Prologue

“Hey, don’t you think she was pretty cruel? Did I do anything that bad?”

“You did.”

“You made way too many people hate you.”

“Honestly, I hate you too. I’d rather you went somewhere else already. I’m only with you because you said you’d treat me. This is a one-off.”

“C’mon, don’t be so cold... Fine, I’ll be careful from now on...”

If there were winners, then there were also losers.

The preliminaries of Altoire’s martial arts tournament had come to a close. The winners remained on the tournament island while the losers left on the next available airship. Only those associated with the tournament were allowed on the island now.

The losers first returned to the capital. Many of the fighters had come from afar to make it to the tournament. Unless they had a specific reason to flee, there was no need for them to leave the country immediately. As a result, the adventurer’s guild was flooded with people. Tables were filled, drinks were being ordered every second, and conversation never faltered. Business was positively booming.

Most of the talk was the competitors reflecting on what went wrong during the prelims, though, so the atmosphere of the room was gloomy.

“I have no right to keep calling myself an adventurer...”

“It’s your own fault.”

“I mean, hey, look on the bright side. Getting your ass so thoroughly handed to you has gotta kill the bloodlust toward you, surely.”

“True. Anyone who was after your head probably doesn’t feel the need to chase you anymore. I still want to, though.”

The one who stood out most, though, was Avan, the adventurer who’d probably had the worst loss of the prelims—maybe the whole tournament, as he now complained to his fellow countrymen, tears in his eyes. Every table was talking about roughly the same thing.

Put bluntly, it was a bunch of losers gathering to lick their wounds. If they were here, they had lost. All of them had been eliminated in prelims. A few of the patrons hadn’t competed at all. There wasn’t a single winner among them.

The two tygre brothers had been so confident in themselves before the prelims and yet now here they were, sighing to themselves all huddled up in the corner. They were big, looked strong, had a ton of people rooting for them, and had been increasing in popularity, especially with children. It had filled them with so much motivation.

And yet here they both were, eliminated before the tournament truly began. They’d have been happy if even one of them had made it through, but alas.

“Oh yeah, where’s Headsplitter?” one of the brothers asked.

“He said he’d get in the way if he drank indoors, so he’s outside. There’re some other guys with him, even some regular folk. Seems we’re causing quite the commotion.”

“Seriously? Well, I guess there were about ten thousand people eliminated.”

Only about three hundred fighters had survived to see the next round of matches and all of the losers had been ejected from the island at once. There was nowhere near enough space in the guild for all of them. Of course, there were those who had already returned home, but they seemed to be in the minority; most were sticking around, curious about how the tournament would end.

“Planning to enter the losers’ matches?”

“I’m good... Seeing who got through to the main matches was enough to discourage me.”

“I get you. Leeno’s bad news. Is she even human?”

“No clue. Her match with Avan was insane. She had to have been holding back against everyone else she fought against.”

“Didn’t people say that she entered the bare-handed category because she’d win too easily with a weapon?”

“And she’s the leading favorite to win bare-handed too. Monsters really do exist, huh?”

These were the conversations that could be heard all across the capital. The guild alone couldn’t hold all the losers, so they gathered anywhere they could. Add in the regular public and the chatter was deafening.

All at once in the streets of Altoire, those left with the dishonorable title of loser drank into the night, succumbing to volatile moods swinging from tears to anger.

In all the chaos, Altoire, a city that never slept, became a city that couldn’t sleep for three whole days.

“Bring him away.”

The release of the lamenting losers onto the royal capital had affected even the underworld. The current head of the Altoire Qilong, Dao Zanxi, led efforts with the other underworld residents to deal with those getting rowdy and violent in their inebriation. Anyone who approached the back compounds or started fights had to be dealt with.

For the most part, they beat the offenders to a pulp and flung them into dumpsters. Polite and respectful treatment wasn’t a thing around these parts. The only thing the gang had to watch out for was to not cross the line into lethal force. Once the troublemakers sobered up, they would go home without causing a hassle.

A man clad in black silently appeared next to Dao as some drunken idiots were brought from one dark space to another. “Sir, a letter from the head house.”

“From the head house?” Dao repeated in surprise.

“Yes, sir.”

“Understood. Continue your surveillance.”

The moment Dao took the letter, the black-suit disappeared. Dao remained where he was as he opened the envelope and read the contents.

When he was done, he let out a deep sigh. Thank the gods. That’s one major concern out of the way.

The contents of the letter had been simple: “We have completed our business here, so we shall be taking our leave.” That was all.

Dao knew that the main house had been in Altoire—they had been kind enough to come to this side of town to make their greetings, but they didn’t get any more involved with them than that. Though they’d had a little run-in over the summer, that had already been dealt with. At least it had, as far as the Altoire Qilong was concerned. But then elites had arrived in conjunction with the tournament and even participated in the preliminaries...

And now, they’d returned home.

Dao could make an educated guess as to why they had been here, but in that case, it wasn’t something for them to get involved with, so he’d delved no further. If he did, there was the risk of collateral damage. He wouldn’t dwell on the identity of their target. There had been no deaths during the prelims, so there was no need for them to get involved.

In any case, those cancerous menaces had returned home. There could be no news more delightful. Now they had the joys of dealing with the foreign guests here to visit Kaffes Jacks. That was why security around the warehouse district had gotten so strict. Had the main house still been here for them to potentially end up clashing with, it would’ve been troublesome.

“The rest is down to Anzel, I suppose.”

Everyone knew that Kaffes had bet fifty billion krams on Anzel. The outcome of his fights would greatly affect not just Anzel or Kaffes, but Dao too.

No, not even just them. The outcome of Anzel’s fights would affect the whole of the Altoire underworld. If Kaffes were to suddenly disappear, there would be an immediate battle for the emptied seat. Either foreign powers would try to advance on their territory or a full-on war would break out between everyone in the underworld.

Had Anzel lost in preliminaries, then things would’ve stopped there—but he’d made it through. This was where the bet would be locked in. There was nothing more Dao could do beyond watch how things turned out.

Actually...there was one thing he was still curious about. Just remembering it left him feeling uneasy.

Asuma Hinoki, the Kenki, the Sword Demon, another man who had made it through the preliminaries... Just looking at him brought the memories back. It brought back the memories of that little girl who clearly hadn’t even been a teenager. It brought back the memories of that little girl who’d infiltrated the Umbral Arena, taken down the Kenki with barely a sweat, and then toyed with Dao and the other Qilong members with him.

Dao had tried so hard to forget about her, but he just couldn’t—seeing the Kenki brought those memories back unbidden. He had no idea who she was and he’d never seen her since that day.

Was it humiliation or awe that he had felt?

It had been both. She had been so young and yet so strong. The Qilong were members of the underworld, but they still trained in a similar manner as a martial artist. It was hard to walk out of a situation like that and not feel frustrated.

That girl had been stronger than anyone he had ever met before. Vastly stronger than even those from the main house. They could fight her a hundred times and still never have hope of winning.

Where was that kid now and what was she doing? Would she get involved in the tournament?

Dao didn’t want to bump into her. He couldn’t help but feel as if everything would be over for him if he did. He desperately prayed this tournament would end without him ever seeing her again. If it had to happen, he hoped it would at least wait until after the tournament.

Chapter 1: Before the Matches

“The preliminaries have now ended. I congratulate you all on your efforts.” King Hyurence announced the official end of the tournament preliminaries on magivision.

“I’m so exhausted...”

I was watching the broadcast in my dorm room with Reliared, who had sullenly groaned of her exhaustion like an old woman tired of life. She did look tired. A full evening of rest apparently hadn’t been enough to cure her fatigue.

“I’m tired too,” I agreed. The preliminaries had been filled with recordings and interviews. That punishing schedule had only ended yesterday. The last week had been especially horrible—of course we felt like we’d aged fifty years.

Hell, even I was tired; an actual child must have been feeling it much worse than I was. I’d heard the girls had been allowed reasonable time off...but honestly, I doubted it helped much.

Everyone worked hard. Bendelio deserved a punch in the face. That was all that mattered.

“Oh right, where’s your attendant?” Reliared asked. She hadn’t been here for quite a while, so she hadn’t realized Lynokis wasn’t around. Reliared’s attendant should’ve known about Lynokis’s absence, but apparently she hadn’t informed her ward. It made sense—Reliared and Lynokis didn’t have a direct relationship.

“She had a family emergency she had to return home for.”

“Oh no, did something bad happen?”

“I haven’t heard the details. For all I know, it could be that someone in her family found a treasure trove of gold and they’re having an emergency family meeting about it.”

“A treasure trove? Like someone’s hidden wealth? Man... I wish.”

As did I. I didn’t have much interest in money, but it would be useful to have.

We let the king’s broadcast run as we chatted. His Majesty was discussing the upcoming schedule, the new accommodations being built to help house more tourists, the restrictions on people visiting the tournament island...

“The losers’ matches will soon begin. I hope you continue to enjoy the tournament.”

...and then the crushing reality that our days of recording would continue.

“Ugh, I wanna reeeeest. I don’t wanna go to schoooooool.”

I very much felt the same, but we couldn’t just skip.

After the king’s explanation came Wolkas with more details. Once he was done, we turned off the MagiPad and stood up.

We had school to go to.

Due to our recording for the tournament, we hadn’t been able to attend classes for a whole week. Our work had been a request from the country itself, so we’d been given special permission. We would attend classes today and tomorrow, and then go right into recording for the losers’ matches.

We had been told we could rest if we wanted, but Reliared and I had both chosen to attend. It was the duty of the citizens of Altoire to attend school. As nobles, Reliared and I had to be role models for the people, living our lives in exemplary ways. At least...that was what we had been taught.

I was fine with it, but it was a difficult pill for Reliared to swallow. This was too much for a child.

“Nia! Relia!”

One minute, all of our classmates were surrounding us to talk about the tournament, and the next, it was time for lunch—and that was when a senior student came calling.

“Look! It’s Kikirira!”

It was in fact Kikirira Amon of the junior production crew, that lively young girl. The moment our classmates realized who had come to see us, they all excitedly swarmed her instead.

“Yup, yup! It sure is me!”

I hadn’t seen her for a while and now she was suddenly a superstar. She’d been appearing on magivision as an interviewer for the tournament, so more people were starting to recognize her, enough that she’d become quite popular herself.

Well, you know, I thought it normal that our classmates would be much more excited to meet Kikirira, whom they’d rarely get the opportunity to talk to rather than Reliared and me, who were around all the time. We didn’t share a building with the middle school kids, after all.

“I felt a bit conflicted seeing her on magivision at first, but now I’m kinda grateful,” Reliared said with a sigh.

As someone in the same position, I understood how she felt. The magivision industry was in essence a popularity contest. Each broadcasting station and us girls had all been concerned about our popularity in our bid to gain more viewers. The junior broadcasting station would naturally be the same.

The rise of a new popular figure meant another person to potentially steal our popularity—we were competitors, so to speak. It meant that there was a part of us that didn’t want to welcome her with open arms...

But things were different now. The more of us there were, the less a single person was asked to handle. Given how busy we were right now, we were thankful for the opportunity to split up our work—really thankful.

“Is something wrong?” Even though Kikirira had been the one to call out to us, she was so focused on the children that we had to walk over instead.

“Oh, yeah. Miss Hilde’s calling you guys. Mind coming?”

Ah, probably a meeting to discuss the losers’ matches.

“If you’re the one who came to get us, does that mean the junior crew is participating as well?” Reliared asked.

Kikirira nodded. “Apparently. It was a shame we weren’t allowed to help with the preliminaries, but it does sound like we’re allowed to get involved with the losers’ rounds. We’ve not heard the details yet, though.”

Honestly? I was all for it. It would help lower our workload.

When the three of us arrived at the cafeteria... Oh, there’s so many people here.

Around ten students were gathered in a corner where some tables had been pushed together. There was Hildetaura and the members of the junior production crew, including Josecotte Coiz, who had been an interviewer alongside Kikirira.

With so many active participants in magivision together, the other students couldn’t help but watch us. We were all familiar with each other, but there was one unexpected face.

“What? Young Master Neal?”

Yes, my brother was present. He was as beautiful as he always was. Reliared looked overjoyed at the unexpected run-in.

“Sit wherever you would like.”

We did as Hildetaura said.

“We do not have a lot of time, so we will skip our greetings for now.”

Good. Time was precious when it came to our lunch break and there were so many people here that it would take a lot of time for everyone to speak. Besides, this wasn’t our first time meeting together. We all knew this was just a work meeting.

“Please eat your lunch while you listen. First, about the losers’ matches...” Hildetaura gave a brief overview of how the losers’ matches would be structured. Incidentally, this had all been discussed in the broadcast this morning, so we had no need to hide it. In other words, it didn’t matter if those around us heard.

“Nia, Relia, and I will continue with recordings as usual, but our evenings will be free. It should hopefully make things less exhausting from now on. Even the staff were starting to complain that it was too much work for children.”

I fully agreed with them. There were always those evil adults who wanted nothing more than to work children to the bone. Right, Bendelio?! What do you think about this, huh?! I imagine you’ve never even considered this, right?!

“This is where the junior production crew will come in. Unlike the preliminaries, the losers’ matches will take place from evening until night. They will all be held in the capital, so you will be able to participate as airship travel will be unnecessary.”

Ah, now I understood. They were being told they needed to work after school. Honestly...that was kind of rough in its own way. But the people who would have to do it looked entirely motivated. The resentment at not being allowed to record prelims must’ve been building up.

But the three of us already knew recording for anything related to the tournament was exceedingly tough. How long would these happy faces last? They would probably look withered in just three days.

“Allow me to say this first,” I said, finding an opportunity to talk between Hildetaura’s explanations. “What you all need isn’t a temporary burst of motivation, it’s lasting motivation. Relax a little and approach this like you’ll be working long-term. If you don’t, you’ll burn yourself out.”

My sisters-in-arms Reliared and Hildetaura were nodding emphatically in agreement. Only those who had experienced that same hell could truly understand. Though...I couldn’t be sure whether this message actually got through to the junior crew. It didn’t look as if my words resonated with them in any way. People learn a lot from their mistakes, but until that first failure, we’re always so overconfident in ourselves.

Now, I didn’t think that in and of itself was a problem. But if they failed here, the ones who would have to clean up after them were us magivision veterans... Oh well. We were their seniors in this industry; may as well be nice and support them how we could.

“And now, about Neal...” Hildetaura continued, finally turning to the topic I was most curious about.

Why had my brother been called here with the production crew of all people? Neal was somewhat involved in magivision, but his boundaries were very clearly drawn. I had never once considered that he may have any involvement in the tournament.

“He has something he wishes to discuss concerning Wingroad. I thought I would like to hear everyone’s opinions, so I had him join us for this meeting.”

What? It’s Neal himself that has something he wishes to talk about? Wingroad is that competitive skiff sport, right?

“Your Highness, I will take it from here.” Neal stepped in and then briefly explained the situation. “It’s been decided that there will be a Wingroad formation flight at the opening ceremony for the tournament.”

Well, that’s news to me. I hadn’t been filled in on how Wingroad was catching on in Altoire, but I knew the country was trying to popularize it here. By unveiling the sport at the martial arts tournament, they would be able to actively introduce it to Altoire. It was a good opportunity. I imagined this had to be a topic that was also not particularly secret if we were discussing it like this—I was sure plenty of curious ears were listening in by now.

“As Altoire has no competitors trained up, a professional team from Vanderouge will be arriving here in the coming days.”

Calling in the pros, are they?

“However, the government does not feel that we should be leaving this all to foreign pilots, so they brought the matter up to me.”

How did we end up at my brother from that?

“I am the eldest son of the Liston family of the fourth class and I am a child. I already have some degree of Wingroad experience and can handle a skiff fairly well. I had apparently already been selected as a good PR candidate a while ago and now they’ve finally asked me directly if I would like to get involved.”

Wow, I guess a lot’s been happening with Neal as well. I wished he was allowed to just live like a normal child, but his status simply didn’t permit it.

“Magivision is the Liston family’s business, so I’d always imagined I would one day get involved,” Neal said, looking right at me. “I can’t leave everything to my sister forever, so I decided I would take this opportunity to fully step into the magivision world.”

Oh my! You’ve finally resolved yourself! Neal was the successor to our family, after all. It was an inevitability that he would have to get involved with the family business someday. Whether it would be front facing or behind the scenes, or perhaps even as a manager, there was no way to predict, but for now, it seemed he was willing to step into the spotlight.

“Do excuse me for getting a little personal there. In any case, practice for the formation flight will begin soon and the idea of recording what happens behind the scenes came up during a meeting.”

Well, this was the natural direction for the conversation to go at this table. But wasn’t it a matter that should have been brought to the royal broadcasting station, rather than us? The introduction of Wingroad to the country was a state affair, so it wasn’t a place for the Liston company to get involved. If you asked me, it should be the royal broadcasting station’s decision. If a team from Vanderouge was coming to perform, then that was almost a political move in and of itself.

“However, I came up with a different idea. It is this idea that I would like to ask for everyone’s opinion of.”

A different idea?

“I want to establish a Wingroad team of only students. The opening ceremony will be in about a month and it would naturally be impossible for me personally to become as good as the professionals in that short window. I would need far more time to have any hope of that. So what should I do? Well, simply make a different team instead of trying to fit in with the pros. If my primary role is marketing, then being a warm-up act for them will be good enough.”

In other words, my brother wanted to find a different way to participate so he wouldn’t hold back the trained pros? If that was what he wanted to do, I would support him all the way.

“The Wingroad professionals are all of foreign nationality. Recording foreigners always comes with various restrictions on what we can and can’t broadcast. But if we were to have a team of only students from our academy, then the restrictions instantly loosen. Right now, every broadcasting station is busy—they don’t want to have to keep in mind all of these dos and don’ts on top of their current workload. If we do this, though, they wouldn’t have to worry about all that.”

From the way Neal explained it, I didn’t think it was a bad idea, but I was utterly clueless on the topic of Wingroad, so there wasn’t much I could add. I’d much rather hear what the government thought about the matter.

A lot of the people gathered seemed to have the same thoughts as me, turning to look at Hildetaura instead.

“How many people do you want for the team?” she asked him. “There is not exactly much time to gather participants now.”

“Wingroad formation flights are generally carried out with a set number of people: Three, five, nine, or twelve pilots is the standard. I don’t intend to do anything out of the norm, so there’s me, Char over there, and then there are quite a number of students I’ve found with an interest in the sport, so if I can get just one of them to join, then we have the bare minimum number that we need.”

Char didn’t react when his name was mentioned, so he must have known about this already.

“All right. In that case, I will bring it up to my father and get you a response by tomorrow. Will you be able to prepare the skiffs for this project?”

“Yes. Cedony Trading have procured ten competition skiffs and promised they will lend them to me as needed.”

“I should have never expected anything less, Neal.”

This was what it meant to show immediate results—he’d already removed all obstacles in his way. He had an ability to lay the groundwork for a plan that was entirely unlike an elementary school student.

“Young Master Neal...”

I can understand exactly why you would fall for him all over again, Reliared.

“Young Master Neal...”

Wait, Josecotte, you too?

Well...it wasn’t a big deal. Really, this was quite natural considering his good looks. Incidentally, were the Coiz finances doing okay? They were in a similar boat as the Listons, so I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

Hildetaura turned back to the rest of the table. “How do all the members of the junior crew feel about this? You will likely be the ones to record the boys. That means your workload will increase.”

“Then we’ll make adjustments as necessary.” Wagnes’s response as the director of the junior crew was promising. His face was filled with so much motivation. I couldn’t help but have high hopes that that confident look of his would last until the end. Even just lasting for a week would be impressive.

Though I really wished they would all relax and prepare themselves for a lengthy period of recording sessions. I had so kindly given them that advice earlier and yet they’d all completely ignored it.

People learn from their mistakes, hmm...?

The rest of the meeting continued smoothly.

The losers’ matches would soon begin. The preliminaries had only just finished the other day, but we were still on schedule.

The preliminaries gave us around three hundred winners and ten thousand losers. That was an insane number of people, but naturally, not all of them would be participating. I’d heard that about three thousand or so had applied for the losers’ matches, so about thirty percent.

Now, if we had fighters gathered here, then that of course meant that Lynokis was here as Leeno the adventurer. As the one favored to win the whole tournament, it was no surprise that everyone was wary of her. Yet, with all that attention, the one Lynokis was looking at was me.

Your eyes are drilling holes into me, Lynokis. You’re looking at me so intently right now. Stop staring.

We were all gathered at the tournament island today. The roughly three hundred members confirmed to be participating in the main matches and all the staff were gathered in front of the arena building under the sunny blue sky. Lynokis was there and was seriously refusing to take her eyes off me.

Standing with me were Reliared, Hildetaura, the members of each production crew, the tournament staff, and to my surprise, the eldest daughter of the Silvers. Her name was Raffinee, if I wasn’t mistaken. She was a lady in her late twenties.

“Why is your sister here, Relia?”

I’d met her a few times already and even done a recording with her once, around the time I started school. I’d joined in with the Silvers recording Reliared receiving her first school uniform.

Reliared looked very proud as she replied. “Naturally, it’s for work. My dear sister runs a fashion company, after all.”

Right, she did tell me that before.

“It is an order for formalwear for three hundred people. It will be hard work for Raffinee,” Hildetaura said. The speed at which she and her company would have to work would no doubt be hellish. The true backbreakers of huge events like these were always those working behind the scenes.

Once everyone was gathered, one of the staff called out. “We’re going to start taking everyone’s measurements! Please go where you are directed!”

One month remained until the main matches would begin. Until then, we needed to advertise the fighters as much as possible. They would need to be recorded for interviews and training sessions, some of which would be arranged like a social function, so it was important to tailor suitable clothes for everyone. The clothes would be given to them free of charge—how generous.

Today we would be recording the measurement-taking and some interviews.

Anything for the sake of generating hype for the upcoming matches.

Measurements were being taken in three different areas to prevent congestion. Each production crew was assigned one hundred fighters.

Though a certain someone couldn’t keep her eyes off me.

Stop staring, Lynokis. Don’t look so sad. Hurry up and go.

Not to be rude, but fortunately and thankfully, Lynokis was not among the fighters I was to interview. I guarantee she would’ve ignored everyone else to try and talk with me. This was the best-case scenario.

Beyond the fact that we would stick out like a sore thumb, it just seemed like everything would become so much more of a pain later if the public learned that we had a personal relationship. I’d recorded with her as Leeno once before, but that was under the guise of a cohost. If it got out that the most famous adventurer in all of Altoire right now was my personal attendant... I could only envision a bleak future. I really needed her to be careful.

Oh? Could it be that I haven’t been assigned any of my students? Not a single one? I have five students, and I haven’t been assigned to any one of them?

Unfortunate, but it wasn’t as if we would have much time to talk here, anyway.

We were led into the hall where all the measurements were being taken and then everyone was separated according to gender and body type. The tailors that Raffinee had brought were all swift with their work—it was impressive.

And then, it was up to our magivision crew to record the events.

“As we can see, our fighters are now having their measurements taken. Everyone has such wonderful bodies. Look at those muscles. Such thick veins running down their arms and calves, chests as big as barrels, abs so sharp you could grate vegetables on them. Imagine how safe you would feel protected by these.”

I made a whole bunch of mindless commentary. What I was saying didn’t matter—the important part was the recordings of the competitors.

Incidentally, only the men were here right now. There would be ethical issues if we were to record the women in their underwear, so they’d been separated. Not to say we wouldn’t be recording them at all, though—we simply changed what time slot we would record them in. Since there weren’t as many female fighters as male, it wasn’t so hard to do.

The men all stripped down to their underwear. The naked, muscular bodies of these tough men were on full display, presented in a bold and suggestive manner. From burly and thick, to lean and slender, all the trained bodies here were marvelous. The camera followed that crowd of muscles.

Were my comments really necessary anymore? These naked bodies were the stars of the show.

“Talk about an incredible sight,” my nemesis Bendelio remarked from beside me.

He looked so happy. I could only assume it was because of all the captivatingly photogenic subjects taking up all this space. Ugh, your face is all glisteningly distinctive today again. Try looking tired for once. Even I’m getting tired.

