To Keter, the Sword of the South Tournament wasn’t a tense battlefield; it was a form of entertainment. A true battle, in his view, was where pride and conviction clashed. Death wasn’t the end, just part of the process. But this tournament forbade killing. There were rules, meaning it wasn’t his kind of fight. Sure, he could still go all-out for fun, but that was only fun if his opponents were strong enough. Mere three or four-star knights weren’t enough to stimulate him. Still, Keter wasn’t the type to sulk or treat the tournament half-heartedly. Might as well enjoy it. That’s why I came, isn’t it? To make it more entertaining and ensure his toys didn’t break too quickly, he had intentionally used up all his aura with Heavenly Rain of Exploding Fire to grab everyone's attention. He worried the others might back down in fear of his divinity, but thankfully, they all came charging. That was when Keter began to truly enjoy himself. He used only his naturally recovering aura to fight. He treated the no-killing penalty as a training constraint. Fighting this many people and not killing a single one... that’s harder than killing them all. If he treated it as a training session, Keter could still have fun. Still, he felt something lacking, especially with Henya and Pashian. Those two could be serious threats with a bit more polishing. As the battle descended into chaos, Keter found his comfort. Amid the confusion, he calmly observed Henya and Pashian’s swordsmanship and footwork. Keter suddenly closed the distance to Pashian. He didn’t flinch and calmly launched a flurry of attacks, but… …Keter precisely blocked right before the strikes gained momentum. Slipping in close, he poked Pashian’s throat with his fingers and said, “Grip your sword shorter and relax your wrist.” Receiving unsolicited advice, Pashian swung viciously, but Keter weaved in and out of range, easily dodging his attack. “Your steps are too narrow. Broaden your stance. Your swordsmanship is tyrannical, but your movements crave safety. You’re not even using half your true power.” Even while giving pointers, Keter moved as if he had eyes in the back of his head. He elbowed an approaching knight’s face, then flung him straight at Pashian. Flustered by the advice, Pashian reflexively swung at the flying knight, who was his ally. The knight panicked and swung back, certain he was going to die. After all, he was only a two-star, and Pashian was a Master. Yet somehow, the two-star knight was able to block the attack. The knight himself was stunned. Pashian shoved him aside and looked for Keter, but he was already gone, heading toward Henya. The knight, still trembling, muttered, “I-I thought I was dead for sure.” “...That would never happen.” Pashian took a deep breath, not to rest, but to hide his weakness. I didn’t think Keter would know about Martial Spirit. Martial Spirit granted immense power by declaring intent to the world, but they came with restrictions. Earlier, when ambushing Keter, Pashian had declared, “Become the sword that cleaves arrows in a single strike!” That declaration allowed his sword to easily destroy Keter’s arrows. But in turn, it lost power against anything but arrows; that was why he couldn’t break Keter’s bow or the two-star knight’s sword. And he still had the gall to lecture me mid-fight. At first, Pashian was furious. But now, calm, his eyes trembled with unease. ...I hate to admit it, but he wasn’t wrong. Watching Keter beat down the knights that had taken the Rage Potions, Pashian swallowed hard. Don’t tell me I picked the wrong opponent. He rubbed the spot on his throat that Keter poked and genuinely worried for his future. Henya was struggling to face the knights who charged like madmen. It was partly due to the fact that she had exhausted most of her aura in the fight with Keter, but more than that, she lacked the experience. She had never fought more than five knights at once, as her expertise had always been monsters, not people. Thıs text ıs hosted at 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡~𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚~𝙣𝙚𝙩 The reason she was able to hold on was because of her natural gift of swordsmanship. With minimal aura and the perfect distribution of power, she was able to fight against the knights. Then, the knights began flying into the air. Not metaphorically—they literally launched into the sky, only to crash down moments later. There was only one person who could have caused this. Even the knights who had been surrounding Henya looked up. They could not ignore the sickening sounds made as their comrades hit the ground. Between them, Keter came into view. Eyes bloodshot with rage, the remaining knights muttered, “It’s Keter.” Their reason gone, they forgot all about the tournament’s no-kill rule. They aimed for his face, throat, heart—every vital point—striking to kill. And Keter’s response? “Get lost, you druggies.” Like a matador, he grabbed their arms or swords as they were charging at him and hurled them away. He tore through sword aura capable of slicing bone and steel with his bare hands, tossing full-grown men in iron armor like paper dolls. Henya finally understood what kind of monster she had been facing. What kind of trick is this? If he’s shielding his body with aura, why can’t I see