Destroyer of Ice and Fire (Web Novel)

Chapter 230: Stingham After the Match

"Hurry!"

A medicinal team quickly stretchered Rinsyi off the stage and into one of the arena's passageways.

"Ryze, what use is it to go faster? Songat has personally said he doesn't have any ideas. Even if we bring him to the Office of Special Affairs' infirmary faster, it won't change anything," another medicinal master dejectedly interjected the leader's cries for urgency.

"Regardless of whether or not he can be saved… there are still facilities and medicines in the infirmary which are not available here. Thus, there is nothing wrong with getting there as fast as possible." The leading medicinal master had an extremely stern expression on his face as he responded. In his eyes, a genius of Rinsyi's level was a treasure of the Kingdom of Eiche. No matter what, he had to try his best.

As they conversed amongst themselves, the medicinal team flew through the medical passageway and exited the arena.

A luxurious carriage was stopped not far from the exit of the medical passageway.

Upon seeing the medical team rushing out of the arena, a middle-aged man wearing purple arcane master robes immediately descended from within.

"Master Noland?!"

As the medicinal team members recognized the man, they all simultaneously froze in place from shock.

"Ryze, House Baratheon thanks you for your efforts."

The middle-aged man, who had the same dim yellow glow coming from his pupils as Rinsyi, politely greeted Ryze and the other medicinal masters before modestly smiling and saying, "Please let us personally take care of the rest."

The middle-aged man took Rinsyi from the medicinal team and returned to his carriage.

As they watched the carriage slowly disappear into the distance, several medicinal masters couldn't resist asking their leader, "Ryze, do you think House Baratheon will be able to cure Rinsyi?"

"That's not what's on my mind right now… rather, I'm more afraid of the Kingdom of Eiche simultaneously losing two of its most outstanding geniuses." The leading medicinal master's face paled as he sucked in a deep breath of air.

"Two outstanding geniuses?"

Several of the medicinal masters felt a chill run through their heart as they thought to themselves about what might happen if Rinsyi died. Would Ayrin be able to withstand the anger and revenge of an incredibly strong force in House Baratheon?

Although Noland, the lord of House Baratheon, seemed extremely kind and gentle, he was nicknamed the "Hurricane's Executioner."

……

"Ayrin!"

At this same moment, the arena had descended into complete chaos as everyone began cheering and applauding.

Holy Dawn Academy team's members surged onto the stage from their dugout. But right when they were about to reach and hug Ayrin, he suddenly dropped to the ground with a thud.

"Ayrin!"

Holy Dawn Academy team's members were shocked, but moments later, Chris and the others heard a heavy snoring.

Ayrin's snores were so loud and clear that even the spectators in the stands immediately heard them.

"He fell asleep?"

"He managed to fall asleep at a time like this?"

"How can one sleep in a situation like this?"

Everyone in the arena became flabbergasted.

"It's because of exhaustion."

After quickly examining Ayrin, a medical team leader turned to Carter, Chris, and the others and continued, "Let him continue sleeping. It should be an afteraffect of fighting in the spiritual domain… his current state is similar to someone who underwent an extremely arduous training of spiritual strength and overtaxed themself."

"He has only fallen asleep? It's not some grievous injury?" After hearing the diagnosis, Charlotte finally calmed down in the stands as she patted her own chest.

……

"Man, why are these idiots celebrating when my wise divine and extraordinarily handsome self isn't there."

"If not for me, we wouldn't have won this match."

"Hmph, wait until I fix my hair, then everyone's attention will definitely fall upon me."

"But I wonder, where is Eichemalar's best salon?"

A human figure stealthily flashed through the participant's tunnel. Upon hearing the waves of cheers erupting from the arena, they began ranting to themselves.

The person was none other than Stingham, who had bundled up his hair with a piece of cloth and then covered half of his face with another cloth.

As practically no one had begun leaving the arena, Stingham was able to quickly move through the tunnel and exit without anyone paying attention to him.

"Stingham."

But as he beelined across the square towards the closest street, a quiet and composed voice rang out from beside him.

"Who are you?"

Stingham stopped and turned to look at the person who had called out to him. To his surprise, it was an abnormally delicate looking boy with hair flowing down to his waist.

"Who is Stingham? You've got the wrong person!" Stingham immediately replied as he recovered from his surprise.

"What?"

The long haired boy closely eyed Stingham as he replied, "It doesn't matter whether or not you admit it, I believe you are Stingham. That is enough."

