The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live a Normal Life

Chapter 230: Festival For Festival (1)

It was an obvious provocation. In a fit of rage, Sanchez put his hand on his sheath without a thought. But that was all. He didn’t pull out his sword. Roman Dmitry was so calm that he couldn’t feel anything, but beyond that, there was something that warned Sanchez’s nerves.

It was Chris. He also put his hand on his sheath, but he knew that Chris would be much faster at attacking.

Gulp.

He gulped. Sanchez was Morales’s disciple and had risen to the 3-star level, but this sense of threat was new to him.

‘… Was Dmitry’s Flash this good?’

He had heard about the rumors. The man who was called the Flash of Cairo. Among the people who followed Roman Dmitry, there was this handsome blonde man, and when he pulled out his sword, his opponent’s throat would be cut off without them seeing what hit them.

In the war against Kronos, Chris proved his worth. Chris was no longer an unknown figure, as he showed overwhelming power by cutting down his enemies in succession.

But the people of Valhalla didn’t listen to those rumors because achievements on the battlefield usually get exaggerated. Just like the rumor that Roman Dmitry cut through a crowd of knights with one hit, they also thought Chris was just a normal warrior.

It had to be that. Cairo was such a small world compared to Valhalla, and the history of the past said that an existence beyond common sense couldn’t be born in Cairo.

But he accepted the reality in front of him now. In a situation where his mouth went dry at Chris, Sanchez had no choice but to acknowledge the skills of his opponent.

‘The public rumors weren’t false. I’m not sure if Roman Dmitry is strong enough to overwhelm Knight Gustavo, but if his subordinates are of this level, I cannot deny those rumors any longer. Then he’s someone I cannot even comprehend. Will he be able to defeat Barbossa without using any tricks?’

Shhing.

He raised his hand, acknowledging the opponent. But even so, he didn’t think Roman Dmitry was a suitable opponent for Barbossa.

What kind of existence was suitable then? The festival of Valhalla was only for the warriors of Valhalla.

Sanchez said,

“Do not regret what you just said.”

He would find out the truth once he reached the capital and the consequences that awaited him for accepting the challenge.

Capital of Valhalla.

They arrived in Marin. If Paulo, which was located at the start of the border, was a bit underdeveloped, then Marin was this impressive city with huge walls and architecture unique to Valhalla, befitting the status of an empire.

Once they entered the capital, nothing like Paulo happened. There were people who met them in advance, and thanks to them, they were able to skip over the complicated process and go inside smoothly.

“Nice to meet you. I am Viscount Jonathan, who will serve as the guide for Roman Dmitry.”

“This is Roman Dmitry.”

Upon their arrival, they were guided to the reception room of a huge building that was presumed to be a place for guests to stay. So they settled in this place.

After taking a sip of the tea served by the servants, with a strange expression, Viscount Jonathan asked,

“I heard Mr. Roman Dmitry’s opinion through Sanchez. To prove that you are worthy of facing Barbossa, you will accept the challenge of the warriors of Valhalla. Will that be fine? I can keep silent for a day or so, but if I don’t speak now, it seems like you will be in trouble.”

“It is an issue that I should handle.”

“Hehehe, if that is the case, it cannot be helped. Just keep in mind that the warriors of Valhalla want to step on the stage at the risk of their lives. To die with God’s blessing right in Valhalla—it is a lifelong wish of the warriors, and if the opponent is Barbossa, it is an unparalleled blessing.”

He also drank the tea.

Viscount Jonathan smiled, and the atmosphere changed with the stale smell of tea that people in Valhalla usually drank.

“Let me tell you. The festival will be held three days from now. As you know, at the end of the preparation for the festival, Valhalla has a tradition of making blood spill out. The method is quite simple. The families of the Valhalla Empire will select one swordsman representing their families and send them out to fight, and a total of thirty warriors will fight on the huge stage. There is no surrender there. Be the last one to stand or die. The warrior who remains as the final winner will receive the blessing of Valhalla directly from His Majesty, the Emperor.”

It was something he was familiar with. Thirty warriors. The last warrior would survive at the cost of the deaths of twenty-nine people, and the honor of Valhalla would be placed at stake.

“To brighten up the eve of the festival, how about having one of Roman Dmitry’s men participate? For reference, the swordsmen who participate in the fight of thirty people can be those who aren’t listed in the Continental Rankings too. Wouldn’t swordsmen of that level need a stage where they could focus on fighting each other in a group? From what I heard, there is one called Dmitry’s Flash and…”

His speech was blurred, yet his intention was clear. They wanted Chris on stage before the main event. Except for Roman Dmitry, it was clear that they intended to kill Chris, who was called Dmitry’s best swordsman under Roman, in front of everyone.

It was something he could just refuse. Now that they had risked stepping into Valhalla, there was no need to put Chris at further risk.

However, Roman Dmitry smiled. He didn’t back down a single step from the intentions of the opponent, which he could thoroughly see.

“I shall do what you want.”

“As expected, so amazing. Then, do rest comfortably here until the eve… Ah!”

Viscount Jonathan grinned.

Roman Dmitry. He was a warlike man. He liked Roman quite a bit, but the pride of Valhalla was a different thing.

