Note: Upgrade your browser if you can't see the images.
Riftan’S POV - Under The Oak Tree - Chapter 20
You are reading Riftan’S POV - Under The Oak Tree Chapter 20 at mangacake.
Please use the Bookmark button to get notifications about the latest chapters of Riftan’S POV - Under The Oak Tree next time when you come visit our manga website
In response to his twisted statement, Riftan lowered his glass in protest. Ruth didn’t care and handed a glass of ale to the people gathered at the bar, filled with glee.
Riftan, watching with narrowed eyes, rose from his seat with a sigh.
He was about to go up to his room, but a drunken man suddenly burst out laughing and put his hand on his shoulder.
“You’re a good lunch! Now you’re proving that it can be the other way around. The whole city is getting excited that there may be a winner among the common people in decades. How does it feel to be a celebrity?”
Riftan tried to shake his shoulder from the man with a gesture. At that moment, a harsh voice echoed from the corner of the bar.
“You’re a bastard! A hybrid mixed with foreign blood who came to seize our treasure!”
Suddenly, as if pouring cold water, all was silent. Riftan turned his head towards the place where the screams had been heard.
Three men dressed as guards were sitting around a small table and drinking. One of them showed an angry red face and pointed at him.
“The winning prize is a sword used by one of the 12 knights of Darian! Wouldn’t it be a mockery where the treasures of the heroes of the western continent fall into the hands of the desert gods or the pagans who serve them?”
“What!” Ruth jumped out of his seat, growling. Calypse is a pagan! I’ve been following him for over a year, but I’ve never seen anything he does against doctrine! Why would you suddenly say something like that?”
“What do you need to prove it? His whole face says heathen!” The man clenched his hand and groaned loudly. “Is it fair to say that a man who worked at something unclean like hunting monsters dares to stand in front of the Holy Father?”
“Hey, what’s unclean about living hunting monsters?”
The mercenaries who were drinking on the spot roared, baring their teeth.
The guardian angrily, shook his shoulders and raised his head again. “What, am I wrong?”
“**** it, are you saying we’re the worst?”
A reckless mercenary threw a glass of beer at him and the guard turned to look at him. When the atmosphere turned to his side they caught his attention by wedging their elbows into his side.
Only then did the man they were insulting look around and become aware of where he was. Riftan, watching silently, opened his mouth.
“It seems you will not be satisfied if I win the championship, but I will give you a chance to stop me. I will refrain from attending the tournament tomorrow if you give me a small injury to my body. Would you like to challenge me?”
The man shrugged his shoulders noticeably and looks at the sword at his waist. He didn’t have the courage to confront him face to face, and that was him who was publicly insulting, the man kept his mouth shut.
Riftan looked at the man as if he was laughing at him, then turned and walked up the stairs. Ruth hesitated and tried to follow him, but Riftan gave him a bitter look. Somehow, the more he hurt, the more his pride hurt several times more. It was embarrassing for him to be angry at insults.
Riftan closed the door with some abruptness, took off his armour and threw it into a corner. The bluish moonlight came in through the window, he looked at the moon for a moment from the window and then lay down on the bed.
Suddenly, a faint anxiety rose in his heart. Perhaps she thought of him that way.
She was teased about it a lot, but if she thought so too, she couldn’t bear it. As he rubbed his sore chest, he closed his eyes as if he felt dirty.
The next day, more people came to the stadium than the day before. On the other hand, there were only six contestants left in the waiting room, including him.
Riftan sat in the corner of the hall and polished his sword, ignoring their stares. After a while, the soldier at the exit to the arena shouted his name, with his helmet on his head, he walked down the corridor leading to the arena.
His opponent was a man with a physique as magnificent as the mercenary he defeated on the first day of the tournament named Gayron. Riftan looked him over.
He was a young knight with a curly orange horse, a red banner of the south, thick armour of the northern knights and a serene look that did not match the rough appearance. He looked at Riftan and smiled.
“Boy, are your skills that great? From day one I was eager because I wanted to challenge you.”
Riftan raised an eyebrow at the gesture that was uncommon for a knight. The man took the great sword from his back with one hand and said.
“I tell you beforehand, my sword and I are as aggressive as you boy. It’s been a while since we’ve had a good warm-up, so stand your ground. I want you to be on your toes and don’t get careless.”
“…I’ve never met anyone who complimented my skills, let alone thought I was a good boy.”
“I hate to look at humans who don’t know how to recognise themselves.” The man responded without wasting any time.
In the midst of a brawl of insults, a loud trumpet sounded informing them to take their positions. Riftan walked to the centre of the arena and faced the knight at a reasonable distance. As if he realised it, his pulse changed in an instant. Riftan tensed his body as much as he could.
