Chapter 775

Chapter 775

If You Really Want It… (2)

A brief, awkward silence passed.

Grondal, who had been about to shout, held himself back. From what he had seen so far, that guy wasn’t just skilled, his temper was something else too.

So Grondal forced a gentle smile. Still, his cheeks twitched slightly.

He spoke in a coaxing tone.

"I didn’t ask you to hand it over just now, did I? Take it out again. Let’s hear in detail how it ended up in your hands. I also want to confirm once more whether that really is 'Gramdyr'."

If it’s inside a subspace, it’s impossible to forcefully take it. To take it, you’d have to subdue the person and have mages perform mind control.

Against someone that skilled, it’s realistically impossible. You’d have to keep them restrained for months, and by then, either they’d die or you would—no other outcome.

At Grondal’s words, Ghislain tilted his head slightly and scoffed.

“Hmph.”

It was obvious he was trying to coax him into taking out Gramdyr. As soon as it came out, the fight would begin.

If nothing else, that Dwarf King certainly seemed like someone with a fiery temper.

But Grondal was even more hot-blooded than Ghislain had imagined.

When Ghislain showed no signs of bringing it out, Grondal decided to make a show of force.

Thud!

Grondal raised his halberd and growled.

“If you don’t take out Gramdyr right now, we’ll have this conversation through force.”

Gratitude or whatever else—it was irrelevant. Grondal intended to take Gramdyr first, and then resume talking.

“Huh?”

Ghislain made a baffled face at Grondal’s overwhelming pressure. Even so, he subtly lifted his staff.

“Well, well?”

Grondal let out a laugh, as if dumbfounded, and took his stance. Ghislain, too, naturally assumed a fighting stance.

Just as the two were about to clash, Lionel rushed in to intervene.

He was the only one among the group who had any experience with proper social etiquette.

So, by now, he had become the one who always stepped up to mediate these kinds of situations.

“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. That sword was acquired entirely through legitimate means.”

“How the hell do you acquire someone else’s property legitimately? I didn’t hand it over fair and square, did I?”

“What I mean is, when we arrived at the trade city…”

Lionel used animated gestures as he explained the process through which Ghislain had obtained Gramdyr.

After hearing the full story, Grondal looked utterly dumbfounded.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“……”

“You’re telling me you won that treasure, hidden deep in the Royal Vault, through some ridiculous wager? How the hell does that make any sense?!”

Having a fiery personality basically meant having a short fuse. And people like that usually weren’t the best at thinking things through calmly.

His mind was now completely consumed with the idea that he had to take Gramdyr first.

"Hey! Quit saying nonsense and take it from me fair and square with strength! Then I’ll just hand it over! How’s that? It’s the easiest way, isn’t it?"

Ghislain scratched his cheek. That was certainly the easiest and most preferred method, but even so, he didn’t really want to beat up an elder (?) who had endured hardships alongside him.

But that only provoked Grondal even more.

"Huh? You now? What’s with that look? Is that your ‘I’m going easy on you’ face?"

"…It’s not quite like that."

"Not quite like that, my ass! I saw you fighting earlier! You’re not the kind to hold back in a fight, are you?"

"Well, still, doing that when I’m here as a guest seems a bit…"

He didn’t say out loud that it felt wrong to beat up a king. Ghislain wasn’t that oblivious.

The others watched with intrigued expressions at this unusual side of Ghislain. He’d always had a reckless personality, but to think he could actually show restraint!

Though, his expression looked oddly relaxed. Or maybe just indifferent.

The hot-tempered Grondal cocked his head and asked after seeing Ghislain’s face.

"You’re thinking of going easy on me, aren’t you?"

"…"

"Then what, do you actually want to go a round? I’ve kind of been wanting to see just how good you really are."

"Well… if you really want to… Ah, I do try to live politely, you know."

Ghislain smirked and raised his staff.

Before anyone could say a word, the two clashed, swinging their weapons.

Kwaaaang!

The massive halberd and hefty staff collided in succession, shaking the underground hall.