"Are you insane? I don't know you." Stingham's eyes widened as he glared at the seemingly aloof boy and shouted, "I'm too lazy to deal with you."

"It's fine if you are too lazy to deal with me, but I must hit you once," the long haired boy replied.

"Hit me?" Stingham's eyes abruptly widened further.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

At this moment, three patrolling arcane masters of the Office of Special Affairs seemingly appeared out of thin air and quickly surrounded the long haired boy who wanted to fight Stingham in a triangular formation.

"Jean Camus, remember where you are. Do not mess around." One of the patrolling arcane masters quietly, but harshly said towards the long haired boy. It was indeed Jean Camus. No one knew when he had left the arena or why he was stopping Stingham.

"I'm not messing around," Jean Camus responded in a calm and friendly manner, as if he was just chatting with friends. "I just want to hit him once."

"Hitting him is not considered messing around?" Although they had already expected that a genius like Jean Camus would be quirky, his words still left the three patrolling arcane masters speechless.

"I am only hitting him once, so of course it can't be considered messing around. It's not like I'm going to severely wound him," Jean Camus calmly replied, as if he was saying something obvious.

"Is there some hatred between the two of you?" one of the three asked, "Why must you hit him?"

Jean Camus shook his head, "There is no hatred. It's only that I cannot stand his narcissism. You all saw what states his teammates ended up in after fighting, yet here he is by himself instead of celebrating with his team. If I don't hit him now, I won't be able to sleep well tonight."

"You think you can hit me just because you say so? Just who do you think you are?!"

The three arcane masters became even more speechless as Stingham, unable to endure any longer, began shouting, "Let's go, I want to see who will end up hitting who."

"Since both sides have agreed, you all no longer have any reason to stop us, right?" Jean Camus glanced at the enraged Stingham, then looked back towards the three arcane masters as he continued, "We will go to a training room. Of course, you all are welcome to come watch if you feel anxious."

"Okay! Let them watch me smash your face into the ground!"

Stingham's nose was twisted with rage as he stormed off.

"This idiot… do you even know who Jean Camus is?" As the three arcane masters watched Stingham march away, they shook their heads and silently chastised him.

"Come! We go to the training room over there!" Stingham shouted towards Jean Camus as he nodded his head towards the closest training room.

One of the arcane masters took a deep breath and then quietly asked Jean Camus in a helpless manner, "You promise to not injure him?"

"I'd rather not give the Office of Special Affairs an excuse to imprison me." A faint smile formed atop Jean Camus' face.

"Let's request for backup. The two of us will follow for now, you go and find some others." The three arcane masters exchanged glances for a moment. Afterwards, one of them left the group and moved towards the arena.

……

"Jean Camus is fighting Stingham?"

The arcane master who left went and directly found Liszt and Songat.

"He couldn't stand the sight?"

"These children are indeed troublesome."

Liszt and Songat immediately followed the arcane master out of the arena and rushed over to the training room.

"Eh, did they not fight? Who ended up changing their mind?"

When Liszt, Songat, and the arcane master reached the training room, they became stunned on the spot as they watched the two arcane masters who had accompanied Stingham and Jean Camus walk out from the room.

The two arcane masters nodded towards Liszt in greeting as they responded, "No, it's just already over." They both had extremely strange expressions on their faces.

"It's already over? So quickly?" Songat blankly stared at the two arcane masters as he subconsciously asked, "Who won?"

"You will know if you look for yourself," the two arcane masters responded as they looked back.

At this time, Jean Camus slowly walked out.

Jean Camus' appearance was still as composed and dignified as usual.

Only now, there were hints of satisfaction atop his face.

He silently left, only pausing slightly when he passed by Liszt.

Only a full half a minute after Jean Camus left did Stingham finally emerge from the training room.

"This…?"

A stunned expression emerged on Liszt and Songat's faces.

Stingham's hair had been turned into a complete chicken's nest. It seemed like half had been burned, while the other half had been shocked.

But the most striking aspect of the scene was Stingham's face, which had been beaten so hard that it was fully swollen. His nose and eyes had become virtually indistinguishable. At this moment, even a pig was more handsome than him.

"Haha!" Liszt and Songat couldn't help but erupt into laughter.

"I'm not Stingham!" Stingham suddenly screamed in grief and indignation.

"Relax… I don't recognize you either," Songat replied, as he burst into another bout of laughter.