Who is the Strongest?

65

The Empire’s Public Legal Colosseum.

In the battles waged here, there is no longer any slaughter.

Murder is strictly prohibited, and victory is determined by the referee’s judgment, based on the point at which the opponent becomes unable to fight.

Of course, given the nature of the arena, accidents can happen at any time.

If luck abandons you, a gambler might meet his end on occasion, of course.

Yet, even so, it’s far safer and cleaner than the old days of illegal fighting rings.

The gambling that takes place here is also legitimate.

The Empire’s governing body, which oversees the Coliseum’s operation, demands a cut, resulting in lower profits than the illicit era, but one can wager with greater peace of mind.

For Ryan Fernandito, the S-Rank adventurer known as ＜Double-Headed White Serpent＞, all of this felt like a dream.

In a way, it was almost a return to the era when the organization known as Fighters was first established.

Warriors no longer slaughtered for mere coin.

While those who fought for money still existed, many more had become gladiators of the Coliseum purely to test their skills.

If one simply desired to earn a living, it was better to embark on adventures to find treasures or enter dungeons to collect monster materials.

Even a mid-tier adventurer could manage their own risk level.

Therefore, the gladiator arena had truly become a place to showcase one’s abilities to the world.

Ryan was no different.

He fought and fought again to prove that he was the strongest.

Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost.

But he was happy nonetheless.

Just like now.

“Hah—!”

Two swords with pure white blades danced as they were wielded.

But his opponent effortlessly parried ‘every’ strike in Ryan’s rapid combo.

He handled his greatsword, which was taller than Ryan himself, as if it were no more than a twig.

Ryan understood.

He stood before a wall.

He realized the fight would hinge on whether or not he could overcome it.

At the same time, he felt certain.

That he, himself, could not breach this barrier.

“Hah… hah… hah… hah…”

Ryan, ceasing his flurry of attacks, stepped back.

Then, his opponent, resting his greatsword on his shoulder, inquired:

“Is that all?”

“……Ah. Your victory, *Fighting King*.”

The moment defeat was conceded, a roar exploded from the Colosseum.

As the judge declared his victory, ending the battle, Fighting King Matthias Mobrey Jr. walked toward Ryan, extending a hand for a shake.

“Indeed, the Empire boasts considerable talent. You possess a quite decent skill.”

Ryan chuckled, grasping his hand in return.

“Despite my failing to elicit even a fraction of your true power?”

“Well, that’s simply unavoidable. I am, after all, the strongest in the world.”

It wasn’t arrogance, nor simple confidence.

Matthias spoke as if stating the most obvious, widely accepted fact.

These were the words of the renowned Fighting King, a legend across the continent.

Who would dare deny it?

If one included those who weren’t warriors, Ryan could conjure up a single name in his mind, but by common standards, the Fighting King was undeniably a worthy claimant to the title of strongest.

Ryan was about to nod in agreement, but before he could, the Fighting King himself refuted his own words.

“Ah, right. Come to think of it, I came to the Empire to *confirm* if I truly am the strongest in the world, didn’t I?”

“Hm? Does that imply there’s a combatant in the Empire comparable to you?”

“I wasn’t aware of it, but apparently there is. A colleague informed me.”

Leaving the puzzled Ryan behind, the Fighting King abruptly turned and slammed his greatsword into the ground.

The powerful impact instantly silenced the cheers and noise of the Colosseum. The Fighting King announced, his voice ringing out.

“I, Matthias Mobrey Jr., have come to the Empire to prove that I am the strongest in the world! For that reason, I formally request a duel with the Empire’s strongest swordsman!”

Anticipation flickered in the eyes of the crowd.

The one whom the Fighting King would personally name and request a duel from.

Unable to suppress their curiosity, they waited for his next words. The Fighting King, as if making a pronouncement, declared the name.

“I take this opportunity to challenge Francesca Czirner, Captain of the Archduke’s Imperial Guard of the Acherus Empire, to a duel!”

Question marks bloomed in the minds of everyone present.

—

“……Erich, please hand me the headache medicine.”

“Yes, here.”

