Chapter 115
Chapter 115
Ran Winterbell was shaken.
‘No way… did he realize that I am Van Descartes? No. That’s impossible. There’s no way. Cecil wouldn’t have told him directly, and there’s no evidence that could let him deduce that I am Van Descartes.’
While I was flustered, the finishing technique Ryan Winterbell unleashed was charging in with overwhelming momentum.
First movement.
Like a wolf of the snowy mountains beginning its hunt, Ryan’s body sprang forward.
Like a wolf cutting through a blizzard,
Like a beast running straight through a storm of pure white,
His body swept across the training ground.
Not a trace of hesitation, not a single wasted motion.
Only the instinct-driven charge of a predator.
His sword sliced through the air.
A silver trajectory glimmered coldly beneath the moonlight.
The path drawn by his blade resembled the footprints left behind by a running wolf, and each time a flash of cold burst forth, ice crystals shattered in midair.
With every step he took, frost bloomed,
And the moment his foot touched the ground,
A chilling cold spread across the surface.
As if winter itself had arrived, the entire training ground began to freeze.
Ice crystals rose along his footprints.
At first, they looked like faint frost,
But in an instant, they transformed into sharp pillars of ice.
Like the claw marks of a wolf, the sharp ice crystals
Sprang up wherever he passed, blocking the enemy’s retreat.
This was merely the prelude to White Wolf Slash.
The true hunt was only beginning.
Second movement.
In an instant, Ryan lowered his stance.
Like a wolf crouching toward its prey.
His muscles tightened, gathering explosive power.
Like a wolf’s claws tearing into its prey, his sword split the air.
The trajectory drawn by the blade resembled the marks of a wolf’s claws.
In a single motion, dozens of attacks followed.
A continuous barrage of sword strikes poured down.
Like a wolf’s claws ripping flesh, relentless strikes that never stayed in one place.
Deadly attacks that continued without even the slightest gap.
Each strike carried a sharpness that called forth death.
Wherever the blade passed, a blue trail remained.
Not silver, but blue.
Like the chill harbored by a wolf of the deep winter mountains.
A trace imbued with cold and razor-sharp energy.
The blue lines etched into the air overlapped like claw marks.
At that spot, ice crystals burst forth.
Wherever the sword carved, cold exploded outward, and in that place, ice crystals bloomed instantly.
Like a wolf’s claws digging into flesh, the sharply rising ice crystals burrowed into the enemy’s body.
[Ran Winterbell. Don’t try to block it—evade!]
Third movement.
The moment imbued with extreme cold.
A fleeting stillness.
A silence as if time itself had stopped enveloped the training ground.
Not a single movement, not even a strand of wind.
As if it were midnight in a deep snowy mountain, everything froze.
Like the moment before a wolf leaps at its prey,
Muscles tightened to their absolute limit.
The tension of claws digging into the ground.
The instant it bares its fangs and aims for the prey’s throat.
That very moment just before a predator’s instinct explodes.
All movement ceased.
Ryan’s silver hair froze beneath the moonlight,
Even the cold surrounding him held its breath.
The ice crystals suspended in the air shimmered as if foretelling the next moment.
This silence was preparation for the explosive final strike that was about to erupt.
“Why can’t you answer? Did you suddenly become mute?”
Final strike.
The moment the stillness shattered, Ryan’s body moved like a flash of light.
The sword, condensed with cold, gleamed beneath the moonlight like the fangs of a wolf.
Like a predator of the snowfield tearing into its prey’s throat, his blade descended, drawing a perfect trajectory.
Like that fatal instant when a wolf aims for its prey’s lifeline, it was a killing strike without the slightest hesitation.
The decisive blow had begun.
All previous movements had been laid out for this very moment.
The blizzard-like barrage of strikes, the traps of ice crystals—everything had merely been preparation for this final attack.
The trajectory drawn by the sword was as vivid as the bite marks of a wolf. A silver path tinged with blue traced a faint circle in the air.
Like the mark left when a wolf clamps down on its prey’s throat—a perfect fatal wound.
“Who the hell are you! Tell me honestly! You’re not Ran Winterbell, are you?! Aren’t you just a monster wearing his shell?! Hahahahaha!”
The frost rising from that spot looked like the breath of a white wolf.
The cold exploded outward.
The moment the blade pierced its target, all the condensed cold detonated at once.
Frost and ice crystals raged like a storm, and the blue chill spread in all directions like the howl of a wolf.
This was the true essence of White Wolf Slash.
Not merely swordsmanship, but a technique imbued with the instinctive killing intent of a wolf of the snowy mountains.
The ultimate art that recreated, through the sword, the hunt of the white wolf—the symbol of the Winterbell family.
A finishing technique that perfectly embodied the predator’s instinct flowing in their blood.
It was a deadly sword dance where human technique and beastly instinct became one.
A technique that transcended the limits of rational swordsmanship, perfectly harmonizing the sharp senses of a beast with the refined skill of a human.
Like a wolf of the deep winter mountains—cold and lethal—the ultimate art of the Winterbell family now revealed its true form.
[Ran! Focus! Ran! I said focus!]
Shaaak—!
Tearing through the air, the final strike of White Wolf Slash dug into my body.
The sharp blade imbued with cold sliced flesh and tore through muscle.
