Chapter 1320 Login Location <TOC> Chapter 1322 Who Prevails
Translator: SumTLMan
In times past, as one of the previous judges, Knight Sabel had naturally crossed paths with Leon. Though Sabel remained uncertain about the origins of Leon’s association with Tulas, it was undeniable that Leon was competent in his craft.
Moreover, Leon radiated an air of humility. Even though introduced by Tulas, Leon was void of Tulas’s somewhat ostentatious demeanor. Sabel had even previously offered Leon some insights into combat strategies.
All in all, Sabel held Leon in high regard.
Now, as Tulas introduced two more individuals, while Leon was a familiar face to Sabel, the sudden appearance of these two strangers left Sabel pondering their identities.
An internal monologue brewed within Sabel: If they were merely spectators, it would be inconsequential. However, if Tulas expected them to join the judges panel, Sabel would need to gauge their expertise and calibre before making a decision.
Lost in these ruminations, Sabel noticed that Leon, alongside Angel and Sanders, had already approached the front section designated for the judges.
This judging area was strategically elevated right beside the arena, offering a clear vantage point of every move made within. At present, only one person occupied this area: a lady, resplendent in a regal gown adorned with golden embroidery.
This elegantly attired woman was none other than the current leader of Initial Heart City, Marilyn.
Tulas seemed to pay no heed to Marilyn. Instead, with deliberate care and respect, he began arranging the seating. While Angel’s preferences were well-known to Tulas, making the formality seem unnecessary, the presence of Angel’s mentor required added caution… Even though Tulas’s familiarity with Sanders was limited, during a stint at the Cathedral of the Dead, Angel had once shown him a directory of prominent figures in the Wizarding World. The description of Sanders within had left an indelible impression on Tulas.
Southern Region’s God of War! The Phantom Master! A true prodigy who swiftly ascended to the pinnacle of the pyramid in a mere blink of time!
As Tulas meticulously arranged the seating, a clouded expression loomed on Sabel’s face as he approached.
Just as he was about to question Tulas, before he could make a move, Marilyn, the city lord seated at the judge’s panel, greeted the newcomer with a cautious gaze filled with an unspoken reverence, leaving Sabel somewhat puzzled. She moved to stand beside him, as if she were a mere servant.
Witnessing this, Sabel was rendered dumbstruck.
In fact, it wasn’t just Sabel who was taken aback. The entire audience, having observed this tableau, was filled with a whirlwind of questions.
Everyone was well aware that at the helm of Initial Heart City’s power hierarchy stood a figure known as “Lord Tyson”. Almost everyone present had been brought to Initial Heart City under the aegis of Lord Tyson.
Directly beneath Lord Tyson was Marilyn, the city’s lord.
Below Marilyn were various other titles and ranks based on their roles and functions.
However, amidst this intricate web of power stood a unique figure: Tulas, the Sheriff. By all accounts, Tulas’ rank should be significantly below Marilyn. Yet, Tulas never seemed to heed Marilyn’s opinions, and Marilyn, for her part, appeared to avoid antagonizing Tulas.
Rumors swirled suggesting a deep-rooted connection between Tulas and Lord Tyson. However, these whispers were quickly dispelled given that Tulas was often at the receiving end of Lord Tyson’s frequent outbursts.
Up to this point, Tulas’ exact standing within Initial Heart City remained one of its most mysterious puzzles.
Now, with both Marilyn and Tulas showing unmistakable respect for this newcomer, everyone was astounded, all trying to fathom the identity of the guest.
However, without further clues, this incident might very well become yet another unsolved riddle in the annals of the city.
However, among the onlookers, some indeed were acquainted with Angel. For instance, the two brothers seated on one side of the audience — Labu and Lado — had met Angel before. They had personally witnessed even the esteemed Lord Tyson, whom they deeply revered, addressing Angel with the utmost reverence and respect.
Apart from Labu and Lado, Daluke had also met Angel.
Most of the others present were brought to Initial Heart City by Lord Tyson from their realities. Yet, Daluke knew that not only Lord Tyson had the means to bring people to the city, but Angel did too.
Originally, it was Angel who had brought Daluke here.
During the war between Goldfinch and Sea Wave, Daluke was a refugee who, along with his grandfather, fled to Watford. With sores covering his grandfather’s body, Daluke presumed he was ill and attempted to enter the city in search of a doctor, only to be stopped by the guards. Fortunately, Angel happened to pass by and vouched for them, allowing them entrance.
However, Angel had mentioned that it wasn’t Daluke’s grandfather who was sick, but Daluke himself.
In the end, tests confirmed that Daluke was afflicted with an incurable malady. Overwhelmed and disoriented, Angel brought him and his grandfather to Initial Heart City.
Thus, Daluke’s impression of Angel was profound. Among all in Initial Heart City, the one he respected most was Angel.
…
Ultimately, those who knew Angel were in the minority. Yet, the demeanor of Lady Marilyn seemed exceptionally peculiar.
