How To Live As A Third Son Of A Failure [EN]: Chapter 47

Living as the Third Son of a Failed Novel – Chapter 47

Chapter 17. Disturbance

The tournament held in the massive coliseum was open not only to nobles but also to commoners.

However, due to the class system, the viewing locations were tiered based on status and power.

Fleta, standing in the highest tier with the clearest view of the field, asked Baranka, who was beside her, posing as her escort.

“What do you think will happen?”

“He will lose.”

“You mean the Third Son?”

“Yes. Frankly, no matter how I look at it, I can’t see any other outcome.”

Baranka was certain.

Lord Hogrde would likely win. The Third Son’s defeat was practically a foregone conclusion. Not only he, but everyone gathered in the arena, would think so.

His only hope was that he could at least avoid a disgraceful fall or serious injury. That was all he wished for.

“Here they come.”

A deafening roar erupted.

Two knights emerged from the opened gate.

Lindayer, the Third Son, and Lord Hogrde.

They were the main attraction of the opening match.

“……”

Fleta’s gaze was fixed on one side.

A helmet and cloak with long, trailing wings.

She felt as if she were looking at a fierce hawk. But perhaps because of what Baranka had said earlier, she felt uneasy. It felt as if the hawk’s wings would soon be broken, and it would plummet to the ground.

“Uh……”

“What is it?”

“That lance…?”

Just then, whispers began to spread from all directions. Fleta looked at Baranka.

“What’s wrong?”

“The Third Son’s lance… it’s a bit strange.”

Baranka shook his head in disbelief.

Fleta, however, couldn’t understand what was so strange about it.

Most of the whispering people around were knights. It seemed there was something only swordsmen knew.

“Strange? I don’t see it. Could you explain it to me?”

“I’m talking about the type of lance.”

“The type, you say?”

“Look at Lord Hogrde’s. It’s a heavy lance specialized for the couched method [a jousting technique where the lance is held firmly under the arm for greater impact], where the lance is held under the arm and charged.”

“It’s certainly longer than the Third Son’s.”

“Yes. Knights who have found stability thanks to that grip prefer longer and heavier heavy lances because they can achieve superior reach. On the other hand, the Third Son’s is……”

“It’s thinner and shorter.”

“It’s a light lance. It was used to reduce the burden on the arm before the couched technique was invented.”

“Lord Hogrde’s certainly looks longer. Is there any reason to choose such a disadvantage?”

“There’s no reason to. I wouldn’t know if someone was already used to it, but I’ve never even taught him, and the Third Son doesn’t fit that description in the first place.”

Baranka trailed off. Worry began to show in his eyes.

What was the Third Son thinking?

It wasn’t just Baranka’s concern; everyone in the arena was looking at the Third Son.

“You’re saying there’s no need to approach it in such an old-fashioned way?”

At Fleta’s question, Baranka sighed.

“Even in a chaotic battlefield, there’s absolutely no reason to do that in a jousting match with set rules unless you’re crazy.”

* * *

The cheers slowly subsided.

Then, their whispers reached my ears.

The reason is clear. It must be because of the lance I’m holding upright.

It was definitely a lance used in the old days. But there’s a reason for it. Hans Rodgon was a knight who was active when the couched technique was just emerging.

He trusted his senses and skills.

And he defeated countless challengers who challenged him with the new technique.

With this lance that everyone now ridicules.

Tap, tap, tap…….

I slowly urged my horse to circle the edge of the arena.

It was a kind of custom to show oneself to the crowd before the match.

Thud, thud, thud…….

Flower petals were usually scattered on the path the contestant was heading. They fell in front of me too, but the amount was definitely less than that of the Lord.

Because to them, I’m just a sacrifice for the opening match.

It was then.

Whirr-!

The scattered flowers floated in the air and came towards me. It wasn’t blown by the wind. It was an artificial movement.

I turned my head to see who it was.

Soon, I saw Fleta sitting in a spacious area on the upper level of the audience seats. She nodded, as if admitting that she had flown them with magic.

But her expression wasn’t good. Baranka next to her was just as gloomy.

It must be because they expected my defeat.

Clack!

I lightly grabbed the flower that was floating in front of me. Then, I carefully folded it and put it in the pouch attached to the saddle.

At that, people’s gazes briefly swept over me, then turned back to Lord Hogrde.

It meant they weren’t even interested.

‘I don’t feel so good.’

Even though I had foreseen it.

But I’m not old enough to complain.

The image can be changed. If there’s an obstacle, I just need to smash it and get rid of it.

I circled the arena and returned to where I had been standing.

After that, the contestants rode their horses along the tilt barrier, the middle wall of the field where the lances were crossed.

