The Extra Wants To Live

Chapter 140: Carl Vs Billford [1]

Looking across from the end of the pitch, Carl saw Billford staring quietly in his direction.

"Umm…" Carl felt breathless.

Billford was the type of person who avoided unnecessary actions, a testament to his loyalty to Catherine.

Despite this glorious opportunity, he didn't even think about looking around or waving to make himself known.

This added to Carl's pressure.

As Carl had instructed him to fight sincerely, Billford would attack without regard for consequences, intending to knock Carl off his horse with a single blow.

Carl listened to the familiar warnings, lowered his visor, and accepted the lance.

"Please respect your opponents and compete fairly!"

At those words, Carl shook off his thoughts and focused on the match. His vision slowed, and all sounds seemed to flow sluggishly, as if his ears were deaf.

His vision moved up and down slowly, in rhythm with his breathing.

Billford stood waiting for the signal, spear raised. His unwavering gaze weighed on Carl painfully.

Carl suddenly felt the urge to fight properly, even if it meant using mana.

He was going to lose anyway.

However, using mana would result in disqualification. Although it didn't really matter, it would be problematic if people noticed.

Carl pushed aside his regret and grabbed the spear.

Phew!

A trumpet sounded, and Carl and Billford simultaneously advanced toward each other. Carl skillfully rode his horse, gradually increasing speed.

As he reached top speed about 10 meters from the midpoint, he lowered the tip of his spear and aimed it forward.

Unlike previous matches, Carl had his spear hanging from a ring on his armor.

Despite the difficulty of movement in armor, he bent his hip joints and leaned forward as much as possible.

Carl's spear extended diagonally, aiming for Billford's shield. Billford, on the other hand, rode without trouble, his spear tightly tucked under his armpit.

He maintained a classic posture with his back straight, but his thighs were wrapped around the horse's waist, straining his tight riding clothes.

Carl saw this but could do nothing. He braced himself for the impact.

At the moment of impact, Billford moved flexibly despite his uncomfortable armor.

He stepped dangerously onto the stirrup, spread his legs, leaned forward, and, maintaining his balance with his core muscles, thrust out the spear with all his might.

His attack was as beautiful as a painting, yet as chilling as the fangs of a poisonous snake, like a tightly pressed spring forcefully spreading out.

Kwaaaaang!

Carl couldn't even scream.

Despite focusing all his mind on defense, Billford's spear followed him leisurely, striking Carl's shield squarely.

The technique was so precise that the point of impact was not even slightly off.

Instead of shattering like other spears, Billford's spear split lengthwise, evenly distributing the impact from the tip of the spear to just before the handle.

This was what it felt like to get a proper lance charge from a real cavalryman.

Even though he was protected by a shield and armor and had tightened his muscles in anticipation, Carl thought his internal organs would burst.

His head shook violently, and it was hard to keep his balance. It became clear why they integrated the breastplate and helmet into one piece—otherwise, his neck would have broken and he would have died.

"Cough!"

Carl belatedly regained his breath, but his body was already shaking violently and had tilted significantly to the right.

In a split second, Carl didn't give up; he let go of the spear and gripped the reins tightly with both hands. His leaning body hung on with difficulty, and his smart horse twisted its body with all its might to keep Carl from falling.

"Haa!"

However, Carl, who had not yet recovered from the shock, could not get on the horse right away.

The horse ran slowly in an odd manner, reducing the impact.

???@??--*?†$-+

Thanks to this, Carl managed to reach the other side while barely hanging on to the horse. As the horse stopped at the designated location, the waiting attendant quickly pushed Carl up.

If he reached the finish without falling off his horse, the round would end. In the end, Carl kept his resolve and did not fall off his horse in the first round.

"Gasp! Gasp! Gasp!"

Carl could not hear the servant's words because his ears were deaf from the shock.

"Okay. The match isn't over yet."

But when the servant turned his head and tried to call someone, Carl stopped him. Carl forced himself to stand upright and rode slowly back to his seat.

Thanks to his rapid regeneration, his hearing quickly recovered, and Carl could hear the shouts echoing from beyond the helmet and visor.

"Wow! That squire is killing it!"

"It's better than any knight!"

"Even prince Carl didn't fall off his horse after being hit by that. That's really amazing!"

Carl raised his visor in frustration.

As the cold wind blew, Carl felt a strange sensation and touched his face with his right hand.

"Ma-Ca-Master-Carl."

Billford, who was riding his horse from the opposite direction, let out a panicked voice.

Carl looked at his right hand and saw that it was covered in blood.

"… Oh, right. I got hit in the left arm and my nose is bleeding."

Carl burst out laughing at the absurdity.

His face was a bloody mess from the violent shaking, tilting, and rubbing his face with his hands. Everyone was murmuring in confusion at the horrific sight.

It seemed like the match should be stopped.

But Carl turned his head, spurted the blood from his nose, wiped the blood flowing down with the back of his hand, and rode his horse calmly.

The bleeding had stopped, the shock had subsided, and his body was intact. The only thing that had changed since the beginning was that his face had gotten dirtier.

"If you keep watching, you'll be doing this all day." Carl smiled at the hesitant Billford and passed him by.

Flutter! Flutter!

Then, in the center of the stadium, the attendants waved the flag and put a flag on the scoreboard.

Not only Billford but also Carl's scoreboard was flagged.

"What! Is the lance broken?"

"Where!"

As the audience roared, Carl's spear was raised from the center.

The spear that Carl had dropped immediately after the impact rose high, revealing itself to everyone. It was only broken about an inch from the tip, but it was definitely broken!

As Carl was struck by the shield on his left arm, he twisted his body with all his might to deflect the impact, and the spear that was fixed to the ring of his armor was extended almost perpendicular to the direction of travel.

Thanks to this, Carl's spear was able to graze Billford's shield even as his body fell.

One might think it was a stroke of luck.

However, even a knight would not be able to easily control his body if he were directly hit by Billford's attack.

Of course, no one knew where the lance would point. This was possible because Carl learned jousting, and all martial arts in general, from Catherine and Billford.

Carl knew almost exactly how Billford would move. He could perfectly anticipate the process because he remembered it perfectly.

No matter how talented Carl was, if he had been attacked by Billford first, he would have fallen off his horse without even attempting an attack.

Of course, Carl's attack did not cause any damage to Billford.

This was because Billford controlled his body delicately even while moving roughly and easily avoided Carl's attacks.

The spear was too soft and was extended vertically, so only the tip of the spear flew off precariously.

Still, this was surprising. Carl scored a point against Billford, who was a worthy title contender!