# Chapter 12: I Allow You to Challenge Me
Just as the game advertised, the Continent of Strife was a turbulent and unstable world.
Conflicts between people, between nations, and even between gods—the fragile peace on the Mycroft Continent was about to be shattered. Adventurers would have to use their swords and shields, their courage and wisdom, to compose a brand new epic chapter on this land filled with blood and gunpowder smoke.
It sounded enough to make one's blood boil, but truly being in this world made one feel the suffocating oppression everywhere.
The people, terrified by the increasingly frequent wars; the continent, gradually becoming barren due to the erosion of otherworldly chaos; as black smoke slowly obscured the sky, dimming the sun, moon, and stars, human hearts grew colder and colder, losing all warmth. Everything that was once peaceful had passed, never to return.
This was what the so-called epic was like—rivers of blood on the earth, mountains of white bones, ancient kingdoms teetering on the edge of collapse, the flame of civilization like a candle flickering in the wind.
Of course, there were always those who could adapt to this cruel and oppressive world and live as comfortably as a fish in water.
Sitting in a large chair in the library's lounge, Joshua put down the book in his hand and looked up at the man who had spoken.
"I know you."
He spoke calmly. "Second Prince, Dimor Diamond. I didn't expect to meet you here."
The young man now completely stepped out from the shadow of the bookshelf, standing before the warrior and his Divine Mechanisms.
This was a familiar face. In his previous life, Joshua had seen it many times in newspapers about the Empire. Although the face before him was somewhat younger, he could completely recognize that this man was the current Second Prince of the Empire, the future Emperor of the Northern Empire.
Dimor had shoulder-length dark golden hair like his father. His features were not particularly outstanding, but his aura, like an unsheathed sharp blade, made it clear that he had inherited the blood of the Diamond royal warrior lineage. Hearing Joshua's words, the Second Prince, whose identity had been discovered, moved his gray-brown eyes slightly, seeming somewhat surprised.
Dimor was dressed exceptionally plainly—just an ordinary Imperial Guard uniform. Apart from the inconspicuous golden sun emblem on his shoulder, there was nothing to suggest he was a heir to the throne. If Joshua hadn't known his identity beforehand, anyone would have mistaken him for an ordinary knight from the Northwestern Plains.
"You know me?"
Thinking his identity had been well-hidden, Dimor subconsciously pressed his hand on the sword at his waist—not because he intended to attack, but merely out of habit. The Second Prince muttered to himself in confusion: "Even many of the ministers can't recognize me, yet you saw through me at a glance."
"Naturally. It left a deep impression."
Shrugging, Joshua's gaze swept over, appraising this tough figure who would later become known for his iron-blooded ruthlessness.
Dimor Diamond—he was a man who had perfectly adapted to this cruel and oppressive world. Unlike his mediocre elder brother, the First Prince, a ferocious beast lurked within this Second Prince's heart.
About six years from now, the current Emperor of the Empire, Israel Diamond, would pass away. Because it happened suddenly, he left no will, and the Northern Empire would fall into civil war. Many princes would wage merciless wars against each other to seize the throne.
Even the vast empire, which had not wavered in the face of disasters like the Dragon Calamity invasion, would suddenly teeter on the edge of collapse. Soldiers who defended their country would raise their spears and swords, slaughtering their former comrades. After the large-scale battle known as the "March Rebellion," the entire Northern Empire would be vaguely divided into seven parts by seven princes and princesses, even reaching the limit of fragmentation.
In the face of the impending Abyss invasion, such actions were nothing short of seeking death. But by then, no one could turn the tide and reverse the situation. The empire's division seemed inevitable.
And it was Dimor who changed all of this.
This originally obscure, taciturn Second Prince would appear from nowhere, suddenly revealing strength close to the Legendary rank. He would launch a long-range surprise attack, mercilessly killing his former siblings one by one. Finally, amidst pools of blood and the fearful gazes of the crowd, he would expressionlessly don the iron crown symbolizing power and responsibility, being crowned emperor in the central hall of Morlai Palace in the Three Mountains Holy City.
