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Chapter 307: The Top Fighters of the Five Empires
🕑 Added 2025-03-08 16:07:01 +0000 UTCThe golden ram Herolf's spear technique surged upward with the force of a crashing wave, locking onto Andreas. The youngest Saint of the Black Phoenix Dynasty found his spirit, consciousness, and even the energy of his combat style completely suppressed.
Though Charlot Mecklenburg had witnessed countless battles among Saints, he couldn't help but applaud. "The old ram actually has some tricks up his sleeve!"
Charlot had seen Herolf fight before, but those instances were always under disadvantageous circumstances, often involving him being surrounded by three or more Saints. In those battles, Herolf had barely held his ground, relying on magical alchemical warships or the Saint Spirit Michael for support. This had left Charlot with the impression that the old servant's abilities were mediocre at best.
But now, seeing Herolf in a one-on-one duel, Charlot realized the old ram was much more formidable than he had assumed.
High in the sky, waves of battle energy erupted, sending shockwaves echoing across the heavens. The scattered clouds, already sparse in the clear weather, shattered entirely as if torn apart like delicate silk.
Charlot, brimming with excitement, grabbed the Berserker Blade and leapt from the city walls, shouting, "Chloe, come fight me! Today, you will meet your end on the battlefield!"
Chloe Hadrian, who had been itching for a fight, grabbed his favored lance and charged out from the army. "Charlot, this isn’t the first time you’ve made wild claims!"
"Well, you should know," Charlot teased, "I’m no longer just a fifteenth-level knight!"
Feigning surprise, Charlot exclaimed, "What? Have you fallen from the Transcendent class again? You’re slipping, Chloe!"
Furious, Chloe retorted, "I’ve advanced! I’m now a sixteenth-level knight!"
Charlot thought to himself, This guy really works hard.
"Not that I’ve been idle," Charlot countered smugly. "I’ve made it to the eleventh level as a Transcendent myself."
The two had been long-time rivals, familiar with each other’s spear techniques. Their duel quickly escalated, exchanging seventeen or eighteen ferocious moves. Unable to contain his curiosity, Chloe lowered his voice to ask, "No wonder you’re not running away. Where did that old guy come from? I’ve never heard of him."
Charlot replied quietly, "You’ve heard of the First Rose of the Empire, haven’t you?"
Chloe sneered. "You mean your Fars Empire’s First Rose?"
Still, he added, "Of course, who hasn’t heard of Menielman Soumet? What young man on the Old Continent hasn’t?"
"But while I’ve heard you shamelessly claim to be her junior, there’s no way you could have convinced her to come to Sedona."
"Besides," Chloe pointed out, "Miss Menielman uses dark combat energy. That old guy is clearly an ocean-element user. And there’s no way the First Rose would disguise herself as such an ugly old man!"
Charlot spat in mock anger. "You think too much! My senior just recently conquered Saint Michael Island..."
Chloe gasped. "What? The First Rose of the Empire conquered Saint Michael Island, the place said to have never fallen?"
"Then that old man up there...?" Chloe glanced at the sky in astonishment. "He’s the golden ram Herolf?"
"Tell me!" Chloe demanded. "How did Miss Menielman manage to take Saint Michael Island?"
Still on guard, Charlot fabricated an exaggerated tale, portraying Menielman Soumet as an unstoppable force. Chloe, enraptured by the story, momentarily let his guard down, almost allowing Charlot to impale him with a sudden thrust. Enraged, Chloe cursed, "I warned you to run, and you try to kill me? You bastard!"
Reinvigorated, Chloe unleashed his full strength, no longer holding back against Charlot.
After exchanging more than a hundred moves, Chloe realized with shock that, despite advancing a level, he still couldn’t best his old rival.
Taking the opportunity, Charlot asked, "Who is this Andreas, anyway?"
"You don’t know?" Chloe mocked. "You’re hopelessly out of touch."
Chloe explained, "After Zimourman’s death, each of the Five Empires named their own top fighter."
Charlot shook his head. "Never heard of it."
"Not surprising," Chloe said. "When Zimourman was alive, who would dare call themselves the best? Only after his death did this idea emerge."
"For your Fars Empire, the top fighter is Earl Bretagne!"
Charlot was taken aback. "Really?"
Chloe snapped, "This is common knowledge. Why would I lie to you? What would I even gain from it?"
Charlot was genuinely surprised. He hadn’t known that Annie Mecklenburg’s father, the Earl of Bretagne, was the top fighter of the Fars Empire. The revelation left him shaken. If I ever annoy Annie, I might end up facing the wrath of the Fars Empire’s greatest warrior.
Curious, Charlot asked, "Why isn’t our top fighter Count Gallanord? He’s the Minister of War, isn’t he?"
Chloe sighed in exasperation. "How should I know? Can we get back to the fight?"
Charlot chuckled and continued, "So, for the Ingrima Empire, their top fighter must be Count Victory Champagne, right?"
Chloe nodded. "Exactly, Count Lamorak."
Charlot glanced at the sky, where Andreas was clearly being overwhelmed. "That guy up there doesn’t look like the Black Phoenix Dynasty’s top fighter. He’s definitely no match for my senior."
Furious, Chloe shouted, "How dare you underestimate the Black Phoenix Dynasty? Andreas is formidable, but our top fighter is his father, Viscount Branton!"
Charlot couldn’t help but tease, "Your dynasty’s top fighter is just a viscount? Meanwhile, our Fars and Ingrima Empires boast earls. That’s... quite embarrassing."
Enraged, Chloe yelled, "I’m done talking to you!"
After exchanging enough gossip, both fighters grew serious, eager to test how much their skills had improved since their last meeting.
Above them, the battle between Andreas and Herolf intensified. The golden ram unleashed all the pent-up rage he had accumulated, striking with relentless ferocity.
Andreas, though skilled and quick, was at a clear disadvantage. His youth left him with a gap of four or five decades of experience compared to Herolf. No matter how talented he was, bridging such a chasm was impossible. After all, anyone who reached the Saint rank was an extraordinary talent in their own right.
Forced to rely on his speed and agility, Andreas darted through the skies in an evasive pattern, fully aware that even the slightest misstep would allow Herolf to find an opening and strike him down.
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