The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 136: Skill Test (Part 4)

Chapter 136 – Skill Test (Part 4)

“Huh?”

Tudor suddenly snapped back to reality.

Did he doze off? Did he briefly fall asleep?

No, that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t have fallen asleep while running and sweating during the game.

In the slow-flowing time, Tudor recalled the moments just before his memory seemed to blank out.

“I caught the ball, evaded the Baskerville Triplets, chased them, sprinted forward, took down the defending players blocking my path, and then…”

And then what?

He couldn’t remember the next moment.

He distinctly recalled spotting the goalpost and preparing to throw the ball, but why did he stop?

His thoughts continued to unravel.

Suddenly, as that fleeting memory clicked back into place, Tudor snapped back to his senses.

“What am I doing right now?”

Only then did his vision return to normal.

The scene that had turned completely black for a moment was back to the way it was.

A field with green grass, a blue sky, towering goalposts, and opponents and teammates looking at him in surprise.

Everything was the same as just before his memory seemed to fade away, except for one thing…

“Huh?”

Tudor finally regained his composure.

He was currently sprawled on the corner of the field, in a ridiculous upside-down position.

“Uh?”

Tudor quickly got up, looking down at the dirt and grass on his body.

And in front of him, there was Vikir standing with a calm expression.

It was only now that Tudor fully remembered everything.

“That’s right. I was about to score a goal, and then I… playfully tapped his shoulder.”

That guy who excelled in academics but seemed physically frail.

So, he had a mischievous thought of teasing him for a moment.

However, as he approached the guy and lightly tapped his shoulder, Tudor felt as if he had collided with a massive mountain.

He was thrown backward, tumbling on the ground like a ragdoll, not only ending up in a ridiculous position but even briefly losing consciousness.

Oddly enough, the guy who received the shoulder tap was still standing in the same spot, with a puzzled expression.

As Tudor was about to say something to Vikir, the referee shouted, “Goal for Team A!”

Tudor was startled and raised his head to see the ball rolling beneath Team B’s goalpost.

The ball unexpectedly floated upward and into the goal when Tudor tapped Vikir’s shoulder.

It was a lucky goal as if a cow had unexpectedly found a pot of gold while stumbling.

However, there was no cheering or applause from the spectators.

Above Tudor, a question mark appeared as if to question his achievement.

“What’s going on? Why did I fall over?”

Tudor continued to wear a bewildered expression.

Even though he had scored a goal, he didn’t feel any sense of accomplishment.

It was just a fluke that happened while he was falling down.

The only problem was why he had fallen in the first place.

Tudor had never experienced a situation like this during his years of playing rugby.

With his 17-year-old physique, he easily dominated the family’s knights, and his talent shone in the sport of rugby.

Jumping, running, dashing, passing, physical combat, and more—he excelled in every aspect of the game.

He was an all-rounder who could play every position, from holder, kicker, punter, returner, running back, fullback, quarterback, receiver, tackle, guard, center, linebacker, safety, to even long snapper.

Among his peers, there was no rival for the title of the strongest against him.

That was Tudor Donquixote.

But now, he fell backward cause he playfully tapped that bookworm’s shoulder.

“No, that can’t be right! It’s impossible, Just a fluke!”

Tudor shook his head vigorously.

Vikir would not have allowed the goal to go in if he had been a skilled lineman who blocked his charge.

“Something was wrong earlier. Let’s try it properly again!”

Tudor adjusted his stance and returned to his team’s side.

Before long, Team B’s goalkeeper kicked the ball with his foot.

Tudor possessed an incredible ball possession rate, He caught the ball once again.

His ball possession was truly astonishing.

“Let’s see if you can stop this!”

Tudor clutched the ball and sprinted at full speed.

However?

For some reason, the Baskerville Triplets, who had been blocking his view just moments ago, were nowhere to be seen.

“…?”

Curious, he lifted his head and saw them at the back of the field.

The Baskerville Triplets were around Vikir, almost as if they were escorting him.

“What’s going on? Why aren’t they guarding the goal line?”

Could it be that they didn’t have the confidence to face him and retreated?

No, that couldn’t be it.

Tudor Donquixote, the protege of the Donquixote family, had heard plenty of rumors about the Baskerville Triplets.

They were strong and cunning troublemakers among their peers.

They were not the type to give up just because they were pushed back once.

Tudor immediately headed toward them.

Papapapop!