In his previous life, due to the campaign against the Abyss, Joshua had met Dimor a few times. Compared to the stern, iron-blooded, and unfathomably majestic emperor of that time, who seemed as inscrutable as the Abyss itself, the current Second Prince appeared far too young. Although his face bore the marks of wind and frost, suggesting he had experienced many battles, his eyes were still clear, unable to hide his thoughts.
—How interesting. Joshua couldn't help but think this, feeling somewhat amused. He hadn't expected the future iron-blooded emperor to look like this in his youth.
While the warrior was observing Dimor, Dimor was also observing the warrior.
He didn't pay much attention to what Joshua had said earlier. Regardless of whether Joshua recognized him or not, his purpose wouldn't change.
Rather, if the other party hadn't seen through his identity, Dimor would have been disappointed.
His gray-brown eyes swept over, the Second Prince carefully examined the warrior sitting in the large chair.
—This was a tall, steel-cast man.
Even sitting expressionlessly, the warrior was as imposing as a mountain. His crimson eyes held no fluctuation, yet they conveyed infinite oppressive force, making Dimor feel as if he were sinking into the deep sea, or facing a glacier about to collapse—cold and extremely dangerous.
"Impressive."
His right hand had already touched the sword hilt, but Dimor sensed something wrong. He immediately shook his head slightly, dispelling the illusion in his mind. After a moment of silence, he raised an eyebrow and softly praised: "No wonder even Father highly praised you as a powerful warrior. Just your gaze nearly made me attack first."
"I can probably guess the purpose of your visit."
Joshua leaned back in his chair, showing no intention of standing up. He continued sitting in place, speaking with an easy smile: "Thinking about it, this does fit your personality. But how did you know I was coming here?"
The warrior recalled some rumors about this future emperor. It seemed those reports weren't false.
"It seems you really do know me well... But this is just a coincidence. Before I knew you were coming to see Master Nostradamus, I was already in the Royal Library."
Not minding Joshua's attitude, Dimor slowly walked to the table. His gray-brown eyes fixed on the warrior, devoid of the fear and anxiety ordinary people would have, only pure curiosity and excitement: "Count Radcliffe... This is the first time I've heard Father praise a warrior so highly. As a Legendary expert, even the five legion commanders are merely 'not bad' in his eyes."
"But you—you are 'the best.'"
Emphasizing "the best" deliberately as his closing remark, Dimor sat down across from Joshua. His gaze swept over Ying and Lin, who calmly met his eyes. The Second Prince raised an eyebrow: "Are these your maid and butler? Though young, they have strong wills. Would you like them to step back a little?"
"No need to worry. They are also 'the best.'"
Shaking his head in refusal, Joshua looked at the impatient Second Prince before him and asked with interest: "Right here? This is the Royal Grand Library. Don't you want to change the venue?"
"No problem. Right here."
Unsheathing his sword from his waist and placing it beside the table, Dimor flexed his wrists, his gaze burning: "As long as we finish before the guards arrive. You can manage that, can't you?"
"Naturally."
The warrior glanced at the other's sword out of the corner of his eye. It was an ordinary cross-shaped longsword, well-made, with heavily worn leather on the hilt—its owner must have used it frequently. The scabbard bore traces of bloodstains that couldn't be washed clean. Judging by the amount, its owner must have worn it through countless treacherous battlefields. The resentment of the dead clung to it, testifying to the wielder's martial achievements.
—Rumors said that in his youth, the Second Prince had concealed his identity, joined the army in the Western Plains, and fought against the green-skinned orcs for several years. Only after the Orc King's Court was completely burned did he return to the Imperial Capital. It seemed those reports were indeed true.
Moreover, according to rumors, he exceptionally enjoyed challenging the strong. The future Imperial Sword, Brandon, was often dragged into duels with him under the pretext of inspection. Dimor even had the nickname "Duel King."
So now, was his action driven purely by competitiveness?
No, there were other things mixed in.
"Then, as you wish."
Too lazy to think too much, Joshua laughed heartily. He swept the books on the table aside, then rested his arm on it. Crimson Battle Qi condensed, and the warrior's bold voice echoed through the hall.
"Dimor, I allow you to challenge me."
# Chapters 13 and 14: Comparable to a Battle
Findar would never forget that afternoon in early spring of the year 833 of the Falling Stars Era.
