That insulting gesture was the final spark in a powder keg. It instantly vaporized Hyakinthos's pathological pride and aristocratic ego.
"You... you wretched vermin—!!!"
A sharp, distorted shriek erupted from the top of the castle. Hyakinthos's face, which was beautiful enough to make an elf jealous, was now twisted with such primal rage that every ounce of his gentlemanly poise vanished. He drew his flamberge, the wavy blade flashing brilliantly under the sun.
"Praetorians! With me! I will snap his neck with my own hands!"
He didn't even take the stairs. He leapt directly from the third-floor balcony, his cloak billowing in the air like a hunting hawk as he landed squarely in the plaza before the castle.
As he landed, the heavy doors of the main keep slammed open. A dozen adventurers clad in high-quality, uniform armor filed out. These were the elites of the Apollo Familia—the Captain's Praetorian Guard.
"Oh? The General finally decided to grace us with his presence?"
Lynn lowered his hand and rolled his wrist, a relaxed smile on his face. "I thought you were going to stay up there and watch until the very end."
"Shut your mouth, you low-born filth!"
Hyakinthos's eyes were bloodshot, his voice dripping with murderous intent. "Today, I will make you understand the sheer stupidity of provoking the radiance of the Sun!"
Before the words had even fully left his mouth, he moved.
The speed of a Level 3 adventurer was vastly superior to the Level 2s Lynn had faced previously. Ninety percent of the audience saw nothing but a white blur. In an instant, Hyakinthos had crossed dozens of meters and appeared directly in front of Lynn.
The flamberge in his hand became a series of lethal afterimages. Like a sudden thunderstorm, it rained down from all directions, aiming for every one of Lynn's vital points.
"Die!!"
Facing this relentless onslaught, Lynn's reaction made everyone's heart skip a beat.
"Bloodhound's Step!"
His figure blurred into a haze. With a micro-displacement nearly impossible for the naked eye to track, he avoided the first strike by a hair's breadth. Simultaneously, the Carian Knight's Shield in his left hand rose at an incredible speed.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
A rapid-fire series of metallic strikes rang out, sounding like rain pelting a tin roof. Every one of Hyakinthos's strikes was blocked with surgical precision by that modest silver shield.
"Support! Cut him off!" Hyakinthos roared to his guard while maintaining his frantic assault. The Praetorians immediately fanned out, forming a semi-circle to flank and pincer Lynn from behind.
In a fight between experts, victory and defeat are decided in heartbeats.
Lynn's figure vanished again.
"Bloodhound's Step!"
He appeared like a ghost beside a female guard member. Before she could react, the back of the Bloodhound's Fang was tapped lightly against the nape of her neck.
"You're out."
The cold voice whispered in her ear. The red-haired woman stiffened. A sudden, precise force surged through her, her vision went black, and her body went limp. She didn't even know how she had lost.
"Daphne!"
Hyakinthos's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. One of his proudest aces had been taken down in a single encounter. From the moment she drew her sword to the moment she fell, it had been only two moves.
The process was so fast that most of the audience missed it. They only saw a red blur charge in and then drop like a sack of flour.
Hyakinthos's eye twitched as the ominous feeling in his gut intensified. Lynn didn't stop. His silhouette became a series of flickering shadows among the remaining Praetorians. Every flash of movement was accompanied by a dull thud and a falling body.
Among them was a girl Lynn remembered from the banquet—one who had tried to talk sense into Apollo. She was relatively weak, and Lynn made a conscious effort to go easy on her.
In less than ten seconds, every member of the Praetorian Guard except Hyakinthos was sprawled across the ground, incapacitated.
"This... this guy... what does he think combat is? A dance?" someone in the stands muttered, sounding as if they were in a dream.
Having cleared the interference, Lynn locked his gaze back onto Hyakinthos.
Hyakinthos was breathing heavily. He finally realized that the man before him was different from any opponent he had ever faced. Hyakinthos was fast, but this man's footwork defied all logic.
"Good... very good!" A sadistic grin appeared on Hyakinthos's handsome face. "Then let me personally see what you're made of!"
He transformed into a streak of golden lightning. The flamberge moved in a curtain of light, sweeping toward Lynn like a hurricane. Every strike was a blur; every swing carried enough power to cleave solid rock.
The two clashed in a whirlwind of steel.
Lynn's brow furrowed imperceptibly. The speed and power of a Level 3, even with Lynn's "over-capped" stats, meant he didn't have a massive advantage. This guy had clearly been groomed as Apollo's prize pupil.