Ghislain’s staff moved with fluid grace, while Grondal’s halberd came crashing down with a weight that felt like it could cleave mountains.

Bang! Clang! Kwaaang!

What started as light clashes escalated quickly, the two now exchanging blows with a murderous glint in their eyes.

Once the fight began, they were both exhilarated by each other’s skills.

The only downside was that both of them were far too exhausted.

Kwaaaang!

They clashed once more, then staggered back.

Their breaths were ragged and shallow, but neither let their gaze waver.

Grondal, sucking in a deep breath, threw the first taunt.

"You were doing well earlier, but your stamina’s pretty poor, huh? What’s a young guy doing huffing and puffing already? Weaker than I expected."

"That weapon of yours—doesn’t it get heavy at your age? Looks like it weighs quite a bit. You might drop it and hurt yourself."

"Ha, listen to this guy. Weak stamina, but his mouth’s still going strong, huh?"

Kwaaaang!

Grondal’s halberd suddenly slammed into the ground.

Ghislain nimbly stepped back and swung his staff.

Fwoooosh!

The tip of the staff tore through the air, aiming for Grondal’s side.

Kwaang!

But Grondal twisted the shaft of his halberd and blocked it precisely.

With a powerful impact, both were pushed back a step.

"Ha, as expected, you’re quite skilled. Of course, if I were in top form, I would’ve split that thing in half in one blow."

"If I were in ‘true top form,’ you wouldn’t have had time to brag. So I’m feeling a little wronged here."

"Ha, this brat… I do like that confidence, though."

Their words were light, but their movements were anything but.

Kwaang! Kwaaang! Kwaaaang!

Their staff and halberd clashed again and again, sending explosive shockwaves through the air.

They had long since drained their energy and stamina, but these were Transcendents—warriors who could dominate a battlefield with technique alone.

Those nearby couldn’t help but marvel at the high-level fight unfolding before them.

Kwaang!

As their weapons collided once more, the fierce recoil forced both of them back several steps.

With a brief lull, the two paused to catch their breath.

Grondal growled.

"How about you surrender now? Your hands are shaking. Feels like things are going downhill, doesn’t it?"

‘Ugh, my bones are aching. That bastard’s tougher than I thought.’

"I’m still young, Your Majesty. I’m fresh as ever. But shouldn’t you be taking it easy? Your legs are trembling."

‘What is this, steel stamina? He’s still going like that?’

Even before Ghislain stepped in, Grondal had already fought two Prophets.

So he had more wounds and had expended more energy. And yet, he was still fighting evenly with Ghislain—he really was a monster.

Still, neither of them would back down out of pride. Even though their arms were trembling, barely able to hold their weapons.

Grondal stroked his beard and said,

"Seems you’ve got the skill to take the treasure… but I still can’t give it to you. It’s mine."

"Then how about we compromise and say I ‘borrowed’ it?"

"If you borrowed it, then give it back!"

Grondal shouted and charged once more. His pride wouldn’t allow him to end in a draw with some young punk.

Kwaaaang!

The staff and halberd clashed several more times.

Both of them rarely had opportunities to face opponents of this caliber, so this was another rare chance.

Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!

As the fight between the two grew more intense, the people nearby instinctively stepped back. Getting caught in the middle could mean serious injury if they were unlucky.

And frankly, the sight of the two of them fighting wasn’t exactly ideal.

The six dwarf captains, looking a bit embarrassed, said,

"Well… our king’s a bit hot-tempered… Once he burns off some steam, he’ll come to his senses."

From the Julien Mercenary Corps, Lionel bowed his head slightly and replied on behalf of the group,

"That guy’s a madman too… but he’ll calm down soon enough."

And so, the others exchanged awkward glances and mutual understanding.

Still, no one stepped in to stop the two. It was rare to witness a fight between warriors of such caliber.

Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaaaang!

To be honest, if they were both fighting at full power, the royal castle would have collapsed by now. Thankfully, both were thoroughly exhausted and running on empty.

What little energy they had recovered had been quickly spent through their continuous fighting.