He was such an unflattering man. This was the part I hated about him. I’d definitely get a punch in one day.

“It certainly is quite incredible,” I calmly responded with a nod of agreement—though deep inside, I was deeply disappointed.

They all look so good... And yet none of them had the skill to complement it. They were all show, no substance. Just as I was lamenting over how much of a sham all these men were, the peacocks of the group started making sexy poses to show off their muscles, flexing them as much as they could right in front of me.

Huh? What are you doing? Eh? Ah, I see, I see, you’re trying to show off your muscles, aren’t you? You don’t have to show them to me. Oh, wow, amazing, truly amazing. You too, very good. Your arms are so thick. Mm-hmm. Yes, yes, I’m sure you could carry a little work horse on those shoulders. I see how big your muscles are, now get your measurements and get changed. No, seriously, stop showing off muscles that look like they’d wither and die with a single good slap.

The measurement-taking and the recording continued with me putting on as polite a smile as I could muster.

“Shall we get going, Nia?”

“Okay.”

That was probably enough images of their bodies for now. I was starting to worry that the show-offs were going to pull their underwear off next. Magivision standards and best practices would absolutely not allow that.

We escaped before they could strip any further and moved on to recording the ladies. Since it wasn’t right to record them in their underwear, we had them gather in another room once their measurements were done. When we arrived... Oh, what’s this?

“Everyone, could you remain as you are? Just like that, as natural as possible.” Bendelio immediately raised his voice—he must have had the same thought as me. “Is everyone all right with us recording? If anyone would rather stay out of it, then apologies, but I must ask that you move.”

Not a single person moved.

“So...none of you mind?”

They were all looking at Bendelio, so it wasn’t simply a case of them having not heard. They’d heard and were choosing to stay where they were—that was their answer.

“We’ll begin recording, then. Don’t mind us, just relax.”

The cameras started rolling and the women all continued what they were doing. There were around twenty of them sitting in chairs around tables, waiting patiently, wearing clothing they’d been provided to be measured in.

In the preliminaries, these brave women had been armed, hair properly tied back, radiating a fighting spirit that refused to lose to the men, but that wasn’t what we saw in front of us now. It was as if they had all just come out of the baths, their expressions calm and relaxed; it appeared they’d taken off more than just their clothes.

These women were professionals who had qualified with all the rest, after all. When it was time to rest, they would rest. When it was time to give it their all, they gave it their all. Being on high alert all the time was a surefire way to exhaust yourself. If you exhausted yourself before the battle, that could spell the end of your life.

The point of these recordings was to see a different side to the fighters—we wanted to capture what they were like outside the ring. These faces would be on magivision for a long time, after all. It would be boring if we only recorded everyone when they were locked in.

The sight of these women relaxing was wonderful. Each scar that was visible on their skin gave a sense of their dramatic history, and seeing them in such light clothing felt like a glimpse into their private lives; it wasn’t an opportunity one received often.

In other words, this was a very rare sight. Even the women with larger builds—enough that they looked even more masculine than the men when fighting—looked as feminine as the rest while relaxing like this. Maybe that’s a bit rude... Basically, they weren’t always ready to strike at any time.

“And here we have our female competitors who have just had their measurements taken. Seeing them at this moment of relaxation is truly beautiful. They have dignity and strength, and yet there is a clear softness that separates them from our male fighters.”

I swiftly led the camera forward and approached the largest of the women. She had been blessed with a broad body, muscles and bones so thick that she could easily compete against the burliest of men. She was even covered in scars; just one look told you how seasoned a warrior she was. Her hair was grown out in a way that gave her a wild look, and she appeared to be in her mid-twenties... Or could she have been surprisingly younger?

If I wasn’t mistaken, she was a famous adventurer my classmates had all been calling scary. She was big and her scars stood out—to a child, she might have looked scary indeed.

“Her scars tell of the many battles she has faced and yet she still continues to fight. Isn’t she beautiful? Some might say that being inflicted with a wound is a sign of immaturity, that being left with scars is a sign of weakness. But I disagree. I believe scars are a sign that one does not always fight easy battles, a sign of a challenger who does not simply fight battles they are sure they can win. Real combat is not merciful. Just one mistake can spell the end of a life. Never fear the number of scars left on your body. Only winners come out the other side alive.”

All right, that should serve as fine commentary. I glanced at Bendelio beside the camera and he was nodding. I had gotten his approval. Good, because I wasn’t the star of the show here either.

I turned back to face the powerful woman who was silently watching me. I believe her name was Jinatan? “I must apologize for how sudden that was. Would you please allow us to use this recording?” I hadn’t given her any warning before I walked right up to her and made her the focus of the camera. Usually, if I was going to do that, we would’ve agreed on it beforehand, but since no one had walked away when Bendelio gave his warning, I chose to take that as permission. I didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere of the room by making any part of this scripted.

“I...don’t mind, no.”

That’s good. But why is she looking at me so strangely?

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“No, it’s just...no one’s ever called me beautiful or complimented my scars before.”

Ah, she’s embarrassed.

“I really do believe you’re beautiful. There are many people out there who look up to the strong, regardless of gender.”

“But I ain’t ever been popular.”

“Are you not popular or do you just not think you’re popular? There’s more to popularity than people flirting with you, you know.”

“There’s...different ways to be popular?”

“Of course. It could be a casual sort of popularity. You could be popular in a way where people find themselves content just watching your journey from afar. I’m just a child, so I don’t understand all that much, but strong people can be popular too. Just a bit more friendliness and you’d be the perfect picture of popularity.”

“Perfect picture...?”

“It’ll be easy-peasy lemon-squeezy.”

“Easy-peasy, lemon...?”

Yes, strong people were well-liked, be them man or woman. In my last life, I was...probably insanely well-liked. Not that I could remember. In this life, I was insanely well-liked by Lynokis, so it had to be so. Whether that made me happy or not was a different problem.

Though, looking at them now...no one here is really that strong. You need to get a little stronger if you want to be popular too, Jinatan. Isn’t fighting your specialty? If you don’t get stronger, you’ll die before you get popular. A monster will gobble you right up.

There were two women here who did catch my eye, though. One was Tohaulow, the blue fox beastkin, and the other was...Lestra, I believe her name was.

Tohaulow was likely a Hero candidate from the Heroic Star Assembly. There was no way for me to confirm it, but she and her partner were the only Slengradd fighters who had made it past the prelims, so that basically served as a process of elimination; I’d like to think a Hero candidate wouldn’t be eliminated so early.

The girl’s body was slender but clearly well trained. Beastkin had naturally stronger bodies, but I could tell that she hadn’t relied solely on that. Right now, she appeared to have burnt herself on her tea, and was sticking her tongue out.

Lestra was a famous adventurer known for her unparalleled skill. She was a beautiful woman with distinctive pointed ears that marked her as a descendant of the elves. The textbooks said that full-blooded elves no longer existed, having died out over time. Elves had been known for their proficiency in magic and Lestra was no exception; she didn’t fight through physical force but with strategic use of spells.

All people were born with mana, but the aptitude for magic was a different story. Magical aptitude was not something viewed as very important in Altoire; rather than build themselves around something that not everyone could use, Altoire chose to focus on magic tools and machines powered by mana itself that could be used by anyone with a decent supply of mana. As a result, magic was no longer seen as a necessity. Labor workers eventually became more desired than magicians as businesses began using, for example, skiffs or mana-powered machinery. This was also how magivision had come to be.

That wasn’t to say there weren’t other countries that were magic-based societies. If I recalled correctly, we had been taught in class that the Noble Kingdom of Harvelheim valued magic and tradition. Then there were countries much farther out... What were their names again? The Divine Magilight Kingdom? The Kingdom of the Night? Something like that. They weren’t countries mentioned in textbooks, just sometimes by teachers when they were rambling, so the names hadn’t stuck in my head.

I could sense incredibly strong mana from Lestra. Magic was a fundamentally different kind of power than what I had been trained in, so I wasn’t all that learned in it. Though, regardless, I could still tell that I would easily beat her in strength.

Magicians should never be underestimated, though. A strong magician was no joke.

I hadn’t marked Lestra during prelims and I was pretty sure I hadn’t caught any of her matches, so I had no idea how she fought. It seemed unlikely that she stood out above the rest if I hadn’t heard talk of her performance, but the fact that she had made it through to the next round regardless convinced me that she had been holding back just enough that she could still win. Magic was often quite dramatic, after all.

She had to be one of those fighters who excelled in the small tricks—and that just made her all the more crafty.

She was certainly a fighter I was curious about.

Recording continued as scheduled. Unsurprisingly, the women were well-behaved. They had their body measurements taken using the provisional fitting as a guide, and then the second measurements were finished without issue.

I suppose we’re done here now? Should we go back and record the boys again?

“Excuse us.”

Just as I was considering what our next move would be, six people dressed in white entered the room.

“We are the tournament’s medical team.”

The one who had spoken was the most respected doctor in the Altoire medical circles, Drisla. He was a middle-aged man with looks that could rival Bendelio’s—though Bendelio’s face remained undefeated in its distinctiveness. I’d spoken with him a little during an Occupation Observation episode with the nurses. He was a very polite man who spoke with children just as he would anyone else.

“Just to be safe, we will be carrying out medical checkups of all the fighters in the tournament. We must ask for your cooperation as this should be considered mandatory. Should you have any small injuries, please let us know—we will happily heal them with our magic.”

Ahh, they’re taking advantage of all the competitors being in one spot. They may as well catch them all here while they had the chance. The staff must have wanted them to be in tip-top condition for the main matches. I absolutely felt the same.

Oh.

My eyes locked with one of the doctors on the team. She was that magic physician I had met down in the Umbral Arena who had stuck Lynokis’s arm back on. I’d seen her on the island before prelims started, but I didn’t think this would be where we’d bump into each other.

This...isn’t good, huh? I was getting the sense that my cover was blown. Her eyes hid so much of her emotion that I had no idea what she was thinking, but I could tell that she was seeing right through me. If anything, the look she was giving me was sharp.

When we met in that underground arena, I had been in a disguise with dyed hair. It was a few years ago now too, and we only met once. I’d grown over that time and was fairly sure I gave a very different impression than I would have back then.

And yet, she still remembered me.

Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised—I’d remembered her, after all, and I barely trusted my memory to even recall what I ate for breakfast. In which case, it wasn’t strange at all for her to have recognized me.

Eyes as cold as they were calm, the doctor looked away from me as if nothing had happened. Whether she had recognized me or not, it didn’t look as if she intended to make a big deal about it, so I deemed it fine to leave her alone for now.

“While we’re here, did anyone start a fight?”

What? A fight?

“If nothing happened, then that’s perfect. It’s just that there was a little squabble across the way, so I wanted to check.”

The medical team must have already visited Hildetaura’s or Reliared’s group, maybe even both. Did that mean something had happened? A fight, at that? Now I’m curious. I really want to know what happened.

With this many confident martial artists in one place, it was hard to think there wouldn’t be at least one of them who didn’t behave. Besides, we martial artists were fools who could only evaluate others by whether they were strong or weak. Wanting to test our strength against another was just a natural impulse. If both parties felt that way, then butting heads was natural.

If two martial artists wanting to test their strength were left alone in a room... Or, uh, many martial artists wanting to test their strength were left alone in a room, fights breaking out were a given.

C’mon, guys, did you get into a fistfight? Did you have a proper brawl? An incredibly messy and chaotic brawl with so many of you that you started losing count? Did you draw blood? If you didn’t draw blood, it doesn’t even deserve to be called a brawl.

It all sounded so fun that I decided I would ask about it on the flight back.

“The hell’s your problem, asshole?!”

“Huh?! The hell’s your problem?!”

Now, what was the cause of the fight? When the hundred competitors were brought to a different hall, they were then told to further split into men and women, and it was then that a part of the group decided to cause a fuss.

“P-Please calm down!” came the panicked voices of the staff.

The reactions were numerous: Some kept their distance while looking annoyed, some stepped in to try and help stop it, some made things worse by egging them on.

Anzel sighed and moved to the wall. With so many violent professionals, of course there was going to be trouble eventually. Anzel didn’t care what the staff needed to get done, whether it was height and weight measurements, general body measurements, or health checkups, but he really wanted them to get it over with as soon as possible—this fight was only going to slow everything down.

Getting impatient wouldn’t fix anything, though, so Anzel decided he’d just relax instead, placing a cigarette between his lips...and then immediately returning it to the case. Because the woman beside him had given him one hell of a dirty look.

It was Lynette Bran. She was standing quite close. Anzel wasn’t sure if she’d already been there or if she’d arrived after him, but either way, she’d managed to get this close without him detecting her—there was no doubt she was a threat. It brought to mind the run-in he’d had with the head of the main house of the Qilong not long ago. That matter still wasn’t fully settled. At best, he’d delayed the inevitable.

First there was the bet being placed on him and now the Qilong wanted him dead. He could feel a horrific headache coming on.

“Want somethin’?” Anzel and Lynette were both Nia’s students, but their relationship didn’t go much further than that. They’d barely even had personal conversation with each other, and yet here Lynette was, looking at him like she wanted to say something.

“I thought you would’ve stepped in to stop them.”

“Huh? Me?”

It sounded like they were still fighting on the other side of the crowd. From the sound of the frantic staff and the heckling from the audience, the situation seemed two steps away from exploding. Anzel wouldn’t have been surprised if a fistfight broke out any minute now, but...

“I ain’t here to get mixed up in trouble. Besides, Leeno’s here. She’ll put a stop to it.”

Leeno was also part of this group. If anything happened, she would probably deal with it one way or another, whether that meant stopping anything from breaking out or simply beating the troublemakers into submission.

“Anzel.” Lynette came closer and whispered in his ear. “I think it would be a good idea for you to score some points now considering what is coming ahead.”

Anzel narrowed his eyes. “Sorry... Got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Score some points.” Those weren’t the words Anzel had been expecting to hear from Lynette and it made it all that much harder for him to understand the meaning. Score points from who? And what for?

It was so out of the blue that Anzel thought he’d misheard her at first. This was the first time he’d been so uncertain about what Lynette had said that he’d thought he was starting to go deaf.

The problem was that he couldn’t even begin to guess from context what she meant. Was she trying to say this was a good time to take advantage of the commotion to steal some wallets so he’d have some money saved up before he had to make a break for it? Nah, no way. We’ve not spoken so much that she knows my circumstances.

“I already told you I don’t want to get mixed up in trouble. I shouldn’t even be allowed here.”

“That’s exactly why I’m saying you should help.”

“Huh...? No, seriously, I’ve got no idea what you’re on about. Stop beatin’ around the bush.”

“Then I’ll be blunt.” Lynette came even closer before she continued. “I’m telling you to increase your popularity. You might have a criminal record, but if you’re popular enough, there will definitely be someone willing to defend you. If you proceed to the next round without doing anything, won’t you be arrested?”

Now that was definitely clear enough for Anzel to understand.

She was right: He would be arrested. It was something he’d mulled over well before preliminaries started, well before he’d even registered as an entrant, even.

Those who were a part of the underworld should never stand in the spotlight of the surface. The more you drew attention to yourself, the riskier things got. For someone like Anzel who was in the deepest pits of the underworld, there was plenty of dirt to pat off his body, including a whole bunch of petty crimes that he didn’t even remember anymore. He’d settled down once he started working as a bartender, but he’d gotten away with all manner of things in his life before that.

Right... Popularity. For a long time, he’d been trying to figure out if there was even a glimmer of hope for his survival. He’d half given up that his only chance was to escape the country if the situation called for it. But no, gaining popularity was another option. Like Lynette said, with enough popularity, there would always be someone willing to defend you. The voices of the public might not have been of much use, but what if he caught the eye of someone in authority? The benefits of that could hardly be measured.

He shouldn’t be trying to hide; he should be doing the complete opposite. He should be stepping into the light, gathering all the attention he possibly could, and gaining popularity with the public. He needed to be like Nia on magivision every other day.

“All right, be back in a sec.”

The minute the main matches started, he’d be standing out whether he liked it or not, anyway. He could try to stay in the shadows all he liked, he’d still catch everyone’s eye.

His only choice was to bet on this as his last hope.

Now that he’d found an option that could potentially protect him, he had to give it his all.

Anzel weaved through the crowds until he made it up front.

“You bastard! You wanna go?!”

“Who’s calling who a bastard, you bastard?! Bring it!”

When the staff member trying to hold one of the fighters back was flung off the man’s arm, Anzel stepped forward.

“Stop right there.” Anzel slipped in behind the man who had been about to throw the first punch and held him back by the belt.

“Wh-What d’ya think you’re doin’, asshole?!”

“Whoa.” Having only become further enraged, the man flung his elbow back toward Anzel’s face, but Anzel easily blocked it with his free hand. “Calm down already.” He adjusted his grip on the man’s belt and arm before throwing him onto the ground. Gently. Doing his best not to hurt him. Making sure his body would slide and roll gently. Absolutely making sure he did not slam him directly down.

“Well, this is a surprise.”

“Huh?” Anzel had been watching the guy he’d just thrown when suddenly he heard a voice by his ear. When he turned around, Lynokis was standing there. She must’ve been about to interrupt the two men herself.

“I expected you to stay out of something like this,” she said.

“Normally, I would. Circumstances have changed.”

It didn’t take much effort to learn that Anzel was the bartender of the bar that Leeno frequented, so there was likely no danger in them talking to each other even with everyone’s eyes on them.

“Haven’t you both had enough? You can decide who’s the strongest during the tournament.” Lynokis’s words were quiet, but held an authority that was impossible to defy. Both the men who had started the fight and the members of the crowd unhelpfully jeering were now completely silent. It was proof of how much weight the words of the predicted winner held; everyone keeping their eye on her meant that her presence and influence were great.

“Guess I wasn’t really needed here,” Anzel muttered to himself. Everything would’ve wrapped up the moment Lynokis stepped in.

But it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice. If he wanted to gain more popularity, he needed to step forward when the situation called for it. Rather, he’d started to think it was quite literally his only chance of survival.

It wasn’t really his style, but he had to see it through.

Chapter 2: Let the Losers’ Rounds Begin

The more important one was, the more confidently they walked, putting on a face as if they weren’t evil, as if they had never harmed a person in their life.

Peel back the layers and it was often untrue, though.

Three men walked through the Altoire warehouse district that evening and were greeted by a man in a black suit.

“Invitation, please.”

The man in the middle—the one dressed most formally of the three—silently pulled out a black envelope.

“Allow me to confirm... Do excuse me, Master Grieg.”

Grieg Klett was one of the faces of the Vanderouge underworld. Crafty and cunning, business and economics were his forte, and he owned many successful ventures both above and below board. He was a man who had fought his way to his position through smarts rather than physical prowess. By his side today were two men: One was a young but bulky man named Roa who was his right-hand man, bodyguard and most trusted confidant, and the other a man rumored to be ex-military named Oltar.

“This way.”

After confirming that all three of them were listed on the invite, the black-suit led them to a warehouse as he had been ordered. Inside were several people...

“Hey there. Been a little while, Grieg.”

...with only one man sitting at the table. He closed a book when they entered.

Although this was a warehouse, it looked more like a large living room. Although parts of the crate were visible enough to destroy the illusion, it was fully furnished. It all felt mismatched, but it worked in its own way.

“Thank you for the invitation, Kaffes.”

The man sitting down was Kaffes Jacks, ruler of Altoire’s underworld.

“The pleasure is all mine. Please, sit.”

The two of them had cooperated and argued over much in the past through their underworld connection, but their relationship wasn’t bad. They were both good with money, so they much preferred to stay on each other’s good sides—there was nothing to be gained by them clashing, whether in work or in private. The only time they would challenge the other was if they knew there was the chance of success. That mutual understanding made it much easier for them to get along.

“The martial arts tournament became a much bigger deal than I was anticipating,” Grieg admitted as he sat down across from Kaffes. His two bodyguards stood behind him, intimidating Kaffes. Not intentionally, but they were both large men in a way that they looked naturally intimidating.

That said, they were most definitely on guard—if Kaffes made one wrong move, he would immediately be attacked. But the same could be said for Kaffes’s own men. All the black-suits in the warehouse were just as wary of Grieg and his men.

The air in the room was suffocating; there was an uncomfortable tension in the air that felt as if the smallest thing could set off an explosion, like there were large quantities of gunpowder mixed into the air. The only ones pretending there was nothing amiss were the two seated in the eye of the storm. Both were authority figures in the underworld—what they lacked in physical strength, they more than made up for with incredible levels of nerve and courage.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” Kaffes said. “I’ve marveled at the sheer scale of it more than once these past few days. Apparently, investments were coming in from so many places that it just naturally grew to this size. Never mind a martial arts tournament, this is the first time I’ve even experienced any event this big.”

The topic of discussion was unsurprisingly the ongoing martial arts tournament. That was the whole reason Grieg was in the country to begin with.

“Do you mean to say it was a surprise to the hosts as well?”

“That’s what I’ve heard, but this is a state-run event. You know His Majesty—I can only imagine he’d predicted more than he’s letting on.”

This tournament was being organized by the state—in other words, the current King of Altoire, Hyurence Altoire, was taking the reins.

“True. Someone like the King of Altoire no doubt has everyone dancing in the palm of his hand right about now.”

In all the political and economic developments of Altoire so far, and now this large-scale event, there was not a single underdeveloped plan in sight. When they spoke of Altoire being a lover of peace, they did not mean it in a derogatory sense. Those who did clearly were of no threat. For those in the know, the Peace-Loving Kingdom was a compliment toward the statesmen who had maintained Altoire’s peace for all these years. Not that there were many countries or lands able to be ruled by the incompetent nowadays what with how easily their citizens could escape in this day and age.

“Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you. There are still a few things I need to do today. I should have some time in a few days, though.”

“All right. Let us take our time while watching the losers’ matches, then.”

After discussing the days ahead in a little more detail, Grieg left the warehouse.

The moment he was in his private room, Grieg smiled. “Heh... This sounds like it’s gonna be fun.”

They had returned to the luxury hotel they would be staying in for the coming month. Grieg had booked a large family room that cost over a million krams a night, but for him, dropping that amount of money barely tickled. He had brought three more of his men in addition to Roa and Oltar who would also be staying in the same room. Naturally, he had brought more than five people on this excursion, but the rest were undercover, so they would be staying elsewhere.

“Grieg, sir, what are we gonna do now?” Roa asked while he poured some liquor from the bar counter that was part of the room—for the record, that drink was for himself.

“We will continue according to plan. I need you all to observe the losers’ matches and gather as much data about the fighters as possible. I’ll finish up our work.”

“You’re gonna work even while we’re traveling?”

“Where else do you think your food and pay’s coming from, huh?”

“Heh heh. Thanks, boss.”

“Tch.” Grieg couldn’t help but click his tongue in annoyance. Roa’s attitude was starting to get a bit too impolite, even for him. “You’re lucky you’re good at your job, kid, or you’d have been fired a hundred times over by now.”

“Ha ha ha!”

Grieg always looked solely at his men’s true potential. Even if they were a bit difficult to handle, so long as the skill was there, he would put them in positions of power.

Oltar was more than aware that whether good or evil, everything was judged based on profit and efficiency. Greig was the type of person he wished to have in charge of the army. He was a much more respectable man than the incompetents who let soldiers die out of a half-baked sense of obligatory righteousness.

“Oltar, with me.”

Grieg ignored Roa’s continuous laughter and called Oltar over—most likely to discuss something to do with their work. Their boss headed for the room he’d chosen as his own and sat at his desk with Oltar standing opposite.

“I leave you in charge while you’re all out. The priorities haven’t changed.”

The priorities. Oltar had been told about the plan before they’d come to Altoire. Grieg was telling him this to confirm the meeting with Kaffes hadn’t changed anything. They’d gone into the meeting knowing the information gathered there could change their plans.

“Does that mean everything’s going according to your predictions?”

“Yup. Kaffes called us here with the intention of eating us alive.” Grieg let out a short cackle. His expression was truly villainous now. “From Vanderouge there’s me, Frozen Geitz, and Lesten. From Wu Haitong, there’s Keya Kin and Zen Fowah. There are a couple other names we’ve been hearing recently too, but...well, it’s exactly the people you’d think.”