It had been an ordinary day—sunny, slightly cold. He was patrolling the palace as usual until dusk, when he received a message from the city gate: "An honored guest has arrived."
Naturally, the red-haired knight prepared to go guide them as he always did.
(Count Radcliffe is visiting. He wants to see Master Nostradamus—let me think, the Master is currently organizing ancient texts in the Black Swan Palace Library.)
Thinking somewhat absentmindedly about his task, Findar headed toward the palace gate. His work had always been like this for many years. His family had arranged for him to be in the Imperial Guard precisely because knights could easily meet various important figures here in Morlai Palace.
Joshua Van Radcliffe—Findar had heard this name frequently lately. Recalling some rumors about this name, he couldn't help but make his expression slightly more serious.
Black Tide, Space-Time Gate, Dragon Slaying, Demons... This one was different from ordinary honored guests. While others relied on their power or wealth to make the palace's Imperial Guard knights cautious and unwilling to offend, Joshua undoubtedly made everyone careful through his extraordinary martial prowess.
"A Gold High-rank in his twenties, haha." Arriving at the palace gate, Findar couldn't help but let out a dry laugh. He was nearly thirty himself, only at Silver Peak. Although his Battle Qi mastery was approaching proficiency, he still hadn't touched that Transcendent barrier. Like his cousin Brandon, the gap between people was so vast that the red-haired knight didn't even have the heart to feel jealous.
"There will always be extraordinary people or things in this world, and I should learn to adapt."
He muttered softly to himself. Soon after, Findar encountered the warrior and his party.
To be honest, when he first saw Joshua in person, he felt somewhat disappointed.
This was just an ordinary black-haired man, dressed plainly, with a masculine, handsome face but nothing particularly memorable. Far from the rumored powerful, godlike warrior, Findar didn't even think he was a high-ranking noble like a count at first glance. Although sensing his aura revealed that the man before him was indeed strong, it wasn't overwhelming.
—Ordinary, too ordinary. Even his strength was just ordinary strength.
Of course, even if the other's appearance differed greatly from his imagination, the red-haired knight wouldn't show this disappointment. He still put on a warm smile and guided the way.
This was his job. Findar understood well that while rumors might exaggerate, they never came from nowhere. Joshua might not be displaying strong oppressive force now, but who knew if this was a disguise? Many people liked to do that. He just needed to serve diligently.
Along the way, the red-haired knight kept trying to converse with the warrior, and his impression of Joshua gradually changed.
This Northern Count was very easygoing. He wasn't like those archmages who looked down on everyone, treating everyone as fools, nor like other high nobles whose words and actions all revealed undisguised arrogance. Joshua's speech was simple and direct—neither arrogant nor hiding deeper meanings. Talking with him didn't require overthinking word choices or worrying about what honorifics to use. In short, it was very relaxed and pleasant.
—Perhaps Joshua was just such a person—strong in power and pleasant to be around?
Findar couldn't help but think this, but he soon discovered he was wrong.
In the last corridor leading to the Black Swan Palace, a group of Church clergy passed by them. The red-haired knight didn't pay much attention—they had been in Morlai Palace for two weeks now. He had even guided them several times and was already used to their presence.
But the warrior behind Findar didn't think so.
He frowned and 'seriously' glanced at the group of clergy.
Instantly, the red-haired knight felt as if his back was pressed against a layer of ice. A cold sensation seeped from his skin, spreading and penetrating straight into his marrow, piercing his soul.
Trembling slightly as he turned back to look at Joshua, Findar saw it—the tip of the iceberg of the warrior's true face, hidden behind the facade of shadow and easygoingness.
Just one glance, and those crimson eyes that seemed to see through everything left an indelible mark in his heart. Just the corner of his gaze made the knight feel an illusion—that all his thoughts had been seen through, both his surface humility and his inner casual judgments had been exposed. He had no secrets left from this warrior.
To break the fear gradually spreading in his heart, Findar took a slight step back. He took a deep breath and involuntarily placed his hand lightly on the sword at his waist. The weapon gave the knight courage, forcing him to speak.
"What's wrong, my lord?"
