Almark – Northern Sword, Southern Wand

The referee, Bowen, stands beside the two and verbally confirms the rules.

Almark and Polois nodded silently as they were all clear.

Bowen gently raised his hand as he watched them nod.

Along with that, the athlete's name is introduced in a female voice.

First, Polois's name was read out.

Normally, he lowered his head or raised his hand to match it, but Polois didn't do either.

After the name was called, Polois gracefully took three steps back.

The audience starts screaming about what starts.

As the audience watched, Polois slowly lifted the sword in his right hand and pointed the tip towards Almark.

Your left hand is on your hips.

Then slowly shake the sword pointing at Almark on his left shoulder.

His spare gaze, including a smile, remained directed at Almark.

For a moment.

At the next moment, Polois shook his sword down at once, and once again threw the tip of his sword straight at Almark.

"The Stout family leader Merik is his second son, Polois!

The voice of Polois often echoes through the venue.

Oops, a sigh of applause starts in the audience seat.

"It's the name of a traditional duel of nobility in the Kingdom of Galai."

The torque seen in the support seat explains to Garaine and the others.

"When a nobleman comes to a duel with pride and honor, he will be named after him."

He's a fancy guy.

Deg frowned.

It's cool, though.

Add honest thoughts.

"I can't do it to civilians, so I'm doing it on purpose. I can't say I have a good taste."

The torque goes on saying that if I were Almark.

"I can't stay calm if you do that."

Almark looked freshly at the name of the polois.

I see.

Is there such a thing?

A nostalgic sense of exhilaration envelopes Almark's chest.

Almark looks around, wanting to know what the emotion is.

Spectator seat.

Support seat.

A crowd of people watching over us both.

And now, in front of you, the name of Polois.

Yeah, that's right.

Almark noticed.

Similar.

This is similar.

The battlefield in the north.

Mercenaries fight each other's horses.

For example, when famous mercenary regiments look at each other in battle.

For example, when the war situation lasted for several days.

The mercenaries of the north sometimes entrust the situation to the horsemen, as in rituals.

Winning or losing a battle between brave men may affect the state of the battle on that day and affect the victory or defeat of the entire battle.

That's why the first rider is the beauty of the battlefield.

With the pride of the mercenary regiment to which they belong and the course of the battle of the day, as many warriors watched, one strong man from each side advanced.

Even the mercenaries in battle are not allowed to take action at this time.

And they fight each other, honorably and honorably.

Until one of them loses his life or the warriors around him can't bear it.

Almark doesn't have any experience in the field either.

There was no way that Almark, the child, could be released to fight with the pride of a mercenary regiment.

But I admired it.

Do you have any mercenaries who don't yearn for a ride?

My father Raise.

Axe master Gaizac and his father Yargus.

Sometimes, Captain Jerus himself.

Only one escapes from the ranks of warriors, bearing the pride, honor and victory of all.

How many times has Almark stared at his back?

I want to be too.

Someday I will be.

With such a burning vision.

I thought I'd never get another chance to leave the North.

Like riding on the battlefield.

Of course, this is not a real battlefield.

But can I do it?

If I may, I will faithfully and honorably answer his name for the pride, honor and victory of my dear companions.

On the venue, Almark's name is read out.

Almark looked at Polois and smiled and slowly took three steps back.

Then slowly point the sword you had towards your face, Polois.

Let's see if you're willing to make a name for yourself.

Polois smiled mockingly at his lips.

Can you do it?

A bewildered sigh leaked from the audience seat.

However, Almark's movements were different from those of Polois.

Almark leans the sword horizontally to the right with enough speed to make a wind chip.

Slowly turn left from there.

See the warriors lined up.

When the sword that had been turned to the left was stopped there and slowly returned to the front again, Almark pushed the sword straight out into the sky at once.

See also the gods of heaven.

Almark's face, looking up at heaven with his sword, slowly turned forward again. Sword pattern slowly pulled to chest to match. With the fist that holds it, I slap my chest.

Strike hard.

My courage is here.

It's a combination of breathtaking roughness and elegance that people watched.

A movement that is not by any means sophisticated, but is somehow divine.

No one had ever actually seen it.

But I was just overwhelmed by the motion without hesitation.

The northern way.

A ritual of mercenary knockdown.

A warrior's name.

With that power, Polois opened his eyes.

Almark kept an eye on Polois and told him in his heart.

Black Wolf Cavalry Lieutenant “Shadow Fang” Raise is the eldest son.

And I can put all my thoughts into the last word.

It's Almark.