Chapter 364: Mage, or Sword Saint

"Miss Sera, you can’t keep fighting indefinitely," Aron sighed in reminder. "Your side needs to send someone else in."

If she really defeated three of them in a row, the Religious Order’s honor would be buried in the snow. Aron was certain he could defeat this barbarian, but even so, it would be a blow to their pride.

Ron was still over there, watching like a tiger stalking its prey. After defeating Sera, Aron knew he wouldn’t be in peak condition. ’If I have to face Ron right after that,’ Aron asked himself, ’can I still be certain of victory?’

Casters, especially Mages, could always pull some unexpected trick out of their sleeve. Aron still remembered the sudden light in Ron’s eyes and the superb Martial Arts he had mysteriously acquired.

"In that case, I’ll take the next match," Victoria, who had been standing silently to the side, suddenly said as she stepped forward. This conflict was a matter concerning the domain, so she hadn’t interfered until now. "I wonder which member of the Order would be willing to offer me some guidance?"

Aron was just about to send a true veteran to face Victoria and win the round. However, the Centaur chieftain—the one captured by Bishop Sred and then inexplicably assigned to their group—leaned in and whispered in Aron’s ear, "Chief Judge, what do you think of this idea?"

"Kolzim, what mischief are you plotting now?" Zandia frowned. She had completely broken ties with this uncle of hers and naturally had no kind words for him.

"Merely refining the rules, my dear niece," Kolzim sneered. "While it may look like a two-sided conflict, there are actually four powers at play. The score between you and me is far from settled!"

"How shameless," Sera said, rolling her eyes. "You and the handful of followers you can count on one hand are supposed to be ’a power’?"

"But as far as I know, Kolzim was indeed the Regent appointed by their tribe’s former leader..." Aron trailed off. ’A Regent for a nomadic tribe? The term sounds ridiculous to say and to hear.’ "In any case, I agree that this match should be settled by the Centaurs. What do you think, Lord?"

"Well, niece? Shall we?" Kolzim kicked aside the snow at his hooves, brandishing his sword and shield. "Or are you scared? Planning to find some random good-for-nothing to take your place?"

"Kolzim, a worthy leader would never slander their own people!" Zandia’s expression darkened. Her four hooves tore at the snow as she charged. "This is exactly why everyone united against you!"

"That is because you are nothing but a flock of short-sighted, cowardly sheep!" Kolzim met her charge without mercy, swinging his sword at Zandia’s equine legs. "A clan like this needs a lion to lead it! Only then can it truly prosper!"

"Sunlight, land, and pasture must be won with the swords and spears in our hands! Groveling before those lords will yield nothing!"

"But that’s no excuse for attacking civilians!" Zandia couldn’t dodge the blade in time, and her leg was instantly wounded. Still, she showed no sign of retreat. "You’re no lion! You’re nothing but a vile jackal!"

The blood of the two Centaurs splattered onto the snow. In their fury, Zandia and Kolzim were almost evenly matched. Neither wore any real protection, and soon they descended into a desperate battle, trading wound for wound. In such a perilous fight, the smaller Zandia was clearly at a disadvantage. Even so, she had no intention of retreating.

Ron and Aron exchanged a glance. They both knew this fight had to end.

CLANG! Two sounds of metal striking metal rang out almost simultaneously. The Grip of the Vast Wave knocked aside Zandia’s short spear, while Kolzim found all his joints seized by several threads. Aron’s Command Magic had stopped him from pressing his advantage.

"Judge, what is the meaning of this?!" Kolzim demanded, shocked and furious. "I was about to kill her!"

"You really intended to kill your own niece?" Aron’s retort was colder than the winter air, and the words sent a chill through Kolzim as if he’d been plunged into an icy abyss.

"I—Judge, please, let me explain..."

"We’ll count this round as your win," Aron snorted, dismissing the Centaur, who was clearly not his kind of man. He turned to Ron. "Lord, that means the final match is between you and me, is it not?"

"I’ve had some new insights recently, and I hope you will deign to offer some guidance," the Chief Judge said, his eyes lighting up with a sacred flame. "This time, I will claim an undeniable victory."

Yet despite Aron’s declaration, Ron showed no intention of acting. Instead, he took a step back, gesturing to the Moon Elf beside him—a woman Aron had been observing but couldn’t place. "Chief Judge, if you simply wish to test your strength, why not face her? Believe me, you’ll find the experience quite enlightening."

"And she is?"

"’Moon’s Whisper,’ Galanord." Jilannis gave the meaning of her surname and its name in the Common Language. This wouldn’t reveal her true identity, merely her heritage, proving she was more than qualified to fight on Ron’s behalf.

As she spoke, she took a step forward. Arcane Energy surged in her palm, forming a Sword-shaped Force Field that materialized in her grasp.

"You intend to fight me in close quarters?" Aron raised an eyebrow. "Should I dismount?"

"There’s no need," Jilannis said, her gaze still lowered. Only when she saw Aron draw his own blade did her silvery-white eyelashes tremble slightly. "That’s a fine sword."

"This sword was bestowed upon me by the Grand Judge. Its name is ’Silence’." It takes one to know one. Just from the way Jilannis stood there, Aron was certain that this Elf woman possessed exceptional Swordsmanship, just as he did, and was also considerably accomplished in Arcane Magic. "Be careful. If it strikes you, it may interfere with your Casting."

The thought made Aron glance instinctively at Ron. ’In our last duel, that man barely used his own power for Casting at all, relying entirely on Scrolls and Potions! If not for that, my victory would have been far more elegant.’

"Understood," Jilannis seemed to pay Aron’s warning no mind, focused only on her own question. "If I win, can you give the sword to me?"

"If you can offer a stake of commensurate value," Aron replied with a slight frown. ’Even though she’s wearing armor, she’s definitely not a true Warrior. I don’t believe she can defeat me in a duel.’

"How about this gauntlet?" Jilannis tapped the Sword-Singing Lion Armor on her right arm with her left hand. The armor immediately flared with a brilliant light, displaying its extraordinary quality. "I won’t explain how to use it. It’s not like you’ll get the chance."

"It seems you’re quite confident," Aron said, his eyes narrowing. He pushed aside the last trace of condescension in his heart. "Then I shall begin my attack!"

"Be careful—"

In the next second—or perhaps not even half a second, for in truth, Aron felt as if time hadn’t passed at all—his warhorse had yet to take a single step before a dazzling white light completely consumed his vision.

’I’ve never heard of such Swordsmanship! They say the most powerful Sword Saints can tear open space itself with their weapons, but what kind of Swordsmanship can bring time to a complete standstill?!’

When his vision returned, the Chief Judge could still feel the phantom sensation of his Longsword, "Silence," in his grip. He turned his head stiffly, only to see his blade now in the Elf’s hand. She was looking at him with a grin. "Chief Judge, you’ve lost."

"I’ll be taking this sword then, shall I?"