The Kingmaker System
Chapter 346 - 345. Dragons’ Chosen (1)

Chapter 346: 345. Dragons’ Chosen (1)

I pulled out the bag of snacks I had packed especially for this comedy show, along with the beef jerky meant for Nox. He settled beside me, his tail flicking in anticipation as we both prepared to enjoy the upcoming spectacle.

Carlos’ furious voice echoed across the clearing, his indignation practically radiating off him in waves.

Nox let out a low, rumbling purr as he tore into the jerky, while I casually popped a piece of dried fruit into my mouth.

Below, Carlos was still barking orders, his pride inflating his chest like a peacock about to be plucked.

I almost pitied him. Almost.

[Goddess of Wisdom has shared her popcorn with Defender of Divine Glory and Giver of Gifts.]

I smirked. At least someone appreciates a good show when they see one.

Arian rolled his shoulders, stepping forward with the ease of someone who had already decided the outcome of the match.

Carlos, on the other hand, still looked convinced that he stood a chance.

I took another bite and settled in.

The fun was about to begin.

Carlos charged forward with a roar, his sword raised high. He swung down with all the force his body could muster, aiming for Arian’s shoulder.

Arian didn’t move.

Not until the very last second.

With a simple shift of his weight, he sidestepped the attack effortlessly, Carlos’ blade slicing through empty air.

Carlos stumbled forward from the momentum, barely managing to catch himself before wheeling around to attack again.

He lunged, swinging wildly.

Arian didn’t even unsheathe his sword.

He dodged each strike with effortless precision, his movements smooth and relaxed, as if he were dancing rather than fighting.

Carlos’ frustration mounted with every failed attempt. "Stand still, you bastard!" he shouted.

Arian chuckled. "Why? So you can finally land a hit?"

Carlos snarled and swung again.

This time, Arian moved—fast.

In a single, fluid motion, he stepped inside Carlos’ guard, raised a single hand, and caught the wrist of his sword hand mid-swing.

Carlos’ eyes widened in shock.

Arian smirked—and with a flick of his wrist, he twisted Carlos’ arm, sending him sprawling to the ground with a pained yelp.

Carlos scrambled to his feet, red-faced and humiliated. He swung his sword wildly in frustration.

Arian sighed, almost disappointed.

He moved like a ghost—one step, and he was behind Carlos before the prince could react.

A sharp kick to the back of Carlos’ knee sent him crumbling forward.

Another well-placed strike to the wrist sent his sword clattering to the ground.

And with a final, effortless shove, Carlos was sent face-first into the dirt.

The clearing fell into a stunned silence.

Carlos staggered backward, his once-pristine armor now dented and scratched from the force of Arian’s blows. His golden hair, which he always took such pride in, was now disheveled, clinging to his sweat-slicked forehead. He looked nothing like the arrogant prince who had declared himself the future king just moments ago.

Arian, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

I smirked from my high perch, tossing a piece of dried fruit into my mouth. This was exactly why I had invited Carlos here.

This wasn’t a fight.

This was an execution.

I threw a quick glance at my brother and Eric who were watching this fight along with the Aurelius family’s knights who were standing behind.

Carlos let out a strangled growl, lifting his sword once more. His grip was shaky, his stance desperate. "You... bastard! You dare stand against me?! Do you know who I am?! I am—"

Arian cut him off. With a single flick of his wrist, his sword lashed out, striking Carlos’ weapon so hard it flew from his hands and embedded itself in the ground several feet away.

Carlos barely had time to process what had happened before Arian moved.

A fist to the stomach.

Carlos wheezed, his eyes bulging as the force of the punch sent him skidding backward, his boots carving trenches into the dirt.

He barely had time to stumble before Arian was on him again.

A sharp kick to the back of the knee sent Carlos crashing down. Before he could even think about getting up, Arian grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up with ease, his face inches from Carlos’ paling one.

"You’re no prince," Arian said coldly. "You’re just a spoiled brat who’s been handed power without ever earning it."

Carlos’ lips parted, but no words came out. Fear had settled into his bones now.

Good.

Arian smirked before slamming his knee into Carlos’ stomach, making the prince gasp as spit flew from his mouth. He doubled over, but Arian wasn’t done.

A brutal elbow to the back sent Carlos sprawling face-first into the dirt.

The battlefield was dead silent. The Captain of Royal Knights of Sestia, the very one Carlos had commanded to fight, stood frozen. Not a single one of the other knights moved to help him.

Carlos, groaning, tried to crawl away.

Arian sighed. "Pathetic."

Then, without warning, he stepped on Carlos’ back, pinning him to the ground like the worm he was.

Carlos let out a pained grunt, his fingers clawing at the dirt.

"Where’s all that bravado now, Your Highness?" Arian taunted, pressing his foot down just enough to make Carlos squirm.

I grinned.

This is getting good.

Carlos, trembling, forced his head up. His pride wouldn’t let him stay silent. "You... you won’t get away with this...! My father... my kingdom—"

Arian leaned down, grabbing Carlos by the hair and forcing him to look up. His expression was calm—too calm.

