment to gamble—whose eyes were sharper would walk away with the gold.

…

Ronin listened to these voices, silently lamenting that all these betting circles were small, clustered groups—he couldn’t join any of them, or he might have won a fortune in gold.

As the crowd erupted in wagers, his opponent stepped onto the arena.

Karada treated Ronin with great courtesy, just as he treated every noble: “I’ve heard your story, and I’ve watched your match just now. You are a formidable opponent.”

Ronin bowed in return, smiling warmly. “Those are the very words I wished to say to you. But I hope, in the coming fight, you will give me your all.”

His goal was to recruit Karada into his service—he must show himself worthy of being followed.

And to conquer an opponent through strength, both must fight without reservation.

For this battle’s victory, Ronin had spent every attribute point he’d accumulated in recent weeks. Now, his knight rank stood at Gold (1196/2500).

Near the mid-tier of Gold rank, even without magical aid, he was confident he could defeat Karada.

“I will,” Karada said, his voice low and steady.

Woo~

A deep horn sounded—the final match had begun.

Karada, as before, summoned lightning around his body and surged forward with blinding speed.

Only those in the thick of battle could truly feel the ferocity of his velocity.

“Rapid Thunder truly is the combat art that boosts speed the most!”

Ronin murmured in admiration as his Flame Blade met Karada’s knight sword in their first direct clash.

Huh?

Karada’s expression flickered—he hadn’t expected this collision to be so evenly matched.

He had held back in every match today—including this one.

“Show me your true strength, Karada.”

Ronin pressed his blade forward, immense force driving his opponent back.

At this sight, the noble spectators erupted in wild cheers.

Especially those who had bet on Ronin—they were already shouting his name.

“You’re stronger than I imagined!”

Karada gritted his teeth, pouring his strength into the clash, striving to overpower Ronin.

“The same thing was said to me by Knight Misi.”

Ronin maintained the downward pressure of his blade. “I heard you wished to join the Royal Knights, but lacked a sponsor. Why not serve another noble? My lands of Ubai need men like you.”

No one could have guessed Ronin would recruit a rival mid-battle.

It was pure instinct—he feared someone else might offer Karada a hand before he could.

His voice was drowned beneath the roar of the crowd, yet Karada heard him clearly.

“You… want to recruit me?”

His tone held surprise, but also bitterness and resignation. “You’re not worthy.”

Ronin frowned. Karada had always been so courteous—why now such an impolite remark?

Did this man look down on him, a minor earl of Ubai?

“Worthiness? Prove it by defeating me.”

Ronin released the pressure, slashing his blade sideways to force Karada back. Simultaneously, his aura surged—flames erupted along the Flame Blade, blazing brilliantly.

Whoosh!

A dense cloud of fire swept forward, filling the air with the scent of smoke.

Karada’s pupils narrowed—he felt the power behind that strike.

“Thunder Armor!”

He growled, violet lightning swirling around him, forming a wall of crackling energy that braced against Ronin’s inferno.

Boom!

Fire met lightning—blinding light and a violent shockwave shook the arena.

The audience gasped in unison—this was no longer a display!

Today’s tournament had been dominated by swordplay, with combat arts as mere embellishments—yet Ronin and Karada had unleashed their techniques after just one exchange.

Zzzt!

Karada no longer held back his speed—he became a blur, circling behind Ronin and launching a ferocious assault.

Ronin’s mind sharpened. He trusted in victory, but never underestimated his foe.

He spun swiftly—flames on his blade vanished, replaced by swirling wind.

“Storm Blade.”

In an instant, a dozen razor-edged gusts tore toward Karada, slicing through the air with piercing whistles.

Karada sensed the difference—Ronin’s deployment of combat arts was unnaturally swift.

He retreated sharply, lightning surging along his blade.

“Lightning Flash!”

He swung—thunder cracked through space, splitting the air as it clashed with the dozen wind blades. Another blinding explosion and violent shockwave erupted.

A gale swept across the stands. The crowd screamed, their fascination with the match deepening.

This was no longer a friendly bout—if mismanaged, it could cause grave injury—or death.

“Philemon—have the Light Healers ready.”

King Bruno said to his guard knight.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

His gaze fixed on the two fighters.

He knew Karada well—the young knight. In fact, he had once intended to bring him into the Royal Knights.

But due to the pleas of elder ministers, he had never made the decision.

Yet, if Karada could become a Golden Knight before turning twenty-eight, then, at that point, even his Minister of Finance, Lud Cox, would have no grounds to object.

Karada still had over two years—but from this battle, it was clear the opponent was nearing the peak of Silver rank; time was more than sufficient.

It was this Ronin, however, who, without relying on Blazing Slash, had managed to hold his own against Karada for so long—something that surprised him.

“Father, will Ronin be hurt?” Blanche could not help asking, her voice tinged with worry.

Bruno laughed heartily. “In sparring, who can guarantee they’ll never be wounded?”

Those words only deepened Blanche’s unease.

As they spoke, Ronin and Karada clashed again—again and again.

Ronin was now fully immersed in the fight. He felt one with the Flameflow Sword; every strike pulsed with raw power.

Karada, too, was fully engaged.

His Thunder Aura erupted continuously, colliding with Ronin’s Wind and Fire techniques, the arena ringing with unceasing thunder.

Yet Karada was not faring well.

At first, he had matched Ronin blow for blow—but as the battle dragged on, the other’s strength and technique surged noticeably, making his defense increasingly strained.

Even his pride—his speed—had failed to outpace Ronin.

Another collision sent them reeling apart. Karada gasped for breath. He flexed his sword hand; the fierce impacts had split his palms, blood welling from the wounds.

He stared grimly at Ronin. He had not expected to be gradually overpowered—even after unleashing his full strength.

He’d heard Ronin was only eighteen. How could he be this strong?

Ronin’s breath was heavy too. He hadn’t fought so fiercely, so freely, in a long time.

“Excellent!”

Ronin cried out, his eyes alight with exhilaration. “Your strength satisfies me, Karada. Will you now consider my earlier proposal?”

Earlier proposal?

The spectators exchanged puzzled glances—they hadn’t heard any such thing.

Yet they were utterly awestruck by the spectacle before them.

“How is he this strong?”

In the stands, Falcundo, Harrington, and others who had once clashed with Ronin wore grim expressions.

Hadn’t they, together, driven him back? Hadn’t they assumed his power was nothing special? Now—could their combined assault truly have suppressed him?

Karada’s face flickered with conflict, hesitation—but he did not answer Ronin’s question outright. Instead, he drew a long, deliberate breath and spoke solemnly:

“The next strike is my most powerful. If it fails to defeat you, I concede this duel.”

Ronin replied, low and steady: “Then come.”

Karada exhaled slowly. His longsword pointed skyward. Thunderous aura erupted from his body, coalescing rapidly above the blade’s tip—condensing, compressing—until a small, brilliant lightning orb formed.

Yet the orb swelled instantly—within a heartbeat, it had grown into a massive sphere of lightning, one meter in diameter, radiating terrifying power.

“Impossible!”

Several seasoned knights in the crowd cried out in shock.

“That’s the Sixth-Rank technique—Thunder Flash! He’s only Silver-ranked—how is he mastering it?”

Even Ronin’s gaze darkened with gravity.

Rulans possessed a Lightning affinity, and among the martial manuals he’d given Ronin was this very technique.

Thunder Flash was not merely Sixth-Rank—it was among the most difficult to master, consuming vast amounts of aura.

Even some Golden Knights struggled to wield it.

“This man… has he truly reached Golden Rank—or has he defied rank to master this technique?”