He tried to hide the dryness in his throat, asking in a normal tone.
Joshua didn't seem to notice the red-haired knight's inner turmoil. He merely glanced casually at Findar, then gestured for him to continue leading the way: "Why are there Church people here?"
The words were equally simple and direct, the tone equally casual and ordinary. The aura like a glacier or a mountain vanished in an instant. The black-haired warrior returned to his ordinary form, becoming that unremarkable man who didn't even show any noble bearing, like a passerby in the fog, leaving no deep impression.
But Findar no longer dared to comment on the other's appearance in his heart. He didn't even dare think about anything else. He answered Joshua's questions with extreme seriousness, respectfully guiding him all the way to the Imperial Royal Grand Library in the Black Swan Palace... and then, almost eagerly, quickly took his leave.
—No one would be willing to stay at a volcanic crater or stand on a cliff's edge, even if it were a dormant volcano with railings.
That would be irresponsible toward one's own life.
"...He's far away now."
Slowly walking away from the Black Swan Palace, only after stepping out of the palace gate and confirming he was truly far from Joshua did Findar begin to tremble. He grabbed his arms, his teeth and body shaking like a sieve, cold sweat streaming from his forehead.
Only then did he realize his back was already soaked with sweat. When facing dangerous existence, the body's instinct reacted faster than the brain, yet the knight hadn't noticed this. Findar wasn't dissatisfied with this—he was simply sincerely grateful that his behavior hadn't shown any disrespect.
"The rumors weren't false... This kind of oppressive force..."
But before Findar could finish his emotional sigh (gankai), he suddenly felt the ground shake.
As if the entire palace and the earth were trembling together, a noticeable tremor came. The surrounding maids and all the servants serving in the Royal Library looked up in panic, nervously glancing around, then looking at the ground.
"Earthquake?!"
"Impossible! This is the Three Mountains Holy City—how could there be an earthquake?!"
Although the tremor quickly stopped, everyone began discussing it. They frowned and prepared to leave the library. Findar was no exception. He quickly stepped forward, intending to get farther from the Black Swan Palace. But halfway there, two streams of inexplicable aura were carried by a cool wind, one of which felt familiar. This made Findar turn back in confusion to look at the now-still black palace. Beside the knight, the garden plants were blown by this cool wind—flowers closed, grass blades curled slightly, as if in fear.
"Could it be..."
Findar muttered, unable to believe his judgment.
Inside the Black Swan Palace, one magic array after another lit up. Visible ripples spread through the air like ripples on a lake. As the arrays operated, invisible magical power reinforced the building, stabilizing the slightly shaking hall.
On the first floor, in the now-empty lounge, the source of all the tremors continued to emit residual waves of power.
"Dimor, you and your father both like to get to know people through fists. Rather than an emperor, you're more like a warrior."
A low, clear male voice came. From this slightly amused tone, one could tell its owner was completely at ease, as if not using full strength: "That's a good habit. For a warrior, Battle Qi is the manifestation of one's life and will. It can fully represent a person's soul—at least more truthful than words."
"Of course! An emperor with only power..."
The other voice was not as relaxed as the first. His words seemed to come out one by one, but even so, he still used a cold tone to spit out a complete sentence: "Couldn't survive a single night in this world!"
After speaking, the owner of this voice seemed to invest all his strength, no longer wasting words.
The fluctuations from the lounge grew stronger. They even turned into a gale, sweeping tables and chairs out of the hall. Decorations and paintings in the corridor were also blown away by this force, rolling into the distance.
Inside the lounge hall, two men could be seen sitting face to face at a table, their right hands tightly clasped as if arm-wrestling. The black-haired man's posture was relaxed—aside from dark red Battle Qi flames flowing on his arm, there was no fluctuation of power on his body. The other man, with dark golden hair, had already clenched his teeth. Most of the power fluctuations came from him. Pale silver Battle Qi coursed through his entire body, making the wind fiercer and colder.
"You should have used all your strength from the start, or you wouldn't have had any chance."
The black-haired warrior, Joshua, said this. He looked with interest at the Second Prince opposite him and patiently explained: "Whether in battle or just playing at arm-wrestling, it's the same. The enemy won't give you the chance to slowly exert yourself and then turn the tables."