"I don’t care about your father," Arian said. "I don’t care about your kingdom." He let go, letting Carlos’ face hit the dirt again.

Then he turned his back on him, as if he wasn’t even worth finishing off. And to be honest, it was obvious since Arian didn’t even need to wield his sword to face Carlos. Well, even I wouldn’t let the Dragon sword to face the insult of putting it against a weakling like Carlos.

"If you ever try to challenge me again, I won’t stop at just humiliating you," Arian said over his shoulder. "I’ll make sure you never stand again."

Carlos lay there, panting, his face twisted with humiliation and rage. But he said nothing.

Because he knew.

He had lost. Completely.

I dusted off my hands, satisfied. "That was entertaining."

[Goddess of Wisdom comments that Carlos got what he deserved.]

[Defender of Divine Glory agrees with Goddess of Wisdom.]

[Giver of Gifts thinks Arian was a little too cruel but understands why it had to be done.]

I laughed. Oh, this was definitely worth it.

Arian turned his gaze toward the Royal Knights beyond the water barrier, raising a brow.

"Is this your future king?" he asked, voice dripping with amusement.

Silence.

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at my lips as I watched.

The show had been worth it.

Carlos lay crumpled in the dirt, unconscious and defeated. His once-arrogant words were now nothing but empty echoes fading into the tense silence. Arian flicked the dust off of his sleeves, his expression unreadable as he turned his gaze toward the real opponent—the only one he had truly come here to fight.

Eric.

Eric stepped forward, the embers in his fiery sword still burning, as if anticipating the battle. He had been watching the entire fight with impassive eyes, but now, they blazed with determination. He knew what this battle meant. This was not just a clash of swords; this was the battle that would decide the future of two nations.

Arian smirked, rolling his shoulders as he lifted his Dragon Sword. It pulsed with heat, resonating with Eric’s own fire, as if sensing a worthy adversary.

A gust of wind stirred the battlefield, making their cloaks ripple like banners in the air. The gathered knights, both from Arian’s and Eric’s sides, stood still, waiting. Watching.

I leaned back on my branch, crossing one leg over the other as I reached into my snack bag. This was the moment everything had been leading up to.

Eric, my chosen King, my pride.

I had trained him. I had seen his potential long before he did. And I had also warned him—power alone doesn’t make you strong. It’s how you wield it.

He had learned well.

And now, it was time to see if he could stand on equal footing with Arian, the man who wielded a sword that carried the legacy of another Dragon. It wasn’t simply a fight between two Princes, it was the fight between the two chosen boys who would lead the legacy of the Dragons who chose them.

Arian tilted his head. "You ready, Prince?"

Eric exhaled, gripping his sword. "Always."

Then they moved.

The first clash was deafening—Eric’s flame-covered blade meeting Arian’s Dragon Sword in an explosion of fire and heat. Sparks rained down like miniature stars, sizzling as they hit the ground. The force of their collision sent a shockwave rippling through the battlefield, making even the most seasoned knights stagger.

Eric twisted, slashing in an upward arc, but Arian parried effortlessly, pivoting on his heel to deliver a counterstrike. The Dragon Sword roared to life, its flames surging like a living beast.

Eric barely dodged in time, his breath hitching as the heat licked at his cheek. But instead of retreating, he pushed forward.

A sudden burst of mana erupted from his feet, launching him into the air. He spun, using the momentum to bring his blade down like a comet.

Arian met it with equal force.

The ground beneath them cracked, fire exploding outward in rings as the shockwaves sent dust and debris flying. The sheer heat of their battle distorted the air, making the battlefield shimmer as if caught in a mirage.

I clicked my tongue. He’s gotten faster.

Arian’s smirk widened, as if relishing the challenge. He stepped in, his sword carving a brilliant arc of fire toward Eric’s exposed side.

But Eric was ready.

Instead of blocking, he redirected the attack, letting Arian’s flames pass harmlessly by before countering with a devastating thrust.

Arian barely managed to twist away, but the tip of Eric’s blade grazed his shoulder, searing through his armor.

Arian let out a low chuckle. "Not bad."

Eric didn’t respond. He had no need for words.

Good.

The ground beneath them glowed red-hot, scorched from their relentless footwork. Each swing of their blades left trails of fire in the air, illuminating the battlefield like a celestial war between two burning stars.

They were evenly matched.

Arian had experience, skill, and the legendary Dragon Sword.

Eric had technique, instinct, and a fire that wasn’t just in his magic—it was in his soul and the training that he had done for years to prove himself to the world.

The duel stretched on, neither giving an inch. They were both relentless, their swords meeting in rapid succession, the sound ringing across the battlefield like a song of war.

Then, in one final clash, they both poured everything into their blades, striking at full force.

The resulting explosion sent a shockwave through the clearing, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. Flames erupted in all directions, scorching the earth as if a miniature sun had been born from their battle.

When the dust settled, they stood on opposite sides, panting, their blades lowered.

A draw.

I smirked from my perch, tossing a piece of dried fruit into my mouth. Not bad.

Eric had proven himself.

And Arian had found his match.

The fate of the nations had yet to be decided, but for now—this war had found its kings.