Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 240

Chapter 240: One Handed Giant Sword!
 

The sword platform opens its gates promptly at 9 AM each day, and by noon the duels must cease. During these hours, the master of the platform, typically unchallenged by rule except for a single bout per day, allows the arena to be a stage for any who dare to challenge the honor of Sky Sword Hall. This openness is a testament to the hall’s confidence and the prowess of its core disciples, who guard these sacred grounds.

These guardians are no ordinary fighters; each one is a fourth-order extraordinary professional, a rank that speaks to their formidable abilities and the stringent selection process of the Sky Sword Hall. There are tales of audacious fourth-level challengers who stepped onto the platform only to find themselves quickly outmatched, their ambitions dashed against the superior skill of Sky’s disciples.

Although there are only five core disciples, the hall maintains as many as ten sword platforms. This surplus means not every disciple needs to face daily challenges, leading to fewer contenders over time, as the reputations of these skilled swordsmen precede them.

On the day Ryan visited Sword Platform No. 6, he was greeted by an unusually quiet scene. The platform itself, a robust construction of iron and wood, featured a striking red carpet at its center. There, a figure exuded an aura of calm authority. The man, clad in a white suit adorned with blue patterns, his long hair flowing freely, sat cross-legged with a long sword resting across his knees, his eyes closed in deep meditation.

“This must be a core disciple I’ve yet to meet,” Ryan mused silently.

He knew of the five core disciples; he had encountered four previously. The man before him had to be the elusive Hurricane Swordsman Walters, famed for his swift, wind-attributed swordsmanship that left many challengers disarmed and defeated before they could mount a proper offense. This style was a hallmark of the Sky Sword Dojo, founded on the principles of wind technique, though the current chief oddly specialized in ice-attribute swordsmanship, a curiosity Ryan filed away for later.

Watching rather than confronting was Ryan’s intention today. He was keen to witness the famed Hurricane Swordsman in action, to see if the reality matched the stories.

As the morning progressed, the initial lull gave way to a gathering crowd. Most were not here with delusions of defeating Walters but were drawn by the opportunity to learn through combat with a master swordsman. Only those of at least third-level proficiency dared to step forward for such an honor.

It wasn’t long before a third-level pirate ascended the platform, his one-handed sword a common choice among his kind and a mark of significant skill at his level. His challenge to a fourth-level disciple was not about victory but about refinement and growth in his own swordplay, a chance to glean insights from a superior opponent.

Ryan settled into his seat among the spectators, his presence discreet yet observant. Nearby, a youthful female swordsman caught his eye; her features were soft, still adorned with the vestiges of youth, and her white swordsman’s uniform, though loose, hinted at the form beneath.

With a playful tilt of her head, she peered at Ryan, her voice ringing out with youthful curiosity. “Hey, are you here to challenge too? Are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before on Sky Sea.”

Ryan turned to regard her more fully, noting her youthful demeanor and the vibrant energy that seemed to pulse around her, indications of a third-level spiritual force. He replied in a gentle tone, “I just arrived yesterday and thought I’d come to observe today.”

Her smile widened, sparkling with friendliness. “That makes sense. There’s nobody on this island who keeps up with the comings and goings more than I do.”

“I’m Noel,” she introduced herself cheerfully.

“Just call me Ryan.” He opted for simplicity today, leaving behind any aliases used the night before.

“Mr. Ryan,” Noel continued, her tone teasing as she surveyed the arena, “How long do you think this guy will last?”

“Not sure,” Ryan replied with a slight shake of his head, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene. “Rank doesn’t always equate to real combat prowess.”

“Tsk, you’re no fun… But alright, let’s just watch and see what happens,” Noel said, her eyes returning to the center of the arena.

As the challenger stepped forward, the formidable Hurricane Swordsman Field rose from his meditation, his stance commanding and poised. “Are you ready?” he asked, his voice cool and detached.

The challenger barely had time to nod before Field’s sword danced a blur, its tip stopping abruptly at the challenger’s throat. A choked gulp escaped the defeated man as he muttered, “I admit defeat…”

Field sheathed his sword and retreated, his voice slicing through the silence that followed. “For the finals the day after tomorrow, I don’t want to see anyone below level four here wasting my time. Overestimate your abilities, and I won’t be merciful next time.”

The air thickened with the spiritual force of a fourth-level professional, dampening the enthusiasm of the would-be challengers who had been eagerly lining up.

Field’s eyes scanned the crowd, a hint of satisfaction crossing his features. While the early bouts offered him some insights, they had quickly plateaued, and as the finals approached, he hungered for more substantial contests to hone his skills. Though he doubted his chances for the championship, striving for a higher ranking was non-negotiable; he could not face his peers otherwise.

As Field was about to resume his meditative pose, a distinct sound of footsteps caught his attention. A young man, unremarkable yet dressed in a sharply tailored suit, ascended the platform with deliberate steps, his approach marked by an air of quiet confidence that contrasted sharply with the defeated challenger’s retreat.

Under the expectant eyes of a captivated audience, Ryan stepped forward with a mischievous grin and declared, “Let me be your opponent.”

Field, the Hurricane Swordsman, furrowed his brow as he sensed something peculiar about Ryan’s spiritual aura. After a quick assessment, surprise washed over him, Ryan was only a second-level professional. He contemplated the possibilities: was this man a fool courting death, or a swordsman with unshakeable confidence in his own abilities?

The possibility of the former seemed slim, and the latter…

As Field locked eyes with Ryan, a subtle flicker of danger unsettled him, causing him to pause and reconsider his initial urge to rebuke. Instead, he asked pointedly, “Where’s your sword?”

In the world of swordsmanship, carrying one’s weapon was a fundamental rule, yet Field could see no sword on Ryan.

“Here it is,” Ryan replied smoothly, his hand dipping into a space ring. With a flourish, a massive black and red sword materialized. “Sorry, my one-handed long sword isn’t convenient to carry around, so I keep it here.”

The crowd, along with Field, was momentarily stunned by the size of what Ryan casually referred to as a ‘one-handed long sword.’ After a beat, Field’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait, you call this a one-handed longsword? Isn’t this more of a giant sword?!”

“This is a one-handed long sword,” Ryan insisted with a straight face. “I’m holding it with one hand, and it is a sword, right?”

Field was momentarily lost for words. Indeed, Ryan was holding the weapon with one hand, and technically, it was a sword, but this…

Noel, watching from the crowd, couldn’t hide her amazement. Her eyes widened at the sight of such a ‘novel’ one-handed longsword, and after a few seconds, a smile crept across her face. “It seems Mr. Ryan isn’t so dull after all.”

Field collected himself and conceded, albeit reluctantly, “…Okay, even if this is a one-handed long sword. But are you sure you want to challenge me with that weapon?”

He explained the usual logic: a greatsword, while powerful and devastating on a battlefield, lacked the finesse and energy efficiency of a longsword in a one-on-one duel. “There’s no need for such a heavy, cumbersome weapon when fighting a human opponent. Why choose a greatsword, a thankless weapon in this scenario?”

“Of course,” Ryan responded, his smile unfazed. “Mr. Field, shall we begin?”

Ryan had been observing the earlier duel from the sidelines, realizing that merely watching would not grant him the insights he sought. The disparity between third and fourth levels was vast, and from his vantage point, discerning Field’s techniques or the subtleties of the combat was impossible.

He stepped onto the platform, ready and eager. “You are prepared, and we can start whenever you are,” Field declared, steadying his voice and regaining his composure.

Despite the inexplicable sense of danger emanating from this ostensibly lesser opponent, Field resolved to face the challenge with all the seriousness it warranted.