Eventually, Grondal and Ghislain, panting heavily, dropped their weapons.

"Ugh… my bones are aching…"

"Ha… this is insane."

Both of them leaned on their knees, gasping for breath. They didn’t even have the strength left to lift their weapons.

But their pride? That was still standing tall. Saying “let’s stop” first would be no different from admitting defeat.

Soon, the two began grappling and rolling on the floor.

"My fists are iron fists! Feel the soul of a dwarf!"

"I started with hand-to-hand combat! Eh? You call that an iron fist? Did you just pinch me?"

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Now completely drained, the two flailed at each other like common street thugs. It was awkward enough to make the onlookers cringe.

Everyone knew why two warriors of this level were still going despite everything.

‘Their pride is out of control.’

‘They’d rather die than lose.’

‘Is this the clash of two prideful geniuses?’

They wouldn’t stop fighting unless someone physically intervened.

Meanwhile, watching the exhausted Ghislain, both Osval and Lionel had the same thought at the exact same time:

‘I could probably beat that bastard right now.’

Julien, Deneb, and Kyle weren’t around. This was a rare chance.

But neither dared make a move. Ereneth, standing nearby, was watching them both with narrowed eyes.

She handled spirit energy, and her intuition was sharp. Even a subtle shift in the mood, and she would immediately catch on.

As the two continued fighting like fools, the door suddenly burst open and someone shouted as they entered.

"Father! I’m the one who stole Gramdyr!"

The one who appeared was none other than Torvalt, who had lost the bet with Ghislain.

In truth, he was Grondal’s son and the prince of Valskrum.

At the sudden use of the word "father," Ghislain’s group turned to look at Torvalt with wide eyes.

‘What? His son? Then how old is he?’

‘He looks middle-aged, so he didn’t seem that different in age.’

‘This is why you should never judge a person by appearance.’

Only now did the group fully grasp the teachings of the Elf Great Chieftain, Ilaniel.

Torvalt, having lost Gramdyr, had been lingering around the Julien Mercenary Corps for days.

When the Julien Mercenary Corps split up and settled into their lodgings, he even snooped through their belongings in secret.

— Why isn’t it here? Where did he hide it?

He had even spied on Ghislain while he stood atop a magic circle. But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find Gramdyr.

Since it was in Ghislain’s subspace, it was only natural Torvalt couldn’t locate it.

Then he found out the Julien Mercenary Corps was helping the dwarves. There was no way not to notice, with dwarves shouting about it from every direction.

Frightened, he avoided the battle and headed to the royal castle—to see his father, Grondal.

And there he saw it.

Ghislain fighting Rahmod, wielding Gramdyr.

— A-Amazing!

He had wanted to get closer, but didn’t dare. One wrong move and he might get caught up in the fight and die.

So he could only spy from as far away as possible.

After the battle, he made a decision in his heart.

— That man is the true owner of Gramdyr!

Even though he wasn’t the rightful owner of the weapon, he thought it didn’t matter.

After all, he was the heir to Valskrum, and Gramdyr would be his someday anyway—so giving it away early made sense in his own absurd logic.

After the battle, he concealed his face and sneaked into the royal castle. Though his identity was soon discovered, no one made a fuss.

Partly because of his status as a prince, but also because Torvalt was already infamous here as a scoundrel and a hopeless dwarf.

So, after trailing Ghislain’s group, he realized a dispute had broken out over Gramdyr and came forward to clear up the misunderstanding.

"Father! I gave Gramdyr to that man! So please, stop this now!"

"Huh?"

Grondal staggered to his feet. Ghislain lay on the floor, gasping for breath.

It was a moment that clearly showed who had more "stamina."

Ghislain did feel a bit wronged since this wasn’t his real body.

But Grondal wasn’t in a state to enjoy his supposed victory. He scowled deeply as he approached Torvalt, his steps wavering like a drunken man.

"So… the dumb bastard who gambled away Gramdyr and lost it… that was you, Torvalt?"

"…Yes."

"You pathetic fool!"

Thwack!

Grondal’s broad palm smacked Torvalt’s head hard.