They were the names of renowned villains with their own hold on the underworlds in the surrounding countries. Every one of them was a leading figure of their respective underworlds and Kaffes had invited all of them. “Would you like to make a bet on the coming martial arts tournament?” he’d said. It sounded like all of them had agreed to join in, including Grieg.

“Then are you saying that there is no ulterior motive?”

“Not from my reading. How did you read him, Oltar?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t read the hearts of those who are genuinely evil, and that includes you.”

“I see. In that case, believe in my judgment.”

Whatever the reality was, if there was no ulterior motive, then whether he believed or didn’t wouldn’t matter.

“Am I right in saying that the most you’re doing is betting?”

“You are. But that’s why it’s so scary.” Grieg clasped his hands together and leaned back in the chair. “It’s as I said—Kaffes will likely bet with the intention of completely bankrupting us. That’s why he doesn’t need some fancy trick up his sleeve. It’s an illegal bet, but he intends to take us down fair and square. Plus...” Grieg’s wicked smile deepened. “He invited me and me alone days earlier than intended. Why? Because he wants my cooperation. He wants me to help in exchange for taking someone down. There is no reason for me to accept. But if working with him lets us take an eyesore out of the equation, then it benefits me too.”

This would benefit Grieg—in other words, it would also benefit Vanderouge. This man was a villain, but he was also a successful businessman who was a major player in the Vanderouge economy. He didn’t even mind that the patriotic Oltar was keeping an eye on him; he knew how to toe the line better than anyone. That was why he was even making use of Oltar while he was here. He felt no shame in using the man so freely, whether it was as the trainer of his men, or as a bodyguard that could serve as a trustworthy pawn.

“I’ll let you keep an eye on me, but in exchange, you need to listen to my orders.” That was the deal.

“Kaffes will take all the risk,” Grieg continued. “And a pest will potentially be removed all while I get to remain in safety. All I have to do is give a little push. Even if I fail, there’s no risk to me. This is going to be a very worthwhile stay indeed.”

How fascinating. It caught Oltar by surprise that political ploys were happening even beyond the government and the aristocracy. These villains were living in an underworld society where the law had no power. In that society there was a power struggle and money game not unlike governmental politics. In a lawless space such as this, even violence was an option for achieving one’s goals.

Several years had passed since Oltar had left the army and began serving this man. Over that time, he had started to realize something about himself: He might be more suited to underworld work. Oltar himself was someone who didn’t hesitate to strike if it meant achieving his goals. Back when he served, there were often things he found difficult to do because there were so many laws and regulations and codes of conduct.

Had it just been simple difficulties, perhaps he could have tolerated it. But so many of his brothers-in-arms and subordinates had died because they’d chosen only the most law-abiding options. If they had died for the sake of the country, then he could’ve accepted their deaths, but...

Oltar had been made painfully aware. When it came to decisions on the ground, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do. What could those operators getting to remain safe and sound with only their maps and documents possibly know? It was clearly much freer working in the underworld where there were no laws or regulations to restrict him.

“Allow me to confirm. My mission is to take the role of commander and use your men to gather information. The priority is the investigation into Kaffes Jacks and those he has called to the country, and then the tournament competitors. Am I right?”

“You’ve got it. Oh, but leave Roa and Morrie, would you? I’m gonna have them watch the losers’ matches while guarding me.”

By watch, he likely meant analyzing the fighters. He needed to gather information for the betting, most likely using those “MagiPads.”

“What about Leeno? Are you sure we don’t need to look into her?” Leeno the adventurer was someone that both Grieg and Oltar had a bit of a history with. To those who knew of her ability, it was a given that she was the favorite to win the tournament. With popularity, though, came attention, and that meant it would be impossible for them to approach her. Of course, there were still other methods they could use.

“I no longer care. Oltar, from the moment you were refused entry into the tournament, I have assumed you would not have a chance to interact with her. Given we already got off on such a bad foot, I’ve given up on ever meeting her again.”

“Inexplicable” was the only word Oltar could think of to describe the night they’d met. Someone had managed to raid one of Grieg’s businesses without being witnessed. He had no idea what happened nor did he have any idea who’d actually made their move. The events of that day faded into mystery—they attempted an investigation but came up with nothing.

That was exactly why Grieg’s instincts were setting off alarm bells in his mind. There was someone dangerous backing Leeno. Someone who was as strong as she was, that was for absolute certain. As for who that was, they had no idea. While they remained without that knowledge, it was no longer a good idea for them to approach Leeno. Grieg was not so foolish as to walk a road he could not see, especially not when Roa and Oltar, two people he had absolute confidence in the strength of, had been knocked out by this unknown assailant.

There was a good chance that they wouldn’t get away with just a little slap on the wrist if they were caught again.

“Understood. I will begin the operation, then.”

“Don’t start any fights, you hear me? The shadows of Altoire will be watching you always.”

“Of course. I’ll be careful.”

“Here we are at the arena. Whether they spend their time training or resting, all of our fighters are putting careful consideration into their condition. Let’s see if we can talk to some of...”

The wolf beastkin standing among several other competitors in the small locker room looked up when he heard footsteps approaching.

“Zeon, you’re up.”

At the sound of his name being called, he moved to the door.

On the other side of the locker room’s MagiPad, those who had already advanced to the main matches of the tournament were smiling under the bright sun. It was an entirely different world to the dark, depressing room the losers had all been shoved into.

No matter. Everyone present was letting their bloodthirst simmer. There weren’t many slots available, but there was still a chance to make it to the other side.

Zeon left the room and headed in the direction the staff were pointing—out into the sun.

“Woooooooo!”

Immediately, he was deafened by the cheering. He’d been able to hear the crowd from the locker room, but being showered with their enthusiasm directly had quite the impact. The walkway through the massive audience to the ring was narrow, the hands reaching out from the audience nearly brushing his shoulders.

“Zeon! Zeon! Zeon!”

Many of them were yelling his name, almost as if this were already the main tournament. It was a weekday and yet so many people had come. Did they not have work?

Zeon wasn’t a fan of attention and he usually tried to avoid anything that would gather too much of it. But here, he understood.

He understood his fellow adventurers who wanted to stand out, who wanted everyone’s eyes on them. He understood those who took pride in their achievements, flaunted their power, and showed off to everyone around them. There were many fighters like that in the land of beastkin, but Zeon had never felt that desire...until now, that is.

I see. This is it. This is the feeling they crave.

“Zeon! Zeon!”

Zeon suddenly heard a young voice from beside him as he walked down the aisle. It was a small boy, maybe about five or six years old. He was desperately reaching out with his tiny arm and tiny hand.

Zeon silently looked at the reaching hand and then lightly tapped his own against it. He’d always hated being the center of attention. He’d never liked being treated like a show. He’d never enjoyed fighting for the sake of other people’s entertainment. He hadn’t been that enthusiastic about this tournament.

But here, he felt just a little bit more motivation well up inside him. He couldn’t care less about the adults cheering for him, but if even a small child like that boy was willing to cheer for him, then he couldn’t make a fool of himself here.

The losers’ matches were only just beginning.

The public square in the royal capital was always open for the citizens to use as they pleased. They could hold events, open food stalls so long as they had a permit, and even put on performances of any kind. It was what the space was for.

Usually, it was a quiet place to relax, filled with couples talking between themselves, musicians practicing their instruments, and actors rehearsing. But today’s event was far from relaxing—today, it had become one of the arenas for the losers’ matches.

The weapons division was having their matches inside, but since the bare-handed division had far fewer competitors, it was being held in the park instead. It was all set up so that the audience and the ring were as close as possible. In other words, it was a place where spectators could watch a fistfight from up close. They’d even prepared extra lighting so the matches could continue into the night.

If it started raining, then the bare-handed fights would be moved indoors as well, since rain was the one downside of an outdoor tournament. There were plans to use magic to fend off any rain during the main matches, but that was an expense they didn’t feel was necessary for the losers’ rounds.

“Good job, Zeon!”

Sonicspeed Zeon won his first match easily. He stepped out of the ring and the staff directed him down the winners’ path...and that was where he got caught. Lying in wait was a production crew with camera at the ready. There was also Kikirira Amon, the kid who’d run up to him once before and said he had dog ears.

He’d been caught so off guard that he’d quickly made his escape back then, but during his stay, he’d watched some magivision and finally understood what was going on: The girl had run up to him because she’d wanted to interview him. Zeon realized he’d made the right call in making his escape and he’d been running away from them ever since.

Perhaps it was pointless to bother now. After seeing everyone’s reaction, he’d come to realize this was just the kind of event the martial arts tournament was. He stood out everywhere he walked, became a spectacle to captivate and bring forth the passion of those watching. Altoire was such an urban land that such a festival only made sense.

There was something similar back home. It was both tradition and ritual, but it helped for Zeon to view it as a much wider scale version of that.

“Oh... Thanks.” Zeon stopped and responded to Kikirira’s enthusiastic greeting. He’d never been a big talker, so he hoped they would forgive how curt he sounded.

“Please let me interview you! Oh, don’t worry, it’s not difficult at all. You just need to respond to anything I ask, but of course if you don’t want to answer you don’t have to! Okay? Okay, let’s go!”

The girl didn’t seem to notice or care about his demeanor as she fired off an explanation at light speed and then planted herself next to Zeon. She was definitely the pushy type.

Kikirira turned to the camera. “Here we have Sonicspeed Zeon, a famous adventurer! With popularity and strength in spades, he was highly regarded as a shoo-in for the main matches by the experts, but he just barely lost in preliminaries and is now here for another chance!”

Only just? As far as Zeon was concerned, he lost by a mile in a really pitiful manner. This girl knew how to pour salt on a wound.

“Congratulations on your first win! You looked like you barely broke a sweat during that, but is that how it felt?!”

“Y-Yeah... I... I guess.”

“I see! It appears he did, in fact, win without breaking a sweat!”

He most definitely had. It had been a one-sided match, even with him holding back.

“There are very few openings in the main matches up for grabs. Could you tell us what is motivating you to win?!”

His motivation... There was undoubtedly a small ember smoking away inside.

“Revenge and a desire to apologize.”

“I se— Huh?! A-A desire to apologize?!”

That didn’t seem to be the response Kikirira had been expecting, enough so that even she looked flustered. But Zeon wasn’t looking at her anymore—he was staring directly at the camera, speaking to someone who was no doubt on the other side. “I didn’t underestimate him. I didn’t let my guard down. I made the best move I possibly could have and that match was the result. And yet, I can’t help but still feel I put on a pitiful display. I don’t believe I could ever apologize enough. As such, I will perform in a way that lets him go all out next time. I want to have a real match against him.”

That preliminary battle had ended with Zeon practically inflicting the finishing blow on himself. He didn’t think that his opponent had done nothing—that moment of defense was his opponent’s real strength. Zeon had been outclassed by a defense of perfect muscles. However, to onlookers, it had looked self-inflicted. And even if his opponent had the perfect defense, there was no way to deny that Zeon had lost, just like that. There was no way his opponent had gotten out all of his energy in that fight either.

“That is all I desire from the main tournament rounds.”

Zeon had originally only participated in the tournament because of his connections to the adventurer’s guild. He’d had absolutely no desire to join and he’d even thought he wouldn’t care if he was eliminated in the prelims. He didn’t care how strong the fighters were; Zeon’s real opponents were monsters. He wasn’t trained in fighting against people.

And yet, the reason he had signed up for the losers’ matches was because he wanted to fight that man again. It wasn’t to make up for his defeat or to show off his skills. It most definitely wasn’t for the guildmaster who had been grumbling away incoherently in disbelief that he had been knocked out of the tournament so early.

It was to apologize for his shameful conduct as an opponent and, quite simply, as a loser’s revenge. These were the two things pushing him forward.

“I will make it to the next round.”

With that, Zeon walked off.

What he didn’t mention was that just a small part of his motivation was for those who were cheering him on. With such a festive air surrounding this tournament, that sort of goal fit him just fine too.

“Zeon’s really strong, huh?”

“He is.”

When Reliared dropped by my room to walk to class the next morning, we sat for a little while to catch a bit of yesterday’s losers’ matches. Given our jobs, it was important for us to stay in the know. We didn’t need to know everything, but making sure to watch even a little bit made all the difference.

“He looks like he’ll make it back to the next round.”

“Do you think?” I wasn’t sure if Zeon was strong or his opponent was too weak. At the very least, their difference in strength was so stark that it was easily discernible even to an amateur’s eye.

The losers’ rounds started in the evening and went into the night. Then the recording was broadcast the next day. They must have gone at light speed to get it edited in time if we were able to catch a broadcast before school. The work was tough whether you were on the ground or not.

“Interesting...”

After the match, the recording switched to show the interview between Kikirira and Sonicspeed Zeon. Zeon was a wolf beastkin known for his authentic skill—I’d heard he was well-known among those who were familiar with the adventuring scene. I had thought that he was at least more notable than the regular rabble back when I’d met him before the preliminaries. I’d even considered that he may be able to defeat one of my students, depending on who he was matched up against. I could have easily beat him while doing my homework, but I still had my eye on him.

That said, I wasn’t all that surprised that he had lost in the prelims either. We’d interacted a little when I had been going around with Rikelvita getting sketches done, but at that time, I had felt absolutely no passion from him. I realized then that he hadn’t particularly wanted to participate in the tournament.

If he’d won, anyway, then I could have accepted that too; not having your heart in it didn’t mean you weren’t strong—I would fall under that umbrella. But he definitely wasn’t strong enough to win by a huge margin, and there were plenty of other skilled fighters who could easily compete with him. If he was paired up with someone of equal strength, then the result would be decided before the fight even began.

Someone not obsessed with winning could not possibly win. Losing was the natural outcome.

That was the impression I’d had at the time, but...

“I will make it to the next round.”

The look on Zeon’s face as he declared those words was different. The eyes of the beastkin as he announced his firm resolve through the MagiPad were not the eyes of an apathetic warrior, but of a true martial artist. If he could maintain that attitude, then he may very well make it to the next round.

“I would very much like to see popular strong fighters make it to the main matches,” I said.

Zeon’s preliminary defeat had been quite the talk of the town when it happened. Conversely, Gandolph’s popularity had shot through the roof after being the victor. Well, perhaps more his notoriety than his popularity. People were still theorizing about what had happened in that match. Zeon had been the one to attack and yet he had been the one to lose—it was natural for the average viewer to think it made no sense.

That said, I had personally predicted the outcome. Gandolph was tough; he’d learned to use his chi defensively in a way that hardened his muscles. Up against that, a half-hearted attack would do nothing. Rather, you could end up injuring yourself instead. It was like hitting a rock, after all.

Zeon had kicked a rock straight on without even holding back. That was why his leg had broken.

“Oh no, I didn’t notice the time. We better go or we’ll be late. I really don’t want to, though...”

“Neither do I.” I would much rather laze around and watch the rest of the matches. I was exhausted from the consecutive days of recording. I wanted to just zone out while spectating. Sure, the competitors were so weak that I could be at the peak of drowsiness and still mow them all down, but fights between people of similar skill levels were still fun to watch. Those were the kinds of matchups where martial artists truly shined. Oh, and it was a given that there would be blood too.

Ughhh, I wanna relax. I wanna doze off while watching the matches.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t do that, so we reluctantly stood up. It was time for school. It was time for another day of fighting off the urge to sleep while we studied.

“Nia, Relia.”

When we turned to look at the classroom doorway, Josecotte Coiz was standing there. Oh my, another senior student had come calling.

“Look! It’s Josecotte!”

“Oh, um, yes...”

Our classmates excitedly swarmed her. I was getting a real sense of déjà vu.

Just like Kikirira, Josecotte had also been appearing on magivision a lot recently, so both girls were becoming quite well-known throughout the school. Josecotte’s most notable appearance so far was probably Leeno’s tournament participation announcement a year ago. At the time when everyone had been wondering who Leeno was, Josecotte had been the one to interview her. Her name and face had spread far and wide after that. Josecotte’s increasing popularity was also beginning to put the junior production crew itself on the map.

“Is something wrong?”

Josecotte looked unsure of how to handle the children as we walked over, turning to us while also trying to calm them down. “Uh, our director said he’d like to have a short meeting about the recording...”

She means Wagnes, right?

“At lunch? We don’t have time after school.”

Reliared was right—our time after school was filled with recordings, so we had no time to fit in a meeting. The junior crew were likely in the same boat.

“Of course it’s at lunch. Could you come to our room? We’ll prepare food for you.”

We have to go all the way over there? I can’t say I’m a fan of the thought... Is it an issue to hold it in the cafeteria? Well, I suppose they would hold it there if they could.

Not a lot I could do, really.

“All right. We’ll see you at lunch, then.”

This was also part of our job, after all.

I spent the next classes still trying to fend off sleep and eventually, it was lunchtime. Reliared and I rushed toward the junior production crew’s office—well, more like clubroom—far away from the main school building. Despite how we referred to them, they were a club on paper, so “clubroom” was the most suitable term for where they resided. It did sound like they were paying club fees as well.

“It’s been quite a while since I was last here,” Reliared remarked.

“Same for myself.”

When was the last time I was here?

Some of the seniors met us outside and led us to the room and we sat down at the table. Apparently, not everyone was here yet—a lot of the members were busy doing maintenance checks on their gear. They all looked quite exhausted, no doubt because of their recent harsh schedule. Unfortunately for them, the road ahead would be long.

“Sorry we’re late.”

The students gradually filtered in with Wagnes arriving last. He must’ve been busy with various tasks for the recording.

“Ah, Young Master Neal!”

Or not.

Reliared was the happiest I’d seen her in a while as she excitedly called out Neal’s name. I was happy for her.

Yes, Wagnes had brought my brother to the meeting. Three others as well. They looked like they were a mix of elementary and middle school students—there was even a girl with them. Neal was both the smallest and likely the youngest. Add in Char Gaul, who had been working on various things behind the scenes, and that made five—suddenly, it clicked what I was looking at.

They must be the Wingroad team.

“These five will be the Wingroad pilots we mentioned before. Thought it would be good to bring them all here so you could meet them.”

My assumption was correct, it seemed. They would be the team performing the formation flight before the professional team.

“Let’s get the meeting started, shall we? Please, eat your lunch while you listen.”

We all ate the sandwiches that someone must have ordered from the cafeteria as we listened to Wagnes speak. Apparently, they would begin recording the formation flight rehearsals starting today. They’d already acquired the skiffs they needed and a place they could practice, and Cedony—who had provided everything to them to begin with—had even supplied them with a professional engineer. Actually, talking about them like a simple provider seemed inaccurate. They were practically sponsoring the team by this point. We’re really becoming indebted to them.

“We’d like you two to join in whenever you can,” he said to us. “Just now and again is fine. We’ve already gotten permission from Miss Hilde, so...”

So even Hildetaura had accepted this, had she?

“Why?” Reliared asked directly. I was indeed curious myself.

“You already have two interviewers right there, don’t you?” I pointed out, nodding at Kikirira and Josecotte nearby. Right now, those girls were the faces of the junior crew. They certainly weren’t the unfamiliar faces they once were, so there was no reason not to use them.

“I hate to put it like this, but it’s the difference in popularity. If we ask the question of who would attract a greater viewership, you two definitely have more pull. Right now, people are almost too passionate about the martial arts tournament. Sure, what we would be showing would technically be related to it, but they’re likely to change the channel to watch something else. We might end up with no one watching it at all. But we have to at least try and grab people’s attention.”

Ah, so it’s to attract viewership. Honestly, it wasn’t that we were more popular, we’d just put in more hours. We were familiar faces to the magivision audience because we’d been in the industry for longer. If you asked me, their popularity was actually rising at an unnatural pace... But now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“I understand. If that’s the case, I don’t mind helping,” I said. It was more personal for me given I outright had a relative participating to hype up the tournament. I naturally wanted to support him.

Though I wasn’t actually sure if it was necessary. The stars of the Wingroad performance would be the team here—in other words, my brother. Apparently, Wagnes and his crew weren’t aware of the popularity of Neal Liston, the successor of the Liston family.

Neal had only occasionally appeared on magivision, so it wasn’t always immediately obvious, but his popularity was incredible. He’d been gaining more and more passionate fans ever since his first appearance. The moment someone became his fan, they never stopped. It was very likely that he had even bigger spenders in his base than us girls.

And now, someone like him had decided to fully enter the magivision industry. I was even starting to fear his future a little. Just what would happen if Neal’s popularity continued rising endlessly? It wouldn’t be far-fetched to think it could inspire an incident we’d never imagined.

With that thought in mind, it became difficult for me to criticize Lynette for wanting to instruct Neal in matters of chi, however half-baked her teachings. Neal needed to be able to protect himself should anything happen to him.

“Of course, I’ll join too! At least...I want to, but I’m so busy...”

Reliared had no reason to refuse, except for the problem of her schedule. She only had one body; it would have been impossible for her to participate in two recordings at the same time.

I’d have to ask for adjustments to be made to my schedule myself. I doubted they’d refuse once I told them it had to do with Neal. Bendelio was the manager for the Liston production crew right now. He was a crafty one—he would definitely cooperate, I was sure of it.

And if he didn’t cooperate, then I’d just find a way to fit it in myself. I’d do it by force if I had to.

Altoire’s martial arts tournament had become an event of international scale. We now had the chance to debut Neal Liston, the next head of the Liston family, on this grand stage. It was impossible for Bendelio to refuse.

“Of course it’s fine.”

And to no one’s surprise, Bendelio naturally accepted my request to make space for my brother’s recording with no hesitation.

I’d gone to the royal broadcasting station with Reliared again today after school. We split up at the reception and went to our respective production crews’ staff rooms. They’d managed to acquire a space to serve as a provisional broadcasting station while away from home where they could do postproduction work and hold meetings.

The Liston, Silver, and Altoire production crews were all working together right now, so it was useful to have a place where we were all gathered so we could easily hold joint meetings.

I was pretty sure the format would change as we went. Generally speaking, recordings belonged to the station who took it to begin with, so any highly confidential recordings being leaked would be a nightmare. Under normal circumstances, outsiders should be kept as far away as possible.

But this time, all the recordings of the tournament were being shared between the stations. We didn’t need to fear any recordings being leaked to a competitor here, whether they were recordings we wanted to keep secret, or that we had decided to scrap, or that were dangerous to show, so everyone was able to station themselves here.

“I’d heard a little about the student formation flight from Mirko. I guess this means they’re starting for real now.”

Oh, you knew? That makes things easier. I could see the faces of all the busy nearby staff drop the moment they heard our conversation. In fact, I could hear them screaming inside, begging for no more work added on top of their current pile. But I’m sorry. It’s for my brother—I can’t let this chance pass by.

“Have you heard anything about the details of the program itself?” Bendelio asked.

“Yes. They want to make something similar to the Dreaming of Wingroad special that they broadcast a while back.”

“Ahh, the diary format? That was pretty interesting.”

Dreaming of Wingroad had been created by recording bits and pieces each day and then joining it all together into one. This recording would be of Neal’s team practicing. If they recorded it all at once, ninety percent of it would be of skiffs just flying around. There likely wouldn’t be much time to have interviews with the team either—this was mainly to follow their practice. Basically, they intended to simply splice together all of the exciting parts.

“Does that mean we don’t have to particularly do anything?”

“Yes. The junior production crew will be doing the recording. They just want me there as an extra. It should be enough for me alone to go.”

“Got it. I’ll make some space in your schedule, then.”

I alone would suffice for this. It did mean I was increasing my own workload, but this was one recording I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t not be part of my brother’s real debut. Reliared said she’d also come along to help if she could get permission. I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though. Everyone was horrendously busy right now.

“Here we have our team of young pilots who will be performing a Wingroad formation flight at the opening ceremony of the martial arts tournament.”

First, I introduced the team at the edge of the warehouse district. Apparently, this land was owned by Cedony Trading.

“Neeaaaaal!”

“Young Master Neal!”

“Gwaaaaaaaaaaaah! I can’t believe I’m seeing the Liston prince in person!”

