The Game Difficulty
Is Crazy
Glen’s gaze turned toward the man.
“Alright. Come up.”
Soon, the knight who claimed to be ranked fifteenth walked up onto the sparring ground.
Zaber frowned.
“Derrick? Derrick Beiro?”
“Ah, so he’s from the Beiro family.”
Beiro.
Only after hearing that name did Glen roughly grasp who his opponent was.
A famous knightly family that had produced outstanding knights for generations.
It seemed the son of a household known for swordsmanship had stepped forward.
“I am Derrick Beiro, sixth son of the Baron Beiro family. I am currently thirty years old, and I stand on the brink of the five-ring realm.”
The man, who looked quite taciturn, introduced himself in a deep voice.
His sharp, alert eyes were quite likable, but—
‘Oh? Look at this arrogance.’
He subtly emphasized that he was close to five rings, and despite his appearance, it came off as rather cheeky.
Wanting to tease him lightly, Glen smiled with his eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Sir Derrick. But you should speak accurately.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re four rings, aren’t you? You may be close to five, but you’re still four rings. Shouldn’t you introduce yourself as four rings?”
Caught off guard, Derrick’s thick eyebrows twitched.
“…My apologies.”
“It’s fine. At your age, I suppose you’d want to boast a little. Even if it means defeating someone weaker than yourself.”
“Pardon? What are you—”
“I only have three holy rings, yet a knight who is close to five rings comes up to face me. It’s hard not to feel a little wronged by your intentions, isn’t it?”
“That’s not it. It’s just that you’re so impressive, young master, even facing four-ring knights. If you were uncomfortable, then even now—”
“I’m joking. Let’s do it. The spar.”
Seeing Derrick fluster and sigh, Glen laughed mischievously.
Still, a four-ring knight close to five rings.
Considering that an average hard worker barely breaks through the wall of three rings by the age of thirty, Derrick was quite a prodigy himself.
And the holy power Tris used when sparring with him had been about that level.
At that time, Glen had not been able to defeat Tris.
That was why this spar held real meaning for Glen.
How far he could go without using his final trump card, the Tyrant King’s Wrath, or the Gray Ring.
‘And what my current lowest point is.’
He felt both curious and excited.
“Are you really alright with this?”
Zaber asked, sounding uneasy.
Up until now things had been easy, but this time the gap in level was significant.
“I should try, shouldn’t I? To earn your acknowledgment and support, I need to surpass at least someone ranked fifteenth.”
Truthfully, he wanted to spar with a knight ranked in the single digits, but—
‘To fight someone five rings or above, I’d have to use the Gray Ring for sure.’
Even if they were on the same side, there was no need to reveal all his cards.
A seventeen-year-old who had held a sword for only two months defeating knights who had trained for years, even decades?
That would be too excessive.
‘It wouldn’t be something people could dismiss as just a genius’s debut.’
If Glen showed his full strength here, rumors and commotion would spread everywhere.
Before long, he would draw far more attention than necessary.
‘It wouldn’t really matter, but there’s no need to invite unnecessary attention.’
What he needed now was enough strength to earn recognition from these barbaric, straightforward wolves.
That alone was enough.
“Young master. May I begin?”
“I’m ready. I don’t know how to face someone close to five rings with only three, but I’ll do my best.”
“P-please… take care of me.”
Derrick averted his eyes, looking embarrassed.
He was the kind of man who was fun to tease.
‘Though that embarrassment is about to double.’
Glen smiled shamelessly and widened the distance between them.
“Then, begin.”
“I’m coming.”
At Zaber’s declaration, Derrick spun his holy rings.
Holy power particles swirled around him, forming a holy armor.
In response, Glen also gathered his holy power.
Wooooong—
Three holy rings spun, and holy power spread through his entire body.
His body felt lighter, filled with vitality.
A smile brushed past Glen’s lips.
At the same time, both of them kicked off the ground.
Chaeng—!
The two swords collided at a single point.
The incoming strike carried considerable weight.
‘Rank fifteenth, was it? If this were a small noble family’s knight order, he’d easily be in the top three.’
Beyond the clashing blades, Glen met Derrick’s eyes.
They were wide open, filled with killing intent.
‘Oh… look at that?’
Even with the difference in rings, he had no intention of taking it easy.
It seemed Derrick, after watching the earlier spars, had sensed that Glen was no ordinary opponent.
That posture pleased Glen greatly.
‘Though he does have a bit of swagger.’
Chang!
The second clash of swords followed.
This time, Derrick’s blade pushed Glen’s sword slightly aside.
With more holy rings rotating, he clearly had the advantage in raw power.
But Glen could not simply accept that.
He had more than just firepower.
Srrrng—!
He angled his blade and smoothly diverted Derrick’s sword.
Metal slid against metal with a chilling sound.
“…!”
Both swords were thrown forward.
Glen twisted his body and avoided Derrick’s rushing blade.
Derrick likewise dodged the sliding counterblade.
Shaaaak—
Two swords cut through empty air.
But Glen was much faster at turning a failed attack into the next one.
Glen’s sword aimed for Derrick.
Chaeng—!
Derrick pulled his sword back to block, but it was an obviously awkward posture.
“Kuh!”
A groan escaped Derrick’s lips as veins bulged on the back of his hand.
He then swung his sword widely, forcing Glen back.
A short distance opened between them.
The two men observed each other—
Taah—!
And leaped toward one another again.
Chaeng! Chang—!
Swords collided repeatedly.
Steel struck steel, constantly scattering sparks.
And at the center of it all, Glen was smiling.
His opponent’s sword was violent.
Yet at critical moments, it held onto reason and maintained a fine line, making it look incredibly refined.