Soon, the flag, signalling the start of the confrontation, was raised high and thunderous shouts erupted from the stands. The man who was a knight ran at tremendous speed swinging the sword with one hand, while Riftan made no move in this regard, until he defended himself by swinging his sword, causing a heavy impact. The sensation of the swords strike went up his arms to his shoulders. It was as if he was hit by a large flying projectile.
“That’s amazing. You parried my attack from the front….” The man said, gritting his teeth and holding his sword against him.
It was a voice that seemed to truly admire him. Riftan was also surprised when he tried to push the man back, but he didn’t even move. It was the first time he had met someone who after turning fifteen would stand up to his strength.
Riftan tensed his teeth and pushed himself vigorously off the ground with both legs. The man gritted his teeth and faced him. Their skills matched, both were waiting for some mistake from their opponent.
How long would they press themselves as they swung their swords at each other?
His opponent tensed his whole body like a bow, and then suddenly changed his stance, It was a speed he never thought a muscular body would have.
Riftan suddenly blocked the sword approaching from below. However, the man showed no room and immediately swung his sword in a different direction.
The change of stance was so sudden and quick that it was difficult to find an opportunity to strike. When the sharp blades clashed, sparks flew and a high-pitched cracking sound resounded as if his eardrums were being torn apart.
Dangerous if he kept up that pace.
The sound of his weapon’s blows would not stop. If he continued to take their attacks head on, his sword would not be able to resist.
Riftan concentrated on finding a gap in his defence with his piercing gaze, defending himself at the same time from the great sword that swung at him in anger. His opponent’s blade was longer and thicker than his sword. To inflict lethal injury, there was no choice but to take risks.
Riftan changed his stance while dodging his attack at a terrifying speed, he also immediately corrected his stance and carried the weight of his entire body and swung his sword above his head.
Riftan faced him and swung his sword at his opponent’s sword, the gleaming black blade struck sharply into a great sword that was more than twice his thickness and size.
He did not miss the moment when the knight’s arm rose slightly, as he ****** forward and struck his head, his opponent quickly tried to regain his defence, wanting to protect it with his sword. However, it was a little too late to defend himself completely.
His sword struck into the man’s unprotected space from the side. It failed to inflict fatal injuries because he managed to block it, but it did distract him from his stance in preparation for the final blow. Riftan did not hesitate to strike the dorsa of the hand with the handle and point the sword under the helmet.
A heavy silence fell all around. The man looked at the blade pointed just below his chin and declared with a sigh.
“… I surrender.”
Then, a tremendous scream erupted in the audience. Riftan slowly stepped back and swung the sword. The man grunted, removing his misshapen helmet.
“Damn, my head is more lethargic than when I had four cans of beer. Hey, if I’d been a little late in denfense, my skull would have shattered. Were you really going to kill me?”
Riftan took a deep breath and slid the sword back into its sheath.
“Wasn’t it the same for you? If you had struck me correctly, you would have amputated some limb.” Riftan replied with his chin, pointing to the great sword. The man shrugged his shoulders.
“Shame on you, I thought to give you a fight for a long time and you beat me in 5 minutes. I have to properly respect your nickname, you seriously finish off your opponents with a single blow.”
The fact that the knight was defeated by a mercenary didn’t seem to be that humiliating for him. At first glance, the sign of annoyance was visible, but no sign of anger was found.
He said turning back to the waiting room, refreshingly. “Don’t think of bragging just because you beat me.”
Riftan was curious about the knight’s strange attitude and looked at the shield on his armour. The pattern was that of a dragon with the body being wrapped by its wings.
“What group of knights did this symbol belong to?” He narrowed his eyes for a moment, and Riftan soon moved to the waiting room, wondering about the symbol.
********
Compared to the first confrontation, the final ended very simply. Riftan became the overall winner and climbed up to the podium where the Pope was seated. A dignified looking old man with a long beard sat at the top, and to the left and right were the royal families and high ranking nobles of the Seven Kingdoms.
Riftan could immediately spot the Duke of Criox. He had seen him many times from a distance long ago, but he clearly remembered the unique and gloomy atmosphere of the Duchy’s ruler.
The man was not very large, but he had a slender and elegant body, and was dressed in incredibly extravagant attire. The dark reddish-brown hair was dyed grey after a few years, but the sunny face with a cold atmosphere was still intact.
Riftan watched him carefully, then looked from side to side. He could not find a young girl anywhere. Although some of the veiled ladies were sitting nearby, they were all too old to be her.
“…You didn’t come?” She might be too young to attend such an event.
Riftan hid his disappointment and turned his head away.
“Get on your knees and be polite!”
He stopped walking when he came within six paces of the Father, a paladin exclaimed solemnly.
Riftan knelt slowly on one knee and lowered his head.