“After what Sanchez said to you, it must be hard for you to rest in peace. Please, I hope it works out fine. Still, Valhalla’s imperial family has dignity, and it is difficult for Roman Dmitry to be Barbossa’s opponent, but there shouldn’t be any unfortunate changes on the stage, right? Two days later, on the eve of the festival, I hope to see you again with a smile.”

And that was the end. Viscount Jonathan stepped outside.

Roman Dmitry remained at the reception. As if the warning that threatened him was nothing, he slowly savored the remaining tea with a relaxed face.

The next day.

It was early morning, and a group of people gathered in front of the lodging where Roman Dmitry was staying.

“Is Roman Dmitry here?”

“A bastard who doesn’t even know his place. Just because he made a little name on the continent, he became greedy to go on the stage of Valhalla. Roman Dmitry doesn’t have the right to go against Barbossa. If he collapses without even competing, the God of Valhalla will be angry.”

Last night, Sanchez told people what he had seen and heard, and the people were outraged. Other than their dissatisfaction about Roman going on stage, Roman Dmitry spat out remarks, provoking the warriors of Valhalla.

How flustering were those words? To think that a guy who was famous or gained fame for just two years was accepting challenges from the warriors. Honestly, there was a lot of talk in Valhalla about it. People raised their voices and asked the imperial family to reconsider their choice, but there was no way they could do anything.

Kronos and Valhalla—for both empires, the imperial family ruled with overwhelming power. Since the imperial family in Valhalla told them to see and judge for themselves, they had no choice but to believe and follow them.

The anger that he had barely suppressed, Roman Dmitry touched it again. From now on, even if the Valhalla imperial family tried to dissuade him, he intended to see the end.

Bang! Bang!

“Roman Dmitry, come out!”

“I came to challenge you as you asked. Come out right now and bring your sword!”

People raised their voices. There were hundreds of them, and it didn’t end there. Impatient people flocked when the lodging wasn’t open yet, but the number of people only increased as time went on.

Not all of them were strong enough to deal with Roman Dmitry. However, as warriors of Valhalla, they couldn’t just let Roman do what he wanted.

“Huk.”

“Bartolo!”

“Bartolo is here too!”

The people shouted. Breaking through the group, a man with a sturdy body named Bartolo stepped forward.

Ranked 89th in Valhalla, Bartolo was a person listed in the Valhalla rankings. If it was true that Roman Dmitry defeated Gustavo, then Bartolo, who was just a 4-star swordsman, could not compete with Roman Dmitry.

Even so, Bartolo showed no signs of doubting himself. Just like the other people in Valhalla, he didn’t believe the rumors about Roman Dmitry.

During the war with Hector, Roman Dmitry fought with Butler. However, the rumor that he defeated Count Nicholas and Gustavo in one blow a year later didn’t make sense.

Bartolo raised his voice.

“Roman Dmitry! Bartolo will deal with you!”

At that moment…

Creak.

The door opened, and all eyes fell in that direction.

Finally, Roman Dmitry appeared.

Roman Dmitry’s reaction was calm. Despite the crowd of people looking at him, he walked ahead as if nothing was wrong.

Clack!

He stopped walking, and then…

“There is only one day left until the eve of the festival. From now until the end of the day, I will accept all the challenges.”

He ruled out the possibility of being defeated, which made the people angry. They spat on the ground, cursed, and showed their animosity toward Roman Dmitry, who was holding his head high.

Why were they so bold? It was because they were looking at Bartolo, who would deal with Roman first. But…

‘… Roman Dmitry’s force is rather unusual.’

From the moment they met, Bartolo read the opponent’s force, and even though it wasn’t easy, Roman Dmitry had this intangible force around him. It was something normal people would never notice.

As there was a saying that you could only see as much as you knew, Bartolo, who entered the Valhalla rankings in his own right, knew that Roman Dmitry was stronger than he thought.

However, he couldn’t leave now. Bartolo stepped forward with a ferocious look.

“I will deal with you.”

Tak.

He held his weapon. Aiming his huge axe at the opponent, he slowly circled around Roman Dmitry.

The confrontation started. Unlike his size, which overwhelmed the opponent, Bartolo carefully grasped the situation.

‘According to what Sanchez said, Roman Dmitry had already fought in Paulo before coming to Marin. It is said that he slapped people on the cheek until they gave up. Roman Dmitry. You cannot do that to us here. The results will not be the same. Even if I lose to you, in the face of violence, I will never surrender.’

His eyes shone. The people were watching. Just like those who were outraged by the news of Roman Dmitry, he had no intention of letting this matter go.

At that moment, he kicked the ground. Considering the calm reaction of his opponent, he decided to attack first.

Rumble.

Aura exploded as Bartolo rushed forward. Unlike his huge size, he had sharp movements, and their distance was shortened at once.

A Ranker of Valhalla and a true warrior—that was how the warriors praised him.

Puak.

Stumble.

Blood splattered in the air, and Bartolo looked at Roman Dmitry in disbelief. As he was losing consciousness….

“Next.”

Came Roman Dmitry’s cold voice.