My black martial robe was ripped in several places like paper, and vivid crimson blood seeped out through the gaps.
A deep wound carved across my shoulder and chest.
A fatal trajectory running from my right shoulder down to my left chest.
Like a wolf’s claws raking through flesh, three parallel gashes were clearly etched.
The flesh was deeply gouged, exposing muscle.
[Ran! Are you just going to stand there like this? Get a hold of yourself!]
The blood flowing from the wound met the cold and froze instantly.
Frost formed over the wound like crimson icicles.
The sharp sword mark that grazed my left arm was even more gruesome.
A deep wound running from near the shoulder down to the elbow.
From the deeply carved gash, as if the bone might be exposed, blood spurted out like a fountain.
The cold burrowed deep into the wound, delivering a pain that felt like my flesh was being flayed.
‘…What tremendous power.’
An intense pain, as if my flesh were being carved away by a blade below freezing.
The fatal wound etched into my abdomen was the most severe.
Like a wolf tearing into its prey’s belly, a circular wound had been gouged into my abdomen.
From the deeply hollowed flesh, blood still flowed, and from that spot, blue ice crystals began to grow.
The cold spreading around the wound formed ice crystals like the bite marks of a wolf.
“…Cough!”
Blood burst from Ran Winterbell’s mouth.
My ears rang dully.
A suffocating silence.
Even those in the audience seats were struck speechless in shock.
From the start, this match had been nothing short of bizarre.
The eldest son of Winterbell, the greatest rising star.
Ryan Winterbell.
And the disgrace of Winterbell who, until just a few months ago, couldn’t even walk on his own—the exiled youngest son.
Ran Winterbell.
Naturally, everyone had expected a one-sided victory for Ryan Winterbell, yet the flow of the match had unexpectedly been led by Ran Winterbell, who had even seemed to dominate for a brief moment.
That alone had been shocking enough, but now Ryan Winterbell was once again overwhelming the match, as if proving who the true heir of Winterbell was. The finishing technique he had just displayed had been nothing short of perfect.
“…He’s still breathing?”
“To take something like that head-on…”
“As expected of Winterbell. Even with high-ranking healers on standby, they don’t care at all about taking each other’s lives, even between brothers… Blood ties mean nothing.”
“The youngest lord did show something quite impressive in this tournament, but… I suppose this is as far as he goes. No matter what, he can’t defeat the eldest son, Ryan Winterbell.”
“But it’s not over yet, is it?”
“…Do you really think he can continue after taking that?”
“Still…”
“It looks like the match is already decided, so why hasn’t the Patriarch announced the result yet?”
“You’re stating the obvious. It must be because, in the Patriarch’s eyes, the match isn’t over yet.”
None of these voices reached Ran Winterbell’s ears. Everything sounded muffled. Then, a long ringing—piiiiiii—echoed out.
[You idiot bastard! What are you doing spacing out right now?! Did you go through all that hell just to stop here?! Get up! Get up right now!]
Thankfully,
Even though my ears were dulled, Behemoth’s voice rang clearly inside my head.
‘…How much blood have I lost? Trying to block that head-on was too much after all. It far exceeded my expectations. He can perfectly handle Winterbell’s finishing technique. Well, considering the years he’s lived and his experience, it’s only natural.’
My heart was still pounding. Perhaps because of the blood loss, my vision was dyed entirely red. Yet in contrast, my mind was endlessly clear.
‘It’s not like I gained nothing. There are still several unsettling points, but most of the vital spots were avoided. Even if I can’t use mana, the blood flowing through my body has enhanced my regeneration, so I can still move.’
If anything, I was overflowing with energy.
Despite having lost this much blood.
Why?
Was it the madness of the Halla Clan?
The fighting spirit of Winterbell?
Or perhaps remnants of the past?
Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter.
What mattered was that I had not fallen yet.
‘Right. You still haven’t revealed everything you have. I don’t know what schemes you’re hiding. But the same goes for me.’
My heart pounded fiercely, circulating blood throughout my entire body. I lifted myself up and took a step forward. Within my blood-red vision, my enemy stood out clearly.
[If you don’t want to die here, get a grip.]
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
My heart pounded like madness.
Blood surged through my entire body like lava on the verge of eruption. The blood of the Halla Clan roared. The tattoo etched on my back emitted a red light different from before. Not the vivid crimson it once was, but a deep red that burned like molten lava.
The veins running beneath my skin glowed red like cracks in a volcano.
My hair, dyed red as if soaked in blood—or as if lava flowed through it—flickered under the moonlight like living flames. Around me, an intense blood aura unlike anything before began to rise.
No longer merely flowing along the blade,
But erupting explosively like a volcanic eruption.
A crimson mist completely enveloped my existence.
Shaaak—!
My step flashed like a streak of light.
With a single step, the entire training ground was dyed red.
Wherever I passed, flowers of blood bloomed,
And along my footprints, blood energy swirled.
Even from the wounds left by White Wolf Slash, a new power burst forth. The frozen blood boiled once more, and the blue ice crystals melted into red vapor.
It was as if my very existence had become a living volcano, spewing explosive heat and bloodlust.
At the same time, Ran Winterbell’s sword shot forward like a flash.
“…!”