Reaper of the Martial World

Chapter Book 12: 67: I Don't Like the Number Nine (1)

Book 12: Chapter 67: I Don’t Like the Number Nine (1)

Dyon’s appearance was stunning to say the least. A mortal appearing in such a place was unheard of. The very announcer who had been doing his best to raise the expectations of the crowd – to great success, one might add – was also stunned.

It made sense. The upper echelon of this world – the three families and the Dark Flame Tower – were aware of Dyon’s existence. But to the everyday commoner, they had never heard of him.

The only ones who didn’t seem surprised by this turn of events were the members of the Darkwell and Dimwell family. There were three of them each, preparing for the first competition. Though it had yet to be announced, they were already aware of the task about to be set before them. In fact, Dyon was the only one not aware.

This truth wasn’t due to cheating of the parts of these families, but rather Dyon’s own negligence or, rather, uncaring attitude. Had he not blown off the Nightwell Clan, they likely would have been spending this time explaining it all to him. But, he came here directly instead.

The announcer coughed, feeling the enthusiasm of the crowd wavering. Why had no one informed him about this?

‘… They must be?’

The announcer’s gaze lit up. Noticing the clear aesthetic beauty of Dyon and his two companions, he felt that he had ‘understood’ what was happening. He recovered quickly, a bright smile beaming.

‘It makes sense, those nobles wouldn’t lower themselves to explaining something like this to me. Their use is obvious.’

“Ah! It seems our Three Great Clans have brought out a special present for us all! A pleasant surprise indeed!”

The eyes of the announcer met Dyon’s. The disdain within was clear, but he was also nudging toward Dyon to get started on the pre-competition entertainment. He himself was quite eager to see it as well.

He normally wouldn’t spare a mortal a glance, but he had been forced to due to the awkward situation. But he was extremely surprised to see just how enticing Saru and Lilith were. It made him wonder if there were other mortals who looked like this that he was missing out on.

Dyon raised an eyebrow, wondering what the hell this announcer was going on about. Why was he giving him that look exactly?

Dyon frowned seeing the announcer’s gaze leave him and sweep over Saru and Lilith continuously.

With a snap of his fingers, a blazing fiery array appeared by the announcer’s head.

“[Nether].”

A spear spun out from the floating formation, blasting the announcer’s head into a rain of flesh and blood.

“See what I mean?” Lilith muttered. “Much less…”

In fact, she felt that Dyon was getting more and more murderous. Or rather, his patience and tolerance seemed far lower than it had been in the past. As though he found many things to be far beneath him now. And, she oddly felt that it didn’t affect her feelings for him at all.

The fifth [Judgement] spun like a red pillar of flame before Dyon put it out without much effort.

The six participants opposing Dyon had expressions that turned steely.

“Why did you do that? Regardless of how low his standing was, he was still a member of my Dimwell Clan.”

All of them wore red robes, just like Crystella, Tedric and Kywen had. However, these robes had various shades of their own along with small bits of embroidery.

Dyon had found out through Crystella’s miscellaneous words that the level of embroidery on their robes was actually related to their world core. The closer one could approach it, the more embroidery they earned. It was no wonder the old fogie had robes that looked more gold than red.

The Darkwell Clan had almost maroon robes. The Dimwell Clan had an even slightly darker shade. As for the Nightwell Clan, theirs were red with black accents, not that Dyon wore them.

Dyon finished his walk to the only empty side of a triangular platform. He was inwardly amused by the setup, it reminded him of a gameshow from his mortal world.

“I’m representing the Nightwell Clan right now.” Dyon said casually. “I wonder how they would feel if they knew a member of your Clan to their representatives as entertainment. He should be thanking me. If not for my actions, his ending would have been even worse.

“Maybe in his next life, he’ll learn to control his gaze a bit better.”

The expression of the Dimwell member who spoke darkened further.

He felt that Dyon was making fun of him. Everyone knew that Immortals couldn’t reincarnate, only the pitiful existences of mortals could be reused and recycled. At least, that was how Immortals framed the matter. Their lives were worth far more, so of course they couldn’t just restart if they wanted to.

The fact that those words had come out of Dyon’s mouth almost made it seem like he was implying that they were inferior precisely due to the fact they were immortal and didn’t have a next life waiting for them.

Never in his life had he run across such a thing. A mortal… Looking down on him?!

His gaze blazed with fighting intent. He would crush this mortal where he stood!

In the end, Dyon’s words were so effective that even the Nightwell Clan couldn’t refute them. They had no choice but to pause the event for a moment, clean up the mess, and send in another announcer…

This time however, it was a Judge. Guild Head Baron.