Deafening us were the shrill voices of the crowd gathering just outside. Since the recording was happening after school, there were plenty of students here to watch. I could hear some deeper voices in the crowd as well. Why are there men screaming just as loud? I didn’t get it, but regardless, it was clear that almost all of them were here for Neal.

We’d told them twice now that we needed them to lower their voices since we’d be starting our recording, but it appeared to have been no use. It might have been in part because the junior crew was filled with students only, weakening their authority, so we decided to leave them to their shouting. It wasn’t as if we could just force them off the premises either. This was the one broadcast we didn’t want to create a controversy around, so we chose to tolerate them.

The crew decided to continue with the recording, voices being caught in it be damned.

“The team is made up only of students and marks the first Wingroad team in Altoire. The leader of the team is Neal Liston...”

I went on to introduce each member of the team.

Wingroad was still an unknown sport in Altoire. It had started to become more known since it took off in the neighboring Vanderouge, but by showing it off at the opening ceremony, it would finally get the chance to spread all throughout the country.

The team was made up of two elementary students—Neal and a boy one year his senior—and three middle school students, one of which was the girl. Although Neal was the youngest of the five, he was of higher aristocratic status and had been the one to both come up with the idea and gather all of the members, so he was very quickly designated as their leader. He was the one that had made all the preparations too. The only ones with competition skiff experience were Neal and Char, so that had likely factored into the choice as well.

“Could each of you tell me what made you want to participate?”

After receiving a simple statement from each of them, my work for the junior crew was over for the day. The rest was recording their rehearsals—I didn’t need to be there for that.

“Cut! Thank you so much!”

The moment Wagnes signaled for the recording to stop, the five students breathed a sigh of relief. While the camera had been rolling, their faces had looked serious and mature, but now, they were back to looking their age.

“Gods, that was nerve-racking.”

“So that’s what it’s like to be recorded.”

They made various similar comments to each other—this was likely the first experience for most of them.

“How was that, Nia?” Wagnes asked.

“Not bad, I think.” I was a little worried about the noise from the crowd, but everything else seemed fine. The five of them responded well to the questions, so it seemed perfectly passable as an introductory recording. Regardless, how fun or interesting the program was would completely hinge on what came after.

What would they record? How would they string it together? How would they present it? That was where it was the director’s turn to really show his stuff.

“I’ll take my leave here, then.”

I was a little abrupt, but I had things to do. Next was the recording of the fighters receiving their formalwear. The plan was to record those meatheads trying the clothes on and interview them. They were definitely going to try and show off. Their muscles specifically.

“Heading out already?” Wagnes asked. “You’re so busy.”

“Aren’t you just as busy?” The second the junior production crew were done here, they’d have to immediately pack up and go to the losers’ matches—it wasn’t long until those started.

“True, we don’t have much leeway. At least we were able to extend our curfew.”

They’d need to, what with the losers’ matches running into the night.

“Do you understand what I meant now?”

Wagnes blinked. “Huh?”

“That you need lasting motivation, not a burst of it. Relax, and prepare your mind to be in for the long haul. These busy days will continue.”

“Ha ha... That’s true. I’d better do as you say.”

This time, what I said seemed to resonate. Stay too tense and you’ll collapse before you’re even halfway. I need to be careful too.

“I’m heading off now, Neal.”

“Good luck with your recording.”

I’ll do my best.

Right now, our recordings centered around three different events: the interviews with the competitors, the losers’ matches, and Wingroad. The turnaround on most of the programs was quick, being broadcast only a day after the recording itself. The only exception was the Wingroad program, which would be edited after a few days of recording, but that balanced itself out by having a growing in-person audience for the training sessions. Since the rehearsals were held after school, a lot of students went to watch.

Neal’s popularity was really something else. Or, no, it wasn’t just him, was it? While they weren’t at my brother’s level, all of the members of the team were good-looking. Char was quite attractive, and the sole girl of the team was very handsome; she seemed like she would be popular with both girls and boys. Honestly, they were all so attractive I was starting to wonder if they had been picked for their looks. They all seemed like they would garner a following.

I turned to Wagnes and asked, “Is that all you need me for today?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure...” The director crossed his arms as he thought to himself.

The recording for this show was happening gradually over each day. Today, we gave a light introduction to Wingroad skiffs. And by that, I meant a really light introduction—there was no point giving in-depth explanations to people with no interest in them, so we just covered the basics.

For this, the camera crew decided to record the skiffs while the Wingroad team were off at a meeting. This was when I realized that competition skiffs were surprisingly small. Well, maybe not the whole skiff, but the saddle itself was tiny. Apparently, the more lightweight and narrow the skiff, the faster it went or something.

The humiliation I had felt upon being too small to ride a skiff suddenly came to mind. Could I ride one of this size...? No, it might still be a little bit too big for me. My arms and legs were probably still too short. Why should I care, though? I could just run. I’d still make it to my destination at the same time if not faster.

“I feel like I want you to say something more, but what do you think, Nia?”

Ah, do you think what we have is too bland? If so, I agreed with him. All I’d done was give a boring explanation of what the skiffs were. It was like I was reading from an instruction manual. I couldn’t imagine it would be that fun to watch.

“But I don’t think I need to say anything pretentious here either.” The stars of this program were the team and Wingroad itself—I didn’t need to make myself any more prominent. Just recording the skiffs seemed perfectly fine for what they were trying to achieve.

“You’ve got a point... I do agree, but you know, you’ve come all this way. It feels like a waste to not do anything else.”

I’d rather you didn’t expect me to do anything else.

“Director, you shouldn’t ask too much of her.”

“Yeah, Wagnes. The fact she’s here at all with her busy schedule is already a lot.”

See? Even your staff are calling you out now. But it was hard for me to judge him for it. Going by my feelings alone, I was on Wagnes’s side. What I did today wasn’t anything that couldn’t have been done by someone else. I didn’t even need to be present—voiceovers could be recorded afterward. There was no point in me being here. I understood why the director was so caught up on that.

What else could we do...? Ah, I know.

“How about we record something else, then?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not sure if you’ll be able to use it, but I do think I can spin an interesting tale.”

“What? Here? Now?”

“Yes. We can get permission from the boy himself after, so let’s just record it for now.”

“O-Okay then.”

The camera was turned on and we began recording once again.

“Take a look over here.” I slowly walked forward, gesturing to one of the skiffs. “At a small shop in Altoire, Char Gaul had a fateful meeting with this competition skiff. The boy himself doesn’t even know how the skiff ended up in Altoire in the first place. He has since spent many long months and years gradually repairing it. While it may look like the rest of the skiffs from the outside, it is entirely different inside. If you hear one of the skiffs sounding different from the rest when they perform, what you are hearing is this skiff here.”

I continued, “A professional Wingroad team from Vanderouge will be arriving in Altoire in the coming days—perhaps they will have the answers to the mystery behind this skiff. Just what sort of eventful path has this ship followed to arrive here? I am looking forward to discovering the truth together with all of you.”

That should about do it. Wagnes gave the signal and the camera stopped rolling.

“I forgot all about that, actually,” Wagnes admitted. The story of Char’s skiff had been told on Dreaming of Wingroad, so the junior production crew were already familiar with it. Naturally, so were the viewers of the program.

“Perhaps there is some interesting drama behind it all,” I suggested. To be honest, I was fairly sure that the skiff was just something someone had smuggled into the country in the hopes of getting good money for it. But if that turned out to be the answer, then that was fine. At the end of the day, there was a mystery behind the skiff and that mystery may be revealed in the future. That alone was good enough to pique people’s curiosity. The actual answer itself wasn’t all that important.

“True. Maybe it’ll become a big story we can cover.”

Though on the other hand, depending on the results, it may end up something to be shelved, such as if the way it was procured was dangerous or a Vanderouge official had been the one to smuggle it. One wrong move and it could become an international scandal.

“Perhaps this will turn out to be tied to some dramatic incident,” I added.

Wagnes laughed at that. “Hey, at least it would be a massive scoop if it did.”

Wagnes and his staff were most likely all thinking the same thing: The skiff was probably smuggled. That was why they were able to laugh like it was nothing—they were certain it wasn’t some huge mystery.

But it turned out that the truth behind this skiff was a much larger secret than anyone could’ve anticipated...

Sorry, that was a lie. The truth was really quite simple.

Just as the recording for the Wingroad program had reached the one-week mark, the losers’ matches hit their halfway point. Unlike the preliminaries, they were going at a much steadier pace. Since they were being held directly in the capital, it was possible for there to be greater numbers of spectators; each day was alive with excitement.

“It’s been a long time, Miss Liston.”

Around the time that the stronger fighters in the losers’ bracket were starting to make a name for themselves and generating a good amount of buzz, a surprising guest came to talk to me while I was getting ready at the Cedony warehouse for another quick recording.

“Oh, Mr. Dallon. It’s nice to see you again.”

It was Dallon of Cedony Trading. He was a very gentlemanly older man. I was pretty sure he was one of the executives of the company, but I wasn’t sure where exactly in the ladder he was. We hadn’t talked enough for me to confirm. Usually, I would think it prudent to confirm his position, but I could leave it for another time—there was no telling when we’d meet again, anyway.

Dallon had brought two young men with him, both looking like they were in their twenties. Because the two of them were attractive themselves, they caught the eyes of the crowd that had gathered to cheer on my brother. They were no doubt thinking to themselves, Who are they? I want to cheer them on. I want to become their fan.

“These are two of the Wingroad competitors from Vanderouge.”

“Oh, the pros!”

They did say they would be coming soon! But...hang on. Was this sport secretly a modeling gig? No, no, maybe it was just a coincidence. There was no way everyone was choosing pilots based on their appearance.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nia Liston.”

“Emue Elan.”

“Name’s Kai. Nice to meet you.”

Oh, no, I was mistaken. Kai wasn’t a young man. That was the voice of a woman. She wasn’t so masculine I would outright say that she was a princely type, but... Hmmm, yeah, she did look like a woman the more I observed her. This type of person always reminded me of Lucida from the Ice Rose Theater Company. I haven’t seen her for a while now. Wonder how she’s doing.

“Neal! Come here for a moment please!” I called my brother away from doing checks on his skiff and introduced him to the two professionals from Vanderouge.

“Welcome! My name is Neal Liston! I’m the captain of this team!”

Whoa, he’s suddenly so excited. It was like he was meeting his role models for the first time.

Apparently, Emue and Kai had come to Altoire now, ahead of the rest of their team, so they could coach the student team. I did think it was a little early for them to be here—the opening ceremony wouldn’t be for another three weeks. They said that the rest of their team would be arriving a week before.

I hadn’t even considered that the student team would need someone to train them, but it made sense. For the past week, they’d been trying to get by with the manuals they’d received.

Neal glanced at me after that quick explanation. “You might have heard that we will be recorded during our training. Is that all right?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve heard,” Emue reassured the worried Neal with a smile. “We came here for the chance to make a name for ourselves and Wingroad, after all. We’d like to use this chance to spread the word. We’d rather you record as much as possible, honestly.”

In other words, this arrangement was of mutual benefit.

“Glad to hear it. In that case, let me introduce my team.”

Their first meeting was amicable at least. They’d probably be fine.

I turned back to the man dispatched by Cedony. “Mr. Dallon, I must thank you for all the support that Cedony Trading has shown the team thus far.”

“I will make sure to tell the master. We must thank you in return for all the lucrative opportunities you have supplied us.”

The billion-kram project and the martial arts tournament must have resulted in large gains for Cedony. By latching on early, they’d gained an unmatched level of authority. So long as they didn’t make any big mistakes, their ventures would be huge successes.

Besides, you really have been a big help to us. Keep earning as much money as you can.

Oh, and about the mystery of Char’s skiff, the professionals were able to solve it at a glance.

“Huh? Isn’t this that early model that accidentally fell into the sea?”

“Hey, you’re right. The way this is shaped here was only on the first model. I guess it somehow drifted all the way to Altoire.”

And that was it. This was the reality of small mysteries. At least it was better than it being smuggled goods.

After that, the first broadcast of the formation flight program was shown on magivision. It was the first program in which Neal was the main focus. The junior crew took a week’s footage and turned it into a single episode explaining what Wingroad was. The important part was to inform people that a sport like this existed, so it didn’t go too in-depth just yet.

The program introduced the five students who would be flying at the opening ceremony and explained that they would be performing a formation flight before the professionals. It showed them practicing, having meetings, and doing maintenance on their skiffs.

There were days that practice was canceled because of rain and so the scene showed each student going off to do their own thing, whether reading the manual or making changes to their skiff. The first episode ended with Emue and Kai arriving from Vanderouge to act as their coaches.

Okay, not bad. It felt like a nice and relaxing program in contrast to all the violent replays of the matches that had been taking over magivision the past few weeks. It might have been missing a bit of excitement, but this was how magivision programs usually were. The tournament was a very intense exception to this.

A week had passed since preliminaries had finished and that left three weeks until the main tournament. The losers’ matches were already halfway done. Depending on the number of people who had signed up, I could’ve seen it taking them the whole three weeks to get through everyone, but at this rate, they’d be done in one more week. In that case, there would be two weeks left until the main tournament once the losers’ rounds were done. That empty time slot would be filled with reruns of old matches, and interviews and events featuring those competing in the next round in order to give the audience a chance to see who they would be cheering for.

It was likely that those of us involved with recordings would only be busy until the losers’ matches were over. The fighters themselves would be given permission to do as they wished for the last free week before the tournament resumed. It would be free time in the truest sense of the word: no recordings, no events, no control from the government. They could spend that time on training or on leisure. They could even choose to work or leave Altoire for a short spell. Of course, they’d be forfeiting their place in the tournament if they didn’t return in time.

After that, well, the tournament would begin once again. I’d have liked to hype up the tournament as much as possible until then, but I had little reason to worry. Altoire was a melting pot of feverish excitement right now. It might get even more passionate over the next few weeks, but I couldn’t see it cooling down, not unless there was a huge incident. Whether we did anything more or not, the crowds would get hyped up and form their own expectations. All we had to do was keep an eye out for anyone that wanted to try and put a damper on things.

“Did you see?! Nia, Nia, did you see?! You did, didn’t you?!”

I didn’t even need her to explain what she was talking about for me to immediately know... I knew, but...

“Are you not a bit early?”

I had been sleeping. Very soundly. Until she came barging in. It was so early that I was sure there were still plenty of other students sleeping too. Reliared had come flying into my room at the crack of dawn.

Ugh, I completely forgot to lock the door.

I guess it was less that I forgot and more that I wasn’t used to doing it. That was usually Lynokis’s job. Besides, I was always ready for potential attacks, whether in broad daylight or at night. If the doors or windows were locked, the assailant would just forcefully break in. The attacks themselves wouldn’t be a big deal, but the cleanup and repairs that came after would be such a pain. That must’ve been how I lived my previous life too. That was why I didn’t particularly have a habit of locking my doors, but this was the first time it had worked against me.

“You saw, right?! You totally saw, didn’t you?!”

“I did, I did. That’s enough already. Calm down.” It was first thing in the morning and the girl was already grabbing me and shaking me. After getting her to stop, I sighed and got out of bed.

Nowadays, Reliared was always so exhausted from her recordings that she went straight to bed when she made it back to the dorms, so she came to my room in the morning now instead of evening. I didn’t mind that, but... This is unfortunate. I really wanted to sleep a little more. I’m still tired. But I couldn’t bring myself to let down a child looking at me with such excitement in her eyes. It was like how you couldn’t resist a crying baby.

“You’re talking about the Wingroad program, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah! Young Master Neal was there! And he was shown the whole time! And it was, like, kinda really good!”

Reliared was usually well-spoken when it came to her reviews, but it seemed this time, she’d completely lost all her vocabulary in her excitement. She’d probably been in this state since last night, unable to sleep, but getting more worked up the longer she lay awake. It became morning before she knew it, so she’d come to my room the second she was ready—all to talk about that program.

“Yes, they did put it together nicely.” I had been to the recording location every day and Neal was my brother, so I didn’t feel anything on Reliared’s level. But given the girl hadn’t been able to go to the shoot no matter how much she wanted to, the episode must have been emotional for her to watch. She’d almost been in tears as she’d told me that she’d been unable to clear a space in her schedule to join me. Hildetaura had apparently said that she would attend too, but it seemed she was too busy herself. I couldn’t blame either of them—even I was having to force the free time to make it.

“There should be two or three more episodes,” I told her. There were still three weeks until the main matches, so they would likely be recording every day until then. I hadn’t been told what their intended pace for the broadcasts was, but given yesterday’s episode had been a compilation of the week’s recordings, weekly releases were likely their intention.

“Right?! They said episode one, didn’t they?! If there’s an episode one, that means there’s an episode two, right?! Young Master Neal will get to appear again, won’t he?!”

Yes, he will.

Disregarding Reliared and all of Neal’s other fans, I really did want my brother to succeed. I’d seen in person how hard he and his team had been working each day. I’d seen all the unrefined efforts they’d put in that couldn’t be shown on the MagiPad.

And so, the second episode of the Wingroad program was broadcast, the losers’ matches came to an end, and we only had two weeks left until the tournament.

We were finally entering the last sprint.

Chapter 3: The Main Tournament Begins

“W-Wow, what an incredible crowd! They’re overwhelmingly loud! Is the whole of Altoire here?! It’s so crowded I’m almost envious of the people looking down comfortably from the top floors of their buildings!”

“The first skiff is arriving at the port! Finally! Finally, those chosen fighters who just lost in the preliminaries will be departing for the main tournament island! Will the fires of victory rise in their names, or will their revenge be thwarted in front of the chosen winners once again?! Expectations for the tournament are at an all-time high!”

Kikirira was right—the noise was deafening.

“Whew... I’m really glad I wasn’t on the ground...”

I absolutely agreed.

After a day of much work, I took a bath, had dinner, gave thanks to my lack of homework, and prepared to go to bed. Just as I was managing to relax, Reliared came along to watch magivision with me, her first evening visit in a while. You could say that this also fell under our work description, since it was a review of today’s recordings.

What we were seeing now were the valiant winners of the losers’ matches returning to the tournament island having secured themselves a place. A procession of extravagant skiffs on which the returning competitors were sitting was slowly moving through the main street. The sight of everyone gathering to cheer and send off the once-fallen martial artists was not unlike the departure of heroes going off to war.

Josecotte and Kikirira were the two hosts braving the chaos to deliver the occasion to magivision, yelling so their voices could be heard over the raucous cheers. The camera itself was struggling to remain still, the image on the MagiPad rough and unsteady, just as chaotic as the situation itself.

Usually, this would have been the kind of recording that would be tossed in the trash, completely amateurish in every way.

But it was fun. Seeing both the camera and the presenters trying their hardest to fight against the traffic gave a completely different atmosphere than if it had been still. The rougher the recording, the more it felt like you were there in person, feeling the insane energy of the crowd.

When the last skiff arrived at the port, the scene changed to show the competitors boarding the airship. It was now Reliared and the Silver crew’s turn.

Honestly, the most exciting part is over now.

Apparently, Reliared felt the same way because she turned to chat with me instead. “I’d heard the main street was busy, but I didn’t realize it was that busy.”

“Yes, I imagine it was difficult to record in.” I’d never have considered doing it myself. I couldn’t be sure if I would’ve managed to hold myself back from punching those who got in the way. Actually, we would probably have done as Kikirira had said and found ourselves a quiet place to record atop a building or something. In comfort, naturally.

The only reason this recording turned out like this was because of the junior crew’s poor setup and poor preparation.

No, maybe it’s unfair to go that far. They were students without the necessary experience. While their recording skills were improving all the time, they shouldn’t be expected to have perfected the necessary preparations.

Actually, hold on... Could this have been intentional? Had Wagnes deliberately chosen to record on the scene without preparing a proper recording location? Did he deliberately choose to record like this so they could capture the sheer commotion? Had he believed that all his staff and Kikirira and Josecotte would carry out their tasks?

If that was the case, then Wagnes was definitely someone worth keeping an eye on. Would he one day apply to join the royal broadcasting station? Perhaps the Listons could scout him? Actually, he said once that his family lived in the capital, so probably not. If I recalled correctly, I’d also heard mention of him being a low-rank aristocrat... Guess we won’t be able to.

“I envy the young.”

Regardless, what we were bearing witness to was a recklessness and savagery that only youth could bring. I couldn’t do that anymore. Any failures I made on magivision would remain forever. This wasn’t the kind of adventuring I wanted to be doing.

“Huh? What are you talking about? You’re the same age as me.”

On the MagiPad now was a red-haired child introducing the competitors boarding the airship and their history. The one who went around doing simple interviews with them later was me, by the way. Hildetaura was the one to greet them on the tournament island. We already knew how the rest of the recording went, so there was nothing we were really that excited to watch. We were just letting it run in the background.

“Say, who do you think will win?” Reliared asked.

“Huh? Win?”

Now that I thought about it, I’d never had a conversation like this with Reliared. We’d been exchanging notes on who we thought looked strong and other basic information about the competitors because it was a necessary part of our job—she’d literally had to just talk about them on magivision there. We’d never spoken about them beyond that, though.

Who will win, hmm?

I turned the question back on her. “Who do you think will win?”

“Esuella said that Leeno will definitely win the bare-handed division. I’d agree.”

So that was how her attendant read the competitors, hmm? She was quite strong herself, but she hadn’t entered the tournament. Then again, why would a regular attendant enter a martial arts tournament to begin with?

Leeno as the winner... She was the favorite of this whole tournament, but—and this didn’t mean I wanted her to lose or anything—things going as expected was just too boring. It was because everyone was certain she would win that I wanted someone to completely overturn those expectations.

“I personally think Gandolph has a chance.” He was definitely the fighter with the best chance to beat Lynokis.

“Huh? Master?”

Oh right, I forgot that Gandolph was Reliared’s teacher.

“Not to be mean, but is he really that strong?”

If Gandolph won, that would mean someone who was right nearby had secretly been really strong all along. There were moments like this where the closer someone was to you, the harder it was to believe.

“He is. Very much so.” To be frank, the real question was whether or not there was anyone in the bare-handed division who could breach Gandolph’s defenses. If his opponent wasn’t using chi, they’d barely leave a scratch, no matter how much they punched and kicked. Naturally, Gandolph would also then hit back. He was a big man—his hits would no doubt hurt. Going by that logic, the same would apply to anyone wielding a weapon against him. Even if they were wielding a blade, it would be impossible for them to land a lethal strike unless they were a skilled fighter.

I was a little curious about that little blue fox beastkin, Tohaulow. At a cursory glance, she wouldn’t be capable of breaking Gandolph’s defense either. But she was a Hero candidate from Slengradd; she had to be hiding something up her sleeve.

I’d also found myself wanting to cheer for Sonicspeed Zeon a little. Now that the wolfman had made it through to the next round, a lot of people were likely looking forward to his rematch with Gandolph, regardless of who won or lost. That expression he’d shown to the camera was one of a resolved martial artist. He would likely put every ounce of his energy into that fight. If that rematch came to pass, it would make for quite the spectacle.

“Hmmm... I dunno. I kinda can’t see Master winning.”

Aren’t you his student? You two are student and teacher of a club. You don’t have to believe he’ll win, but at least cheer him on. H-Huh? You are cheering him on, aren’t you?

“Who are you cheering for, Relia?”

“Definitely Leeno! She even appeared on my program!”

I was starting to feel bad for Gandolph. Masters didn’t like to be considered weak by their disciples. It was natural for them to hope that those they taught would cheer for them and believe in their strength unconditionally. Ah, and we wanted to be respected as well.

What is with our students and simply not getting it? Cheer for your master! That is practically your duty as his student.

“What about the weapons division?” Reliared asked.

“I don’t know if there’s a clear winner in the weapons division in the way that the bare-handed division has Leeno. What did your attendant say?”

“She thinks Lynette Bran, Young Master Neal’s attendant, will win.”

Not a bad choice. Lynette’s matches were quite dull, but she’d won them with steady precision. She didn’t stand out, but a trained fighter would be able to see that she was strong across the board. The only reason her matches were dull was because she would always fight at her own pace, never being led along or disrupted by her opponent.

