Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 390 (Part 1):

He stared intently at the mask covering Helmut’s face and muttered.

“I think I know you.”

For a moment, his focus had blurred, but it snapped back quickly.

“Was it in Basor? Four years ago, I was defeated there by a certain boy. He possessed terrifying skill, but it wasn’t just talent he carried. His sword bore the weight of someone who’d staked their life on it—a boy burdened with countless tales that an ordinary person could scarcely imagine.”

He pulled up the corner of his mouth and smiled.

“You’ve grown a lot, Hyde. I don’t know why you always hide yourself, but it seems things are still unresolved. You’re still as careless with your aliases as ever.”

Hyde—that old alias. Someone who shouldn’t know anything about him. Yet somehow, instinctively, he knew something.

Conversing with such a person stirred an odd sensation within Helmut.

Helmut silently repeated the man’s name in his mind.

‘Horten.’

Even when he’d glanced at the tournament bracket, he’d wondered if it could really be that Horten. But standing on this stage now, it was indeed him—the very same Horten.

However, the man showed no sign of recognizing Helmut, whose appearance had changed since their last encounter.

There’d been no need to jog his memory, yet Helmut impulsively chose to reveal who he was.

As if to make his presence here feel real.

“…Good to see you,” Helmut said aloud.

The same opponent. But if what had existed between them back then was a river, it had now become an ocean.

There was no more time for small talk. The signal rang out.

*Shiiing!*

With a sound that seemed to tear through space, Helmut’s sword surged through the air.

*Clang!*

The first strike was blocked, but the second left a shallow cut on Horten’s arm.

“Kuh!”

Despite the groan, Horten’s gaze remained sharp. He desperately tried to read Helmut’s movements.

But the sword, imbued with an ashen energy, traced an unfathomable trajectory before his eyes.

A blade that pressed forward without slowing or holding back.

Like death itself—unavoidable, chilling, and merciless!

Horten instinctively resisted the sword. A honed and sharpened instinct, tempered through countless battles.

Yet, despite his resistance, the duel was decided in just a few minutes.

*Clang!*

The unfamiliar sound of a sword clashing against the floor echoed.

“Dark, victory!”

As Helmut’s crude alias was announced, a roar erupted from the crowd moments later.

*Waaaaah!* Horten was a fairly well-known mercenary. To see him so overwhelmingly subdued left the spectators not merely impressed, but utterly stunned.

Though his skill of defeating opponents in a single strike during the preliminaries had already made him famous, some had wondered if he had simply been lucky to face weaker opponents.

Those doubts were completely dispelled today.

Helmut lightly grasped Horten’s hand and muttered.

“You’ve become more capable than before.”

There had been progress compared to the Horten in his memories. Though Helmut hadn’t gone all out, Horten had put up a surprisingly good fight. His defeat was inevitable, however.

“Cocky brat! You’ve definitely gotten stronger since last time.”

Horten’s expression was peculiar. It seemed both frustrated and resigned. For someone of Horten’s skill, such an overwhelming defeat was unfamiliar.

But he had to admit it. He had been utterly defeated.

‘I never thought I’d lose in the very first match of the main tournament.’

His luck couldn’t have been worse. Of all people, he had to face this opponent.

“What kind of life have you been living?”

Helmut didn’t answer his question. Instead, he posed one of his own.

“You seem to participate in martial tournaments quite often.”

“I join when the opportunity arises. There’s prize money, and for a mercenary, facing diverse opponents to hone combat skills is important.”

But for Helmut, there weren’t many opponents left who could help him sharpen his combat skills. Horten was like a stepping stone—nothing more.

Horten suddenly asked.

“Do you remember what else I said back then?”

Helmut quickly recalled. What had he said back then?

‘Let’s shake hands. I’ve got a feeling you’ll rise to a place where even I won’t get the chance to touch you.’

Helmut silently nodded. Horten gripped his arm and chuckled.

Controlling blood flow with Vis wasn’t difficult. The wound wasn’t deep, so the bleeding stopped quickly.

“If I were a prophet, I’d say the words I spoke to you back then have come true.”

For a moment, a flash of light passed through Helmut’s eyes. Horten clearly saw it—a beam of light piercing through Helmut’s abyss.

Helmut had a vision. One that Horten didn’t know about, but one that Helmut was determined to achieve through this martial arts tournament.

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