Exploring Technology in a Wizard World-Chapter 214 - 213: Not a Flaw, but a Trap
Chapter 214: Chapter 213: Not a Flaw, but a Trap
The preliminary day passed quickly.
On this day, Richard, Nancy, and Raymond fought multiple battles.
There was no need to elaborate on Richard and Nancy’s strength—they steadily made it into the so-called quarterfinals. Raymond, although he was greatly fatigued due to the activities of the previous night, didn’t perform too poorly in swordsmanship. Clenching his teeth and giving it his all, he ultimately made it into the quarterfinals as well, although his ranking was slightly behind Richard and Nancy.
In the blink of an eye, the next morning, the quarterfinals scene.
In the Duel Arena in Kairo City, under the sun’s shine, thousands of spectators shouted, creating an extraordinarily lively atmosphere. But in the special VIP seats separated out, the number of people seated was sparse—especially in the central King’s seat—its owner wasn’t present at all.
Standing at one of the Duel Arena’s entrances, Richard, Nancy, and Raymond glanced over the seating area and realized it was not very likely King Hu Fu would show up in the morning and that Macbeth wouldn’t make a move either.
Sure enough, Macbeth appeared where the three were at the entrance shortly after and said in a low voice, “Hu Fu hasn’t come, so perform well this morning and make sure you get into the semifinals this afternoon.”
“Oh, understood,” the three of them nodded.
“The competition has started,” Macbeth said.
Immediately, Richard and the others looked towards the arena and saw the swordsman ranked eighth and the one ranked seventh had already met on the open ground of the arena.
For Richard and his companions, both competitors were clearly strangers, and now they watched as spectators. Upon the dropping of the white handkerchief by the host, the two swordsmen cautiously circled each other for a little while before the one ranked seventh made the first move and rapidly entangled in a scuffle.
Being in the quarterfinals, naturally, none were too weak, both wielding longswords which reflected dazzling light under the sunlight, the continuous “bang bang bang” of clashing drew a tsunami-like shouting from the audience stand.
“Kill him!”
“Take him down!”
“Left side! Watch your left!”
“Idiot! He’s on your right!”
“He’s about to strike again…”
“…”
Under the various voices of the audience, the two swordsmen continued to fight, the result turning out to be somewhat of a surprise—the swordsman ranked higher at seventh, who made the first move, lost, and the one mostly at a disadvantage during the fight, ranked eighth, won—although it was still within an acceptable range.
After all, a higher ranking didn’t represent everything; perhaps the opponent concealed his real strength, deliberately taking a lower position for the purpose of “playing possum.” Keep in mind, although this youth swordsmanship tournament couldn’t compare to the adult ones, the top three still had generous rewards, including not only fame but also a significant number of gold coins, which inevitably prompted the competitors to employ various strategies.
In the end, the swordsman ranked seventh, holding onto the sword wound on his arm, backed away over a dozen meters from the center of the ground to prevent being chased down by his opponent, then raised his hand and waved it to indicate his choice of “surrender” to the host.
The host of the quarterfinals was no longer the same one as the previous day’s preliminaries and was evidently of a significantly higher status.
The opponent, dressed in black noble attire with a pair of well-groomed mustache and hair slicked back and shining, stood on an elevated platform. After glancing at the swordsman who ranked seventh, he waved his white wand with crisp efficiency and announced the result, “In this match, Uras from Tuoke City wins! Congratulations to him!”
As soon as the host’s voice was heard, the eighth-ranked swordsman, Uras, immediately ceased his attacking stance, while the defeated seventh-ranked swordsman let out a sigh of relief and sullenly made his way toward the entrance. Behind him, there were long jeers from the audience, along with admiration for his opponent.
At the entrance where Richard and his party were located, Macbeth raised his eyebrows and said to Raymond, “Alright, it’s your turn to enter the arena. You saw what happens when you fail. Although the plan will be considered a success as long as one of you reaches the finals, I still hope each of you will fight to win as much as possible.
This isn’t for the sake of any reward—forget about rewards—when I’ve killed their King, do you really think they’ll be waiting to hand you Gold Coins in a box?
This is mainly for your own sake because the feeling of being despised and looked down on is far from pleasant. Of course, if you’re limited in ability, don’t force yourself.”
“Yes, Lord Macbeth, I’ll remember that,” Raymond nodded earnestly. He knew he had performed poorly the day before due to physical exhaustion and had not been very highly regarded by Macbeth. But after a night’s rest, Raymond felt that he had recovered to his peak strength today and could surely be victorious.
Taking a deep breath, he said to Macbeth with full confidence, “Lord Macbeth, I will surely win.”
“Good, go then,” Macbeth said.
“Hmm,” Raymond nodded and walked out of the entrance, Longsword in hand. From the opposite direction—at another entrance—his opponent was coming toward him, dragging a heavy, two-handed Broadsword.
The two walked to the center of the arena where the host, dressed in black noble attire, announced the details of the two competitors. He gave an overview of Tuo Tie, the Broadsword-wielding swordsman ranked sixth, his fame, his achievements, and his notable victories over prominent opponents. The introduction for Raymond was similar, though much of it was fictitious—invented by Macbeth.
After the introductions, the host successfully roused the crowd’s interest and then declared in a deep voice, “Now the match is about to officially begin. Let’s see who is more formidable, Tuo Tie from Novik City or Raymond from Pompeitz City?!”
With that, he raised his hand from the platform and tossed a handkerchief to the ground.
As soon as the handkerchief touched the floor, Raymond and his opponent Tuo Tie both sprang into action, each unapologetically vying for the initial advantage.
Raymond thrust his sword with great confidence. He believed that, with its lighter weight and faster speed, his sword would surely strike the opponent first. This would force the opponent to follow his pace and lead him to victory.
But after Raymond’s thrust, he saw Tuo Tie make no attempt to dodge, instead swinging his heavy Broadsword at him, which caused him some panic. Continuing as they were, while he might pierce his opponent’s belly, his own head would be cleaved off—it was not worth it—piercing the belly might not be fatal, but losing one’s head certainly would be.
In his panic, Raymond hesitated, and the thrust of his Longsword was not completed, while the Broadsword was already upon him.
“Ah!”
Raymond cried out in a fluster, hurriedly dodging and somewhat awkwardly evading the attack. The next moment, his opponent took the initiative and launched a series of relentless assaults.
While dodging repeatedly, Raymond thought in panic, “Damn it, the opponent is hiding his true strength. Yesterday in the preliminary rounds, he wasn’t this tough. But today, he’s completely suppressing him. This won’t do, he mustn’t continue like this. He has to win, he must win.”
Thinking thus, after dodging for quite a while, Raymond bit the bullet and seized an opening exposed by his opponent, fiercely thrusting his sword. But as soon as the blade was thrust, Raymond’s heart sank, for he saw his opponent giving him a somewhat cold smile, with a hint of mockery in his eyes.
This!
Raymond’s pupils contracted.
Damn! It wasn’t a weakness; it was a trap!
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