Chapter 17: Competitions

“Then, according to what you said, if mages also practice martial arts, or martial artists also study magic, wouldn’t that allow them to compensate for their weaknesses and leverage their strengths? Why isn’t there a single true powerhouse on the continent who masters both?”
Bayezid couldn’t help but interject. Not knowing magic had always been the greatest regret of dwarf warriors. Fighting from a distance as warriors meant leaving themselves vulnerable to mages. Only when the advantage of distance was eliminated could warriors truly unleash their power, but this often came at a great cost—some warriors could never overcome this limitation.
At most, Bayezid could afford to buy one or two crude magic scrolls to provide some auxiliary improvement. But magic scrolls were extremely expensive, and many were of poor quality. After being deceived a few times, he dared not try again. If Komer could come up with a good solution to this problem, it would be a tremendous boon for warriors.
“Where in the world is such a thing? Human energy is limited, and the talents bestowed upon us by the gods vary. Mastering one skill already requires exceptional aptitude. Trying to master two would only result in mediocrity and failure,” Komer shook his head, dispelling the other’s delusions. “Of course, if one focuses on one skill while also practicing some simple techniques from another field targetedly, it can indeed be very effective in certain situations. But it’s only auxiliary. If someone truly thinks they’re a genius who can master both, the outcome is either madness and death or becoming a worthless mediocre person.”
His words dispelled the delusions of some simple-minded folks, but they didn’t erase the doubts deep in Komer’s own heart. Did he count as an anomaly? Mastering opposing dark and light magic simultaneously, and even trying to transform primal dark energy into light magic for free conversion—wasn’t that also against the laws of nature, something utterly unimaginable? Yet it seemed to be happening to him. How could that be explained?

Due to the unexpected enthusiasm of enthusiasts participating in this additional competition, the Magic Guild only prepared one competition platform for the contestants, which obviously made the competition more intense. If a winner could not be determined within the allotted time, it fell to the judges sent by the Magic Guild to decide who won—judges who would naturally favor those skilled in magic. This caused dissatisfaction among some martial artists, but after all, it was a competition organized by the Magic Guild. Defying their rulings would undoubtedly mean challenging the entire guild, and no martial artist dared to be so arrogant.

As the competition progressed, it became increasingly fierce and exciting. Many magicians immediately used magic scrolls to gain sufficient defensive capabilities upon stepping onto the stage, then launched offensive spells after ensuring their own safety. Meanwhile, skilled martial artists started with their ultimate moves right away, aiming to defeat their opponents before the magicians’ defensive magic reached its peak. As a result, within less than ten minutes of the match beginning, some contestants were carried off bloody, or they were ravaged by continuous magic attacks until they were unrecognizable. Even the four rule enforcers sent by the Magic Guild found it difficult to keep order.

The increasingly powerful martial arts and magic forced the enforcers to shift from monitoring alternately to having two or even four of them work together, yet they still couldn’t ensure the rules were fully upheld. In the last ten matches, three ended with the death of contestants. Two magicians were killed by their opponents despite the full efforts of the Magic Guild’s rule enforcers, while in another case, a swordsman was burned to death by a dual magic artifact used by a magician—Fire Dragon Vine, combining wood magic and fire magic. Even with the four enforcers desperately trying to rescue him, they failed to save his life.

There was once a swordsman who dominated the competition stage with his Frost Sword Aura, forcing his opponent—a magician—to scramble around desperately. But in the end, despite being severely injured, the magician unleashed his ultimate magic artifact, Fire Dragon Vine, sending a torrent of flaming vines that tightly wrapped around the swordsman. The violent fire elements seeped into his body almost instantly. Even though the four enforcers immediately cast spells to contain the fire elements, they failed. Watching the swordsman struggle on the stage and hearing his agonized screams trapped in the flames, everyone in the audience, including Komer and his group, was filled with fear and awe at the cruelty of the competition.

