Chapter 1322 Who Prevails <TOC> Chapter 1324 The Abnormal Affairs Team
Translator: SumTLMan
Upon hearing this news, a torrent of emotions started to churn in Leon’s heart.
Nevertheless, the duel in the arena was still ongoing. Being invited as a judge and as a member of the judging panel, he naturally owed it to his duty to remain impartial. Leon wrestled his emotions into submission, turning his full attention back to the arena.
Angel, on the other hand, wasn’t as restless as Leon. Perhaps the reason being… he might not have participated in the capture of Rolando, but he was present through the entirety of Rolando’s interrogation. Thus, with a clearer understanding, his heart found solace and steadiness.
The battle in the arena was now drawing to its dramatic conclusion.
Both combatants still had reserves of stamina, but the mental fatigue from the intense clash was evident.
Especially in the case of Tulas; his deteriorating state was painfully apparent. His eyelids drooped intermittently, his gaze growing hazy.
In a contest of this caliber, when offense and defense are evenly matched, the attacker usually expends more energy.
Throughout, Tulas was racking his brain on how to penetrate Sabel’s “circle.” Every imaginative tactic and inventive strategy kept his mind on edge, causing him to fare worse in comparison to Sabel.
Conversely, Sabel barely moved an inch, confined within his “circle.” His knightly swordplay was intuitive and seamless. Although mentally taxing, he was faring much better than Tulas.
“It seems the battle is nearing its end,” whispered Angel.
Leon nodded in agreement. Under these circumstances, it would be a Herculean task for Tulas to turn the tables.
Indeed, the reality mirrored this sentiment. With Tulas so drained and still striving to maintain his offensive against Sabel, cracks in his defense began to show. In a fleeting moment of hazed distraction, Sabel’s blade found its mark on Tulas’s armor.
In a dance of skill and precision, Sabel’s blade, rather than piercing through the armor, gracefully curved, its slender knightly edge drawing a delicate crescent arc.
Upon the cross-shaped hilt, a pigeon-blood ruby suddenly emitted a crimson gleam.
With a soft “snap”, Tulas’s pupils constricted; suspended mid-air, he lost control. An unseen force from the knight’s sword-tip thrust him out, causing him to crash heavily to the ground.
With measured grace, Sabel slightly bowed his head, slowly sheathing his knightly sword.
Facing Angel, Sabel performed a deep and respectful knightly bow, seemingly responding to Angel’s telepathic message from before the duel.
Angel returned the gesture with a nod and then glanced at the seemingly dazed Marilyn, stating, “Lady Marilyn, it’s time to announce the outcome.”
Gathering her bearings, Marilyn cleared her throat and rose, addressing the arena, “The match concludes, and the victor is…”
Pausing mid-sentence, she looked back at Angel, “Lord, it seems Sheriff Tulas has yet to fall from the stage. Could he still have the strength for another round?”
With serene certainty, Angel responded, “He’s already been defeated.”
Daring not to question Angel’s judgment, Marilyn promptly declared, “The victor is——Knight Sabel!”
Suddenly, chants of “Knight Sabel!” resonated, dominating the atmosphere. Save for a few concerned fans worried for Tulas, everyone was chanting Sabel’s name.
To this overwhelming acclaim, Sabel remained unperturbed, exuding a familiarity as if he had seen it all before. In his calm demeanor, Angel seemingly glimpsed a younger version of Sabel——a knight general who once dominated the battlefield!
Only a knight, who had basked in the limelight of boundless admiration, could project such unflappable composure.
This certainly resonates with the composure that Sabel himself exudes, mirroring it with uncanny fidelity.
Sabel, unfazed by the roars from the spectators, moved silently towards Angel, his gaze twinkling, as if he had questions lurking in its depths.
However, in the blink of an eye,
A shadow, as swift as a fleeting reflection over water, spanned the distance of several meters of the arena, materializing behind Knight Sabel. Such swiftness left one’s head spinning!
By the time Sabel became aware of the presence behind him, it was already too late.
He turned, only to be met with the bloodshot eyes of Tulas, who seemed to have lost his grip on reality.
Tulas’s lips murmured in an obsessive chant, “I won’t lose… I won’t lose…”
A razor-sharp assault, gleaming with the silvery sheen of a crescent blade, came hurtling towards him.
In that heart-stopping moment, even if Sabel wished to draw his sword in defense, time wasn’t on his side. Just as Tulas’s assault was about to land, Sabel felt an immense force from behind, shoving him aside. Another figure stepped in, facing Tulas head-on.
It was Angel.
“Face the reality,” Angel whispered, grasping Tulas’s hand, his voice a gentle whisper in Tulas’s ear.
However, Tulas, now in a haze of muddled consciousness, couldn’t distinguish friend from foe. He launched his second attack directly at Angel.
In mere moments, a flurry of attacks and defenses were exchanged between Angel and Tulas.
With every blow, Tulas’s eyes became even more bloodshot. And to everyone’s astonishment, Tulas’s power surged unrelentingly. Even in his delirious state, he instinctively dodged various techniques, as if guided by some primal intuition.
Upon beholding such a spectacle, Sabel found it utterly bewildering.
His senses were clouded, yet astoundingly, his strength now magnified manifold from before! If Tulas were to engage in combat with this newfound vigor, likely, even Sabel would find himself overpowered.
What truly baffled all was that Tulas’s power seemed boundless, growing stronger with every blow dealt.
Angel had observed this anomaly as well. The might that Tulas now wielded slowly began to mirror the ethereal power he possessed when Angel first laid eyes on him in his ghost form…
Witnessing the perplexed gaze in Tulas’s eyes, Angel heaved a sigh. Presumably, Tulas’s obscured clarity mirrored his consciousness when he was a ghost, invoking dormant combat memories and inadvertently boosting his power.
