Chapter Thirteen: The Four Talents of the Royal City

There was an awkward silence for quite some time...

Then, all four of the experts burst into loud laughter at once. The burly giant was laughing so hard he nearly doubled over, and even the goddess-like archeress was quivering with laughter. Only the mage named Bidaldo remained motionless, his face hidden beneath his cloak, his gaze fixed intently on Shaya Thunder.

At last, the blond swordsman Gree stepped forward, chest out, a disdainful sneer on his lips. “Little thief! To think you’d dare rob from the four of us—you must be courting death! Hmph, do you even know who we are?”

Beside him, the goddess archer Marsha gave a “kind” smile. “Gree, don’t frighten the poor boy. In these out-of-the-way places, I’m sure he’s never even heard of our illustrious names.”

The giant, Nigul, glared at Shaya. “Kid, we’re famous, and we won’t stoop to your level. Since you lost your weapon, kneel down and knock your head a few times, then get lost while you still can. Don’t make me dirty my axe—my blade does not take nameless souls.”

He stroked his axe blade with a sigh, affecting the air of a solitary master.

Shaya, enraged, burst out laughing. “You lot? Who exactly are you supposed to be? Are you really so famous?”

Gree and Nigul exchanged a glance, as if to ask, “Will you tell him, or should I?” The giant nodded and swaggered forward, looking down his nose at Shaya. “Kid, let this be an education. Listen well—stand tall and don’t go collapsing in terror! The four of us are the renowned Four Prodigies of the Royal Capital!”

The Four Prodigies of the Royal Capital?

Shaya shook his head in bewilderment.

“This is the ‘Silver Sword Saint,’ Lord Gree. He once trained in the distant, blood-soaked Lands of Carnage, and with the sword in his hand, he has severed the heads of demons! This lovely lady is Miss Marsha, known as the ‘New Night Goddess.’ Her legendary archery is as famed as her beauty! Here is Mage Bidaldo, whose magic shines as bright as the sun itself—when you see that dazzling light, it means your life has ended!”

Nigul paused, puffed out his chest, and with a hint of pride, continued, “As for me, I am Nigul, called the ‘Beast Soul Berserker,’ for it’s said I possess the mighty strength of the ancient beast warriors. Heh, when I crush your bones, try not to cry.”

He shot Shaya a condescending look. “I, Nigul; the lovely Marsha; the Silver Sword Saint Gree; and Mage Bidaldo—together we are the legendary ‘Four Prodigies of the Royal Capital: Ni-Mar-Gre-Bi!’”

He finished with a rapturous expression, clearly expecting the little thief before him to be so terrified by their fame that he’d drop his weapon, kneel, and prostrate himself to kiss their feet.

The Four Prodigies of the Royal Capital—Ni…Mar…Gre…Bi?

Shaya repeated the names to himself twice, and then he really flew into a rage.

“Damn it! Did you just insult me?!” Shaya exploded, furious. “Don’t think I’m some country bumpkin who can’t tell when he’s being mocked!”

Seeing that this foolish thief was still unrepentant even with death staring him in the face, the dashing Silver Sword Saint Gree snorted and stepped forward arrogantly. “Enough! I’ll send you on your way.”

The beautiful archeress at his side smiled faintly. “Gree, don’t waste time with him—make it quick.”

“Ah, Marsha, you’re too kind,” Gree sighed theatrically, drawing his gleaming silver cross sword. “Little thief, prepare to die. My sword is swift—you won’t even feel the pain.”

Had this line, this imposing manner, been directed at a renowned swordsman of the continent, or even a battle-hardened mercenary from Wildfire Town, Shaya might have been intimidated. But now, he merely sneered, refused to bandy words, and charged forward with his axe!

Gree sighed, raising his silver cross sword.

His movements were dazzling—the sword’s blade flashed silver, twisting in his hand, the red jewel on the hilt blooming like a drop of blood amid the white. His attack was as ornate as a dancer’s grand performance, even the twist of his waist carrying a touch of melancholic grace. The sword’s silver gleam fell like silent moonlight.

Compared to Gree’s elaborate sword dance, Shaya’s attack was brutally straightforward—a simple, overhead chop!

But as the axe came down, there was a faint sound like thunder in the air.

That simple blow of Shaya’s—who knows how many years of relentless practice it concealed? The woods around his mountain home had long since been felled by his axe, leaving him to trek miles farther just to chop firewood.

Clang!

A clear, ringing note sounded as the two figures crossed and separated. Gree, sword still raised, slowly turned, sneering at Shaya. Shaya stood where he was, a bit bewildered, staring at his rusty axe, now bearing a deep gash—so deep it nearly split the head in two, and a chunk the size of a palm was missing from the blade. So much for a three-copper axe.

Gree smirked. “You dare to rob with such a sorry excuse for an axe?”

He was about to add another mocking remark when—clang!—a crisp sound rang out.

His magnificent silver cross sword snapped into three pieces, the fragments clattering to the ground, leaving only the hilt in Gree’s hand.

Gree was stunned. Never mind his own skill—this silver longsword was the genuine article! Forged from the finest steel, if not quite able to slice iron like butter, it was still a true weapon.

He had not even had time to cry out when there came a series of hissing sounds—then a crash…

His elegant suit of mail split in two at the chest, falling in ragged halves from his body.

A gash ran from Gree’s chest to his waist. His armor fell away—but it wasn’t over yet. With a rip, the belt at his waist snapped, and his trousers dropped to his knees.

A chill wind swept across his newly exposed lower half, sending a shiver through him. All at once, his private parts were bared before everyone.

After a long moment, Gree let out a shrill scream, like a maiden ravished, spun around, and clutched his groin.

Shaya Thunder burst into laughter, striding forward to kick Gree squarely in the backside, sending him sprawling. “Sword Saint, my ass! If you’re a Sword Saint, then I’m the Sword God of the continent!”

Gree scrambled and crawled back to his group, the other three experts staring at the “thief” with strange expressions.

He yanked his trousers up and, flustered, spat out, “Bah! Don’t get cocky, you little wretch! I only lost because I ate something bad this morning and was feeling weak! Nigul, go teach him a lesson. Don’t let the Four Prodigies’ name be tarnished!”

Nigul hesitated, but seeing that Shaya’s axe was completely ruined, he regained his confidence and swaggered forward. “Kid! That didn’t count—my comrade was careless. I’ll take your life!”

He approached with a vicious grin. “Now that you’re unarmed, let’s see how arrogant you can be! My mountain-cleaving axe weighs forty pounds—with one swing, you’ll be—”

Shaya gave him a contemptuous look—if you want to fight, then fight. Why all the bluster? You might as well become a bard and make your living telling stories.

Glancing to either side, Shaya said nothing, but strode over to a tree as thick as a man’s embrace, wrapped his arms around it, shifted his weight, and exhaled…

Crack, crack, crack—the air filled with a deep, terrifying sound as Shaya tore the tree out by its roots, soil and stones tumbling from the mass of tangled rootlets.

He hefted the massive trunk in his arms, face calm and unruffled, and shot Nigul a cold grin. Nigul’s mouth hung open, his jaw nearly dropping to the ground.

“Hey, big guy, how much did you say your axe weighs again?”

Nigul’s grip went limp, and his battle-axe fell to the earth with a thud.