Chapter 498 - 327: Arrogant vs. Arrogant

"The second match: Duke Debei Levi versus Bishop Keman of Talisi."

Filo rushed through the announcement and hurried to the back of the Gladiatorial Arena to get the betting organized with those three from High Cliff Castle.

With Levi’s strength, there was no suspense about the outcome of the duel. There was nothing much to see; it was just a matter of how long it would take him to win.

’Much better to handle the betting himself. After all, a golden opportunity to rake in cash like this wouldn’t come around again.’

Inside the Gladiatorial Arena, Levi and Bishop Keman were ready to begin.

The Bishop was wearing a divine robe unique to Talisi—sapphire blue with gold-thread embroidery. He had the distinct look of someone who overindulged, with a pale face and deep, dark circles under his eyes. Levi hadn’t seen him at the last council meeting.

Still, he was one of Levi’s opponents in this duel.

Levi vaguely recalled a few tidbits about the man. He’d heard that upon arriving in Gonda, the Bishop had immediately gone to experience the local customs of Debei. After a full day and night of "strenuous cultivation" in a brothel, even a Mage’s superior physique couldn’t handle that kind of strain, which explained his current appearance.

The man was clearly displeased at being suddenly dragged into a duel.

"Can we start?" he asked with a yawn, his eyes cold, as if he had no respect for the Lord whatsoever.

He couldn’t be blamed for it. Mages always looked down their noses at other professions.

This was especially true for close-combat brutes like the Lord, whom he despised from the bottom of his heart. ’And the Holy Word Treasure Manual? Just a cultivation path exclusive to brutes who couldn’t become Holy Light Mages.’

He was an Epic Level Magic Master, only one step away from the Legendary tier, though it was a step he might never take in his lifetime.

But that didn’t affect his confidence in his own strength, a confidence that stemmed from the unimaginably vast Magic Power within him.

"One move is all I need to finish you." Having heard Leiden’s challenge of ’ten pulses’ through the Communication Magic Stone, Levi raised a finger—the middle one, of course.

His opponent didn’t understand the specific meaning of the gesture, but he felt inexplicably uncomfortable, as if he had been gravely insulted.

"Arrogant Debei lout! You’ll soon witness the wrath of a sleeping dragon! You will pay the price for waking it!" Keman snorted.

Levi was curious. ’Didn’t anyone from Talisi bother to brief this hick who just crawled out from some backwater? Did they not tell him who I am?’

"A dead sleeping dragon?" sneered the Lord.

There was no point in talking further. It was time to let their weapons do the talking.

To his credit, the man had the guts to look down on the Lord. He opened with an instant-cast "Shield Guardian," a High Tier Defensive Magic that enveloped his entire body in a transparent Magic Shield. It was said that not even a Bed Crossbow could pierce it.

But that was for a Bed Crossbow, not the Lord.

Levi twisted his shoulder—at this distance, he didn’t even need to aim—and flung the weapon. A Javelin shot from the Lord’s hand, streaking through the air like a black line.

It slammed into the Shield Guardian the very instant the cast was complete.

Given his current physical condition, it was a no-brainer. Not even a Giant Dragon could withstand the power of that Javelin, let alone a defensive spell cast by an Epic Level Mage.

SHHNK!

The outcome was never in doubt. The Shield Guardian shattered like paper. The Javelin pierced Keman’s shoulder, passed clean through, and finally embedded itself deep into the magically reinforced floor of the Gladiatorial Arena.

It wasn’t that the Lord’s aim was off. At this range, putting it through the man’s head would have been easy. He’d done it intentionally.

In the blink of an eye, Levi closed the distance and grabbed the still-stunned Bishop by the collar, flashing a grin that revealed two rows of perfectly white teeth.

Keman’s face was a mask of terror, as if he’d just seen an Undead. He opened his mouth to surrender, but a slap carrying the force of several hundred pounds crashed into his jaw, shattering both rows of his teeth. He was rendered completely speechless.

The Lord raised his fan-sized palm and delivered dozens of free, several-hundred-pound slaps. To ensure his opponent couldn’t express his gratitude, he had thoughtfully aimed the very first one right at his mouth.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

In the span of just two or three heartbeats, the Bishop had been slapped countless times. His face swelled up like a pig’s head, leaving the spectators in the stands exchanging bewildered glances.

"You Tyrant! Lord Bishop Keman has surrendered!" one of the Talisi Clergy in the stands cried out, unable to bear watching their Bishop be treated so cruelly. Like a helpless husband watching his wife be brutalized, he could only stand up with tears of impotence streaming down his face.

’Time’s up,’ the Lord thought, mentally counting down. He tossed the man to the ground like a dead pig.

The impact of his heavy body on the ground felt wonderfully solid to Keman. He used his last ounce of strength to roll onto his back. Lying there, he stared at the sun in the sky and found it to be utterly insignificant.

"Duke Levi of Debei is victorious again! A truly magnificent battle!" Harland’s excited voice rang out from the first tier of the stands.

His Majesty was perhaps the only person present who was wholeheartedly enjoying the entertainment of the duels.

Both fights had ended in unexpected and comical ways. Setting aside the nobles who had lost their shirts, the ones in the most pain were the Painters.

The first fight was over before they even had time to draw. The second one gave them enough time to sketch the outlines, but were they really supposed to record the image of the Talisi Bishop being slapped across the face by the Lord of High Cliff Castle for posterity?