If he continued to use Bloodhound's Step to dance around him, he wouldn't lose, but taking Hyakinthos down would be a tedious affair. It was a bit of a hassle.
His gaze drifted momentarily, landing on a long, slender estoc lying on the ground—Daphne's weapon.
An idea flashed through his mind.
Clang!
He used the Bloodhound's Fang to parry another heavy cleave, using the momentum to backflip away. As he retreated, he hooked the estoc with his toe, flipping it accurately into the air.
Lynn casually sheathed the heavy Bloodhound's Fang across his back and caught the thrusting sword firmly with his right hand.
Left hand: Carian Knight's Shield. Right hand: Estoc.
He raised the shield before him and lowered his stance. The tip of the estoc peeked out from the upper-right corner of the shield. He settled into a defensive posture that was the polar opposite of his previous agile, sweeping style. He was now a fortress.
In that instant, the entire atmosphere of the battlefield shifted.
"He... he switched weapons?" "Is he crazy? Switching to an unfamiliar thrusting sword in the middle of a match?" "No! Look at his stance!" In the Loki Familia seats, Finn's pupils shrank.
If Lynn had been a ghostly wind before, he was now an immovable mountain of iron.
Hyakinthos froze for a second, but his shock was quickly replaced by towering rage. This was a provocation! A blatant insult!
"Die!"
He roared, charging again like golden lightning. The flamberge swept low at an awkward angle, aiming for Lynn's legs.
This time, Lynn didn't dodge. He took a step forward—advancing instead of retreating!
Clang!
The knight's shield dipped slightly, blocking the strike perfectly. Simultaneously, the thrusting sword everyone had doubted shot out like a serpent's tongue from the gap in the shield.
Puchi!
Hyakinthos felt a sharp pain in his wrist as a line of blood appeared. The pain caused his momentum to falter.
"Dammit!"
He immediately pivoted, his blade flying in a relentless barrage of high, mid, and low strikes.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
A dense, teeth-grinding symphony of metal rang out. The audience witnessed something surreal. No matter how fast, how heavy, or how cunning Hyakinthos's attacks were, Lynn stood like a mountain rooted in the earth. He didn't move an inch. The silver shield in his hand seemed to have a life of its own, always meeting every strike at the perfect angle with minimal movement.
And that estoc became Hyakinthos's nightmare.
Every time there was a gap in his assault, that silver glint would thrust out mercilessly from behind the shield. The targets were always his wrists, shoulders, or arms—annoying, stinging wounds that slowly chipped away at him.
This wasn't the behavior of someone using an "unfamiliar" weapon. This was a technique that could only be achieved through years of dedicated mastery.
"What a cheap way to fight," one spectator couldn't help but remark.
Indeed. It was the ultimate "turtle" strategy.
Hyakinthos was going insane. He had all the speed and power in the world, but it felt like he was punching a wall of cotton—no, a wall of cotton covered in needles! The sword skills he took such pride in looked pathetic against that small shield.
"Get away from me!"
He leapt back, trying to circle to Lynn's side. But Lynn simply pivoted on his heel, keeping the shield centered on him at all times.
A jumping attack? Lynn just raised the shield a little higher. A horizontal sweep? Lynn just shifted it to the side.
No matter how Hyakinthos lunged or repositioned, he was met with that same despair-inducing silver shield and the calm, unruffled eyes behind it.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—!!!"
Unable to break through, Hyakinthos completely lost his mind. His gentlemanly grace was gone, replaced by a madness born of ultimate humiliation. He lunged back a great distance and held his flamberge high, his face flushing a sickly red.
"My name is Love, the darling of Light. This body is offered to my Sun!"
An obscure, high-pitched chant echoed across the battlefield, and the mana in the air began to boil violently.
"My name is Sin, the jealousy of the Wind. Call upon the gale to descend upon me!"
Golden light converged at the tip of his sword, forming a high-speed rotating wheel of fire.
"He's using magic! It's Hyakinthos's Zephyros!" "That's a homing spell! There's nowhere to hide now!" "Come, West Wind! Unleash the Fire Wheel Toss!"
With the final words of the chant, Hyakinthos hurled the golden solar disc! The wheel let out a piercing shriek, drawing a jagged arc through the air as it locked onto Lynn and accelerated.
Facing this "certain-hit" attack, a smile finally appeared on Lynn's face.
This is what I've been waiting for.