It was a ritual where the contestants passed each other and competed for momentum just before the match began.

Lord Hogrde, wearing a dark blue cloak, began to approach from the front. Because they were wearing seamless helmets, their expressions couldn’t be seen.

Just as they got close enough to see each other’s eyes, the Lord spoke to me.

“What’s with that lance? Are you trying to insult me?”

“I don’t particularly have any intention of doing that.”

“I’ll crush you miserably.”

That was the end of the conversation.

They moved their horses and began to move away with their backs to each other.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The sound of drums signaling the start echoed.

I and the Lord stood facing each other, far apart with the middle wall in between.

Someone sitting in the VIP seats on the highest floor of the arena raised his hand to signal the start. It was a man with golden clothes and blonde hair. I could tell without looking closely.

It must be the King.

Woo-oong…….

A horn was blown.

“Waaaaaah-!”

Then, as if reviving the cooled heat, the crowd’s cheers soared into the sky.

Tap, tap, tap…….

I slowly began to urge my horse.

I would increase the speed from the entrance of the middle wall.

I took a light breath.

Then, I focused my mind and closed my eyes for a moment.

Saaa…….

I felt the hairs on my body stand on end. Then, the feeling I had experienced so far came again.

A sensation as if my soul was being heavily crushed by something.

It meant that the incarnation of Hans Rodgon had descended upon my body.

The change came suddenly.

The heavy equestrian armor felt like familiar pajamas.

The grip changed on its own, and the heavy lance felt like an extension of my limbs, and the thick smell of soil digging into my nose felt like the smell of home.

Doo-doo-doo-doo-!

The hooves that had been moving slowly now pounded as if splitting the ground. I gritted my teeth, fearing I might bite my tongue. Then, I firmly grasped the shield in my left hand and lightly extended the lance I was holding to the outside.

It was a contrasting posture to the Lord, who was approaching with the heavy lance firmly tucked under his arm.

Whoosh, whoosh…….

Rough breaths began to circulate under the stuffy helmet.

Woo-oong! Woo-oong! Woo-oong!

At the same time as the crowd’s cheers became noise and dug into my ears.

I opened my mouth.

“Look straight.”

「 Look straight. 」

The first verse of the epic honoring Hans Rodgon’s Saga echoed in my head.

Then, an unprecedented sensation engulfed my body.

Yes.

At this moment.

I was Kain Lindayer and at the same time, Hans Rodgon, the genius of the lance.

Paat!

I placed the extended lance at waist height. The tip of the spear was aimed at the Lord who was rushing straight at me.

It was a recklessly free-spirited posture.

Then, the tip of the lance began to shake.

It wasn’t because I was losing strength. It was the technique that had raised Hans Rodgon to the best lancer in the kingdom.

The shaking of the spear tip is considered taboo in jousting matches that require accurate strikes.

But Rodgon’s senses instead shouted to release the reins of the lance.

And I followed without hesitation.

At that, the tip of the spear moved dazzlingly as if it were alive.

Thud, thud!

The hooves kicking the ground were conveyed slowly.

Time seemed to slow down.

The Lord’s shield running from the opposite side was visible. It was shaking erratically up, down, left, and right. It was persistently chasing the striking point of my shaking lance.

As expected of last year’s tournament winner.

But this was a trap. It was just Rodgon’s technique to draw the opponent into his rhythm.

As the two warhorses engaged in a fierce battle of wits, the distance between them narrowed.

“The punishment of the god of the lance.”

「 The punishment of the god of the lance. 」

The second verse flowed from my mouth.

Then, Rodgon’s mysterious senses settled in my eyes.

In a fleeting moment, the Lord’s weakness came into view. It was as if a dot had been marked. Stab here. It was as if someone was shouting at me.

Without delay, I thrust out my lance.

Ta-ack!

A diagonal angle was created as it dug under the Lord’s outstretched lance.

Joo-roo-rook!

At that, the Lord’s lance slid as if on a slide, heading in the wrong direction and disrupting his posture.

Shhh-!

I recalled the last verse towards his body, which had become full of flaws.

「 The thunder that bloomed from the dust. 」

Kwaduk!

The lance was fired like a bolt of lightning.

Rodgon’s Saga, which had reigned on the throne by kneeling countless challengers.

It was the moment when it borrowed my body as an incarnation and reappeared in the world.

Woojik!

My lance, which had struck the Lord’s body, was torn and shattered from the center. It was proof that a valid hit had been made.

“Kuaaaack!”

The Lord couldn’t withstand the destructive power of the lance charge.

Soon, the Lord, who had fallen from his horse and was floating in the air, flew several meters in an unsightly manner.