A violent yet clever swordsmanship.
He could feel with his body why they were called the Gray Wolf Knights.
Aside from Tris, had there ever been a knight who pushed him into such a close fight?
At least among the knights stationed at the estate, there were almost none.
‘This is fun.’
A thrill ran down his spine.
Of course, he could afford to feel this excitement because he was fighting while hiding his full strength.
But even setting everything else aside, simply crossing swords with a Gray Wolf Knight was immensely enjoyable.
Chang—!
Chae-aeng—!
The spar between Glen and Derrick continued.
Dozens of exchanges followed without pause.
Within that storm of blades, Glen swung his sword with a bloody, delighted smile.
On the other hand, Derrick could not hide his confusion for even a moment.
‘This guy is three rings?!’
From the moment the spar began, Derrick had been fighting with his full strength.
Seeing his comrades fall one after another while Glen looked relaxed irritated him greatly, and he had intended to carve the fear of the Gray Wolf Knights deep into that smiling face.
‘That’s how it should have gone!’
Yet the spar that should have ended quickly dragged on past fifty exchanges without a conclusion.
Even when he brought down a blade filled with holy power, Glen only twisted his lips and smiled darkly.
Then the executioner counterattacked.
Riding on a strange, eerie swordsmanship he had never seen or heard of!
Tch—!
“Kgh!”
Glen’s blade brushed past Derrick’s earlobe, catching his moment of hesitation.
The more it happened, the more shaken Derrick became, and his concentration faltered.
The situation itself—where a full three-ring knight was evenly matched against a nearly five-ring four-ring knight—was utterly confusing.
Grit—!
He clenched his teeth.
Steadying his wavering mind, Derrick swung his sword with all his might.
“Uraaaa!”
Kaaang—!
“…Ugh!”
A groan burst from the executioner’s lips.
At the same time, the arm holding the sword opened up, revealing a gap.
‘Got you!’
A sharp light flashed in Derrick’s eyes.
He thrust his sword toward the opening.
That was when it happened.
The executioner, who should have hurriedly taken a defensive stance, instead dove straight toward the incoming blade.
“What?!”
Derrick’s pupils shook.
At the same time, realizing the executioner’s sword hand was empty, alarm bells rang in his head.
‘Damn it!’
Chwaat—
Derrick’s blade grazed past the executioner’s shoulder.
At the same time, the executioner’s right hand grabbed Derrick by the collar.
Derrick’s body lurched forward.
“Kgh!”
Thud—!
The two men rolled awkwardly on the ground.
But at the end of it, the executioner’s arm wrapped tightly around Derrick’s neck.
“Grrrk…!”
The executioner’s arm tightened around his throat.
Derrick tried to endure while gritting his teeth, but the outcome was already decided.
“I… I los— kuhk!”
In the end, Derrick declared his surrender.
Only then did the pressure on his airway release, and coughing rushed out.
“Cough! Cough! Kgh!”
A shadow fell over Derrick as he lay face down on the ground.
Derrick lifted his head.
“Hoo. Good work, Sir.”
There stood the executioner, panting as he looked down at him.
The man who stood on the verge of his fifth holy ring.
The man ranked fifteenth strongest in this fortress.
Derrick Beiro.
Had been defeated by an executioner with only three holy rings.
“Heh…”
A hollow laugh escaped Derrick’s mouth.
A cold silence settled over the training ground of Avenew Fortress.
The knights who witnessed the spar between Glen and Derrick were utterly stunned.
A three-ring holy knight—
An executioner known to have held a sword for only two months—
Had defeated the fifteenth-ranked knight of the elite Gray Wolf Knights.
They could not argue that Derrick had gone easy, or that he was in poor condition, or that the executioner was just lucky.
Any Gray Wolf Knight who had watched the spar knew that Derrick had fought with his full strength.
Honestly, the situation made no sense logically.
In their common sense, the number of rings was an unbreakable symbol of rank.
But the beast within them understood instinctively.
There was no falsehood in this spar.
Glen Wordsworth had defeated Derrick Beiro with pure skill.
The one who entered the wolves’ den was not a sheep, but a tiger cub.
“Waaaaaah!!”
The knights broke the silence, their cheers shaking the training ground.
Pure cheers directed toward the strong.
Watching Glen standing at the center of it all, Zaber pressed his forehead and laughed.
‘This is unbearably embarrassing.’
At first, he had thought it was nothing more than a reckless challenge born of youthful bravado.
Then he noticed that, for someone who had trained for only two months, the holy power felt from Glen’s chest was quite dense, so he thought he had some talent.
Even so, he believed it was far from enough to earn his favor.
The support of the Gray Wolf Knights was not something that could be gained just by showing a bit of talent.
‘I should humor him a little, show him a bitter taste, and send him back.’
That was what he thought as he crossed his arms and watched Glen.
But that cynical mindset collapsed in an instant after seeing the many spars Glen showed today.
The spirit to not fall behind even against Derrick, a four-ring knight close to five rings, nearly two full stages higher.
A bizarre, unique swordsmanship different from Wordsworth’s, of unknown origin.
The flexible thinking to deliberately leave an opening and even throw away his sword to subdue his opponent.
‘This is not a level a seventeen-year-old can reach.’
Even Tris Wordsworth, called a genius, could not defeat knights with more rings than herself at the age of seventeen.
The boy he had thought was merely an executioner was a singular genius beyond anything Zaber had seen in his fifty-four years of life.
His mind was thrown into confusion, wondering where the rumors surrounding this boy had gone wrong and what was true.
But one thing was certain.
That boy had awakened the beast sleeping deep within his chest.
“Krrr… heh heh heh.”
Zaber’s one wolf-like eye burned like fire.