Of course, the three men in a row—Rebri, Sorenberg, and Haiding—were not among those filled with awe. They watched everything unfolding before them with indifference. As a magician and a Dark Knight respectively, Rebri and Sorenberg had experienced countless life-and-death battles; such contests on the battlefield were merely more direct and explicit in form. For them, though the ways of dying varied, the outcome was the same, so there was little to marvel at.

Haiding, once a predator at sea, had witnessed far crueller acts time and again. He had killed or been killed by dozens or even hundreds of people in a single instance. Such spectacles bored him to death, especially since he had little interest in magic. In his view, magic might be useful in naval battles, but it was the warships and soldiers who truly determined the outcome of a war. In a conflict, if long-range attacks failed to eliminate the enemy, boarding battles would decide the result, with magic serving only as a supplementary tool.

Yawning in boredom, Haiding glanced at his two companions, who were enjoying the match keenly. He could only patiently accompany them in watching. But when the two magicians engaged in a magical duel, it became even more frustrating for him, as he knew nothing about magic.

“Mr. Rebri, do you think using magic in attacks holds any real significance in naval battles?” Haiding couldn’t help but yawn again before asking after smacking his lips.

“Haiding, magical attacks are effective in any environment. The key lies in how you use them. Of course, using earth magic at sea is a mistake—without the earth element, you can’t cast earth magic. But water and fire magic can sometimes play a decisive role in naval battles, especially in medium-range fights. However, given the cost of magicians, it seems no fleet can afford to have them on board permanently, unless it’s for a specific operation with deliberate planning.”

Rebri had nothing to say about this guy who was only thinking about how to command a fleet and sail across the seas. Magic already played a subordinate role in naval battles—long-range combat relied on advanced weapons and skilled soldiers, while close combat depended on the bravery of sailors. Magic might not determine the outcome of a naval battle, but that didn’t mean mages were useless in such fights. A fleet equipped with enough mages, working together to launch attacks, could still deal tremendous, even fatal, blows to the enemy.

“That’s true. If there’s money to spare on hiring mages, it’s better to spend it on weapons—those might be more practical,” nodded Haiding. “But if a fleet has ten or eight sailors who are as skilled as those swordsmen and warriors from the competition just now as leaders, it could make a decisive difference in boarding actions.”

Sorenberg, who rarely spoke, also admired Haiding’s straightforward personality. Hearing what Haiding said, he interjected calmly, “Haiding, this isn’t that difficult. Although those warriors who won in the competition are strong, warriors of that caliber can be recruited on the continent. If the fleet has enough strength, it can indeed be armed as you suggested. It’s just true that these warriors might not perform as well at sea as they do on land.”

“Sigh, when will my lord give me the chance to command a fleet? I’d be willing to swear loyalty for life in exchange for that opportunity.” With some regret, Haiding glanced into the distance. The distant east was where the oceans lay—his true stage. On land, everything was just a stepping stone for him.

“Hehe, Haiding, you’ll get your chance. The lord you serve has the whole continent at his disposal. If you stay with him, you’ll eventually rise to prominence. Compared to wandering aimlessly across land and sea, you’ll reach that opportunity much sooner,” Rebri suggested insinuatingly.

“Mr. Rebri, please forgive my boldness, but it seems you and Mr. Sorenberg aren’t part of the lord’s entourage. Why are you accompanying him here?”

This problem has plagued Hayredin for a long time. Though he did not understand magic, his experienced eyes could still distinguish between people. Mr. Lebray was clearly a powerful magician, as evident from his indifferent expression toward the astonishing performances of the magicians on the stage. The power hidden within Mr. Sorenberg was even more terrifying; the murderous intent emanating from the knight’s spear concealed beneath his cloak convinced Hayredin that the spear was stained with the souls of many victims. He did not believe these two men would accept recruitment like ordinary people, and their relationship with the lord they served was also unclear. Hayredin had tried hard to figure it out but never found a satisfactory answer.