Chapter 188: Sword Demon (2)

“…Do you have an appointment?”

One of the gatekeepers guarding the Seton Swordsmanship Hall’s main gate asked.

His voice was full of caution, as the visitor’s stern expression clearly indicated he wasn’t here for pleasantries.

Of course, they didn’t think it would lead to immediate trouble.

This was the Seton Swordsmanship Hall, after all.

One of the most powerful martial organizations in the south, rivaling any nation.

‘Even if he’s upset, he wouldn’t dare cause a scene here.’

That was the gatekeeper’s thought.

But that assumption shattered quickly.

The de facto winner of the swordsmanship festival, Harang, glanced at the gatekeepers and replied.

“No.”

“Then you can’t enter.”

“I’d like to go in.”

“Are you playing games with me?”

“No such intention.”

“Then what are you…”

Swish!

Before the gatekeeper could finish, Harang moved past them at a speed that made him seem to vanish, opening the massive gate and striding in boldly.

“Hey, you!”

“What do you think you’re doing!”

The gatekeepers weren’t about to let that slide.

They quickly chased after him, roughly grabbing his arms to drag him out.

But.

‘What… what strength!’

‘It’s like holding a boulder!’

The gatekeepers, clutching Harang’s clothes, wore shocked expressions.

It felt like embracing a giant rock rooted to the earth!

Realizing their strength was no match, they reluctantly let go.

“Are you done?”

“….”

“….”

“No intention of telling me where the Head of the Swordsmanship Hall is, I presume? I’ll find him myself then.”

Swish!

With those words, Harang vanished again, as if by magic.

The gatekeepers stared blankly at the spot, then blew their whistles in alarm.

Whistle-

Whiiiiistle!

They didn’t know why Harang was acting this way.

But that wasn’t the point.

Entering the swordsmanship hall without permission or the gatekeepers’ consent was the issue.

It was akin to an intruder’s trespass, making the gatekeepers anxious, a feeling that spread like a contagion to the hall’s lower-ranking members.

“What’s going on?”

“Harang? The festival winner?”

“Why’s he suddenly… Has he lost his mind?”

“No way…”

“No way what? Got a hunch?”

“No, no way. It can’t be.”

“Ugh, you frustrating guy! Don’t bring it up if you’re not gonna say it! What’s on your mind?”

“Spit it out already!”

“Well, I just…”

The member who misspoke hesitantly shared his thoughts under pressure.

Wasn’t Harang here to hold the swordsmanship hall accountable for the Red Magician incident?

The other members laughed it off in disbelief.

“No, come on, that’s a bit…”

“I heard people outside are saying stuff like that, but an individual doing this?”

“No way, absolutely not.”

They couldn’t help but think that.

If envoys from participating nations had issued a statement, the swordsmanship hall might have expressed regret and promised to prevent future incidents.

But this was an individual.

No matter how strong, he was just a Graduate-level swordsman in his early twenties.

He couldn’t compare to the mighty Seton Swordsmanship Hall, so the idea of him storming in to demand accountability was absurd.

The members laughed it off as a joke, tossing out other theories, while the one who spoke up looked embarrassed.

But the world has people who defy common sense.

Harang was one of them.

He strode to the heart of the swordsmanship hall, stopping before a building reserved for its top swordsmen.

He stood firm and spoke.

“Who are you?”

“Simon Greenhill.”

“Do you hold a high position in the swordsmanship hall?”

“…I’m the Vice-Head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall. You joined the festival without knowing that?”

“Oh, sorry. I heard but forgot.”

“….”

“Where’s the Head of the Swordsmanship Hall?”

“He’s busy training.”

“Then I’ll wait.”

“You’re a funny guy. You think waiting will get you a meeting with him?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Hah!”

Vice-Head Simon Greenhill looked at Harang with disbelief.

The Head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall, Nigel Nunez, held a status comparable to a king.

Such power was expected of one of the top three in the south.

Of course, Harang was impressive.

Winning the festival’s main stage in his early twenties meant he was destined to become a Sword Master someday.

That’s why Nigel Nunez had expressed interest in taking him as a disciple.

But…

‘Too arrogant. His arrogance is sky-high!’

If he wanted to speak with the Head, he should’ve made an appointment.

