School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 213 --That Witch is Mine

Owen looked at Rose, who had a sweet smile, as sweet as the air around them.

Thus, he held Rose and leaned against the window sill, fully becoming a spectator.

The first round of combat had ended, leaving several individuals lying in the middle of the street, all seemingly minor characters.

The two groups faced off in the relatively open street.

Shortly thereafter, dozens more people rushed in from both sides of the street.

They violently kicked aside and threw the various market stalls that hadn’t been moved in time, creating a larger arena for the duel.

The combatants exchanged glances and then commenced fighting, employing close combat techniques.

Each move and posture was precise and stylish, making for an entertaining spectacle.

Observers from two factions were present, with the leader of the group from the west laughing continuously at the spectacle in the center.

The combat in the center was indeed captivating, as the fighters were evenly matched.

It took a long time for the victors to emerge, with one landing a punch that crushed the skull of the other.

The man who had been laughing celebrated, presumably because his side had won.

At that moment, a tall, thin military officer entered from the east.

Dressed in a white military uniform, he saluted both sides before introducing himself, "I am Boris, the foremost warrior of the Hundred Battles Regiment. I seize today’s opportunity to humbly showcase my skills. Hearing that today’s assembly includes many masters, I especially came to seek guidance."

With that, Boris stood tall, awaiting challengers.

The soldier who had narrowly won the previous fight was too exhausted to continue and stepped down.

With no one else coming forward to challenge, the situation became somewhat awkward.

The leader of the group from the east lost his patience and raised his voice: "Kate, did we come here to fight to the death or to compete in a tournament? If it’s a fight to the death, let’s all jump in together, stop with this nonsense!"

"I don’t have a choice in this matter," came the reply.

"Regulations forbid private battles between military factions. If we want to settle our differences, it has to be through competition."

"That’s easy for you to say, but whether it’s your men or mine, how many with a brain would volunteer to go first?"

Boris, still standing in the center, felt an indescribable emotion upon hearing his superior speak in such a manner.

Kate, nodding vigorously, shouted back, "Old Gun, how about a reward of five hundred silver coins for each round’s winner, does that sound good?"

"Fine!" The one called Old Gun agreed readily, casting a disdainful glance over both factions.

His gaze seemed to say, "Come on, you paupers, hurry up and take the stage. There’s prize money to be won, and yet you hesitate."

However, the situation remained unchanged.

The attendees were likely among the best in their respective military units, not driven by desperation or poverty, and not inclined to perform for others’ amusement.

A small amount of prize money did not provide sufficient motivation.

The awkward silence embarrassed Old Gun greatly.

Kate, across the way, also began to feel restless.

Could this duel continue?

The ease and mockery that had been present before had now evaporated.

"Although I’m not sure why you’re determined to fight to the death, whether it’s a competition or a tournament, you could also form teams for a five-on-five or ten-on-ten match," Owen, having grown tired of watching from the window, threw out this suggestion to the people below.

"That makes sense!"

Old Gun, not caring who the speaker was, agreed without a second thought.

"Then let’s have a fifty-two versus fifty-two."

"Bullshit, I only have 40 men," Kate couldn’t help but curse.

"Ha, that’s not my problem," Old Gun showed a rascally grin.

"Fair competition, being short on people is your issue, get on with it!"

These military ruffians, unaccustomed to one-on-one duels but all too familiar with brawls, surged forward from the east.

They took advantage of Kate’s side’s momentary lack of reaction to slay two men first.

"Cut them down mercilessly," Kate ordered in anger.

The two sides plunged into a chaotic melee, far removed from the fair duel that had initially begun.

Despite being outnumbered, Kate’s side didn’t fall behind, not because his soldiers were stronger, but due to Kate’s own prowess and cunning.

The real powerhouses on the opposing side were the simple-minded Boris and Old Gun, whose strength seemed not far off from Kate’s at a glance.

These two exuded an aura of dominance, instilling fear in everyone else on the field.

Even the veteran brawlers turned pale, occasionally forgetting the battle at hand as they cast fearful glances at the two leaders.

"Charge!"

Kate suddenly roared, pressing towards Old Gun with a single palm.

This palm strike was overwhelmingly powerful, causing the entire street to tremble.

The shockwave from the palm even made the buildings shudder, except for the inn where Owen was staying, which remained unaffected.

Every other structure seemed on the verge of collapse.

The signs hanging at the entrances of various shops were shaken loose, most of them crashing down in pieces.

