Despite having a thousand participants likewise to the rest, Group D was considered to be weakest. Not only in terms of strength but also in names known overall by the people of the Cresuilge Kingdom. Nevertheless, the Stage of Knights remained the same. Crowds cheering loudly, warriors roaring their hearts out as they exchanged blows after another, the event’s atmosphere and display of bustling competition was omnipresent. Because such a group was less-known, it gave the nameless warriors the needed opportunity for a grand spotlight for themselves to show their strength, and let their names be known by all.

Before the light of yesterday, two participants in the south corner of the Stage of Knights had been nameless. But now, their names were renown by almost all of the folk spectating the southern corner. And it was only a matter of time until one of their names would be famed above the other, spread by the mass, and the defeated, becoming a memory of the past, left only to amplify the name of the emerging victor.

(Such a fearsome child . . . even after so many clashes he still remains fixed in that position.)

George Kavwood resisted the urge to wipe off the sweat that muddied his hair and carefully analysed his opponent. He noticed that he too was unlike his former self. Although his defenses with the bo staff was steely upholding his protection, it was no longer at a level of being impregnable. It was a good thing that he had managed to make effective use of his skip time to not only rest, but to focus most of his attention on the Orphanage boy. After all, he was the one who pulled off a victory against Dean Fernsby. The person he was most cautious of out of his unremarkable sub bracket.

There were only a couple of times that he allowed Dalis to be able to exploit his range advantage against his fancied falchion. Unfortunately, another number will soon be added to the count. He did not expect Dalis to give him a surprise kick blow towards his torso.

While the distance was only short, he had immediately retreated foreseeing that Dalis would launch an aggressive assault instead of his defensive attack pattern.

Thus, lead to the stalemate of the two nameless warriors eyeballing one another.

(But in all seriousness . . . how is such a young youth able to keep up with me? Granted he has not moved as much as me in this battle, but I have my shoes and I’m quite fit for my age.)

Though he may be in his forties, as an adult male, his inherent physique should be enough to have the edge over him. Not to mention that his shoes had been enchanted to allow the wearer’s legs to be more agile and swift. And yet, it was hard to tell if those shoes could hold a candle over him in that category. Perhaps the child had some hidden equipment or it was simply the exhaustion from the drawn out battle that led him to believe this point.

As George was immersed in his thoughts, Dalis waited patiently. He hadn’t let his guard down as this was the first person that did not come into battle against him with underestimation. From beginning to now, there were several times that his opponent had separated from him and fallen into deep thought. Unfortunately, he could not exploit these openings due to being quite fatigued from previous battles and Dean keeping his wary guard.

Suddenly, Dalis saw George’s expression change from a stern look, to a hesitant expression, then promptly to a face of an irritated tiger. Dalis stood still and braced himself for what’s coming.

With a tap of his shoe, George bolted towards Dalis at unprecedented speeds. The blue glow that was shining on his shoes began to suffuse brighter and brighter, accelerating the speed of his dash. That was not all, however, as the falchion he wielded also began to glow.

Dalis recognised that he was unable to evade the attack and could only brace for the impact. Naturally though, he did not dare to try fully take the strike and prepared to intercept the force outwards.

Reaching Dalis’s side, George leaned forward and gave a hack-like slash towards the upper chest. Dalis used the mid-proportion of the bo staff to block and attempted to push away the strike, but the force was a little too great and he lost his footing.

Being able to strike down Dalis brought up an arousement of delight and thus Dean continued to bring down the hack of his strike. However, the sword was unable to grind through to meet the flesh of its target as Dalis persisted to hold up the attack with his weapon in mid-fall. George quickly twisted his weapon, holding it like a cane, and pressed downwards to another spot, slipping through the staff. But Dalis predicted this and matched his movements to protect his chest.

All of this happened in a span of less than two seconds and Dalis’s body was met with the floor. George was merciless and his eyes glinted with no remorse. Like Dalis in his fight with Dean, he ruthlessly began to deliver a series of slashing blows towards Dalis without stopping. Before long, to the audience’s dismay, they found this scene of brutality awfully familiar!