Barging in like this was an act that could get him branded an intruder and beheaded.

The only reason Vice-Head Simon Greenhill was restraining himself was because Nigel Nunez coveted him.

Otherwise, he’d have drawn his sword and disciplined him already.

“Phew.”

Simon Greenhill sighed.

Scraping together the last of his patience, he forced a smile.

It was a grotesque expression, but it was the best courtesy he could muster for Harang.

He spoke.

“Harang, I understand you have urgent business, but barging into the swordsmanship hall like this is improper. Please, follow proper procedure and return. Understood? If you do, the Head will look kindly on you and make a place for you, so don’t be hasty… Got it?”

For the hot-tempered Simon Greenhill, this was unusually lenient.

Other members would’ve been shocked to see it.

It meant he was showing Harang the utmost favor.

But Harang didn’t care.

In fact, it made him angrier.

‘No different from thugs.’

The swordsmanship hall’s people changed their attitude 180 degrees depending on the person.

It wasn’t just the members.

Even the Vice-Head, the second-in-command, was no different.

Harang let out a deep sigh and spoke his mind freely.

“The people kidnapped by the Red Magician.”

“…?”

“Was the reason you didn’t rescue them because you were busy following proper procedure?”

“…Hah, haha, hahaha!”

“….”

“Haha, hahaha, hahahaha… So that’s it. I had a hunch, but you really came here for that…”

Vice-Head Simon Greenhill burst into laughter.

It wasn’t just amusement.

His Aura-laced voice shook the surroundings, causing birds to change course in fear.

Other members rushed out of the building, startled, and frowned at the confrontation.

“What’s this?”

“The Vice-Head and the festival winner?”

“Doesn’t look friendly…”

“Maybe because of that incident?”

“No way…”

“Enough with the nonsense.”

The Vice-Head silenced the chatter with a word and strode toward Harang.

Harang didn’t back down.

Instead, he stared straight ahead, hand on his sword.

It was only natural—the Vice-Head had already drawn his sword, manifesting an Aura Sword.

But Simon Greenhill found this insolent.

He spoke.

“You dare challenge me one-on-one?”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“I’m the one who rescued hostages from the Red Magician’s minions you were too scared to face.”

“…!”

“You’re the one who should be afraid, not me.”

“You…!”

Hummmm-!

The enraged Vice-Head summoned all his Aura.

He could take no more.

Whether Nigel Nunez valued him or not, enduring such humiliation would undermine his authority.

With that thought, Simon Greenhill swung a sword imbued with the essence of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall.

“…Hah.”

Harang let out a hollow laugh at the absurdity.

Was it because the Vice-Head’s skill was lacking?

No.

His swordsmanship was beyond imagination—precise, fast, and powerful, rivaling the Mercenary King, the strongest non-Master Harang knew.

That’s what angered him.

That’s what frustrated him.

The fact that someone with such power did nothing, that their decision could have cost Daereon’s life, filled Harang with immense rage.

It was a driving force.

Not as strong as when he killed the Third Hydra, but enough to counter Simon Greenhill’s strike.

Swish

Clang!

“…!”

“…!”

“…!”

A lightning-fast draw, strike, and clash.

Immediately after, Vice-Head Simon Greenhill staggered back four steps.

Meanwhile, Harang, the festival winner, took exactly three steps back.

The swordsmanship hall’s swordsmen wore incredulous expressions.

Simon Greenhill, a peak Graduate expected to reach Master within five years, was at a disadvantage.

It might be an overreach to judge superiority based on this alone.

But Harang holding his own in the first exchange was undeniable, making their shock natural.

“You…!”

Simon Greenhill couldn’t enjoy or accept it.

His face red with rage and humiliation, he prepared to swing again.

But someone acted faster.

“Enough.”

“…Head.”

It was Nigel Nunez, the Head of the Seton Swordsmanship Hall.

Calming Vice-Head Simon Greenhill with a word, he turned to Harang.

“Harang.”

“Yes, Head.”

“Let’s talk elsewhere.”

Pow!

Nigel Nunez swiftly moved in front of Harang and kicked him with full force.

The black-haired youth flew high and far.

The Head stamped the ground, moving in front of him again, and delivered another powerful kick.

Boom!

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