Chapter 155: [155] The Mage Who Wields A Sword (2)

Francis staggered back, holding his arm in pain as blood drifted down the wound.

The two-handed bastard sword was practically a great sword, and yet Ark lifted it with one hand as he pointed it at him.

"The next time I draw blood, I will claim your arm," Ark said coldly. "Do you wish to continue?"

A knight’s arm was crucial to their survival in Eden, especially since most of them favoured a two-handed grip.

Losing an arm would be more than crippling...

Whispers began to spread through the hall, each second the reputation of Francis, his guild, as well as the entirety of Order was being dragged through the mud.

Francis could already feel the gazes of both Cain and Ares boring into his back. Not only was his honour on the line in that fight, his very life, as well as the life of his family, could be at stake if he were to lose.

He began slowly walking around Ark in a circle. Unlike before, he did not rush in foolishly, he kept his distance, watching, trying to unravel the puzzle that was Ark.

How was he that strong? Was he using an artifact?

Ark was meant to be a mage, meaning most of his stats should have been invested into mana and agility.

’Don’t tell me he is one of those fools that invested everything into one stat?’

That was the only conclusion that was making sense to Francis, and although it was flawed, he decided to ride with it.

"Do not grow a swollen head just because you managed to nick my arm," Francis frowned. "The real fight begins now—"

He was interrupted by the sound of Ark yawning. "We didn’t come here to talk. Shall we?"

There was a sharp whistle in the air, followed by the blur of a body, just before Francis appeared in front of Ark.

His sword came down in a simple but efficient arc, a vertical strike descending like a falling pillar.

’I guess he was really holding back,’ Ark thought. From speed to form, everything about Francis seemed to have suddenly changed.

He was finally taking the battle seriously.

Their weapons collided, and the two fighters found themselves moving to the flow of battle.

Francis was like a vicious wolf, although he was not as powerful as Ark, he made up for it with a myriad of strikes, each one more deceptive than the next.

His blade came for Ark’s neck, but he leaned back, narrowly evading the strike. Ark returned the favour with a slash to the leg, but Francis met the blade halfway, the two weapons grinding against each other.

Ark slid his sword through the length of Francis’ blade, the two swords sparking as he lashed out at his face.

Francis leaned back so quickly that his head was sent spiraling in the wind, Ark’s blade slicing them off, just above his eyes.

Their blades met again, two vicious swords seeking to reap the life of the other.

Francis was pumping his mana into his body to cope with Ark’s brute strength. It had worked for a few seconds, but the moment Ark unleashed his mana as well, he was right back to where he started.

’How is he so strong?!’ Francis cried internally.

Hot, salty sweat drifted down his face. His arms were trembling from pain, and each breath felt like inhaling gravel.

Each strike felt like trying to block a battering ram with a sword. Was it possible for someone of their level to be so powerful?

He was defending against Ark’s strikes for now, but it felt strange. It was almost as if Ark wanted him to block, almost as if he enjoyed watching him struggle...

Ark was purposely dragging out the fight.

’I can’t lose!’

’I can’t lose!’

’I can’t lose!’

’I can’t lose!’

"I CAN’T LOSE!"

Francis screamed it in his mind a hundred times until it became his reality. From a young age, he knew he had been destined for exploits.

He was scouted by not just any guild, but a vassal guild of one of the top five! He had awakened a class most people could only dream of.

To fail, to lose against a skeleton?! That was an insult to everything he had built!

He dashed back and took in several shaky breaths as he stared at Ark’s solid form. Francis could not drag the fight on for any longer...

He slowly stood straight, his hazel eyes sparkling with mana as he took his stance. This stance was unlike anything he had ever used, because this was no regular battle technique, it was a sword art.

His sword glowed blue.

— Is that what I think it is?

— A sword art! Is he going to use a sword art against a mage?

— To think Order’s brilliant star would be pushed to this level by a mage...

— He is sure to lose now that Francis has summoned a sword art. But he had earned my respect.

Francis exhaled, his breath coming out like a soft cloud.

"This is the strike that will end it all."

He had to admit to himself, although he could not understand why, Ark was strong. But he had not spent his entire time fighting a losing battle without cause.

Francis had been watching, analyzing his every move, down to the tiniest micro-movements. And now, he knew Ark’s secret.

He was slow.

Strength, mana, defence... Ark trumped him in all these areas. But when it came to agility, Ark was very much behind.

Francis smiled like a cornered beast.

Apart from the slash on his hand, there was not a single other injury on his body, but he looked more than haggard.

Which only made him seem on the verge of madness as he screamed, "ARK! YOU CAN’T DODGE THIS!"

With this strike, he would restore his honour—

Splurt!

The room grew silent.

"Huh?"

Francis watched in awe as his sword arm was sent cascading into the air, droplets of blood splashing into his eyes, staining his vision red...

"..."

’But... how?’ The question haunted his mind as his brain struggled to process what had happened.

His eyes had been fixed on Ark, he had calculated how long it should have taken for him to get to him. So how come—

That was when Francis realized — A lie, it had been as simple as that. There had been no guarantee of Ark’s true speed. He had simply made an assumption and ran with it.

But in reality...

Ark was much faster than he could have ever imagined.

"M-monster," Francis said breathlessly.

Blood gushed out of his arm, his eyes wide and bloodshot as his vision dimmed. The last thing he saw was Ark’s glowing blue orbs, and red, lots of red, as the darkness took him.

"I told you..." Ark stared at Francis’s body and sighed. In one hand, he held his bloodied bastard sword, and in the other, he held Francis’ arm like a war trophy.

"I would claim your arm with my next strike."

With blood drifting down his white skull, Ark stared at the stands, at Ares. He held his gaze for a few seconds, just before his eyes moved to Cain.

"Next."