He slowly raised the Carian Knight's Shield. The silver glintstone on its surface flared with a brilliance never seen before.
"Carian Retaliation!"
BOOM—!!!
The golden wheel of fire slammed into the silver shield. But there was no earth-shattering explosion. There were no shockwaves. The magical wheel, capable of melting steel, was absorbed the moment it touched the shield, as if swallowed by an invisible black hole. It vanished silently.
The sneer on Hyakinthos's face froze. The audience held their breath.
A second later.
In the air before Lynn, four blue Glintstone Blades manifested out of thin air—larger and more solid than any he had summoned before! Each blade radiated a terrifying, heart-stopping mana.
It was Hyakinthos's own power—absorbed, converted, and amplified.
"Giving this back to you," Lynn said softly.
The four great glintstone swords, carrying the fury of a counterattack, shot back at a speed far exceeding the original fire wheel. They hammered into Hyakinthos, who was still stiff from the mana exhaustion of his big move.
"NO—!!!"
Hyakinthos only had time for one desperate scream.
KABOOM!!!
The violent explosion erupted right at his chest. His ornate breastplate shattered instantly, and he was sent flying like a cannonball, trailing a long spray of blood through the air before slamming into the dirt.
Hyakinthos struggled to crawl out of the rubble, but as soon as he moved, he coughed up more blood. Through his blurred vision, a figure walked slowly toward him.
When he finally saw clearly, a cold silver tip was pressed against his throat.
Lynn stood over him, holding the scavenged estoc, his expression still as calm and indifferent as ever.
"The War Game... is over."
The referee stood dazed for a long moment before finally remembering his duty. In a trembling voice, he shouted:
"The match is decided! The attacking side, the Hestia Familia Alliance... is the VICTOR!"
That trembling declaration was like a boulder dropped into a still lake, triggering a massive tidal wave. After several seconds of a silence so deep you could hear heartbeats, the Central Plaza erupted in a mountain-shaking cheer!
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!" "They won! They actually won!!" "Five people! My god! They actually took the castle with just five people!"
Countless adventurers, citizens, and even gods rose from their seats, waving their arms and offering their most enthusiastic applause for this impossible victory. This wasn't just a minor squabble between Familias anymore; this was a textbook example of the weak defeating the strong, a feat that would be etched into Orario's history books—a miracle of a siege led by a single man.
In the VIP seats, Apollo looked as if his bones had been removed. He slumped in his chair, his eyes glazed and hollow. The madness and distortion on his face had faded, leaving only a death-like despair.
"No... how could this happen?" he murmured, his voice so weak it was barely audible.
Two Guild officials in uniform walked up to him with expressionless faces. One spoke coldly, "Lord Apollo. According to the terms of the War Game, please cooperate with us in fulfilling the agreement."
Apollo looked up, a final spark of resentment flickering in his eyes. But when he saw the looks from the surrounding gods—a mix of pity and mockery—his fire died instantly. He had lost everything: his Familia, his property, and his dignity as a god. He was half-carried, half-dragged from the stands by the Guild staff. His retreating, pathetic figure marked the end of an era.
At the other end of the battlefield, the curtain of the commander's tent was flung open. Hestia shot out like a little cannonball. She bypassed the groaning Apollo members on the ground and threw herself at Bell as he walked out of the keep.
"Bell-kun—!!" "W-waah! Goddess Hestia!"
Bell was nearly knocked over, but he was immediately pulled into a crushing hug by his Goddess. The girl buried her face in his chest, and all the tension, fear, and worry she had suppressed burst forth in a flood of tears.
"Waaaaah... thank goodness... thank goodness you're all okay... I'm so happy..."
Bell was at a loss, only able to gently pat her back as his own eyes grew red. The three from the Take-Mikazuchi Familia gathered around, Ouka grinning like an idiot while Mikoto and Chigusa shared the joy of victory with tears in their eyes.
In the crowd, Eina Tulle had somehow pushed her way to the front. She watched the black-haired boy in the distance casually toss aside the estoc and stretch his wrists. Her lips curled into a complex smile—a mix of relief, pride, and a lingering heart-flutter.
At the Loki Familia seats, the noise felt distant, blocked by an invisible barrier. Finn Deimne stood up, his usual gentle smile on his face, and began to clap softly.
"Absolutely brilliant," he praised sincerely, his eyes never leaving Lynn. "Riveria, I take back what I said earlier. He isn't a monster."