Witnessing the incoming palm strike, Boris was horrified.

Such a blow, if landed directly on the face, could cause fatal injuries, or at the very least, immediate unconsciousness, leaving one vulnerable to further attack.

Despite seeing Old Gun’s face brimming with confidence, Boris’s concern did not diminish.

"Think you can take me down alone? Ha ha ha!"

Old Gun even found time to mock Kate amidst the tension.

As he laughed, Old Gun planted his sword into the ground and met the challenge with a bare-fisted punch.

In that instant, the howling fist wind made it difficult for the soldiers around to stand firm.

The more faint-hearted among them sought refuge in the gaps between the houses lining the street, gripping their weapons tightly, faces filled with terror.

With a thunderous collision, the two forces met and neutralized each other, proving to be evenly matched, and both combatants were pushed back two steps.

"Heh!" Kate let out a shout and launched a sweeping kick.

"Dragon Kick?"

Old Gun was taken aback.

He picked up the sword he had stuck into the ground, ready to block the attack.

This Dragon Kick was a powerful and aggressive move to those present on the field, not necessarily a Mystic Technique, as most soldiers knew a bit of it.

However, none had seen Dragon Kick performed with such mastery; to them, Kate’s version was an ultimate move.

Old Gun failed to block the attack.

With a thud, the strike landed solidly on Old Gun’s chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"Commander!"

Boris couldn’t help but cry out.

"It’s nothing."

Old Gun tried to appear strong, even as a trickle of blood slowly ran down from the corner of his mouth.

On the other hand, Kate did not relax his guard.

He assumed a defensive stance, cautiously watching Old Gun’s movements.

Sure enough, Old Gun made his move, infusing his greatsword with arcanergy and rapidly swinging it towards Kate.

Kate concentrated his power and sliced the ordinary greatsword in half with a single strike.

However, at that moment, he noticed Old Gun had closed the distance between them with incredible speed.

Old Gun’s hand, like an iron clamp, grasped Kate’s arm.

Old Gun’s roar echoed through the street as he lifted Kate and slammed him onto the ground not once, but three times, each impact causing Kate to see stars.

On the fourth slam, Old Gun released him, leapt into the air, and curled into a ball, plummeting towards Kate like a massive boulder.

A thunderous boom, akin to a clap of thunder on a clear day, filled the street, which was enveloped in dust, obscuring the view of whether Kate was hit.

The third formidable fighter on the scene, Boris, watched anxiously.

As the dust settled, a large crater appeared on the street, with most of the buildings on either side suffering varying degrees of damage—except, of course, for the inn where Owen was staying, which remained perfectly intact.

Old Gun and Kate stood on opposite sides of the crater, both looking worse for wear.

Among those present, only one person saw the moment when Old Gun descended upon Kate; Kate had sprung his legs upwards, delivering a fierce counterstrike.

After a few minutes of stalemate, Old Gun was the first to falter, coughing up blood.

"Boss..." Boris quickly stepped forward to support Old Gun.

At the same time, Kate could no longer hold back and spat out a large mouthful of blood.

Unfortunately, his subordinates were too frightened to offer any assistance.

Silence enveloped the entire street.

At this point, Kate’s side was down to fifteen men, while Old Gun’s side had ten more.

Both leaders were severely injured, but with the numerical advantage and Boris, a skilled fighter on Old Gun’s side, continuing the fight would surely lead to the annihilation of Kate’s forces.

Yet, Old Gun hesitated to completely obliterate the opposition.

Kate’s gaze warned him that if he pursued further, Kate would fight with his last ounce of strength in a mutual destruction.

"Enough," Old Gun declared.

"What are we even fighting for? If you want the witch, she’s yours."

Kate retorted, "Hmph, who wants that witch?"

"You know very well the grudges between our groups. Always bullying us because you outnumber us, even trying to take half of the mission to spy on the witch’s suitors, you bastard."

"Alright, my mistake, okay? I’ll leave the mission to you, and you can have the woman too. Heal up quickly; there aren’t many in the world who can best us."

"Is that so?" The young man who had been watching from the inn suddenly appeared before them.

Owen drew Ice and pressed it into the center of the crater created by their duel.

A dull thud sounded.

"Leave," Owen stated. "The witch is mine." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

With that, he walked back to the inn as if nothing had happened.

Kate and Old Gun cautiously approached the spot where the young man had pressed his sword, but a single glance drained them of their will to fight.

The hole left by Ice was bottomless, piercing through to an underground river deep beneath the earth.