It was always possible to win by being loyal to the fundamentals, even if you didn’t have some big, dramatic move. Being able to win with the basics was really the ideal way to be as a martial artist—the fundamentals were what you should be trained in the most. Though that didn’t change that the style made for a pretty dull viewing.

“There are six people I have my eye on.”

“Six?”

I counted them on my fingers as I listed them off: “Lynette, Anzel, Freeze. I think the winner will be among these three. I’m personally interested in Asuma. Sauzan Flameen and Lestra are the two whose strengths I can’t get a confident read of. Those three will at least rank high, I think.”

Sauzan was another Hero candidate from Slengradd. He was the same type of fighter as Lynette—he steadily and fairly won his matches through his skilled and consistent swordsmanship.

As for Lestra... Well, she was the one person whose matches I hadn’t seen. The fact she hadn’t been followed by any of the production crews must’ve been because she was another steady fighter. I was sure of it.

Then for my personal interest, there was Asuma Hinoki. He’d made it through preliminaries without breaking a sweat, but his real strength shouldn’t be judged based on his current performance; it should be based on his performance in a close battle. He would definitely get stronger fighting against someone who could match him pound for pound. If he improved beyond my predictions, then he would absolutely have a chance to win the tournament. For now, he was the dark horse of that division, someone to consider based on his improvement over the course of the matches.

“I see...”

I wasn’t sure if Reliared understood my choices because her reaction was a little lacking.

“Say...”

Unless her reaction was inspired by something else?

“Do you know Anzel personally?”

“Huh? No, I’ve only ever interviewed him.”

That question admittedly startled me. Anzel was a member of the underworld; there would usually be no reason for us to know each other or for someone to even think we had any relation whatsoever. Anzel even made absolutely sure he never said my name in front of anyone else. He made sure to be vague about our relationship even when we’d dealt with that old man during the prelims.

Of course, there was no changing that I’d once been a regular at his bar in the past, so those who saw me then would obviously know. But I’d never mentioned those excursions to Reliared.

“Oh, okay. You see, I’ve kinda been noticing something about Rikel...”

Rikel, as in the second daughter of the Silvers, Rikelvita the artist.

“She seems to be interested in Anzel.”

“Interested?” In what? His unbelievable hairstyle that should have been impossible to maintain? Because I was interested in that. How did he style it? The sides and back were cut short, I think... But then what?

“Yeah... I think...she might be in love with him?”

Love?! She was...in love with him. Well, they were both in their twenties, and Rikelvita was of a normal age to be thinking about marriage. She looked younger than she was and was a bit of a shut-in, but she was certainly old enough to be considering such things.

That made sense. When someone mentioned a young woman’s interest in a man, then obviously it would be about romance. Pfft, who said it would be related to anything as unromantic as a hairstyle? Not me.

But, y’know...I really was curious how his hair worked.

“Did she herself say that?”

“No, but she’s been sketching Anzel a ton, so it made me curious.”

Oh, she definitely sounded attracted to him. I couldn’t really support it, though... They lived in two completely different worlds, and their personalities barely meshed.

“To be honest, I kinda get it,” Reliared continued. “Anzel’s pretty cool, don’t you think? He’s got that dangerous allure and he’s quite attractive.”

I suppose so.

“I imagine this is just a phase—they won’t cross paths after the tournament’s over. Let her be.”

“That’s true. Even Esuella said that they shouldn’t get together. It would be impossible, right?”

Yes, they shouldn’t get together. One was a popular artist from the fifth-class Silver family. The other was an underworld dweller with a criminal record and a mysterious past. While society was less likely to look down upon status differences these days, this was a bit of a different story. They could try and work it out if the feelings were reciprocated, but it was hard to imagine they were even at that stage.

“But you know what Rikel’s like. If she’s fallen for someone...I do want to support her.”

“I understand.” How could you not? Just as it was natural for a teacher to cheer on their student, I wanted to cheer on Rikelvita’s love life.

The real issue was Anzel. Out of everyone, why did it have to be him? He was the one person she shouldn’t have fallen for. At least if it had been Gandolph, she would have had a chance.

Rikelvita had fallen in love... That timid girl who would willingly hide behind a child had fallen in love.

“She’s finally of an age to take an interest in romance, huh?” I mused.

“I mean, she’s in her twenties, you know? She’s over twice our age. I get why you’d want to say that, though.”

It was quite emotional to think about.

Now then, once tomorrow’s party was over, we would have a short break from recording. Let’s go to bed early tonight.

Once the losers’ rounds were over, we spent a week interviewing those who had secured a place in the next round. They were all seen off to the tournament island by an overenthusiastic crowd.

The winners of the prelims were dressed in their new formal attire and the returnees were dressed in their casual clothes. The whole group was gathered in front of the camera. Once everyone was together, Wolkas, the captain of the knights, announced the official timetable.

The matches would begin in a week. There were around three hundred participants. One match would happen at a time for seven to nine days until the finals, and then they would hold the closing ceremony. Depending on how long the matches went and how quickly they got through them, there was a chance they wouldn’t be finished in time, so there were one or two extra days set aside, just in case. The bare-handed division had fewer participants, but they would have their matches at the same time as the weapons division to allow for both divisions to have their finals matches on the same day.

The rules were mostly the same as preliminaries with the only real difference being that there would be three referees for each match. Even during prelims, there had been competitors who had refused to acknowledge defeat. If all three referees ruled a competitor was unable to continue, be it because they were too injured or because they were fighting too passively, they could force a match to end. It was a good rule to have—it was clear that the organizers wanted to avoid casualties at all costs.

That said, for a martial artist, one’s moment of death was also a worthwhile outcome. Not that being able to graciously accept one’s defeat was bad, though.

Wolkas ended by discussing the gambling aspect of the tournament. There would be official betting, with a payout being provided if the selected competitor placed. There would be nothing complicated like forecast bets or tricast bets. He also warned those participating in underground gambling or illegal bets to be careful as those weren’t secured by the government.

I bet the underground big shots are going wild down there.

Once Wolkas’s explanation was finished, the reception began.

The matches would begin a week from now and this party was the last bit of recording we needed to do until then. The competitors would be free after this.

With the winners of the losers’ rounds here now, all the remaining competitors were finally together. For the next week, no one would interrupt them. They could train or they could focus on resting their bodies; it was free time to do as they pleased.

An extravagant feast, musical performances, and plenty of alcohol. The three hundred participants were all behaving and chatting among themselves amicably—at least, on the surface.

It was a fantastically cruel move. The initial winning competitors were dressed in their tailored formal suits and those who had climbed up from the losers’ rounds were left in their plain clothes. The purpose of this party, where one could tell at a glance who was a winner and who had been a loser, was to make it visible for the fighters where their rivals were or even to create those rivalries.

The winners were sauntering about without a care. Meanwhile, the underdressed losers would mix in with them, understanding exactly the reason for this setup, and not hesitate to glare. There was no ignoring it; the contrast was blatant. They would be aware of it whether they wanted to be or not.

Here and there, a goose bump-inducing tension started to form. Those who weren’t able to peacefully enjoy the party began to feel a gloomy lump in their stomachs. There was no way for them to spend their time at this gathering calmly.

You sly fox, King Hyurence. You aren’t pulling any punches, are you? I must praise you for your efforts!

“Shall we go?”

The tension and bloodlust were continuing to build in the air. The Liston crew were undoubtedly being suffocated by the pressure, but I led them forward.

It’s interview time. I’m gonna get right to the heart of those dark emotions building up inside you all. This isn’t the time for politeness. Show me your real fighting spirits.

“Nia... Hey, Nia? I, uh... I don’t think doing this kind of thing is okay,” Reliared muttered.

I know. I know it isn’t. But forgive me.

“I want to make this tournament a success. I’ve worked so hard for this moment. I swore I wouldn’t hold back. I’ll do anything I must.”

“I get that, but...”

The upcoming schedule, Wolkas’s explanation, and the party were all broadcast on magivision that night. Reliared was watching it with me in my room, as per usual.

Man, we really got some good shots. Reliared and Hildetaura had been at the party as well, but the only ones who had been actively recording most of it were the Liston crew. Why? Because the atmosphere was horrific.

The party started off friendly, but the more it continued, the quieter everything became. Even the relaxing music from the band began feeling hollow amid the festering negativity. It almost felt like you could see the contamination born from those human emotions.

Glaring matches started up all over, and some even silently grabbed others by their collars. For some reason, the staff did nothing to intervene, leaving it to the competitors to keep their fellow fighters under control. At the same time, some weren’t happy about that, and so they started glaring at even more people. There were those who began grumbling and voicing their complaints.

It was a terrifyingly exciting environment. The only reason a huge brawl didn’t break out was because the rules were hanging over their heads. They knew that if they fought outside of the ring, they would be immediately disqualified. There were those who had been disqualified from the prelims for that exact reason, so they knew the staff meant it. The contestants didn’t want to lose their space right after fighting all this way—and at a silly party to boot. Those feelings alone were enough to stop them from raising their fists.

The Liston crew walked all around that tense party floor. I would walk between those who clearly had beef, smile on my face, and egg them on with a, “I wonder which of you is stronger?” Or I would aggravate them further with a, “There’s quite the difference in build here. I think this fighter has the advantage.” I was sauntering about, knowingly making remarks that made it seem like I was completely incapable of reading the room.

None of them responded directly to me, but they definitely reacted. I could see their blood vessels pumping angrily, and they looked two steps away from threatening me. It wouldn’t have surprised me if they’d suddenly turned and said, “I’m gonna murder you, brat!” or “Shut your damn mouth!” That’s exactly what I wanted! You should’ve tried to take a swing at me. I’d have dodged, you know? You wouldn’t have been disqualified.

At the end of the day, though, they were all professionals. I gave them little pokes and there really seemed to be a few who were struggling to contain their anger, but they were all professionals in violent fields. They knew the right place, the right time, and the right opponent to fight. I think that was why no one came out swinging. Of course, the biggest factor was likely not wanting to get disqualified for a little squabble.

“But it made everything exciting, didn’t it?” I defended myself.

“Yeah, but...I don’t think what you did was right. But it’s true that I can’t look away, no matter how much I want to...”

The jeers, the warnings, the heckling, all of it gradually stood out more and more. My actions today had created rivalries between the competitors and exacerbated existing ones, especially from those who had been in the losers’ bracket. Their popularity had been rising dramatically since their return. Hildetaura’s guess was that it was because holding the matches in the capital had meant more people could watch them in person, and those people then became big fans.

Fighters who had once lost had fought their way back to the main tournament. They were as persistent as cockroaches—the audience was captivated by their crude crawl back to the top. There were those who had fought and bled in front of them. If people had been able to see that brilliance in person, then it seemed only natural that they would end up wanting to cheer for them.

On one side we had the winners, on the other, we had the losers. The MagiPad displayed them glaring and taking potshots at each other, fanning the flames of enthusiasm for the remainder of the tournament to even greater heights.

Well, long story short, the party had been very exciting. It was a miracle it hadn’t ended with someone finally just blowing a gasket.

Still, I shouldn’t have expected anything less. There were those who had been entirely focused on eating and drinking from the buffet, those who had been snickering away at what was going on from a distance, those who had been staying out of the commotion and remaining on high alert, those who had been ignoring anyone who even tried to glare at them, those who had been chatting the whole time with their allies, those who had taken this opportunity to stick to the cameras and show off their muscles... Everyone who had been able to spend their time at that party at their own pace had to be skilled fighters.

“It’s great how bloodthirsty everyone is.” Even through the MagiPad, it was possible to feel how dangerous the atmosphere had been. It was a perfect example of how this was the natural outcome of a gathering of martial artists. They would’ve ended up this way eventually, whether I’d poked the hornet’s nest or not.

Martial artists generally felt that they were the strongest and wanted to prove their strength. When people with that sort of mindset gathered in one place, they would naturally begin comparing.

“Nia, you, uh...” Reliared looked freaked out, but quite frankly, I didn’t care. This was how things were supposed to be. If people started idolizing martial artists, it was only a matter of time until their expectations were betrayed. The nature of a martial artist was much closer to a child who liked getting into fights. We were people who simply cared about who was strong and who was stronger than us. That was all.

“Oh, look here.” Just as the bloodthirst reached a height that the partygoers began spitting insults, Reliared seemed to notice something and pointed at the MagiPad.

“Huh? What was that?” Something appeared to have happened directly behind where I’d been gleefully toying with the fighters’ pride and feelings of inferiority. Now that I was paying attention, something appeared for a quick second in the camera and then moved out of frame... Was that Anzel? He was carrying someone, wasn’t he?

“Rikel?” Relia muttered.

What? Was he carrying Rikelvita?

“You mean the person Anzel was carrying? She did look like she had red hair...”

He really was only on-screen for a quick second. If I’d been paying attention from the start, I might’ve been able to catch who it was.

“Huh?! What should I do?! Nia, what should I do?! Spring might have finally come for Rikel! This might be the start of a love story!”

Reliared looked so happy. I couldn’t tell if it was because it was her sister or because she was of the age to start caring about such things.

I do think it’s more likely that Rikelvita collapsed and he was carrying her off to the infirmary...

Rikelvita? Fall in love? It was really hard to imagine.

“Night, Nia.”

With it nearing bedtime, Reliared headed off back to her room. All that remained was me and the MagiPad.

I let out a sigh. The bloodthirsty party had ended and it was now showing the knight captain giving his explanation of the upcoming schedule.

At least we should be able to have a little rest now. Tournament-related recordings would now temporarily be on hold, just as planned. It wasn’t that I would have no recordings at all, but my work schedule would be much calmer until the tournament reconvened. For the next week, rebroadcasts of the matches and all the interviews we’d done with the competitors would be broadcast in order to sell the fighters.

The long martial arts tournament was finally nearing its end. Altoire had already been more alive with excitement than I’d ever seen it, but I was sure the flames of passion would only get hotter with each passing day. This heat, this passion, would be directed at the betting. The expectations for the long-awaited main matches, the desire to cheer for one’s favorite, the heightened emotions, all of it would lead to the audience making bets. There would also be those who would just do it as a way to commemorate the tournament.

The current perception was that Leeno would be the definite winner of the bare-handed division, but in that case, the winnings pool likely wouldn’t be that large. No matter what the outcome, the bookmakers—in this case, the government—would profit.

It was the weapons division that the gamblers would really get excited about. Even I struggled to state an absolute clear winner and that made me look forward to it more.

“I guess I should sleep.” Lynokis wasn’t here, but I had promised to live as regular a life as possible while she was away, so why not do that? Besides, I was tired, anyway.

I turned off the MagiPad and the lights and snuggled into bed.

Just a little bit more. All that was left was the main matches, and the tournament I’d spent over a year working toward would be over. My massively packed schedule would also finally calm down. I could finally go a day without feeling like I wanted to murder Bendelio. My only real concern left was Neal’s Wingroad performance.

No, actually, he’ll be fine. Neal always stepped up when he needed to. He was such a prodigy he even managed to get a grasp of chi at his age—he’d see it through to the end without complaint.

Just one last push and it’ll all be over.

It was quiet. For the past few days, the competitors had been forced to stand in front of the camera and attempt to speak through their nerves, all while feeling uneasy about the upcoming tournament. It had been hard to find any calm.

However, it was as the knight captain had said. The organizers of the tournament didn’t approach them once over the week before the tournament reconvened. There were no recordings and no noncompetitors (other than staff) allowed on the island.

Those busy days felt like they had all just been a terrible dream as they were suddenly allowed free time to themselves. Everyone spent that time in their own ways, including the ten or so fighters who had made it back from the losers’ matches. It was quiet without the commotion of the capital. Most of them spent their time quietly training and conditioning for the tournament. The rest of them were resting.

Everyone was well aware of how important this next week would be. None of the obviously weak rookies were left among them. Everyone in the main matches fought as part of their occupation, even if the specifics were different.

“The result of an adventure is determined by the preparations one makes.” This was the motto drilled into any adventurer’s head. All one had to do was swap “adventure” with “battle” and it applied to the tournament as well.

Any sense of elation at having made it to the next round had ended with that party. Since then, everyone had been focused solely on their preparations to win. There was no time for distractions, not even their rivals. They all were looking solely at themselves, working on their bodies so they would be in the best condition for the tournament. All the time granted to them was being used for that purpose.

“They really are something else.”

Lynokis was on a run around the quiet floating island. She was encasing herself in chi and simply running. Filling her mind was thoughts of the competition...of the adventurers she had once looked up to passing by with the scenery.

Until the preliminaries and that party, she’d had all sorts of eyes on her. There had been those who talked badly about her behind her back, and she’d need more than two hands to count the number of times someone had tried to pick a fight with her. No one got especially aggressive, but she’d heard plenty of ill-intentioned rumors about herself.

She was the favorite to win the tournament. Because of that perception, she’d been the target of a lot of jealousy.

But now, no one cared. If they wanted to use this week to its fullest, they had to ignore Lynokis. There was no time to be distracted. They were different from her in that way. They were good at getting into the right headspace. That ability to calmly make decisions was proof that they were professionals.

Lynokis, on the other hand, was a little naive in this area. She hadn’t realized that everyone was actually still keeping her in their periphery, especially those in the bare-handed division. They needed to pay attention if they wanted to gather information for any chance of formulating a way to win. If they couldn’t win through pure strength and skill, they’d prepare in order to make it possible.

That was how a professional approached situations like this.

Lynokis let out a breath. She’d made it back to the lodgings where her room was. She was sweating profusely. Her body felt heavy. She was sure that if she ran any more, her body would fall apart. It wasn’t because she’d pushed her body too hard, but because she’d used too much chi. She’d become more proficient at using it, but she still wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t sure if she could make any notable progress in just a week, but she had to try.

She was glad she’d chosen sweatproof makeup. At least the price had been worth it.

“Ten laps.”

Lynokis thought her heart would leap out of her chest when someone suddenly spoke to her from behind. When she turned around, she saw a blue fox beastkin standing with a relaxed look on her face—Tohaulow.

“Ten laps and you’re already sweating this much?”

Lynokis had run ten laps around the island. She hadn’t decided on the number in advance—she’d intended to just run until she reached her limit. She planned to go for a run in the evening too, so she was just going to rest in her room for a while.

“Were you with me that whole time?” she tentatively asked the other girl.

“Yup. I was running right behind you. Though I’ll admit I was hiding my presence. What? Didn’t notice me?”

She hadn’t. That wasn’t just the result of the beastkin’s naturally blessed athletic ability. Tohaulow had clearly trained her body up bit by bit like any regular person, choosing not to rely on her natural build alone. Lynokis could sense a boundless strength in her.

Tohaulow continued to stare into Lynokis’s eyes, uncaring of Lynokis’s discomfort. “Are you really that strong? You don’t look it. But that move you showed in the prelims was definitely as fast as one of mine.”

She must have been referring to her match with Avan. There was no other match where Lynokis put in the effort.

“Mind if I have a little shot?” That was Tohaulow’s way of issuing a challenge. Lynokis had had plenty of challenges from other fighters until now. Hostile fights were against the rules, but if they framed it as asking for a spar, they were able to be annoying without consequence.

Lynokis didn’t even hesitate. “Nope. Absolutely not. I refuse.”

“Whaaaat? You’re not gonna fight me?”

“Of course not. I’m not about to be disqualified because of a silly fight.”

This tournament was pretty strict on personal fights. There were so many foreign competitors that they were always at risk of something escalating to an international incident; that was the number one thing the organizers wanted to avoid. Even now, the staff were patrolling the island. It was clearly intended to act as a deterrent. If they fought, they would get disqualified on the spot.

“Hmm, well, okay. I guess I’ll wait ’til the real thing.”

“Are you that confident we’ll even get paired up?”

“I am. I’m going to the finals. We’ll end up fighting eventually.”

“Even though there are other competitors stronger than you?”

“Huh? Who’re you talking about?” Tohaulow really looked as if she had no idea who Lynokis meant.

Lynokis nearly said who she was thinking of, then decided against it. There was no benefit to giving this girl information.

“I don’t intend to lose to you either, y’know?” Tohaulow said with full confidence.

“You can certainly dream.”

Honestly, Lynokis didn’t care which of them was stronger. Her only wish was to not lose in front of Nia as her number one student. That was all. Tohaulow was someone she needed to watch out for, but Lynokis’s focus was turned toward one man and one man alone:

Gandolph.

That man was in the same division as her. The two of them knew each other’s tricks to some degree and they were also both practitioners of chi. They roughly knew each other’s power levels. They were like classmates too. That was the real sticking point for Lynokis. She didn’t care if she lost to Tohaulow, but she cared greatly about losing to Gandolph. Lynokis was Nia’s number one student—she couldn’t afford to lose to her juniors.

If she lost to the second or third or whatever number student Gandolph was, her title would be stained. The title of number one student was much more important to Lynokis than being the favorite to win the tournament.

She’d caught sight of Gandolph on her run around the island. He had been focused entirely on doing punches in the air. Though they were basic forms, Gandolph was clearly picturing a real fight in his mind. Despite punching air, the weight behind each punch was immense. When Lynokis had seen those punches, she’d genuinely found herself worrying. She realized that Gandolph had become much stronger than she’d anticipated.

Could she destroy his defense? Right now, she had no confidence. Gandolph was not the man he had been when they’d first met. Lynokis couldn’t imagine a scenario in which any of her attacks broke through.

“Shouldn’t you focus on your own training?” That was all Lynokis said before she turned around and headed back to her room. She had no time to be dealing with other people right now.

Each of Nia’s students were training in their own ways. Lynette was focusing on her fundamentals; Fressa was going on constant walks, observing her potential opponents; Anzel was holed up in his room focusing on his personal training regimen; Gandolph was endlessly punching the air, allowing for no distractions and never letting his focus slip for a moment; Lynokis was going on runs while trying to simulate fights with Gandolph in her head.

Back when Lynokis and Lynette had heard they would have a week of free time, they’d initially considered returning home to see their masters—that was how lightly they’d been viewing the tournament. Now, they were so single-mindedly focused on it that they’d decided to completely abandon those plans.

Though their reasons for fighting were varied, they were all filled with the desire to win, to not lose. Naturally, the other competitors felt the same. Everyone was hungrily eyeing up the winner’s crown.

This massive stage had gone well beyond the scale of a single country. The prize money was a gigantic sum. All around them were strong fighters.

With elites from the surrounding countries all coming to observe, it was the perfect chance to get their names known. The chance this could connect to another lucrative business opportunity was clear.

This could be the greatest battle of their lives. Many of the competitors viewed the tournament with such weight.

With ambition and bloodlust dancing under the fighters’ skin, it was finally time for the real tournament to commence.

Chapter 4: The First Rounds

“Name’s Zarda, eldest of the Kedo Brothers!”

“Name’s Gegeru, youngest of the Kedo Brothers!”

Oh, it’s those tygre siblings. I was just checking out what was on magivision as I got ready that morning and was greeted by two familiar faces.

At long last, the main matches of the tournament would begin tomorrow. Right before the festival would enter full swing, two familiar tygres made their appearance on magivision. It might not have been an exaggeration to say that they were the competitors who had done the most to get their names out there.

So they’re called Zarda and Gegeru. I felt as if I should’ve heard their names multiple times before now, but for some reason, I had no memory of them. I didn’t recall them entering the losers’ matches, though they likely would’ve been eliminated if they had.

“We’re now on the floating island where the tournament will be held! Very soon, the matchups will be revealed!”

“The matchups will be posted all across the city! Get there quick to see who’s fighting who!”

Ah, so we’ll finally get to see the matchups. Well, the tournament did start tomorrow. The opening ceremony would be in the morning and then they’d be going straight into the matches, so this was really the only time they could be announced.

I took another moment to assess the men on-screen.

You know, these two are pretty good. Beastkin were rare around these parts, so they drew a lot of attention, and it turned out their big tiger faces were pretty eye-catching for magivision. Since their voices were deep and loud, it was easy to hear what they were saying. They were a bit excitable, but we didn’t have any presenters like these two in the industry right now. Even though this was the first time the two of them were being recorded like this, they didn’t look the slightest bit nervous. They might not have been strong, but they were confident, that was for sure.