it? Even if someone was shielding themselves with aura, very few people would throw themselves into sword aura so carelessly. Just as she stood stunned, watching him toss knights aside like cargo, Keter said, “Wake up.” Keter was suddenly in front of her, not by any visible leap or charge, but as if he had teleported. “You know Agile Footwork, too,” Henya said. Keter casually swung his bow and replied, “It’s essential for an archer.” Crossing her twin swords to block, Henya caught her breath and launched a counterattack. She knew how strong Keter was, both in strength and technique, but she did not give up. It wasn’t like her to give up because her opponent was strong; even if the outcome was defeat or death, she would push through to the very end. Her signature Spinning Wheel Sword pushed forward. But having seen this technique twice before, he quickly caught its rhythm and struck the crossing point. Spinning Wheel Sword, which should be continuous, stopped. Henya was thrown off-balance and staggered. Keter struck her thigh mercilessly with his bow. She didn’t scream in pain, but her body reacted—she couldn’t help but drop to the ground on one knee. “Your body tenses right before you get hit. It’s a bad habit.” Instead of continuing his attack, Keter offered advice. Henya was taken aback. “If it’s an attack you have to take, just take it. Accept it. You freeze because you’re in denial. Either strike back at the same time, or decide beforehand how you’ll react after getting hit.” He swung again. Henya, still with full use of her arms, launched the Spinning Wheel Sword again. But this technique was designed to unleash its full potential when her weapons were magic tools or she was full of aura. But now, she was neither: not only was her weapon normal, she had barely any aura left. Her technique, which carried little aura, was extremely refined, but the power was lacking. Keter struck the crossing point again, causing her to stumble. This time, the bow came at her abdomen. At that moment, she could feel herself freezing, just like Keter said. If I have to take the attack anyway… She drove her right sword forward. It wasn’t far enough to strike Keter’s torso, but more than enough to reach his arm. She was struck in the abdomen but leaned into it and pressed the attack, just like Keter advised. “You’re a quick learner, Henya.” She didn’t reply. It was not on purpose, but because she had entered a trance: fully immersed in his teachings, she let go of thought. As Keter easily parried her twin sword, he continued offering advice. “Adjust distance with your torso, not your arms. It’ll make your attack angles harder to read.” “Don’t calculate your strikes. Let the swords move where they want to go.” “Right now, your attack forms only come from two directions: left and right. Divide them into four zones based on your centerline and waistline.” Henya absorbed each piece of advice right into her swordsmanship. Her attacks grew slower but far more refined. For the first time, her sword grazed Keter’s arm and made a small cut. He smiled in satisfaction. “Next time, the fight will be more entertaining.” Keter swung upward, hitting Henya under the chin. Even though she entered a trance with incredible focus, she couldn’t block this sudden attack. After she collapsed, Keter scanned the battlefield. No one stood unscathed. The few on their feet had still suffered large injuries. Those who had recovered with elixirs no longer had any courage; they just stared at him, flinching at his every move. Seeing how they had lost their will to fight, he flicked his finger. “Fine. I won’t use my bow.” Keter dismissed even his Aura Bow and spread his arms. This gesture made the knights actually retreat further. “Pashian. You should come at least.” He cleared his throat and said, “I think the outcome’s clear enough. Retrieve the badges from the fallen, and we will withdraw.” When Keter agreed without resistance, Pasian instinctively sensed it was a bad omen. Keter pulled something long and heavy from his pocket: it was his fireplace poker. This was Dimensional Tunnel, a technique from Magic Archery. He had reached into it and grabbed the poker that was dozens of kilometers away. Slapping his palm with it, he smiled. “If you fight back, ten hits. If you run, thirty.” It was an extreme disgrace for knights to run away during a battle, but Pashian, a mercenary at heart, bolted without hesitation. The knights who had consumed Rage Potions stood dumbfounded, as their cognitive abilities had been hindered. “Good! Knights should not run away. I am glad you stayed!” The remaining knights were forced to fight Keter, but their strikes carried no power, as their spirit had already broken. And all of this was being broadcast live to tens of thousands of subjects and to hundreds of nobles. “What am I watching right now?” The crowd tried to make sense of what they had seen. There was someone who ravaged an entire island with one arrow, crushed a coordinated ambush from most of the participants, overwhelmed Henya, the daughter of Weaponmaster Eslow and a Master, reversed a sneak attack from the Red Wolf Pashian with mysterious spheres, and defeated two Masters. And now, that same person was casually beating down dozens of knights with a single stick. All of this was done by one man: Keter.