Initially, Sabel had thought of gauging their depth, but now he seemed somewhat hesitant.
After some contemplation, he approached Leon and quietly inquired, “Do you know them?”
Recognizing the inquirer as Knight Sabel, Leon didn’t hold back and nodded, “That’s my younger brother Angel, and the other… is Angel’s mentor.”
Leon’s response left Sabel somewhat perplexed. Although now aware that the man was Leon’s younger brother, what about his identity? Why did Marilyn, the Lord of the City, regard him with such reverence?
For context, when Lady Marilyn met Leon earlier, she did not seem particularly interested.
Lost in his musings and hesitation, Tulas pointed at Sabel and declared, “Today, in front of everyone, I will defeat you! I’ll show you who is truly the dominant man of the Far Eastern Sea! All your tales of being a legendary knight mean nothing. Even the legendary pirate Redbeard has fallen at my hands!”
Sabel, bewildered, thought, “Dominant man of the Far Eastern Sea? What sort of title is that? Who even desires such a title?”
Tulas’s rather embarrassing and overly dramatic proclamation garnered a wave of cheers from the audience. Even the speculations about Angel and his companions’ identities momentarily took a back seat.
Angel, on the other hand, looked on impassively. Noticing Tulas basking in the audience’s acclaim, confident in his impending victory, Angel wished he could feign ignorance of Tulas. Yet, after interacting with the crowd, Tulas quickly approached, seeking Angel’s approval.
Angel gave a tight-lipped nod, acknowledging him with a simple “Hmm.”
Then, Angel’s gaze shifted to Sabel.
As previously described by that “couple”, Sabel appeared as a bearded old man, his goatee reaching down to his chest and his skin creased with age. Although his face bore the marks of time, his frame was robust and upright. Without a glimpse at his face, one might mistake him for a middle-aged man.
Unlike the flamboyant Tulas, Sabel stood quietly, exuding a serene aura. However, this tranquility wasn’t a barren silence but a genuine simplicity and calmness, refined over years.
Like a blade sheathed in honor, though reluctant to draw blood, the stains of its past cry out in silent testament.
Contrary to the mysterious Tulas, Sabel seems like a sage who has shed all worldly pretensions.
As Angel’s gaze settled on Sabel, the latter reciprocated with an equally intense stare.
Angel gave a subtle nod towards Sabel, his lips betraying the slightest of movements.
A voice materialized out of thin air, arresting Sabel’s attention. He glanced around, realizing no one else seemed to have noticed the phantom whisper.
Sabel’s eyes found their way back to Angel, who gave another faint nod before taking his seat.
By now, Sabel had deduced that the mysterious voice he’d heard must’ve been the work of this young man.
“Fight with an open hand, curb Tulas’s fervor,” was the whispered directive received by Sabel.
To communicate so surreptitiously, Sabel pondered, could it be that Angel, this younger sibling of Leon, was among the transcendent?
Sabel had encountered such beings before, even clashing with one, so he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with their capabilities.
He had speculated that behind Initial Heart City stood the machinations of these very beings. After all, who else could conjure such a peculiar world, such a distinctive city, and a populace that bordered on immortality?
Yet, Lord Tyson never exhibited such otherworldly power. However, the weapon Lord Tyson entrusted to Tulas seemed to possess such qualities. But Tulas refrained from employing this exceptional weapon in duels.
It was indeed the first time Sabel witnessed a mortal wielding transcendent powers here.
In the resplendent hallways of Marilyn’s palace, never before had she exhibited such caution, even when faced with the esteemed Lord Tyson. Could it be that Angel’s identity was linked with the rumored “Master of the New World”?
The title “Master of the New World” was inadvertently revealed by Sunny at the inception of Initial Heart City. Though Sunny later refrained from uttering it, the elders of that time still held it in their memories.
Moreover, with Sunny and Alda being relatives to Lord Tyson, one could wager that Sunny’s words bore no falsehood.
Lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, Sabel was jolted by an elegant female voice, “Captain Sabel, the hour approaches. Tulas has taken the stage.”
The voice belonged to city lord Lady Marilyn.
Regaining his composure, Sabel noticed Tulas, already on the coliseum, engaging with the audience. Nodding respectfully to Marilyn, his gaze then shifted to where Angel stood. Whispering, he said, “I will bring my full strength.”
Having spoken, Sabel turned and ascended the platform. Unlike his previous battles, with each step, Sabel exuded the aura of a blade freed from its sheath, its edge growing ever sharper.
Tulas, who had been jubilantly interacting with the crowd, felt the shifting aura behind him. Turning, his once-playful demeanor transformed into one of gravitas upon seeing Sabel.
Words were unnecessary. Once atop the platform, with a mere flick of his wrist, the slender knightly sword at Sabel’s waist was unsheathed.
Tulas, setting aside his flamboyance, displayed an unprecedented seriousness.
A battle, charged with anticipation, was on the horizon.