“He’s ruthlessly beating his opponent down like that kid!” a man cried out in disbelief.

“How shameless is that noble?! He doesn’t have any armour!!” Another voice pitched out in disgust.

What was most intriguing about this scene was not the fact that George is brutally attacking a fallen child with no armour, nor was it that this scene was a copy of that boy—alas, to think that same boy who brought that nightmare was subjected to taste to his own medicine! It appears he brought this unto himself!

But to believe that this was a reenactment would be questionable. George’s attacks were desperate and concentrated, solely focused on penetrating through everything above the waist. Unlike the savagery illustrated by Dalis, his wild swings were simply too clean. More importantly, he was not thinking on where to strike and was only letting his instinct drive him. It was due to these reasons that Dalis was able to block blow after blow despite his huge disadvantage, making George panic to continue his frenzy.

Yet, this revelation did not mean Dalis was not struggling. He couldn’t afford to carelessly try and find a way to turn the tables as his focus was all on protecting himself. At first, he was waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity but that had been a grave mistake. The speed of his falchion thrusts were increasing, but Dalis had assumed that it was George’s desperation. While that was true, the major reason was from the falchion itself! By the time Dalis had noticed the unusualness, the blue shine on the falchion had emerged to the point that it appeared there was another layer of enchantment imbued into the weapon. Fortunately, the power behind his strikes was a little above from before.

(I have surprisingly managed to reach this point! I must at least win this so I can enter into the top two hundred!)

Since he couldn’t contest the extreme speed of his weapon and was in an immovable state, if Dalis wanted a chance to win, he could only gamble. Without delay, the moment he blocked a strike, Dalis robustly wrestled forward with his bo staff as if he was weightlifting with a barbell, meeting the incoming sword that was already three quarters away from striking him.

*CLANG!!*

The two objects clashed, and the rebound caused by the impact made both parties stumble. Dalis tucked his head in to avoid injuring his head from the inevitable smash onto the floor and used his legs to leg sweep George who had lost his footing.

George could not anticipate this and his bottom was dropped to the ground level like a bird whose wings had been plucked.

“Come on then, I can—”

As George lifted his head, he let out a groan, feeling a pain course through his stomach. It felt as though he was jabbed by a long pole. Regaining his line of sight, he saw another attack heading towards him, and his eyelids reflexively went black again.

“Bah!”

Squinting his eyes open, he saw an unbelievable scene that caused his handsome face to contort in utter disbelief.

“That’s . . .”

“That’s one of Dalis’s self-made special hidden techniques!!” Stilla filled in the gap of Sienna’s words with excitement.

“To think those times in the forest were genuinely practical in live-battle . . . Unfathomable.” Sienna's words were in utter praise and wonder, staring intently at the battle that has roped the attention of the crowd.

Melvin hastily jerked up from his seat, almost without standing, and voiced the urgent thoughts aloud, “Bull fucking shit! How the fuck can that insect use his legs to wield the bo staff like his own arms!!! Does he actually have six limbs??!!”

That’s right.

On the battlefield, Dalis’s legs were utilised like any human beings’ arms. Leaned and gripped? between the joints of each of his feet and ankles was a section of the bo staff. Swiftly and expertly, they rotated and moved and swung Dalis’s weapon. Blows after blows were launched out, attacking and hitting the confused George. Although the strikes were not as potent and efficient as when he employed his arms, they contained power and speed sufficient enough to continuously knock down his target. At one point, Dalis playfully conducted a brief deadly spinning maneuver that caught the recovering George off-guard, not permitting him to move from his flurry.

Sorrowfully, George glimpsed one last look at his fueled, beaming falchion and mustered lines that were unfortunately left unsaid, as his consciousness faded to black.

Dalis gazed at his opponent and then let out a sigh of relief. (An opponent who did not underestimate me. I was cornered to the point that I had to reveal my concealed leg ability. I wonder what Melvin will say when I meet him. I’m looking forward to it.)