Given these circumstances, rousing Tulas back to lucidity seemed a daunting task.
At present, Tulas seemed to stubbornly confront anyone crossing his path.
From the corner of his eye, Angel quickly surveyed the surroundings.
The audience was awash with expressions of astonishment, still grappling to fathom the unfolding events. How had Tulas risen so suddenly, engaging even with the judges?
Angel decided it was unwise to prolong the standoff with Tulas, making a covert resolution.
As Tulas charged at him once more, Angel stood unmoving, Tulas’s claw narrowly missing his eye. A gasp escaped from the sidelines, and a palpable tension gripped the crowd.
Yet, in a fleeting moment, Tulas’s silhouette vanished without a trace.
All around, there was nothing — no hint of his presence. Were it not for the extensive scars on the arena from Tulas’s skirmish with Sabel, one would think the entire episode was merely a figment of imagination.
But when the illusion faded, the aftermath was a sea of stunned whispers.
Where had Tulas vanished to? For a moment, the question became the talk of the town, a subject of animated chatter.
Angel, without offering any insight, made his way to the judge’s stand. Observing a slightly dazed Sabel, he gently nodded, “You did exceptionally well. Tulas indeed needed a taste of humility.”
Coming to his senses, Sabel’s expression shadowed, “Truth be told, if Tulas had unleashed his full potential just now, I would still be no match for him.”
“That was but a fleeting aberration. In this duel, you stand as the undisputed victor,” Angel remarked after a pause, “With the witness of Marilyn, the city lord, your victory is an irrefutable truth.”
Having said that, Angel’s gaze shifted to Marilyn, “With the assistance of Knight Sabel, Lady Marilyn, your governance over Initial Heart City will undoubtedly be bolstered.”
Marilyn’s response was a smile, silent yet full of reverence and caution.
“With the duel concluded, it’s time for us to depart,” said Angel, glancing at Leon.
By this time, Leon’s mind had already wandered elsewhere. He nodded without a hint of hesitation.
However, just as Angel was about to take his leave, Sabel interjected, “Wait, may I pose a few questions?”
Turning back, Angel looked at Sabel, inquiringly.
“Where has Tulas gone? And, are you a transcendental being?”
Angel replied, “Are these your only questions? If so, you should seek Freud. He’ll have your answers.”
Angel glanced at Marilyn, signaling for her to guide Sabel to Freud. Thereafter, he turned away, vanishing with Leon amidst the roaring crowd of the coliseum.
In a secluded space, the two brothers returned to reality.
The tranquil atmosphere of Pat Manor remained undisturbed, with neither Sanders nor Suis having returned as of yet. Leon had taken his leave earlier, expressing his intentions to visit Grud Town and requested the servants to prepare a feast with wine and delicacies.
Leon’s mindset was still constrained by the boundaries of ordinary mortals. He hadn’t considered that formal wizards rarely indulge in mortal sustenance, let alone in magical delicacies.
Yet, Leon’s animated demeanor hinted at his profound respect for Lord Redhead, Suis.
After Leon’s departure, Angel stayed back. He fetched the Cathedral of the Dead, placing it on the table before reaching into it with his mental tendrils.
Before he could enter Tulas’s room, a harrowing scream echoed from within.
“I was certain of my victory, never once stepping out of bounds… I am the king of the Far Eastern Sea, the one destined to defeat the legendary pirate Redbeard… How could I lose to a knight of no renown?”
“Do I need to remind you? When you met your demise, Redbeard was barely ten years old,” Angel’s voice pierced Tulas’s ears out of the blue.
Tulas was momentarily stunned, then retorted with a hint of grievance, “That’s hardly the point.”
In past discussions concerning Redbeard, Tulas always passionately countered. But now, his silence bespoke a genuine blow to his ego.
“Do you believe you didn’t lose because you never fell out of bounds?” Angel inquired.
Tulas hesitated briefly before nodding in agreement.
Without a word, Angel conjured an illusion, vividly depicting the battle scene in question.
Having replayed the past events, Angel then pressed, “Now, do you still believe you didn’t lose?”
At that moment, Tulas was a portrait of weariness, inadvertently revealing a momentary lapse. Seizing this opportune moment, Sabel could have easily thrust his knight’s slender sword deep into Tulas’s chest. However, choosing the path of restraint, he subtly shifted the blade upwards, positioning it against Tulas’s leather armor.
Yet Sabel refrained from piercing through, demonstrating a masterful display of finesse as he skillfully sent Tulas hurtling backwards.
Then, suspended in mid-air, Tulas was left weightless, devoid of ground beneath him. With just a tad more force from Sabel, the ricocheting impact would have surely sent Tulas plummeting off the platform.
Nevertheless, showcasing a streak of magnanimity, Sabel chose not to. He allowed Tulas a modicum of dignity, letting him land precariously at the platform’s edge.
By extending these two acts of clemency, Sabel’s Chivalry of a Knight shone resplendent. Even when Tulas was at his most vulnerable, Sabel refrained from delivering the coup de grâce.
Although Tulas yearned to protest, asserting that a true battle would only be over when he was thrown off the arena, he realized this wasn’t a do-or-die clash, and neither was Sabel his sworn enemy.
Humbly, Tulas bowed his head, tacitly conceding the outcome of their duel.
Observing Tulas in such a state, Angel felt a slight sense of satisfaction. For only by humbling this spirited individual could one help him quell the tempestuous fervor in his heart.
Chapter 1322 Who Prevails <TOC> Chapter 1324 The Abnormal Affairs Team