What a magnificent change of career... They had great potential. They were so confident I was starting to think they were more suited to magivision than martial arts. There was no indication that they were hosts who’d been chosen at the last minute. They still weren’t strong, though.

Who recorded this? Altoire? Man, they scooped up some great talent, that’s for sure. What happened to Scarlet? I brought her to Bendelio’s attention. Did he make sure to nab her?

No, no, I needed to stop thinking about work. I’d been recording for so much of the year that my thoughts always automatically wandered right back to the business. It was one of those “occupational diseases” people sometimes mentioned.

The main matches started tomorrow. The real part of the tournament that I had been anticipating for so long would finally begin. Honestly, there wasn’t anyone who stood a chance against me, but there were at least those who had piqued my curiosity. I would happily watch over the young martial artists and witness their brilliance.

“What’s this?! It appears everyone will be able to watch the matches at almost the same time as the khamera recording!”

“You serious, bro?! Now it won’t matter that we can’t fit everyone in the arena!”

Just as I was cheering for the young martial artists in my mind, my thought process was completely disrupted by their announcement. People would be able to watch it nearly simultaneously with the recording? It would be shown in real time? I had heard mentions that the technology was in place to allow for that, but...

“If you can’t make it to the arena in person, then go gather in front of the nearest MagiPad! But make sure you’re still going to work!”

“Right! Or you’ll be fired! If you become unemployed, you’ll be as no-good as us adventurers!”

“Gah hah hah hah!”

Whoa, they’re pretty good at keeping up the banter. I want them... Wait, stop.

Hadn’t Bendelio said once that they had the technology for real-time broadcasts but there was no merit to doing it? Apparently, the systems were quite complicated and took time to set up, and he’d expressed his worry over the fact that it was risky to just show the recording unedited—there was no telling what incidents could end up happening.

I agreed with him then, and that opinion still held true.

The king was certainly brave. Then again, if he didn’t do this much, the citizens might be underwhelmed after all this hype. It seemed pretty likely that there would be those skipping work to watch... Not a lot that could be done about it, though. Altoire right now really was completely overrun by the tournament.

“Nia! It’s time to go to school!”

Ah, there’s Reliared. I wanted to see the rest of the broadcast and I was very engrossed in the tygres’ dynamic, but I had to go. The last thing I heard before turning off the MagiPad was the mention of “big shots coming from all across the skies.”

“Big shots are gathering from across the skies! Even those from our homeland!”

“Yeah! We beastkin love strong fighters! We live for festivals like this!”

As Kaffes Jacks watched the somewhat suffocating tygre duo, he thought to himself, We’ve got a bad bunch gathered right under your noses too. Notorious underworld dwellers from nearby countries had answered Kaffes’s call and were now gathered in the extravagantly decorated warehouse the man used to host his guests.

Kaffes, a man with a distinct scar on his face, was the ruler of the Altoire underworld. He was known for his exceptional ability to keep his true emotions hidden. He was the host and organizer of this gathering.

From Vanderouge came Grieg Klett, Frozen Geitz, and Lesten. The one Kaffes had to keep his eye on most among the three was undoubtedly Grieg. The man wasn’t known for his strength, but for his calculated decisions—in other words, he was a man who had made his way up the underworld ladder through sheer profits. He was even said to be the one truly in control of his country’s economy.

In truth, both Frozen and Lesten were newer faces in the underworld, only recently starting to make a name for themselves. Their youth had attracted a lot of hot-blooded gangsters of a similar age. The fact they were here at all was an indicator of their exceptional luck, though, so perhaps they did have something worth ascribing to their name.

From Wu Haitong came Keya Kin and Zen Fowah. Both were aging men with serene auras, but naturally, they wouldn’t have been called here if that was all they were. Keya Kin was the head practitioner of the Demon Fist, one of the nine great martial arts styles of Wu Haitong known as the Nine Gates. Zen was also a practitioner of many of the styles. They were essentially the mafia of their country.

Kaffes had sent invitations to more than just these five, but these were the ones who had accepted. He’d approached the villains who had a backbone in the Holy Kingdom of Asternia, but they’d politely declined the offer. He was a bit disappointed by this, as it was in Asternia where he most wanted land.

All six of them were gathered at the table, each allowed two guards, as they watched the MagiPad. Their games would begin after this broadcast.

“Shall we get started?”

They’d heard all the necessary information. The chatter of the out of place tygres came to a stop as the scene changed. Kaffes signaled one of the black-suits to lower the volume, and then he surveyed those gathered.

“The system for public betting is simple, so we will follow their basic rules. The way they work is that you bet on the winner and if you get it right, everyone pays. The only change I’d like to make is with the payout. We will pay out ourselves. For example, if someone were to bet a hundred million on the winner, they would receive a hundred million from each bettor, therefore gaining winnings of five hundred million. If no one bets correctly, everyone’s bets will be refunded. There will be no payouts if your competitor simply places or makes it to finals. We will bet solely on the winner. To summarize, even if your horse is eliminated, you cannot leave this table until it is determined who wins or loses. How does that sound? Simple, no?”

Indeed, it was very simple. As expected from the state, they’d set things up in a way that would be easy for anyone to understand. Even an idiot would be able to grasp how it worked. Though it seemed the public betting would still have a payout for those whose competitors placed, the underworld bet would be solely based on the winner.

If you bet correctly, you won. If you bet wrongly, you lost. They were simple rules even understandable for fools.

“There is no limit on the betting amount. You are free to ante up however much you wish. Well, at a table like this, I do at least expect you all to be betting in the hundreds of millions. I invited the faces of your respective underworlds, not your cheap, cowardly underlings.”

No one uttered a word, in silent agreement with Kaffes.

“Hmph.”

Except, there was Grieg, crossing his arms and smirking. Just as expected, Kaffes mused to himself.

“Everything all right there, Kaffes? I don’t know how much you’ve managed to make in this painfully peaceful kingdom, but everyone else here has survived tumultuous times. Our situations aren’t quite the same.”

A cheap provocation and a mocking sneer. Frozen and Lesten mimicked their fellow countryman.

“No need to worry. I’ve prepared ten billion for today. I can pay immediately.”

Even the guards’ expressions faltered at Kaffes’s statement.

“Don’t you think you need a little more than that?” Grieg asked, unamused. “You call members of this caliber here and you only brought ten billion? Give me a break. That’s pocket change to us—you should know that. Where’s the effort? You’ve got to bet something much more substantial. Don’t you agree, good sirs?” Grieg turned an evil smile to the elderly schemers from Wu Haitong who were nodding along.

“Ten billion isn’t enough to even get my heart pumping.”

“Indeed. You would only be able to build a rabbit hutch at best with such a paltry sum. I want to build a one-hundred-billion-kram warehouse for my one hundred billion krams’ worth of valuables.”

Kaffes was being made a fool of by everyone at this table—and it was very clear. The black-suits at his side were radiating hostility.

In the underworld, being embarrassed in such a way spelled the end for you. It might have been a pointless pride, but they’d spent their lives clinging to it. The moment they abandoned their pride, they would lose their place in their society. That was just the kind of world it was.

“Really? Well, I’m in a bit of a pickle now.” Kaffes shrugged. “In that case, how about all the money I own? I have about thirty billion. Surely that should be enough?”

It went without saying that thirty billion krams was an incredible amount of money.

“Ha ha, you’re a funny man, Kaffes.” Grieg narrowed his eyes. “My calculations put your savings at fifty billion. I much prefer my hosts to spare no expense for an event like this. Why did I even come here if you were going to put on something so boring?”

Kaffes’s face didn’t even twitch. The black-suits weren’t even trying to hide their hostility now.

I knew it, Kaffes thought to himself. When he’d considered who of this crafty lot he’d least like to make his enemy, Grieg Klett had been the first who came to mind. Grieg might not have been the strongest in battle, but he’d made it to this point with the power of money alone. His ability to research, to calculate, to select relevant information went above and beyond any random thug.

Grieg had done his research and quite accurately estimated Kaffes’s total finances. And now, he was testing him. He was testing to see just what kind of move Kaffes was intending to make. Or perhaps the man had already read Kaffes’s intentions. Maybe Grieg had discerned that Kaffes was here to take someone down. In which case, he was testing how serious he was about it, ready to use Kaffes to eliminate his enemies from a safe distance. Depending on the outcome, he may choose to eliminate Kaffes too.

What a terrifying man.

But the one who had chosen to use the other first was Kaffes. He’d believed that Grieg would be able to read him well enough to assume this was his intention. He didn’t trust the man enough to do direct business with him, but Kaffes trusted Grieg’s crafty mind.

Kaffes gave an exaggerated sigh. “I understand. In that case, I will bet the whole fifty billion. Does that satisfy you, Grieg?”

“Hmph... Fine then. In that case, I will also bet fifty billion.”

And with that, the bar was set—fifty billion krams. Each bettor was still free to bet as much as they wished—they were even welcome to bet less than fifty billion. But in this world, it was over for you if you were looked down on. Now that the one they had been looking down on had voiced his buy-in, they couldn’t dare to go any lower. Whether they really had fifty billion in the bank or not, they couldn’t even entertain the thought of backing down. If they chose to back out, everyone else present would take that opportunity to take a bite. They’d all come to take everything by force. If they were the kind of people to get scared this easily, there was no reason to fear them.

“Now that we’ve decided the bet amount, let us discuss the rules in greater detail. Nastine.”

“Sir.”

The man who had been waiting by the wall walked forward.

“Allow me to explain. First, we will not be betting on the bare-handed division. We believe Leeno to be the clear winner of that category. You all would bet on Leeno, wouldn’t you? Or did any of you intend to bet on someone else?”

No one spoke up. Naturally, no one would make a clearly unwinnable bet. Even setting aside the shame it would bring, it was far too foolish. There was always the chance that someone would win over Leeno, but they all knew that chance was far too low. She was undoubtedly the one most likely to win the tournament on the bare-handed side.

“Then, if we are all in agreement, allow me to continue. We will have you select the competitor from the weapons division that you believe will win. According to the beastkin who spoke on magivision just now...”

And so, the curtain rose on the secret illegal money game.

A money game that would determine the survival of Altoire’s underworld.

“The first match of Block A, huh?”

Who would have thought Fressa would be the first match of the first day? If things went according to schedule, she’d be up the second the opening ceremony ended. She wasn’t sure if she was reading too much into it, but something about it felt intentional.

The matchups for the tournament had been posted on the bulletin board outside of the arena. The area had been crowded with competitors when it had been posted that morning, but it was like a wasteland by the afternoon—you could easily read it from any angle. She was just looking at it straight on, though.

Incidentally, those beastkin brothers had recorded the announcement in the early morning before most of the competitors were awake, so they’d left the island by the time it was broadcast. A lot of the fighters only knew the matchups had been posted after seeing the announcement on magivision.

The tournament would take a knockout format. The competitors were split into six blocks, and all the matches would be worked through over the next week.

The first round of matches would be on the first and second days. Day three would be the second round, day four the third round, and so on. That way, half of the fighters would win each day and another half would be eliminated.

There was nothing complicated about it. Apart from the first and second days, they just had to win a match a day. Apparently, the bare-handed division would have their matches at the same time so both divisions could have their finals on the same day.

“When’s your first match?” someone asked from behind.

“First match of Block A,” Fressa answered without turning around. She smiled. “Seems I’m taking the first match of this part of the tournament.”

The man—Gandolph—stepped up beside her. “That’s certainly early.”

“I don’t know who comes up with these, but it feels calculated. The first match is important—it feels like they’re telling me to hype things up.”

“Who’s your opponent...? Ah, Gigzaras. The adventurer known as Headsplitter Geeg.”

“Yup. The big half-titan. I guess he won in the losers’ matches.”

Gandolph couldn’t help but agree that this felt planned. Both Fressa and Gigzaras were popular competitors who had stood out during preliminaries. “They want to show the small fighter—a woman, at that—win against the giant, eh?”

“I’m only guessing.” But if they were able to pull off a spectacle like that, it would definitely excite the audience. Although some of them would be able to discern their differing power levels, most of the viewers weren’t able to make such assessments. They based who was strong or weak solely on the things they could clearly see, such as build and gender.

As proof of that, Fressa had ended up getting a special feature because her preliminary matches had left such an impression on the audience. She had been interviewed several times and was even referred to as a beautiful competitor on par with an elven adventurer named Lestra.

Honestly, it was a huge pain. She was an underworld dweller currently in disguise—drawing attention was the worst thing for her.

“I’m in...Block D, twenty-first round. That should be the day after tomorrow, I think.”

“Who’s your opponent? Didn’t you have some deep rivalry with Zeon? Think you’ll be matched up with him?”

“Deep? Well, I guess we did both end up leaving that match with our own frustrations. I personally wasn’t satisfied with it, that’s for certain. Where is he?”

Two more pairs of footsteps appeared from behind them while they were scanning the board for Sonicspeed Zeon’s name.

“Did you guys see my name anywhere?”

“And mine?”

It was Anzel and Lynette. As they stood and pointed out where everyone they were curious about was, another person arrived.

“Do you all have that much free time on your hands?”

It was Lynokis on her usual run around the island.

“What block are you in, Leeno?” Fressa asked.

“Block F, twenty-fourth match, if I recall correctly. Should be around the end of day two.”

“So we’re all separated. Well, I guess that’s to be expected when we’re not all in the same division.”

“Seems we can take it easy for our first matches.”

“I hope so.”

Fressa, Lynokis, Gandolph, Anzel, Lynette—none of Nia’s disciples would be facing against each other in their first matches.

All of them were various levels of relieved. None of them were confident they could win against the others. The last thing they wanted was to be pitted against each other in round one. They had all entered the tournament with their own goals. They couldn’t afford to lose so easily.

Money, trust, pride as a martial artist... Of the many reasons they had, there was one they all had in common: They didn’t want to put on a terrible display in front of Nia. They didn’t want to hear a disapproving, “How disappointing,” nor did they want to hear a comforting, “You did your best. Don’t beat yourself up.” They were also quite afraid of a scathing, “What a pathetic display. I’ll have to train you from scratch.”

Lynokis and Lynette in particular felt a unique pressure due to being bodyguards of the Liston family. If they didn’t make a good impression here, they may find themselves removed from their positions. Thinking of such an outcome always made them break out in a cold sweat, so they would shut down that line of thought quickly.

“I won’t lose, no matter what,” Lynokis swore to Gandolph before she returned to her run. If the two bare-handed fighters won all their matches, they would eventually come face-to-face in the ring.

“I still don’t see how I can win this...” Gandolph muttered bitterly to himself as he also left.

“I’m going to pray we don’t get matched up until the end. If we do wind up fighting before then, though, I won’t hold back,” Lynette said upon her own departure.

“So, uh...how much do I needta pay you to get you to throw?” The underworld dweller moved to strike an illegal deal.

“Mmmm, depends.” The other underworld dweller answered without hesitation. “If we both make it to the finals, then you gotta give me at least three hundred million. I’ll go down if you pay up.”

“Three hundred million? You’re a pricey gal, ain’tcha?” But he was pleased that the option was there. Anzel walked away while seriously considering it.

“All I’m really after is the money, you know...” Fressa muttered, watching Anzel’s back.

Fressa was beginning to think that she had misjudged her opportunity to back out. She’d thought that if she didn’t disappear before her identity was revealed, she’d never be able to return to Altoire again. She’d never imagined the tournament would become such a huge event with so many eyes on it.

But she could almost certainly aim for the win. If Lynette and Anzel ended up against each other in the semifinals, so long as they tired each other out, no matter who won the match, Fressa may really stand a chance. It would be even better if they knocked each other out completely.

It was because her chance to win wasn’t just a pipe dream that she had mistimed her chance to quit. Honestly, she wanted to drop out right now and leave. Her instincts were screaming at her that that was the correct choice to make. But as much as she knew it was the right choice, she couldn’t resist the allure of five hundred million krams.

“I’d like ten million at the minimum, though.”

Having drawn so much attention just to walk away with nothing would hurt—it would mean that she’d taken all that risk for no reason. That was why even just ten million would suffice. If she could just place in the top three, she would receive her own share of the reward money. Second place would receive fifty million and the two third place fighters who lost in the semifinals would win ten million each. There would be no match to determine third place, which was why there would be two of them in third.

Fressa wanted to stick it out until the semifinals. They wouldn’t know the third day matchups until later, so her decision would be entirely dependent on that. The last chance she would have to disappear without a trace would be three days from now. From that point on, she would have to be in constant fear of her identity being revealed.

But it was five hundred million krams. Five hundred million! She couldn’t resist that.

No one remained in front of the bulletin board.

It was the day before the matches would begin. Starting tomorrow, huge crowds of people would gather day after day, filling the whole island with life. Not just the tournament island, but the capital too, and even the rural areas. You could watch from anywhere so long as you had a MagiPad, after all.

The event that the Kingdom of Altoire had been preparing for over a year was entering its final phase. It would no doubt enter the annals of the kingdom’s history. Various goods had been imported, people had traveled far, and the economy had prospered. All of it was for the sake of this martial arts tournament.

The multicourse meal would finally be serving its main dish.

It was the early morning, skies clear. King Hyurence had arrived at the tournament island the previous night, and was now confirming documents in the VIP area. Everyone around him was frantic, staff dashing around, production crew doing last checks of their cameras, servants preparing the food and drink.

Very soon, foreign dignitaries would be arriving on the island to observe the matches with the king. Right now, though, Hyurence was still alone doing his last checks. He’d memorized his opening ceremony speech, the order of the matches, and the schedule. He’d prepared emergency plans in case anything irregular happened. The preparations for magivision were also going smoothly. The tournament would be broadcast live all across Altoire—and that meant there would be no redos.

He felt just like the competitors. Hyurence wasn’t entering the tournament, but he was fighting his own fight as the organizer of the whole event. Any failures of the tournament, no matter the reason, would fall on him. That was what it meant to be in his position.

“Your Majesty.” His bodyguard leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “The representatives of the Wingroad teams have arrived.”

“Let them through.”

Hyurence set down the documents and turned to face the entrance. His bodyguard let in a young man with reddish hair and a small boy with blond hair. It was Emue Elan, the representative of the professional team from Vanderouge, and Neal Liston, the representative of the student team from Altoire.

Hyurence smiled and welcomed the two in. “Be at ease. This is not an official setting.”

This was diplomacy. Political responses were required of him, so he could not afford to be his private self. “As you can see, we are quite busy at the moment, making it impossible to leave to give our greetings. We must apologize for calling you out at such a busy time right before your performances, Emue, Neal.”

It was clear that the two guests were incredibly nervous. Though it was especially noticeable in Altoire, many countries had been lowering the barriers between the ruling class and those beneath, but that didn’t mean meeting a king was any less nerve-racking. For the Liston family in particular, the king of Altoire was like their master. Hyurence might have even viewed it as a problem had they not been nervous. No matter how progressive their society was becoming, viewing one’s king as some old man living in the neighborhood would be troubling...very troubling indeed.

“Having seen the Wingroad formation flights of Vanderouge once before, we wished to simply give words of encouragement. Several pilots must perform the same movements without even the slightest deviation—one can only imagine how much skill such maneuvering asks of you. It would no doubt have taken much practice and effort to achieve what you already have. At the same time, we understand that this is difficult. No matter how much you practice, no matter how hard you try, there will undoubtedly be times of failure. We understand if mistakes are made in the performance.”

The king turned to look directly at the younger of the two. “Neal, this must be a big responsibility for you, especially, to be taking on while still in elementary school. This event is far too large and you are still far too young to have to shoulder this. But know that just standing here alone today in front of us is worthy of praise. It is significant that you have made it this far to begin with. So do not fear failure. We will support you if things go wrong, so please fly without any worries. Just be cautious of any potential accidents. We do not wish to imagine an outcome where we lose such precious and talented citizens of our country. Show the Kingdom of Altoire your professional skill.”

With those arrogantly encouraging words, the king sent the two on their way. Everyone around them had heard what he had said. They had been compassionate words—quite unlike his usual cold and logical demeanor.

“Is it really acceptable for them to fail?” his bodyguard asked.

“No,” the king said immediately.

Then what was the point of those words earlier? she couldn’t help but wonder.

“Putting pressure on them would’ve done no good. That’s the only reason I spoke to them like that. Of course we can’t fail here. To begin with, wouldn’t a failure for a Wingroad team mean they had fallen from the sky? They’d be dead.”

That was true.

“It would affect me too. If they fail on this huge stage, I fear to think what the public will say. The worst part is that we have another country involved—we can’t cover that up. I will not die from it, but my career as a politician certainly would.” He picked up the documents yet again.

He would die as a politician? Even though he was the one who said those words, the king didn’t truly believe them. His fists may not be strong, but he had no intention of losing with the pen. He had full confidence he could follow up on and recover from any failure that could occur.

At least, assuming he would be allowed to fight with the pen to begin with.

People arrived one after another. The previously empty seats were filling up, bringing life to the quiet arena. The VIP section now sat more than just Hyurence.

From Vanderouge came the emperor, the prince—a friend of Hyurence’s son, Hiero—and the princess. Joining them were the commanders-in-chief of their land and air forces.

Wu Haitong were passionate about martial arts events such as this tournament, but unfortunately, the emperor was unable to attend, so the emperor’s children, their Minister of War, their Minister of Justice, a world-famous deputy instructor of the Heavenstriker style, and various instructors of the Nine Gates had all attended in his stead.

From the Holy Kingdom of Asternia came the archbishop, the third Saint, and two Holy Knights. Hyurence hadn’t thought they would be interested in anything related to martial arts, but he’d invited them anyway. Since it was an invitation from the king himself, they hadn’t wished to be rude, and so sent along those of decent standing so as not to cause offense.

Dignitaries from the land of the beastkin had also come without invitation, but they’d said that they didn’t care about formalities, asking to be treated like regular guests instead. As such, they were in the audience below, mixed in among the citizens. Their country was unique, so Hyurence wasn’t about to argue. It wasn’t as if he’d invited them in the first place.

There were also those from Altoire itself, such as the crown prince of Altoire and his wife... Hyurence’s son, Ares, and his wife, Murich. But he didn’t need to concern himself with them. They were family, after all. The Lords of the Liston and Silver families were in a different VIP seating area, but he knew he didn’t need to worry about them either.

Hyurence went around greeting the guests, taking it as an opportunity to both confirm who was in attendance, and to exchange information under the guise of idle chatter. There was no rest for politicians and officials when out in public. Without any signal, the match here had already begun.

The seats of the arena were eventually completely filled. The sight of the packed audience was quite spectacular.

A staff member ran up and whispered something to Hyurence’s attendant who then whispered it to him.

It was time.

“Shall we begin, then?” Hyurence gestured to the guests with a flourish, before standing at the podium attached to the seating area.

At the sight of their king, the audience went wild. Hyurence raised his hand, and eventually, all went quiet.

The king’s voice boomed through the arena thanks to the magic tool amplifying his voice.

“I am Hyurence, the fourteenth king of Altoire.”

I was looking up at the king from near the ring. We stood near the aisle that the competitors would walk down so that we weren’t too visible. Since we would be recording today too, this was the general area we’d be remaining in.

“I am Hyurence, the fourteenth king of Altoire.”

The opening ceremony had begun.

In an environment like this, much of the audience would rather the king hurried up—they couldn’t care less what he had to say. It was clear the man himself was aware of that fact, because his speech was quick and to the point. To summarize, he basically said, “I’ve already said everything I need to say on our previous broadcasts, so I won’t waste your time. I am thankful to all of you for helping bring this event to life. You don’t want to have to sit through a long speech by this point, do you? Let us begin.”

Even without any long-winded formality, it was a speech that made it clear he understood how his citizens felt. What an interesting king.

After the unexpectedly brief opening speech, he said, “We will now present to you a Wingroad flight formation. Direct your gazes to the sky,” and then stepped off the podium.

Boom! Boom!

After two blank cannon shots that reverberated through our stomachs, five colorful lines of smoke trailed through the sky: red, blue, yellow, green, black. The bodies of the skiffs and the uniforms of the pilots were all coordinated in color, and it was easy for anyone to see from afar that they weren’t the same types of skiffs used for manual labor.