Beside him, Ying, who had sat a little farther away, frowned strangely and said: "Master isn't usually this talkative. What's going on?"
"He's probably happy to have met someone he knows."
Lin shrugged: "He also talks a lot when lecturing the black training group."
At this moment, Dimor was locked in a bitter struggle.
He had come here just to see what kind of person Joshua was—this warrior praised by Israel as destined to become a Legendary. As someone who had voluntarily joined the military as a frontline knight since his youth and survived to this day, Dimor was naturally proud. No other prince or princess had his experience, his will. His determination was unshakable, capable of overcoming everything.
His father, Emperor Israel, had also exceptionally praised him for this. He had once said that Dimor alone was his true child. But even so, the Emperor had never used the word "best."
For the Second Prince, who longed to be the strongest and do everything to perfection, this was the greatest regret. And now, this praise had been given to Joshua.
"Who is he?"
"Why did Father give this evaluation?"
"Is he stronger than me? Stronger than me, who has returned with honor from countless battlefields?"
This thought had been lingering in Dimor's mind. And a decision Israel made during the celebration had further steeled his resolve—he had to go and see the power of this warrior, rumored to be like a god. Even when he came to the library to quietly read a few books, this thought still lingered in his mind.
And coincidentally, Joshua had come to the library to find Master Nostradamus.
Fate? Providence? Dimor didn't know and didn't care. This Second Prince only understood that if he wanted to challenge, it had to be now. He could no longer suppress the battle intent in his heart.
He decisively issued the challenge.
And the result.
Was complete suppression.
"Strong... truly strong."
The muscles in his arm bulged. The pale silver cold Battle Qi even completely blasted apart the right sleeve of his military uniform. The surrounding air instantly became like deep winter—layers of frost condensed on the floor and walls. Dimor's expression was grave as he looked at the silent, expressionless Joshua. He spoke word by word, forcing out complete sentences from between his teeth: "You're about the same age as me, yet you have power that completely surpasses mine..."
This powerlessness, like facing an unstoppable ferocious beast (kuangbao)—he had felt it before... When was it?
Right, that time.
In that instant, Dimor recalled memories from several years ago in the Northwestern Plains.
That bloody battle of the Sade Plains, which turned countless people into bones and mud.
Tens of thousands of ferocious (kuangbao) orcs rode stone-horned rhinos, charging across the plains with unstoppable momentum. They swung their flails and giant hammers, roaring as they shattered every fortress, fortification, and obstacle in their path into fragments. At that time, dust flew up, obscuring the sky like smoke, as if about to swallow everything.
Dimor was at the very front line of that battlefield—the worst situation, the most dangerous battlefield he had ever encountered. Countless stone-rhinoceros knights were like living battering rams, easily tearing through the defensive line (fangxian). The ambushed Imperial army didn't even have a single heavy machine, completely unable to stop the orc offensive. Everyone could die at any moment.
And now, it was the same.
The black-haired warrior's hand was like a charging stone rhino, a falling meteor—filled with unstoppable force. Even using all his strength, Dimor could barely maintain, even being gradually pushed down. Powerlessness spread through his entire body. He knew he could no longer win this challenge.
Joshua's strength was comparable to a battle—whether in Battle Qi, power, technique, or will, heart, and determination, Dimor didn't feel he could surpass the warrior. The warrior hadn't even used his full strength, just using power similar to his own, gradually gaining the upper hand through technique. At this moment, the Second Prince suddenly realized—although the other's strength appeared to be only Gold High-rank, this was just the surface. Joshua's true power might have already surpassed that limit, reaching a higher realm!
But he couldn't turn back. Dimor gritted his teeth, determined—even if he had to lose, he would lose thoroughly. He still had a secret technique that could stimulate potential, temporarily greatly increasing strength. Although it would put a huge burden on his body and might not necessarily defeat Joshua, it was the only method left.
Just as this Imperial Second Prince was about to use the secret technique, an old, steady voice came from the lounge entrance.
"Enough, you two."
This voice contained a hint of helplessness and anger: "This is the Royal Grand Library, not your arena!"