The Crowned Greed: Transmigrated into a Demonic Dragon

Chapter 222: Interesting

"What do you think, Anas?" In her seat, Duchess Morgana asked indifferently as she observed the competitors, especially the male ones.

"I think only three might be worthy, my lady." Anas responded respectfully: "You see them, right?"

Morgana nodded as she observed three specific competitors.

The first was a man in a colourful outfit, looking like a clown. He wielded a staff and danced across the arena, throwing the other competitors into the hole without showing too much of his capabilities.

The second was a masked man who wore a dark cloak and a mask, his hands covered with a metallic gauntlet that he didn’t try very hard to hide.

He didn’t attack anyone, yet whenever someone got close to him, they burned immediately. Besides, his gaze was fixed on only one person, who was the third competitor.

He was a man in silver armor with snowy white hair and a blindfold that seemed to be attached to his skin. His swordsmanship looked like a dance of swords, hitting the same target several times in a row.

"Wasn’t that the boy you told me about?" Morgana asked as she examined Fafnir.

"Yes." Anas nodded: "He and the other are connected spiritually, but they are not the same person. I still don’t know where the other went exactly, and Fafnir wasn’t willing to tell me. All I know about him is that... he has some strange shadowy properties."

"That blindfold, for example, isn’t hiding his vision. It’s just an extension of his own body, and the same thing applies to the clothes he’s wearing under his armor. Plus, he’s incapable of talking for some reason. Whatever class or traits he has are indeed unique."

"Additionally... There are two people he has been avoiding since the beginning."

Morgana crossed her legs and stared at two individuals that seemed to have formed a team.

The close fighter was fighting like a drunk man, wielding a great sword that controlled silent inky-black lightning.

And standing behind him was a female archer with a wind spirit, striking her targets precisely without killing or crippling them.

"Hmm... do you know what the connection between them is?"

Anas shook his head and sighed: "I’m not sure myself. They were acting well enough with the one called Dante, but there seems to be a one-sided enmity between them and Fafnir. They look at him hatefully, while he doesn’t seem to share the same emotions mutually with them. It should be something personal between them."

"What about the masked man?"

Anas shrugged: "I don’t know about that either. From observing him until now, he seems to have a way to track Fafnir and he doesn’t seem to be doing that for a good reason. However, I don’t recommend considering him as a partner for Lady Emilia. He looks... unstable. Something is wrong about him."

Morgana covered her face in frustration: "So for now, we have a clown, an unstable man, and a two-in-one shadowy person who is followed by the unstable man and might have many other problems. Is this stupid competition going to be a failure?"

Turning her head, she looked at Emilia: "Luck truly isn’t on your side, huh? If I don’t find anyone suitable, you may not get yourself a husband. Is there anyone you think is suitable? Any gut feeling or anything?"

Emilia stopped eating, no, devouring the watermelon and looked at Morgana suspiciously: "Why do you want my opinion? I thought you said that it’s meaningless because I don’t know my own good. My opinion is I don’t want to marry!"

Morgana shook her head: "It was about the idea of marriage itself, as your grandfather and I won’t always be there for you. I have my own duties to fulfill, and you grandfather... doesn’t really have time to do anything. However, you can still choose a partner yourself if you convince me he’s good enough. I’m not omniscient to know everything. I can still make mistakes."

Emilia frowned and rubbed her jaw, examining all the competitors.

If she could... she wouldn’t even think about marriage at all. She didn’t really like the idea of being with a random man who was chosen only for his capabilities and potential.

She wasn’t afraid that her future husband would mistreat her. Her mother and, most importantly, her grandfather would beat the hell out of her future husband if he dared to even insult her.

It was just that the idea didn’t feel right to her for some reason. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything about that.

’Gut feeling, huh? Hmm...’

As Emilia examined the competitors, her eyes suddenly stopped on Fafnir.

For some reason, she felt that his sword dance was... familiar?

’Do I know someone with a similar style? Is he related to such a person?’ Emilia immediately recalled all the swordmasters she had seen throughout her entire life.

As the daughter of the duchess, she had seen countless sword techniques before, so it was possible to know someone who had used his technique.

But despite her strong mind, she couldn’t recall it.

"TRIPLE KILL! THE SILVER KNIGHT IS PROVEN TO BE UNSTOPPABLE ONCE AGAIN!" The narrator screamed in excitement as Fafnir beheaded two different people simultaneously before absorbing the vitality of a third.

Wasting no time, he immediately charged toward the fourth and slashed. His sword passed through his enemy’s arms, then switched its path like a water flow, passing through his enemy’s neck, followed by the stomach before slicing off the legs. The path of his sword made a clear S on the body of his opponent.

"TEAR THEM APART!"

"I WILL BET ALL MY MONEY ON YOU!"

"He looks like a real angel of war..."

"Shut up, you pervert!"

The observers’ blood boiled with excitement at Fafnir’s flawless movements. Slowly, he was becoming the favourite champion of many of them.

’I hate to admit it, but that’s actually impressive, considering his age and rank.’ Emilia casually grabbed a cup of fresh juice and took rapid sips while watching.

"Did you choose the mute guy?" Morgana tilted her head and teased: "You hate it when someone cuts you off while you’re talking... not a bad choice."

"No, I didn’t!" Emilia didn’t even glance at her mother as she continued examining Fafnir: "Mom, have you seen anyone fighting with a similar technique before?"

"I don’t think so." Morgana shook her head: "Anas, how old is he again?"

Anas smiled softly and whispered: "When he registered for the competition... he was only 16, and the same thing for Dante. So apparently, he and the other one had awakened their classes recently."

At this piece of information, neither Morgana nor Emilia could hide their shock.

The boredom in Morgana’s eyes disappeared for the first time since the beginning of the competition.

The corners of her lips curled upward: "Interesting."