“Young Master Neaaaaal!”

“Neeeaaaaaaaal!”

“Whoooaaaaarrrrrgh! It’s our priiiiiiiince!”

Thanks to the Wingroad program, everyone was aware of who was piloting those skiffs. High-pitched cheers filled the air, the occasional deep voice mixed in. I was proud of Neal as his sister, but I was a little worried by those deep voices I was hearing. What was that “Whoargh” all about? Why were they so enthusiastic about him?

After the smoke display, the five skiffs performed some acrobatic maneuvers and then flew away, leaving behind only their trails. I couldn’t judge the quality of their performance from a professional angle, but to the untrained eye, it was wonderful. At the very least, I didn’t think they’d made any mistakes.

Despite his age, and even at an event as large as this, Neal still managed to see his task through. As expected of the eldest son of the Liston family; with him around, our family would no doubt be secure.

Following the student team was the thirteen-member team performance from the professional Vanderouge pilots. There were so many skiffs swirling in flight patterns so complex that the audience’s eyes were glued to them the whole time. Thirteen whole skiffs were performing exhilarating moves from somersaults to steep descents from high altitudes that brought them close to the audience’s heads.

That’s the pros for you. I thought my brother’s team was good, but now I understand why they were deemed a simple teaser before the real thing.

It was at that point that Fressa suddenly passed in front of our crew. While everyone’s eyes were trained on the sky, the competitors fighting in the first round had stepped up to the ring. This was part of the performance in and of itself.

I imagined it was also because there were a lot of matches to get through both today and tomorrow, so they were trying to waste as little time as possible. In fact, that might have been the real motivation behind the king’s concise speech.

We couldn’t call out to her. We couldn’t disrupt the competitors who were so focused on the match in front of them.

The moment the formation flight ended, the audience looked back down and were greeted by the sight of the competitors already standing in the ring.

“Woooooooooo!” The arena shook with the loudest cheers of the day. There was no time to feel the afterglow or the lingering emotions from such a spectacular performance, but in exchange, the excitement wasn’t given the opportunity to die.

The first matches would now begin.

All right, it’s time for us to get to work. If we were going to move, it had to be now. I gave a signal to Bendelio and the rest of the production crew, and we moved up to the side of the ring—a space that allowed us to get a good view without interfering with the match.

And then, the cameras were up and running.

“Very soon, the first match of Block A between Freeze, the martial artist, and Gigzaras, the adventurer, will begin.”

The live broadcasts would be taken from the camera currently recording me and another fixed camera overlooking the arena. From this, there would be two varieties of program, one with commentary, one without.

The three crews would rotate commentary duties. First up was us, the Liston crew. Next would be the Altoire crew, then it would be the Silver crew. The junior crew wouldn’t be participating as they didn’t have the equipment for long shoots or live broadcasts, but they were allowed to help out as members of staff. They were probably being worked to death somewhere right this second.

By the way, it was currently a weekday, so school was actually still in session. Even though there were hundreds of students studying away, so many adults had abandoned their work just to spectate a tournament.

No, it’s rude for me to judge them like that. Besides, I’d heard classes would only be on in the morning, since they knew there was no way the children would be able to focus at a time like this. You can all enjoy it in the afternoon, kids.

Though some of us were free from classes all day, we were stuck working that entire time instead.

“As we can see, there is a clear difference in height, perhaps even greater than the difference between a child and an adult. However, the reason weapons exist is as a tool for powerless humans to stand up against those stronger than them—they are a culmination of our knowledge. Weapons are a factor that makes the result impossible to judge from aspects such as build and muscle density alone. One’s build is not the only qualifier of strength. Freeze wields a large knife, Gigzaras wields a club. For the first match...”

I stopped there, the words catching in my throat.

What should I do? I couldn’t say that I knew exactly how the match would pan out. The first match of the tournament that everyone had been waiting for was finally here. What good was it if we couldn’t keep everyone’s expectations high for the following matches?

But I was certain this would end in a moment. No matter what I said here, it would end in a flash.

There’s no time for me to worry like this. Let’s just go for it.

“For the first match, based on preliminary predictions, Freeze has the upper hand. Gigzaras is in for a difficult fight.” The moment I finished giving my thoughts, the referee stood between them and gave the signal to begin.

Fwoom! Crash!

The sound of something large careening through the air reverberated in our ears, and the impact of something heavy slamming on the ground vibrated through our feet. Gigzaras had been the first to strike, swinging his heavy club down with sharp precision.

Wow, not bad. That first strike had been released with the intent to kill.

Headsplitter Geeg, hmm? I remembered being very disappointed with his complete lack of drive back during preliminaries. I’d considered his loss completely natural back then. In fact, I’d thought he should just go home if he wasn’t going to seriously try.

Look at you, though. You can do it if you put your mind to it. If he’d just found his motivation sooner, he might’ve had the chance to perform in some stunning matches.

Unfortunately, he was paired up with the worst opponent.

“Guh?! Arghhh!”

The match had already been decided.

Fressa had dodged the strike from Gigzaras’s club and ran up the half-titan’s outstretched arm until she could jump behind him.

It all happened in a quick moment. Fressa had slashed Gigzaras twenty-two times in that brief gesture of her rotating around him. Blood spurted out from Gigzaras’s whole body—his fingers, his hands, his arms, his torso, his shoulders, his face, his legs, his back.

It was a display of deftness and ease only possible with a knife, and also a testament to Fressa’s speed. She’d even made sure not to hit any lethal points; not a single one of those slashes would pose a danger to Gigzaras’s life.

I was sure that the referee would...

“The fight is over! The fight is over!”

Gigzaras was bleeding from twenty-two slashes all over his body. It took no time at all before he was completely soaked in red. He appeared to be in critical condition. Fressa had cleanly avoided all the lethal areas, so that wasn’t actually the case, but just looking at him, he looked like he was steps from death’s door.

Fressa had clearly aimed for a forced end to the match through referee judgment—and that was exactly what had happened.

“The winner is Freeze!”

The small human had won against the half-titan. We even got a whole bloody ending to it. Gigzaras was a big guy, so it made it all look so much more dramatic.

Not bad for a first match. We even got blood.

The audience was cheering wildly, so I would say it was truly a display worthy of the opening match of the tournament. A lot of blood had been spilled.

Gigzaras didn’t look very happy with the outcome—he was covered in blood, but he could tell that it was all just a bunch of shallow cuts. He could still fight. But he didn’t try to challenge the judgment. He accepted his defeat here.

He must have realized their difference in strength through that small exchange alone. He knew that he would’ve had no chance of winning even if he continued. It was a good call, if you asked me.

All right, I should make my own comment.

“What a stunning show of lightning fast speed. Freeze managed to slash up her opponent as she maneuvered behind him. I was able to see up to twenty of the slashes, but the last two completely escaped my sight. It was quick work, too fast for even the eye to catch. We even got blood. What truly wonderful skill.”

After praising Fressa’s moves directly, I shifted on to talk about the usage of her weapon. “Any bladed weapons have been blunted for this tournament. It is almost impossible to fatally slash an opponent with the blades provided by the organizers. The only deaths we could witness here would be through blunt force or stabbing. And yet, Freeze has shown us that it is indeed possible to slash someone up with a knife with no proper blade. From the speed to the angle to the motion of entry, all were perfectly controlled in a way that the sharpest point of the blade, even in a blunt state, could be pressed against the skin to puncture it. This is not something just anyone can do. It is an advanced skill that requires one to cut with a point rather than a line.”

Of course, it was necessary that I speak of Gigzaras too. “Gigzaras was unlucky. His first swing in an attempt to brutally murde—to, uh, take his opponent’s breath away...was really quite impressive. The outcome of the match might have been different had he landed his strike. When faced with a large opponent, it is easy to feel so intimidated that you freeze. That one incoming strike would have been terrifying enough to make anyone shrink into themselves. I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened had he used that move in the preliminaries. I’m sure he could’ve mowed all of his opponents down. It is truly a shame.”

Luckily, I already got to see blood flowing in this early match, so I could now look forward to the rest. I wanted all of our fighters to continue shining like this—so bright that even I couldn’t help but be captivated.

Although she was being showered in the chanting of her name, Fressa left the ring looking particularly unbothered by it all and made her way back to her locker room.

“Freeze, may we talk for a moment?”

It was at that point that I called out to her.

“Huh?!”

Fressa seemed incredibly shocked by this.

I could see the thoughts written all over her face: You’re going to talk to me now? When I just stepped out of the ring? Where everyone is literally watching us?

I cared about none of it as I approached her.

“I have a request.”

“F-For me? You’re kidding, right?”

Ah, your real thoughts just leaked out, didn’t they?

But I wasn’t kidding. Sorry, I knew that you would absolutely despise me talking to you under these circumstances, but this is my work. Join me for a bit.

“Would you be willing to commentate the matches with me?”

It was something I’d been considering ever since I saw that Fressa would be the very first match of the tournament. It went without saying that if I were to constantly speak in detail about martial arts and the matches and the competitors’ moves, everyone would notice something was off. But in a tournament setting, it was important for those watching at home to get an explanation so they could understand what they were seeing.

I’d actually thought about this dilemma during preliminaries too. There were a lot of matches going on at once back then, so it would’ve been impossible to commentate on all of them anyway, but I did think it was important to detail what the fighters were doing when watching it as a program after. It would help convey the brilliance of the fighters, and help the audience understand what to look out for in the matches.

In that case, I would need someone else to give those explanations in my place. Bendelio apparently had no experience in martial arts, so he had none of the relevant knowledge. Though he did make sure to get in some exercise for his health. If you’re willing to exercise, then at least pick up a martial art. I’d spar with you. You’d love a spar too, wouldn’t you?! Wouldn’t it be great to spar with me?! I’d definitely get a slap in! We could start now!

Never mind, enough of Bendelio.

Back on topic, just as I had been trying to think about who could make the commentary in my place, I caught sight of Fressa’s name on the matchups. Out of all of my students, Fressa was by far the most flexible (literally and figuratively). She was good at chatting and she was proficient at reading the room. She would always adjust how she was acting based on the intentions behind the other person’s thoughts and actions. She could definitely handle what I was asking of her.

She didn’t have to be perfect. I would help guide the discussion, so she would just need to adjust as necessary. I could still be the one to explain the moves that the fighters made.

I’d already gotten permission from the organizers, so I just needed her to accept.

“Uh, w-well, you know, I don’t want to draw too much attention. I don’t really want to appear on magivision and all, and, well, it’s live! So I’d rather n— Of course I’ll join you! I’m your biggest fan in the whole wide world, after all! I’d never refuse!”

All I had to do was glare at her a bit and she accepted in a voice I’d never heard come from her before. It was like she’d just been shouted at for no reason... Wait, is she crying?

Well, whatever. I got her to accept. I might have ended up glaring at her a bit, but she didn’t need to worry. It wasn’t a big deal, not at all. What? You’re worried about it, Fressa? But you don’t have to be? You won’t be worried, right? Right, see, you won’t worry. Good, you shouldn’t. If you’re nice and obedient, nothing bad will happen.

And so, Fressa and I both handled the commentary for a while after that.

Unsurprisingly, when you stripped down ten thousand fighters to three hundred, you were left with quite the interesting selection. It was always nice to see evenly matched forces colliding. They would bleed too.

“Now that’s a rare weapon,” Fressa remarked, looking at a...sword with five sections. It was that strange weapon I’d seen before that looked incredibly unwieldy.

Wait... Is it really just five sections? There’s more than that, no? I’m not imagining things, am I? It looks like there’s double.

“Do you know of this weapon, Freeze?”

“Yes, it’s a nine-section chain sword.”

“Nine?!”

You’ve gotta be kidding me. Nine?! There were swords that came in that many sections?! Hang on!

“Couldn’t they just use a whip?!”

Especially if you had that many sections! Was it even a sword anymore if it had nine sections?! Wouldn’t you get all caught up in it while fighting?! What were you supposed to do if you got all wrapped up in a weird position?! That would be the worst! Plus, the more complicated a weapon was, the more likely it was to break! It would be hard to fight back after that!

“You’re right. I believe it’s sometimes called a nine-section chain whip.”

So they do sometimes use it as a whip. Well, I guess that’s a bit better.

Oh, who was I kidding. I was really struggling to view this as a usable weapon. It looked really hard to wield. Would they manage it okay? Would they really not consider changing to a whip? A regular whip would be much better, right? Leather whips could hurt quite a lot. They could draw blood too.

I was pretty sure a weapon like this hadn’t existed in my previous life. Or, no, perhaps I’d just never come across one. The world of weapons was vast. I think there was once someone out there who even used things like chairs as weapons. Besides, even though I was aware of the weapons I’d had to fight against, I wasn’t that interested in the weapons themselves. I was much stronger bare-handed, after all.

“It looks impressive, but certainly difficult to handle.”

See! Look, even Fressa is commenting on it, and she’s knowledgeable on weapons.

Though the competitor would have a different problem first.

“It’s a rare weapon, but this looks like it’ll be a difficult battle.”

The nine-section chain sword user did appear to be a martial artist, but their opponent was a large scarred woman currently resting a wooden sword over her shoulder—the adventurer, Jinatan. This match probably wouldn’t be worth watching. Jinatan was the clear winner.

Jinatan charged forward without flinching even as she was whipped by the sword again and again. She wasn’t even raising a defense. When she swung her massive sword, the martial artist went flying.

Wonderful.

“You were such a great help out there. Thank you.”

“Gimme a break, Lily...”

I kept telling Fressa to stay just a little longer, for just one more match over and over, and all the morning matches were done before we knew it. In the end, she ended up sticking with me for quite a long time.

Now that the camera had stopped recording, I quietly gave my thanks, only for her to quietly complain in response.

“You know why I don’t want to stand out, right?”

I did. But I couldn’t help it.

“You were much better at commentating than I expected, so it seemed a waste to let you get away.”

Fressa had been as good as I had thought she would be. She was a clever girl who was very good at reading the room. She knew how to say just enough. She never overexplained. Even when it was obvious who was going to win, she commented in a way that would build tension without giving her own predictions.

She really did strike the perfect balance, fully understanding the importance of this broadcast.

“Could you join me for the afternoon too?”

“Please spare me... You’ve already worked me to the bone enough...”

Oh well, worth a try.

“I’ll ask someone else, then. Thank you for sticking with me all morning.”

Fressa looked at me for a moment before saying, “Spare Anzel too, okay?”

Oh right, his match is today, isn’t it? I wouldn’t be recording at this spot in the afternoon anyway. I’d considered trying to give commentary from farther away, but there were no plans for it, so I decided I may as well not bother.

The first and second days were dedicated to everyone’s first matches. With seventy-five matches a day, once both sets were done, the three hundred fighters would be cut in half. The remaining fighters would be split into two blocks on the third day and duke it out tourney style. The winners of the first and second blocks would then go on to fight in the finals.

Incidentally, starting from the third day, the bare-handed division would be in a different slot. The weapons division would go first and then the smaller bare-handed division. The finals would all take place on the same day, so even though the number of matches would be fewer, they would still happen at the same time.

“Nia, may we talk for a moment?”

Hildetaura came over with her production crew early in the morning of the second day, when the spectators would soon be arriving.

“How can I help?”

I had been having a meeting with the Liston crew in front of the arena before Hildetaura had approached. Our job for today was to record the droves of arriving spectators and carry out interviews where we could. We would only move into the arena once everyone had arrived. My ringside commentary wouldn’t be required until the afternoon.

“I received a letter from my father for you. He wants you to look at it right away.”

From His Majesty?

“Nia, could you maybe open it over there?” Bendelio asked. He must have realized it was something important.

Just as I was about to do just that...

“No, it is all right,” Hildetaura reassured. “It is an order regarding the recording. As you can see, it is not sealed.”

“The recording?” When I looked down, I realized that the envelope was in fact unsealed. At least that meant it wasn’t anything confidential. May as well not waste time. “Let’s see... Ah.” Well, this certainly was to do with recording. “Bendelio, it appears we need to have a change of plans. Look here.”

I handed him the letter and he immediately understood. “Ah, I see. Your commentary was pretty fun. Quite precise too.”

The letter consisted of the king praising my commentary and then asking me to commentate on all of the matches today. When we finished recording yesterday, Bendelio had come up to me and said, “Try not to say anything too extreme. You were mentioning blood a little too much. You should take care to maintain your image as a child.” Apparently, they might have considered it too extreme to broadcast if it hadn’t been live.

Yet, it appeared that, while Bendelio might not have approved, His Majesty—or the organizers as a whole—had liked what I’d had to say.

That, or it was a process of elimination. Reliared and Hildetaura had tried their best, but they were just lacking too much knowledge of martial arts, so there were various moments where they hadn’t been sure what to say. In exchange, though, they had been very knowledgeable about the details of the fighters. It was also fairly clear that they were taken aback by all the blood and broken bones. They were children, after all. It must have been a brutal sight for them.

The organizers might have had a meeting and decided to designate me as the only one of us three who seemed unfazed by what I was witnessing. I didn’t want to force the girls to do it if they didn’t want to either. It was definitely far too graphic for children.

“Tell him that I understand. I’ll go to the ring once my morning recordings are done.”

Whatever the case, this was a royal command. It wasn’t worded like an order, but I doubted I could refuse.

“Thank you very much. There were many moments which Relia and I struggled to watch... I almost feel as if I am forcing this on you. I must apologize.”

“Hmm? You mean concerning the blood and such? Don’t worry about it, I’m completely fine with it.” You couldn’t call it a real match without a bit of blood. They could make it a whole bloodbath as far as I was concerned. “Though, in that case, our schedules will change, right?”

“Yes. As for how we will shift things...”

It was a last minute change to the schedule, but these things often happened in the magivision industry. Bendelio stepped forward to discuss the changes with Hildetaura and the director of the royal crew.

It seems today will be just as busy.

On the second day, Blocks D to F had their first matches. My students who hadn’t fought yesterday—Lynokis, Lynette, and Gandolph—won their matches without breaking a sweat.

And just like that, the first rounds had come to an end.

The roughly three hundred fighters were now down to one hundred and fifty. We now entered the third day.

Chapter 5: A Dealing in the Shadows

“Allow me to state the rules once more.”

It was the third day. For the competitors, it was time for their second rounds.

“Are you busy today as well, Nia?”

“Yes, I will be recording almost the whole day.”

Bright and early in the morning, I was eating breakfast with my family on our airship, watching Hildetaura’s live broadcast from the front of the arena. All of us were here—my father Ornitt, my mother Allieu, and Neal after his fabulous Wingroad performance. It was the first time we’d all been together in a while.

Right now, our paternal grandfather—the previous Lord—was managing the Liston territories while we were away. Our parents were attending the tournament as aristocrats, which meant this was an outing of an official capacity. They’d asked grandfather to watch over the house while they were away because the rest of the tournament would take about a week.

I hadn’t seen my grandfather in so long. We at least exchanged letters sometimes, though. It sounded like Neal had been dropping by to visit during the long vacation periods, so I suppose it wasn’t too much of a big deal if I didn’t. Apparently, he watched me on magivision when he could, so if he wanted to complain about not getting to see me, he should make all his complaints to Bendelio directly.

After the initial rounds on the first and second days, we would move on to a tourney-style elimination format. As confusing as it made it, this would be known as the first round of the tourney. That was what Hildetaura was explaining on magivision now. Naturally, I already had all of this hammered into my brain. This was where the fun would really start, after all.

“All of you will be watching from the VIP seating, yes?” I asked. Neal might have been a student, but he was also the successor to the Liston name. Watching the tournament was part of his duties in a way. “Which means that I will be the only one doing something different.”

Due to the letter I received from the king yesterday, my work had changed to giving ringside commentary for the full day, and I imagined it would remain that way for the rest of the tournament. At this rate, I wouldn’t get the opportunity to join my family in watching the matches.

As Hildetaura had explained, starting today, the matches would be in a tourney style. Each fighter would fight one match each day (except for a few in the smaller bare-handed division) until only one was left standing.

Of the additional rules, the most important one was that the winner of the match was not allowed to receive treatment. Or, more specifically, magic treatment. They were allowed to use creams and ointments, and bandage up any wounds, of course, but any injuries that would take a long time to heal such as broken bones or deep cuts were only allowed to be treated with the most basic methods. If the fighter didn’t withdraw, they would enter the next match bearing those wounds.

That meant that for the fighters, another priority would be determining how to get through the matches with as few injuries as possible.

Some competitors might have assumed that they would be able to get magic treatment after each match—no, some definitely had. The additional rule hadn’t been announced until now, and they’d been allowed to receive treatment in the preliminaries and after their first match. There were probably fighters worried by this news.

The rule was naturally to try and prevent any deaths at the tournament. If magic treatment was readily available, the competitors could get too reckless and decide to fight with their life on the line, and that made it all the more likely that they would die in the process.

All they had to do was win a few more times and the five hundred million krams would be within their grasp. They had to not let themselves be so tempted by the prize dangling in front of them that they took unnecessary risks. If they were willing to sustain potentially fatal injuries just to win, they could easily end up dying.

Even if we were to imagine a scenario in which there were no prize money on the line, there were martial artists like me who would risk everything for a good fight—there was no greater place for us to die than in battle. But there weren’t that many people passionate about martial arts to such an extreme level. At least, I didn’t think so, but I couldn’t guarantee they weren’t there.

There were a lot of idiots among us martial artists. There were occasionally those who would put their lives on the line purely for some childish pride to prove that they were the strongest. The additional rule was to try and dissuade any idiots like that. At the very least, it should dissuade them from being reckless until finals. Anyone who showed no care for their life regardless could just do what they wanted—so long as they didn’t get themselves killed, that is.

“I get the sense you’re working a bit too hard,” mother worriedly said.

I agreed. I was working too hard. Not just me, but Reliared, Hildetaura, and all the other production staff as well.

“This is the last of it. If we can just manage this, our schedules will open up for a while.” The only reason we were so busy right now was the martial arts tournament, after all. We were trying so hard because we’d never get this chance again. And, well...I was the one who’d suggested this ordeal in the first place.

“I see. Well, let’s all go on a trip as a family once the tournament is over, then,” father suggested.

I forgot we’d talked about a family trip before. We’d struggled to fit it in since I’d had so much recording to do over the last year. I’d basically never had a true holiday period.

Though, for me, that one hunting expedition was pretty much a holiday for me. It was fun.

“That sounds nice,” I said. “Winter vacation will be right after the tournament, though, so I may still be a bit busy.” The break would be in just a little over a month—there would probably still be residual excitement. There were certain things that could only be recorded right after a tournament as well, so we’d likely be working on that.

“Then let’s go in spring,” father decided. “I’ll get Bendelio to free up space for you.”

Oh my, you’ll tell that distinctive face directly to not give me more work? If he was going to go that far, then I may as well view it as a done deal.

A family holiday in the spring, hmm? I...wasn’t entirely sure if I was looking forward to it. I wouldn’t mind if they all went and enjoyed it without me. The one Neal and my parents really wanted to spend that time with was the real Nia Liston, not me.

But if the schedule had been decided, I couldn’t really say no.

Though, it turned out that things happened that made it impossible for me to go anyway.

“This rule will be in effect starting today in order to protect the lives of our competitors.”

Anzel could only sit there stunned as he heard the new rule. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.” He had been in the middle of having his breakfast in the cafeteria of his accommodation, watching the princess’s announcement on the MagiPad along with the other fighters having their own meals.

Magic treatment was now off-limits.

Anzel had been intending to do whatever it took to take out his opponent, even if it meant damaging his own body. With this update, it was like his only chance at victory had been completely crushed.

The ideal outcome would be to fight and come out unscathed. But an ideal was simply that: an ideal. It would have been naive to think that would be feasible for every fight, so he’d been trying to devise a different way to win. What he’d landed on was willingly taking a blow from his opponent to take them out at the same time. He’d been perfecting his defense specifically for that reason.

Now, he couldn’t take that route. Even if he won with that tactic, getting injured would be the worst thing he could do. A bout like that wouldn’t end with a little scrape; the injury would be major.

