The Adventures of an Overpowered Knight in Another World

Chapter 696- The Man Not Chosen By the Gods (4)

Even Reinhardt could feel it, the tension tightening like a drawn blade. His eyes narrowed as he tried to process everything.

The woman continued.

"The position of an Arcanist is extremely sacred and below only the Seven Gods in Valdonia. It cannot be selected randomly. Only those individuals who have distinguished themselves shall be considered for the position."

Reinhardt’s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed it. So this was not merely recruitment. It was selection through survival, a system where only those who could stand at the peak of this war would be granted that title.

The woman continued. "To qualify, you must accomplish one of the sanctioned feats of merit. Either slay a Dragon Lord recognized under Imperial threat classification, or achieve equivalent contribution in the subjugation of an S Class designated demi human nation."

Everyone tried to process the information, wearing various kinds of expressions. Just as they expected, rising to the position of Arcanist was not easy. The hurdle set was quite high and demotivated many of the warriors.

Of course, there were also those who were eager to rise to the challenge. After all, in this era, there was nothing more glorious than becoming an Arcanist who served the will of the Seven Gods.

Reinhardt noticed that his ’own self’ was also brimming with expectation and excitement.

"Arcanists, huh..." He could not help but mutter to himself. He remembered the memory where his other self fought five individuals.

Were those the ones he fought? If so, how did things progress to that point?

While he was having such thoughts, the woman dropped another bomb.

"For those who distinguish themselves beyond expectation... they will not only be granted the rank of Arcanist, but also the class of Divine Paladin by the gods themselves."

Murmurs spread through the hall like a dam that had broken. All the warriors below broke out in quiet discussion.

Reinhardt, too was quite affected. When he heard those words, his expression shifted imperceptibly.

Divine Paladin... that was the class his current self held. Yet the way the woman who looked like the Queen spoke about it, it appeared that the class also existed in the ancient era.

What’s more, given the way the warriors reacted, the class seemed to have been passed down or redefined to mean something greater during this turbulent time.

The murmurs did not fade quickly. Instead, they deepened like a rising tide that refused to settle.

"Gasp... Divine Paladin... that title... it shall be mine."

"Hah, dream on. To bear that title means your name is acknowledged directly by the Seven. I am far more worthy for such anointment..."

The warriors bickered fiercely.

Reinhardt stood within the memory, listening without reacting outwardly. But internally, he could feel the weight of what they were describing. A thought surfaced in his mind.

Even in this era, this class held such reverence. Then could it be that a portion of why he held such prestige and respect in the current era was due to this class?

Even with the history forgotten, the class that had etched its name into the past still continued to inspire and evoke respect.

While such chaotic thoughts were swirling in his head, the vision once again shifted. However, unlike the previous times when it transitioned gently, this time it felt as though someone had pressed a fast-forward button.

Everything unfolded at impossible speed. Reinhardt stood high up in the sky, observing as the continent of Valdonia went through rapid changes.

Cities ignited into war, continents fractured by marching armies, skies tore open under aerial forces and draconic shadows. Kingdoms that once appeared in the diary rose and fell in the span of heartbeats. Borders rewrote themselves like ink washed in rain.

Everything unfolded simultaneously, or one after another, so quickly that even Reinhardt had difficulty keeping pace.

Too many deaths. Too many names erased before they could even be remembered. It might have been only a few fleeting moments, but by Reinhardt’s estimate, more than twenty years had passed.

At this moment, the acceleration slowed, and the vision sharpened into a single point. Before him unfolded a battlefield.

Wind howled crazily. Mountains and terrain had been reshaped into jagged ruins. The sky was dim, thick with ash and the lingering pressure of countless high tier clashes.

There, at the center of all the destruction, he saw the silhouette of a race that had almost become a myth in present day Valdonia.

A beast so majestic that it blotted out the sky. Its presence distorted the air, pressing down on every life form beneath it as though declaring itself the absolute ruler of all races.

Like a force of nature that compelled one to bow down. That’s right, it was a dragon.

But it was no ordinary dragon. Even among its kind, it held an elevated position.

And facing such a majestic beast was none other than himself. Or more specifically, his other self.

He was donned in armor no less impressive than the holy armor of the present times. He held a sword in his hand and parried every attack the dragon threw at him.

By now, he was no longer the same youth uncertain of his future that Reinhardt had seen back in the hall. He was no longer the unpolished hopeful young man standing among a group of soldiers.

No, the one facing the dragon was a warrior carved by war.

His posture was steady, his eyes hardened into something almost inhumanly focused. Every movement carried the precision of someone who had survived battles that should have broken him long ago.

He looked like the very knight he had seen facing those five impossibly strong individuals from the earlier memory.

Beside him stood another combatant, a powerful warrior whose presence radiated strength in its own right.

Together, they formed a line against the dragon’s overwhelming dominance.

From an observer’s view, it might seem like the two warriors were equal in strength and fought in tandem to stop the dragon’s advance.

However, Reinhardt could see it more clearly.

While his other self fought to protect the people retreating behind him, the other warrior fought to earn a name for himself. His attacks were reckless, indiscriminate even. He fought with a fervor that not only put himself in danger, but also his allies.

Compared to this, his other self carried more than his share. Each exchange, each repositioning, each intercepted strike, he made sure that the battlefield did not go past him and reach his friends.

Yet despite all that, the dragon judged him the greater threat, and most of its attention was on him. Of course, the other warrior wasn’t weak, but there was a difference in adaptability, in instinct, in the way pressure was absorbed and redirected.

Clearly, Reinhardt’s other self handled it better than the other warrior.

After all, the creature they were facing was a dragon.

The beast moved. A sweeping strike from its massive tail shattered the ground in a single motion. The expression of the retreating forces turned pale.

Even though the attack was far away, just the violent gale stirred by the tail was enough to make their instincts scream in alarm.

Just then, Reinhardt’s other self jumped forward and met the attack head-on. Sword met tail or rather, a mountain covered in scales.

The impact sent shockwaves across the battlefield, forcing even the distant soldiers to brace themselves.

For a moment, the dragon’s movement slowed.

The other warrior used this opportunity to deal damage to the dragon, no matter how insignificant.

The battle escalated. His other self fought defensively, but every attack dealt some damage and forced the dragon to focus only on him. Little by little, the damage accumulated.

Time passed. Blood painted the ground red. The dragon’s scales were cracked, and blood spurted from its wounds.

A massive gash covered its midsection, blood seeped from the wound, and one of its eyes was blinded by a sword plunged deep inside. It looked like victory was within reach.

Then the flow of the battle took a sharp turn.

Furious and on death’s door, the dragon put everything it had into a last ditch effort. Its chest expanded unnaturally, light gathering deep within its throat. The air around it began to collapse inward, as if the world itself were being drawn into a singular point.

Seeing this, Reinhardt’s other self froze for a fraction of a second.

His gaze shifted, not toward the dragon, but behind himself, toward his retreating friends. He quickly realized the dragon’s intention.

The target of its last and strongest attack was not him, but the people behind him. The dragon wanted to kill those warriors before it died.

It was too late to give any warning. The dragon unleashed its breath.

A catastrophic beam of condensed destruction tore across the battlefield, aimed directly toward the retreating army.

Without hesitation, Reinhardt’s other self moved. He stepped directly into the path of the attack.

The light swallowed him. In an instant, his armor cracked under overwhelming force.