The young woman, having received the medicine from her adopted son, swallowed it with water, her brow furrowed as she stared at the go board.

A massive piece had advanced into enemy territory.

To elaborate, the piece’s movement was not of her own intention.

“Nothing as irritating as equipment acting up on its own accord.”

“Wouldn’t you say Macias held back quite a bit for an old geezer?”

The girl, unable to disagree, felt her frustration mount.

Ever since Erich had infiltrated the Empire to secure the General, only to be thoroughly crushed and sent back, the Fighting King had shown considerable interest in Francesca Zirner’s existence.

She knew he was aware she was the Empire’s foremost combat force after the General, but he hadn’t paid attention, unsure of her capabilities, until he saw her effortlessly dismantle the *Thunder Dragon*.

However, he’d been holding back, thanks to the orders from the Oracle’s leader, the one known as “Sibyl”… But in the end, he went rogue.

“The Fighting King is my strongest card in terms of raw power. And Francesca Zirner is, similarly, the General’s strongest weapon.”

Each side’s strongest card was about to clash.

Even before considering victory or defeat, the collision itself was far too premature.

“I don’t think Macias *ajae* will lose.”

Erich, having faced both the Fighting King and the Grand Duke’s Sword, offered his opinion, prompting a long sigh from the girl.

“The problem is revealing our hand in the first place. Of course, killing Francesca Zirner this time would be for the best, but…”

She doubted things would go that smoothly.

It could easily end up with us simply revealing our hand.

No, that outcome was highly probable.

“Just asking, does the General know Macias *ajae* is one of ours?”

“…I wonder.”

The girl estimated a fifty-fifty chance.

One thing was certain: the General was probably having a headache right about now.

“Celine, headache pills.”

Celine, who had recently taken over managing my medication, reluctantly handed me the pills, which I swallowed with water, lost in thought.

And for good reason: the Oracle’s strongest card had brazenly come to the Empire and openly challenged my own strongest card to a duel.

Logically, it had to be a trap.

However, considering the personality of the man called Fighting King Macias Mobray Junior, based on the information I had gathered, the chances of it being a trap were remarkably low.

Which meant this guy purely wanted to fight Francesca and had entered enemy territory of his own volition.

The Oracle’s leader, that girl, wouldn’t have tolerated this, so he probably came without permission.

One small consolation was that they were probably having a headache over there too.

“Don’t worry, Erwin. I can win.”

That was *also* a problem, but it wasn’t the root cause of my headache.

Until the King of Fighters requested the duel, Francesca’s true strength was not properly known.

Partly because opportunities to showcase her real abilities were scarce, but mostly because I intentionally concealed as much information as possible.

Even the fact that she had easily defeated the Lightning Dragon, thanks to a diversionary tactic by Alina Riepenstahl, the *Mad Dramaturge* who had placed a suggestion on Lisana beforehand, was subject to information control.

Because I didn’t want her true strength to be revealed.

Francesca’s martial prowess was, after all, the strongest in the Empire, and even scouring the entire continent, one could find only a handful who could even hope to stand against her.

For me, she was my most powerful trump card, carefully and securely hidden.

Ruined by the King of Fighters’ challenge, of course.

Now that he had mentioned Francesca’s name, even if she didn’t accept the duel, it would be impossible to stop people from focusing their attention.

“No choice, then.”

There’s no point in dwelling on what’s already happened.

Rather than get annoyed and angry over what can’t be helped, it’s far more productive to turn it into an opportunity.

“Francesca.”

“Yes.”

“Kill the King of Fighters.”

“Understood.”

—

From a young age, Macias Mobray Jr. never cared for the things that interested others.

Women, alcohol, gold coins – all were utterly trivial to him.

Only a death struggle with a strong opponent made him feel truly alive.

He’d enjoyed a few ‘games’ with some individuals after coming to the Empire, but none of them quenched his thirst.

Those weren’t struggles.

To wager one’s life.

To die.

Or to kill.

Those were the conditions of a true struggle.

“This should be interesting.”

Could this opponent finally quench his long-standing thirst?

The answer came the moment he stepped onto the stage and met her gaze.