When it came to rugby-related matters, Tudor, who was almost like a professional athlete, easily outperformed the Baskerville Triplets, once again overwhelming them and advancing deep in front of Team B’s goal.

“You slippery little thing.”

Highbro Le Baskerville, closely followed Tudor.

…Thunk!

Due to the protection of Styx River, Highbro’s muscles and bones had toughened, but Tudor clearly had the upper hand in rugby.

“This isn’t martial arts, my friend.”

Tudor smoothly slipped through the gap under Highbro’s legs and charged toward the back, as if water was flowing.

Suddenly, the goalpost was right in front of him.

However.

This time, his target was not the goal but Vikir, who stood awkwardly at the back.

Even without mana, Tudor was confident.

The power he had developed through rigorous training in his lower body and upper body, and the strength expelled from his palms through the soles of his feet and waist!

Tudor’s arm soared like a massive spear, hurtling toward the target in front of his eyes.

“There won’t be any accidents this time! Let’s see if you can catch this!”

And then.

…Thunk!

Once again, that became Tudor’s final thought.

* * *

Meanwhile, Vikir looked at Tudor, who had collided with him and fallen to the ground and clicked his tongue.

“Why does this guy keep coming this way?”

When the opponent falls, the atmosphere on their side is affected as well.

Vikir, with an annoyed expression, reluctantly took a seat.

However.

This time, Tudor seemed to have been knocked out more severely, as he was motionless on the ground for a longer period than before.

Dororor…

The ball rolled and touched Vikir’s foot.

Rolling—

Vikir stared at the ball rolling on the ground, surprisingly, no one came to pick it up.

This was due to Tudor’s outstanding performance, which had kept both allies and opponents at a distance.

Then, from the B-team’s stands, a tremendous cheer erupted.

“Who is that guy? He’s from the B-team, right?”

“Tudor fell down! Now’s our chance!”

“But why did he fall?”

“I don’t know! Is that important right now? We’re about to lose to the A-team!”

“Run! There’s not much time left in the game!”

“But who is he?”

“I don’t know! But since he’s from our team, let’s cheer for him!”

Everyone in the B-team, on the verge of losing 1-0, began to cheer for Vikir.

Vikir quietly let out a sigh.

He didn’t want to stand out, but in a situation where he was attracting attention like this, doing nothing would make him even more conspicuous.

Reluctantly, Vikir reached out and caught the ball.

“Whatever.”

However, it was a rather daunting situation.

All of his teammates were either rolling on the ground after being outmaneuvered by Tudor or were far away.

Only the A-team players were running towards this side.

Should he let them take the ball away like this? If he did, he might be marked as a traitor for the entire new semester and attract even more attention.

On the other hand, rushing forward with the ball, scoring a goal, and becoming a star was also something to be avoided.

In the end, Vikir made a compromise of his own.

Swoosh—

Vikir picked up the ball and pulled his arm back.

The game was about to end with only a few seconds left. B-team students, who had been cheering, murmured with gloomy expressions.

“Ah, it’s 5 seconds before the game ends. It’s over.”

“We lost to the A-team from the beginning of the semester.”

“…Huh? Look at that. What is that guy who has the ball doing right now?”

“So what? There are only 3 seconds left.”

Everyone had resigned themselves to the impending loss. Even the A-team linemen who had been charging were gradually slowing down, knowing that the game was over.

Then, suddenly, Vikir’s arm moved.

Throw!

The ball soared into the sky, high and far. However, at this point, with just 1 second left until the end of the game, what was the point of the ball flying?

The students watching the sports game had no expectations left and began to gather their belongings and stand up from the bleachers. Only a few students, particularly those deeply attached to the idea of victory, watched the trajectory of the ball with disappointed expressions.

However…

The ball kept flying.

Quite a distance.

Up and up it went.

And now, it began to descend in a gentle arc.

“Huh?”

“Wha-?”

Everyone, from both A-team and B-team, looked at the ball with wide eyes.

The game had already ended.

But the ball, seemingly oblivious to the concept of time, continued to extend forward.

Then…

Thud

The ball struck one of the iron pillars of the Y-shaped goalpost and slid right into it.

And…

Silence enveloped the field.

All the students from both teams and the spectators in the stands were left speechless.

The referee, who had been blowing his whistle for the end of the game, dropped his whistle with a bewildered expression and muttered, “Buzzer Beater.”