Translator: CinderTL
"Roland!"
Darco, witnessing the scene, could no longer restrain himself. He completely forgot about the onlookers, even ignoring King Monen's presence, and rushed forward in a single bound.
His hands frantically clawed through the scattered wood chips and debris, his voice filled with unprecedented panic.
"Roland! Are you alright? Answer me!"
Just as Darco's heart was pounding with anxiety, a bloodstained hand suddenly emerged from the ruins.
With a sudden burst of strength, the hand pushed upward, and accompanied by the rustling sound of wood chips falling, a figure gasping for breath struggled to crawl out.
"Cough... cough..."
Roland coughed up several mouthfuls of clotted blood and let out a long sigh of relief.
Looking at the young noble's reddened eyes, he forced a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Darco. I'm not going to die."
"But you..."
Darco's gaze fell on Roland, and his voice trembled.
His friend's current appearance was truly terrifying.
His dark gray formal attire was torn in multiple places, and his exposed skin was covered in countless shallow wounds, from which blood continued to seep.
Most shocking of all were his arms. The bulging veins writhed like living things, as if they might burst at any moment.
"Really... I'm fine," Roland gasped.
Roland knew these injuries were merely the result of his body failing to withstand the surge in strength and agility brought on by activating his Battle Frenzy trait.
Though they looked terrifying, they were superficial wounds. With his constitution, he'd recover in a few days with rest.
But that wasn't what mattered.
With Darco's support, Roland struggled to his feet. His gaze cut through the wreckage, locking onto Gondar, who was watching him intently from a short distance away.
In the recent battle, Roland had seemingly suppressed the transcendent professional, Gondar, by unleashing all his abilities except for tricks.
Yet Roland knew this was merely an illusion.
First, the knight had likely used less than ten percent of his physical strength.
Second, Gondar hadn't lacked opportunities to attack; he had deliberately maintained a defensive stance throughout.
Even so, Roland had poured all his strength into the fight, yet his weapon hadn't touched any part of Gondar's body.
This disparity shattered the complacency that had grown from his recent rapid progress.
"So this is what a transcendent professional is like?"
Looking at his bloodied hands, still trembling from the recoil, Roland sighed. His desire for the Knight's Breathing Technique intensified.
"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!"
Monen slammed his fist repeatedly on the solid wood dining table beside him, the dull thuds echoing through the hall.
As the reverberations gradually faded, he turned to Gondar, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Gondar, in my opinion, you've clearly lost this match, haven't you?"
The Old King's slender finger pointed precisely at Gondar's feet.
There, a half-inch-long white mark stood out starkly against the marble floor.
It was the trace left by Gondar's boot sole as he had blocked Roland's Momentum Slash moments earlier.
"Indeed," Gondar replied calmly, meeting Monen's teasing gaze. "Roland's skill is quite remarkable."
His deep voice, though not loud, resonated through the hall like thunder.
"Did he just earn Gondar-sama's approval?"
"Could this young man truly be of commoner origin?"
Amidst the chorus of astonished murmurs, the nobles erupted into a frenzy.
They whispered among themselves, passionately discussing the brief but breathtaking duel they had just witnessed.
Their gazes turned increasingly fervent as they fixed on Roland.
"Excellent. In that case..."
Monen set down his wine cup and strode confidently toward Roland. Ignoring the fresh blood still drying on the young man's arm, he seized his wrist and raised it high.
"I declare Roland the victor of this martial competition! Does anyone object?"
Surveying the silent banquet hall, the Old King nodded with satisfaction.
As he turned to lightly pat Roland on the shoulder, a rare hint of approval softened his stern features.
"Well done, lad! Your skill is truly remarkable. That final move—was that the combat technique 'Momentum Slash'?"
Roland nodded, confirming the King's question. Monen's gaze suddenly grew distant, as if he were gazing through time.
He murmured softly, his voice tinged with unmistakable nostalgia.
"That Forslin... the boy certainly had a keen eye for talent."
Returning from his reverie, the King regained his regal demeanor, now tinged with concern.
"Are you alright? Any injuries?"
"Reporting to His Majesty the King," Roland replied, gently pulling away from Darco's supporting arm. Ignoring the pain, he bowed deeply, his voice as steady as if the bloodstains on his clothes were mere illusions. "I am unharmed."
"Excellent! Very good!"
Monen gazed at the young man, drenched in blood yet unflinching, his admiration nearly overflowing.
As he turned, his simple robe swirled through the air in a sharp arc.
"Colin!"
The merchant Colin, who had been standing nearby, hurried forward at the call. His eyes flickered over the shattered marble floor, a barely perceptible twitch at the corner of his eye.
"Your Majesty?"
"Take this young man to rest," Monen said, then turned to Roland. "Rest assured, you will receive the rewards you deserve. But for now..."
The Old King's gaze lingered on Roland's bloodstained robes for a moment before he added meaningfully, "I believe what you need most is a good rest."
"Thank you, Your Majesty the King."
After bowing again, Roland, with Darco's support, followed Colin out of the hall.
As they walked down the long corridor, Colin instructed a servant to prepare a room while speaking to Darco.
"Mr. Darco, please leave Mr. Roland in my care. As an invited guest, it would be impolite for him to leave the banquet without permission."
"But..." Darco looked at Roland with concern.
Roland patted his shoulder reassuringly. "It's all right. Mr. Colin is right. You should return to the banquet. Besides..." He glanced at Colin, who was walking ahead, and lowered his voice. "Have you reported Baron Forslin's matter to His Majesty Monen?"
"I haven't found a suitable opportunity yet..." Darco shook his head helplessly.
Roland encouraged him gently, "There's no need to worry too much. His Majesty Monen is reasonable. He certainly won't blame you for reporting something important. Besides, the attack on the manor and your father's ambush are filled with suspicious details."
He paused, recalling the wistful expression on Monen's face when he spoke of Forslin earlier, and added, "And I noticed that His Majesty Monen's tone softened slightly when he mentioned your father. If he learns Baron Forslin is unconscious, he might even send someone to treat him."
Darco took a deep breath and nodded solemnly. "I understand, Roland. Rest well. I'll come see you again after the banquet."
With that, the young noble turned and left.
Meanwhile, Colin, who had discreetly moved aside to avoid interrupting their conversation, now stepped forward and gestured. "Mr. Roland, please follow me."
"Thank you, Mr. Colin."
As Roland followed the slightly portly middle-aged man leading the way, he couldn't help but feel puzzled.
So far, his knowledge of Colin was limited to the name he had just learned from King Monen. However, from Colin's demeanor and his behavior when greeting the king earlier, it was clear he held a high position in Far Ocean Port.
Why would such a prominent figure treat a nobody like him with such courtesy?
Was it because of the strength he had displayed?
Was it because of Colin's inherently noble character?
With this question in mind, Roland followed Colin into a spacious room.
(End of the Chapter)
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