Koo-oong!

Soon, he crashed and rolled roughly on the dirt floor.

The thick dust raised by the warhorse’s hooves covered the Lord. Then, fragments of the shattered lance rained down on top of it.

It was truly a sight that the saying, ‘Thunder that bloomed from the dust,’ was unfailing.

“Hoo-uk.”

At the same time, the incarnation of Hans Rodgon, which had been dwelling in my body, left.

Joo-roo-rook.

Nosebleeds flowed, leaking down my chin and beading at the end of my helm.

No matter how much Hans Rodgon was, he couldn’t match Vane Lindayer, the hero of the continent.

That’s why, unlike Vane, who barely digested only the first verse, Rodgon’s Saga could complete the first verse.

But even so.

‘A hero is a hero.’

Strictly speaking, Hans Rodgon is also one of the heroes who left a Saga to posterity. There was a clear price to pay for summoning him and fully unleashing his senses and skills.

With the aftereffects setting in, my body and mind were tattered, and I struggled to pull myself together.

“……”

When I raised my head, the arena, which had fallen into silence, came into view.

Everyone seemed to have lost their words in shock, only rolling their eyes back and forth between me and Lord Hogrde.

“Kueueuk!”

Then, Lord Hogrde, who had fallen to the ground, struggled to get up.

Thud! Thud!

Then, he took off the heavily seated parts of his armor and whistled to call his warhorse.

Soon, after confirming his approaching warhorse, the Lord drew his sword from the scabbard attached to the saddle.

“Third Son!”

Then, he glared at me.

I could feel anger and injustice in his eyes.

The reason was clear. It must be because he couldn’t accept that he had been defeated by someone he had ignored and looked down on.

It was the moment when the Lord, who had drawn his sword, began to stagger towards me.

Swish!

Four figures appeared from who knows where.

“The victory or defeat was decided from the moment you fell. Put away your sword.”

Four knights, fluttering their golden cloaks, suddenly rushed in and surrounded Lord Hogrde.

The Brilliance Knights.

They were the guardians of the Capital.

“Get out of the way.”

Clang!

However, unlike the Lord’s request, the four drawn swords surrounded him.

“Don’t act rashly unless you want your head to be cut off, Lord Hogrde.”

“Shut up. I’m going to request a foot battle with the Third Son, so get out of the way!”

Foot battle.

Literally, a battle fought without riding a horse.

There are always those who don’t admit defeat even after falling from their horse, and the last resort of such people is usually the request for a foot battle.

But it’s a double-edged sword.

Even if you win, you’re just barely making up for your crumpled pride, but what if you lose?

Even that last bit of pride will be crushed, and you’ll be ridiculed by the world and never be able to get back on your feet.

“Then I’ll warn you in advance. Make the request with both feet on the ground.”

The Lord, whose feet were tied, trembled with shame and looked at me.

“Third Son!”

“What is it?”

“I request a foot battle!”

What a brazen fellow.

Clack- clack-

I slowly urged my horse towards the Lord.

Then, at a distance where we could see each other’s faces, I looked down at the Lord while riding on my horse.

“Isn’t there something you need to do before that, Lord Hogrde?”

Something to do.

When I mentioned that, the Lord’s face turned red, and he looked around.

Numerous crowds were watching this situation without even making a sound.

As if feeling the pressure, the Lord gritted his teeth and shouted.

“I will compensate for that in another way. Will gold coins be enough?”

Bullshit.

“I don’t need gold coins. If you don’t fulfill your obligations, I won’t accept the foot battle.”

The foot battle is also a competition that purely tests swordsmanship without using mana, just like the jousting match.

Even if that Lord is an expert, could he defeat me, who has been trained in the Lindayer family, a prestigious swordsmanship family?

Moreover, in a state where his body is injured from the lance charge?

“Eeeek…….”

But the Lord will accept.

Because to that foolish and arrogant man, the defeat just now will be considered bad luck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll go back.”

The moment I was about to turn my horse around after leaving the final ultimatum.

“Lord Dolan Hogrde declares!”

A resounding shout echoed in the arena.

Blood began to flow from the Lord’s lips, as if he had bitten them too hard.

I could feel his inner thoughts.

That it was just a trivial misfortune, that he was by no means inferior in skill.

“I acknowledge and repent for the mistake of having jumped to conclusions and looking down on the Third Son of the Lindayer family without having properly competed! If the Third Son accepts this apology! I request a foot battle to make up for that mistake and compete as true rivals!”

But that illusion that he considered a trivial misfortune.

“Will you please accept, Third Son?!”

“Gladly.”

In the end, he will lead himself to destruction.