The high elven princess looked at him in confusion. Finn's smile deepened, his eyes sparkling with the excitement and wariness of a grandmaster finding an uncontrollable chess piece.
"He is a storm. An unpredictable storm capable of changing the very structure of Orario. That boy... he will eventually stand at the apex of all things."
Beside them, Ais's golden eyes remained fixed on Lynn. What she had seen was what she dreamed of but could never reach: the realm of absolute, pure combat.
Higher up, at the very peak of Orario—the top floor of Babel—Freya reclined on a luxurious chaise lounge. Through a massive water mirror, she had watched the entire War Game from start to finish.
When Lynn used that incredible shield technique to reflect Hyakinthos's magic, a flash of stunning admiration crossed her silver-grey eyes. When he finally pinned the arrogant Hyakinthos to the ground with a scavenged sword, her breath hitched slightly.
She watched the boy in the mirror with his lazy smile, observing the light of his soul—one that burned to its limit in battle and then quickly settled into a silent, contradictory brilliance. Freya slowly sat up, her crimson tongue lightly flicking over her full lips. Her eyes gleamed with the predatory light of someone who had just found a peerless treasure.
The aftermath of the War Game was more violent than anyone expected. That afternoon, the Guild issued an official notice:
The Apollo Familia is hereby forcibly disbanded. Lord Apollo, due to his malicious actions in inciting conflict, is permanently exiled from Orario.
The news shocked the city. A powerful, high-ranking Familia had simply vanished. And another name spread through every corner of the city like a wildfire.
Lynn.
The man who, at Level 2, had single-handedly crushed a vanguard, cleaved a castle gate open, annihilated dozens of ambushers in urban combat, and finally dominated a Level 3 Captain.
"The One-Man Siege." This simple, brutal title became his most famous label—a living legend.
At dusk, the sunset painted the sky in a magnificent orange-red. In front of the former residence of the Apollo Familia—the magnificent Mansion of the Sun—the atmosphere was somber. The once-arrogant members were now dejectedly packing their bags, preparing to leave the only home they had known for years.
When Lynn, Hestia, and the others arrived, the looks they received were incredibly complex—resentment, fear, but mostly a resigned acceptance of fate. Lynn didn't care much for the looks of losers; he was too busy admiring the palace-like building before him.
"Tsk tsk, they really are loaded," he marveled, rubbing his chin. "Just the two stone lions at the gate probably cost enough to keep us in potato snacks for a year."
Hestia puffed out her chest, trying to look like a dignified "creditor," but the grin she couldn't suppress betrayed her. According to the bet, all of the Apollo Familia's assets, including this mansion, were now the property of the Hestia Familia. As one of the targets of Apollo's wager, Lynn was also entitled to half the spoils.
"Ahem! Lynn-kun, mind your manners!" Hestia whispered a reminder, though her own sparkling eyes were already busy planning how to remodel the rooms.
A Guild accountant was already waiting at the door. He respectfully led the group inside. Through the luxurious foyer and corridors lined with famous paintings, they reached a massive library large enough to host a banquet for a hundred people. The accountant placed a thick, beautifully bound ledger on the table and pushed it toward Hestia.
"Goddess Hestia, this is the inventory of the Apollo Familia's total assets, calculated and appraised by our Guild professionals. Please review it."
Hestia took a deep breath, feeling as if she were about to open a lottery ticket, and carefully flipped open the ledger. Bell and the members of the Take-Mikazuchi Familia crowded around curiously.
On the first page, at the very bottom, they saw the total amount written in red ink.
"Units, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands..." Hestia's finger trembled as she pointed at the long string of zeros. With every zero she counted, her eyes grew wider. When she finally realized how many digits there were, her mouth formed a perfect 'O' and she froze as if turned to stone.
"H-how... how many Valis?!" Bell gasped, his mind going blank. For the Hestia Familia, who until recently could barely afford to eat, this was an astronomical sum—a number they hadn't even dared to dream of.
Lynn, who had been watching the scene with amusement, chuckled. "It's just money, guys. Don't let it scare you..."
He picked up a glass of water from the table and sauntered over, intending to check the inventory and see what kind of gear he could trade for. Then, his eyes fell on the number.
Pffft—!!!
He spat the water right out. Lynn's eyes bugged out as he snatched the ledger from Hestia's hands. He squinted at it, even rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
380,000,000 Valis.
Lynn stood there, stunned.
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Danmachi: My Primary God is Hidetaka Miyazaki? (Simulpub – Ongoing)
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