It wasn’t that Anzel didn’t understand the reasoning behind the rule. Sure, it was inconvenient, but he wasn’t against it. There were likely a lot of fighters in this tournament who had been considering similarly reckless tactics because they’d been under the assumption they could immediately get magic treatment after the fight. They’d just been denied their recklessness, that was all.

He greatly agreed with the ruling too—he didn’t want there to be deaths any more than the next person. He didn’t want to die himself, that was for sure, and he didn’t want to kill either.

Whatever the case, rules were rules. He could complain all he wanted, it was set in stone now. All he could do now was accept the rule and think up a different winning strategy.

“Hey, uh...”

“Huh?” Anzel looked up when he suddenly heard someone talk to him. “Uh...who are you again?”

It was a male competitor with around the same build as Anzel... Anzel could tell that he was pretty strong.

“Sauzan.”

“Ohh, so you’re Sauzan.”

In one of her unprompted tirades, Fressa had mentioned that this guy was one of the ones who had caught her eye. If someone like her had shown an interest, then it seemed pretty certain that this guy was strong. Anzel had been so focused on his own training that he was clueless about everyone else in this tournament.

And that was fine by him. It didn’t matter who his opponent was—he just had to take them down.

“Did you want somethin’ from me?”

“That.” Sauzan pointed at the lump of meat sitting square in the middle of the salad on Anzel’s plate, ready to be cut into with his knife and fork. “Is that pork?”

“Yeah. It’s been grilled to remove the fat.”

“To remove it? Even though the fat is the tastiest part?”

“I mean, we’re about to do some intense exercise, ain’t we? I’d rather avoid anything heavy that’ll sit in my stomach.”

Sauzan’s eyes widened. “Shouldn’t you make sure to eat big meals because we’re about to fight?”

“Oh, uh... That kinda depends on the person, don’t it?” Like someone’s condition at the time, their appetite, even their body’s constitution. What was this all about anyway? “Somethin’ wrong with pork?”

“No, it’s just I heard that Altoire’s pork was nice, so I want to try it out. Someone told me where the specialty meat was from, but I already forgot the name. So I want to try and eat a lot of pork. One of them has gotta be the one they recommended.”

The words coming out of this guy’s mouth were so vague. But just like what one ate before a match was dependent on the person, so was the way one spoke.

“If they were talking about pork famous in Altoire, they were probably talking about meat from the Silver territories.”

“That’s it. It was something like that.”

“I dunno if this is Silver pork. You’d have to ask the chef. That all?”

“Yeah, thanks. Sorry for suddenly jumping you like that.”

After that strange encounter, Anzel finished his meal.

The mutual destruction tactic was now off the table. Guess I’ve gotta do things the proper way now. Trying to think up some new strategy and attempting to implement it now was too risky. Rather than trying to think outside the box, it seemed far safer to simply brute-force it. He just had to pray he didn’t get matched up with anyone he’d have a hard time with—especially Fressa and Lynette. If he did get matched with one of those two, he hoped it was at least around finals.

The match schedule for the first rounds of the tourney were posted on the bulletin boards in front of the arena and in each of the lodgings. But not only were there spectators always passing by the arena board, it was also a bit of a walk from the accommodations. There was no need to go all that way to check, so it was easiest for competitors to check the notice in their building.

“I’m fifth, huh?”

Lynette Bran was standing in front of her lodging’s bulletin board. She’d done nothing special to win her previous matches. She’d done nothing memorable, yet she never let the matches go too slow or too fast. Worded differently, she hadn’t particularly struggled in her fights. She’d ended up against a fairly strong crescent sword wielder in preliminaries, but she easily shut him down without trouble. (That man had been a member of the main house of the Qilong, but she remained unaware of that fact.)

Her first tourney match was going to be the fifth one of the day. Her opponent was Em Tairi, a female martial artist from Wu Haitong. There weren’t a lot of female competitors in the tournament, so Em had frequently been interviewed and featured in special focus segments. She was a cute, small girl who wore her black hair pulled back into two buns. She was always very easily embarrassed, and Lynette had a clear image of her nervous look. In any case, the cuteness factor was hard to miss.

Naturally, the fact she’d made it all the way here meant she was the real deal. All Lynette really knew about her was that she fought wielding two trident-like daggers known as sai. She meant no offense, but she really hadn’t looked into Em that much. Lynette was fairly certain she could win easily. It would probably play out like all the matches she’d had before.

Lynette was much more interested in the second match between Sauzan Flameen and Lestra. Sauzan was a swordsman who had come from Slengradd, a country far from Altoire. He’d said in an interview that he was like an adventurer but not quite. The audience viewed him as a funny person with a big secret. Everyone seemed to agree that he clearly had something important about him that he couldn’t divulge, but he was also a terrible liar, so any time the interview questions took him too close to revealing it, he would start comically stumbling over his words.

Underneath all of that, though, he was strong. Lynette had been curious about him for a long time. He fought in a similar way to her—they were both swordsmen and had won their matches in a plain and steady way, taking no risks.

Lynette had been considering how she would take him down if they ended up facing off—and she still hadn’t come up with an answer. It seemed unlikely she could win by fighting him normally. She was only on the same level of Sauzan if she used chi, so she didn’t think it possible for her to disrupt his stable swordsmanship. If the match went long, she’d end up unable to maintain her chi and her chances of winning would drop dramatically.

If she wanted a chance of winning, she may have to use her hidden move. But in an environment like this with the public watching, she would likely only have one chance to use it. She wouldn’t be able to get away with it a second time. Once the fighters knew what she could do, they’d be able to counter it.

Sauzan was the main fighter she was interested in, but that didn’t mean Lestra hadn’t also caught her eye. As someone with elven blood, Lestra had a long lifespan, and reflecting that, she had been in the adventuring business for a long time too. She was talented and had had a long career—it was unsurprising that she’d made a name for herself. Having studied in the Department of Adventuring back in middle school, Lynette obviously knew her name.

But she had heard that Lestra was a magician. It made it feel all the stranger that she was participating in this martial arts tournament.

“You’re Lynette, aren’t you?”

As Lynette was looking at the match schedule, a woman came up beside her.

“Yes. I was actually just thinking about you.”

Speaking of the devil, it was Lestra, the beautiful lady with pointed ears. Although she was likely older than even Lynette’s parents, she could have easily passed as a young adult. Perhaps even younger than Lynette herself. The indicators of her elven blood were more than evident.

Incidentally, it seemed she wasn’t a half-elf. Half-elves were the children of a human and an elf, but in Lestra’s case, she just had an elf somewhere in her ancestry—somewhere so far back that even Lestra herself wasn’t aware of who it was—and those features had been passed down generation after generation. It might have been an exaggeration to say she had elven blood to begin with. Even the lady herself seemed to just view it as a very small part of her heritage.

“Lestra, you’re a magician, aren’t you?”

“I suppose. But that doesn’t mean I can’t use a sword, does it?”

Along with her magic, Lestra was using a rapier in this tournament. The rules didn’t forbid the usage of magic, so long as it wasn’t lethal. Spells with a large enough range that it could hit the audience were naturally also off-limits. Lynette wasn’t well-versed in magic, so she wasn’t sure of the specifics.

Very few of the competitors in the tournament used magic. Even attuned weapons like Anzel’s were a rare sight. Though that was partly because the weapon Anzel could summon was a blunt weapon with low lethality. It seemed likely there were many people with attuned weapons but were simply not permitted to use them due to the rules of the tournament; most would attune to lethal weapons, after all.

Honestly, it made Lynette wonder why Anzel had gone with a metal pipe in the first place. The nature of the contractual magic used for attuned weapons was that once you’d “made a contract” with a weapon, you could never change it for the rest of your life. Even if the weapon ended up bent, dented, broken, or even completely annihilated, it would always be summoned in the state it had been in when the contract was made. Depending on how you thought about it, it was actually a fairly useful type of magic.

But then why a metal pipe? People usually went for swords or knives, something sharp. A housewife may even make a contract with a kitchen knife she had just sharpened—it meant she would never need to sharpen it manually again.

“I’m up against Sauzan Flameen, huh? This might be it for me,” Lestra sighed.

“Have you been keeping an eye on him?”

“Of course. The result of an adventure is determined by the preparations one makes. Information gathering falls under that.”

It was the ironclad rule of adventuring. Lynette knew of it too, given her education.

“You’re...going to lose?”

“Mm-hmm. He’s my natural enemy.”

Lestra gave a cool smile and then walked off. What a beautiful lady.

“Her natural enemy...?” Lynette wasn’t sure what exactly the woman meant by those words, but she was very curious. It was like she already knew why she’d lose. No, she clearly did know.

It would still be a while yet, but there was a good chance that Lynette would eventually end up against Sauzan or Lestra. She prayed there was at least the slimmest chance of her victory...

Regardless, I cannot lose.

The Liston family was here to see the matches. Nia was here for work so that was different, but not only were her employers, the Lord and Lady of the family, here to watch, but so was Neal, her ward. Lynette had wanted to return back to the school in that break week to stay with Neal for a little while, but she’d ultimately decided against it. She’d become fairly well-known herself due to all the interviews that had been carried out. She didn’t trust that the capital wouldn’t become unnecessarily noisy with her around, so she chose to have some self-restraint.

Lynette hadn’t met with Neal for a whole month now. All she’d been able to do was catch glimpses of him from afar and watch him through the MagiPad. She was sure that Neal was missing her just as much as she was, that he wanted to see her again as soon as possible, to be protected, to one day have her become his most important lady that he must protect. The possibility was not zero, at least. That was better than nothing!

Even if the possibility was zero, she couldn’t just put on a terrible display in front of him. That would be even worse than losing in front of Nia. She wanted to remain his ideal attendant and become an ideal bodyguard only for him.

She could feel her motivation welling up inside her. Something warm had built up inside her chest. All it took was thinking about Neal to believe she could become stronger than anyone.

The first match of the tourney was already over.

“Please give a round of applause for our valiant fighters. We will now move on to the second match of the day.”

The competitors who had just fought left the ring and the next ones took the stage. This second match was the one I was most curious about today.

The Liston crew were recording from beside the ring yet again. The audience seats were filled and they were roaring with excitement. Hopefully, we could continue sprinting to the finish line with no issues.

The two contestants and the referee were already standing in the ring: Sauzan versus Lestra. A Hero candidate versus a veteran adventurer. So far, neither of them had particularly stood out in their matches.

To the audience, Sauzan was clearly hiding some big secret, and that was the part that had gained him popularity. He was the mysterious character of this tale. Said secret was probably his Hero candidacy as part of the Heroic Star Assembly. This attention felt inevitable—he was horrendous at telling lies. He was so bad at it I couldn’t tell if he was even trying to hide that he was a Hero candidate. It almost felt like he wanted us to find out. He was terrible at actually covering up his stumbles too, so he was always quick to fluster. So yeah, he was quite the funny guy, honestly. I’m not surprised that was his reputation.

His actual matches were also unexciting. He won so easily there was basically nothing to grip onto.

He was strong, that much was abundantly clear. He was so funny that it kind of overshadowed that, though. I almost felt bad. But, really, you would think people could only be so bad at telling lies. If he was that incapable of it, then he should’ve just stayed quiet. It was because he tried to answer honestly all the time that he always ended up cornered.

And then there was Lestra. From what she’d said in her interviews, she was an adventurer and a magician, so unsurprisingly, she was good with a sword and fairly strong—only fairly. That was where her magic came in to enhance and support her swordplay. Or was it the opposite way around? Was the sword necessary for her to use her magic effectively?

Whichever the case, my impression was that she fought with both sword and magic at the same time. It was a little hard to tell just from seeing her fight on magivision, though. Was she using magic? It could also have been that she was just fighting with her sword.

Lestra had become popular as the adventurer who was far too pretty. She had often been paired up with Fressa in specials that dubbed them “the beauty squad” or “the two great beauties.” That must have been a nightmare for Fressa.

Now then, it was time for the match between these two fighters. I still didn’t have a clear grasp of their power levels, so I was naturally interested to see.

Show me your martial arts.

Both of them had been quite boring to watch so far, but both had also been undefeated in the way they’d been fighting until now. I was certain of that.

First, though, the usual introduction. “Our second match of the day is between Sauzan and Lestra. In terms of skill with the sword alone, Sauzan has the advantage. However, Lestra has the power of magic on her side. Perhaps she is far more of a magician than a swordsman.”

With magic being such a rarity in this tournament, it was important for me to detail the rules surrounding it. “The rules make it clear that lethal magic is strictly forbidden. A head suddenly going flying, a body being cut in two, a gruesome crushing up of meat and bones with the power of gravity or wind... Oh, uh, pretend I didn’t say that. Basically, all magic that has the potential to kill her opponent is forbidden. I wait with bated breath to see who will be the ultimate winner of this matchup.”

I looked up and saw Bendelio crossing his arms, so I quickly wrapped up my commentary. Apparently, I had said something bad. Was it the crushing...? Maybe I should’ve worded it softer like comparing it to squishing a tomato under your foot.

It’s fine. I just need to shake it off and watch the match.

“Let the match...begin!”

Lestra made the first strike.

“Hah!”

Wow, she’s pretty fast.

The two blunted swords crossed and clanged. Sauzan continued to guard without a hint of a struggle against the thrusts of Lestra’s rapier.

Sauzan has a good sense of balance. He’s very stable. The times he would put out an occasional strike of his own wasn’t with the intention to hit Lestra, it was purely to control the advance so he didn’t end up completely cornered. Did he not want to risk Lestra getting too close?

No, that didn’t seem right. He was baiting her. He was trying to get her to do a deep thrust. He was trying to tempt her to get too close.

Oh?

“Lestra is now making her move,” I said as Lestra suddenly blurred. She’d stepped forward as fast as one would for Rumbling Thunder and then was immediately behind Sauzan.

You really are speedy. You just used magic, didn’t you?

There was a large metallic clang that could even be heard by the audience. Sauzan had taken the powerful thrust and wobbled.

No, that wasn’t a wobble—he’d deftly shifted his upper body to escape the impact. A very efficient defense. He was so stable it was almost infuriating.

“What we just saw was a display of magic strengthening the body.”

That speed and the weight of her thrust had been a result of her using magic to fortify her muscles. That was the thing with magicians—they might not know how to use chi, but they had other ways they could strengthen themselves. It would have been unclear to a casual observer, but that was likely how she’d won her matches in prelims.

The audience cheered at Lestra’s moves, the woman moving so quickly that she was even leaving afterimages behind. Sauzan focused on defense as the violent sounds of their swords clashing continued to ring out through the arena.

He really isn’t faltering. Despite being attacked with such speed and ferocity, his stance never showed any signs of breaking. What incredible core strength.

Oh? Lestra’s ferocious attacks have stopped. More accurately, her attacks had suddenly slowed down. She’d maintained the speed for so long that the abrupt deceleration made it seem as if she’d stopped entirely.

From the surprised look on her face, Sauzan must’ve done something to her. That single moment of having her movements forcefully limited left her completely defenseless. Sauzan naturally did not let that moment pass him by, immediately slashing his sword forward until it was up against her neck.

The match was over.

“The winner is Sauzan. What a display of calm and stability.” I gave my commentary amid the thundering cheers. “Lestra no doubt used physical enhancement magic to perform such swift attacks. It appears that Sauzan utilized some sort of skill to dispel her magic.”

In fact, that had been Evil Queller, a Technique that utilized divine chi. It was like a spell to ward off evil, highly effective against invisible powers and intangible demonic entities. Mana was apparently a very similar concept, which was what made it possible to dispel magic with the Technique. I’d attempted to use it myself against the aqua horse we faced out in Vanderouge a year ago. Lynokis had stopped me before I could fully activate it, though. She’d told me to stop because I would get cursed.

Me? Get cursed? I’m a martial artist.

Generally speaking, divine chi was effective against those sorts of intangible forces. I was fairly sure it was the power of the reverse god that directly opposed the true god...or something like that. Ugh, I can’t seem to remember anything else.

If I couldn’t remember, then it must not have been that important. Despite its name, divine chi wasn’t anything all that special. Martial artists could just deal with magic with their spirit. We were the type of people to go, “Magic doesn’t make you better!” and punch a magician right in the face.

“Lestra ended up against an opponent where magic was ineffective—an unlucky matchup for her. With her skill, she could easily have placed higher. It goes to show how strong a competitor Sauzan is. Even against a strengthened opponent, he barely broke a sweat. It feels as if he’s still hiding his true strength from us. It may be that we won’t get to see him go all out until later in this tournament. Perhaps he will be the big winner.”

That seemed good enough. This was the most interesting match of the day, anyway. My disciples and the other fighters I had my eye on were matched up against competitors they would easily defeat. It would be fun if there was some kind of shake-up, though. I was looking forward to an unforgettable match just as the audience was.

In a room of a dim warehouse, Kaffes Jacks’s money game was in full swing.

“It goes to show how strong a competitor Sauzan is. Even against a strengthened opponent, he barely broke a sweat. It feels as if he’s still hiding his true strength from us. It may be that we won’t get to see him go all out until later in this tournament. Perhaps he will be the big winner.”

Now that the highlights covering the day’s matches were over, Kaffes gave a signal. Nastine lowered the volume of the MagiPad and placed some paper on the table. The channel was now displaying rebroadcasts of the matches of the day. Kaffes enjoyed watching them over and over, but there was no time for that right now.

“The tournament has now begun in earnest. As I informed you all before, we will begin making our bets now.”

It was the night of the third day, and, now that the gathered villains had had the time to evaluate the competitors, it was time for the betting to begin. The number of competitors had now been cut down to seventy-five. The men were to guess which of those seventy-five competitors would win. Well, since they weren’t allowed to include the bare-handed division in their bets, it was actually fewer than that.

Kaffes Jacks, Grieg Klett, Frozen Geitz, Lesten, Keya Kin, Zen Fowah. The six of them had gathered in the same space where they’d first had their meeting, in the same seats, as they looked at the matchups spread out on the table. There were two sheets: Block A and Block B. The names of the competitors were written and whoever won all of the matches would be named the champion.

The rate had been determined by Kaffes’s declaration to bet fifty billion krams. No one present would dare admit anything as unsightly as not having that money. Underworld dwellers could not afford to be mocked—show a moment of weakness, and everyone would move in for the kill. They had no choice but to match the bet.

Fifty billion krams. Not even they could bet so much money as a mere joke. Naturally, if they bet wrong here, they would be forced to pay up, no matter what it took. There was a very low probability of escape. If they weren’t in possession of fifty billion krams, then they may lose not only their property, but also their life. It was practically a guarantee, in fact. Every member gathered here would do just that.

The villains had desperately used every ounce of their knowledge to gather information, watching every match intently to try and correctly judge the strength of the fighters.

There were several fighters that they had determined to be possible champions. In fact, there were so many options that it was almost troublesome in this situation. It was like they were lacking the last key bit of info to determine who was the definite winner. It was a fifty-billion-kram bet, after all—they had to be careful.

Even as they were nervously desperate, there was one thought they all had in common: Who the hell is that kid? Specifically, the girl with white hair doing the commentary. At first, they’d not been paying that much attention to what she was saying, but when they finally had, they’d realized that her comments were far too accurate.

There were matches where it wasn’t all that clear what exactly was happening, and yet she would always come in with a careful explanation. She knew exactly why the competitors won or lost, and made it easy for the audience to understand. Even the offhand predictions she made of who was most likely to win or lose just before the matches began were all accurate, whether for the weapons division or the bare-handed one.

If the commentary had been added later, then there would have been nothing to question—it would have been easy enough for her to make that comment knowing who had won. But these matches were being shown practically in real time.

She wasn’t normal. There were some who had foolishly thought they could rely on her as a tipster and had considered getting in contact, but a second thought was enough to realize how impossible that would be, so they gave up before they even tried.

“C’mon, what’s with the long faces? If none of you make your bets, this isn’t going to go anywhere,” Kaffes spoke up, as the guests all silently stared at the paper. He gazed at them coldly while he played with the colored coins they were using instead of chips.

“Have you already decided who you’re betting on?” Grieg asked.

Kaffes nodded. “Of course I have. I don’t mind betting first, but...” His gaze ran across those gathered and he gave a small shrug. “I already decided the bet amount. Would be a bit unfair if I don’t at least let you all decide on your fighter first.”

This was retaliation. It was payback for how they’d spoken to him the day prior.

“Oh, and so you’re all aware, it looks like it’ll be impossible to make contact with the competitors. The tournament island is absolutely packed with knights and soldiers, and they’re on very high alert. I don’t imagine any of you expected any different. His Majesty the King is there, as are a whole bunch of other foreign dignitaries.”

In other words, bribes and threats were off the table. They were dirty tactics, but they were effective. All that mattered was that the one they bet on won the tournament, so none of them would’ve been against pulling such tricks. Though it seemed they couldn’t do that this time.

It seemed likely that the king of Altoire was cautious of this exact thing. That had to be exactly why he’d gone all in with the security. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have made such an extreme rule that disqualified fighters even for simple spats.

That rule had been an implicit signal that anyone who acted even slightly suspiciously would be removed. Whether because of a fight or something else, any suspicious persons would be forbidden from entering. At least, that was how Kaffes took it.

“Fine, I’ll bet on Sauzan.” The young Lesten of Vanderouge, a newly prominent face in the underworld, placed a green coin on Sauzan Flameen’s name.

A fifty-billion-kram gamble. With his career still on the rise, this was a terrifyingly large amount of money, but he did his best to not let it show on his face.

This was a win-or-bust moment. It was an opportunity to rid himself of those meddling geriatrics and earn a large sum of money at the same time. He wouldn’t think about what would happen if he lost. This was a bet where there was no future if he did.

Besides, he definitely had a chance of winning. The boneheads here probably didn’t realize, but that white-haired kid giving the dead-on commentary had said that Sauzan might even win the tournament—and the kid had always predicted the winner correctly.

So he was sure. He was sure that he had a chance. Even without that reassurance, Sauzan seemed quite strong, so he’d definitely win. If he didn’t, Lesten would be in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

“I’ll bet on Freeze.”

Frozen Geitz, another ruthless underworld competitor in Vanderouge, placed a blue coin on Freeze’s name. The reason he was still considered young despite nearing his forties was solely because Grieg existed. If he wanted to become the big boss, he needed to stand at the top of the underworld. If he couldn’t manage that much, he was still young.

The moment he became a part of the underworld, his only choice was to climb up or fall. He’d been eagerly eyeing up Grieg’s position, but he still hadn’t found an opening. When the offer of the gamble came to him, he realized he had the chance to take Grieg down. Of course he’d join in.

It wasn’t as if he had no chance of winning either. The idiots gathered here likely didn’t realize, but that white-haired kid with an accuracy that even professional tipsters would be surprised by had been mentioning specific fighters who might win the tournament.

One of those fighters had been Freeze. He’d discerned during preliminaries that that woman was used to killing. In fact, it was likely that she was a professional killer. If she chose someone as her target, she would show no hesitation. Such ruthlessness was a mental advantage over the competitors who were getting flustered by the rules.

That beauty and ruthlessness was sure to win the tournament.

Two coins had been placed on the pieces of paper. Two old men who had been leisurely watching slowly made their move.

“Zen, who’re you betting on?”

One was Keya Kin, a sinister-looking older man.

“If only Ku Yunxie were still competing, I’d have my answer.”

The other was Zen Fowah, a bald older man with a long white beard that made him look like a hermit from the mountains.

These two were the faces of Wu Haitong’s underworld. They were in the position to lead many martial artists, and they collected money from their country’s citizens through all manner of means. No one really knew what exactly their methods were; rumors stated that they’d done every horrible thing you could think of. Such ambiguity made them seem even more villainous.

“I’d have bet on him as well if he’d been here.”

“Ah, so you would. Keya, my friend, do you have fifty billion in the bank?”

“I do. Not all in cash, though.”

“Then let’s do this.” Zen waved his twiglike right hand up and down. Keya gave an evil smirk.

“Hmm... Well, fine.”

The two of them flicked their coins with their thumbs. The coins bounced on the table and spun.

What a terrifying duo. Fifty billion krams appeared to be an expendable sum of money to them. Just how deep did their pockets go?

Wu Haitong had a long history—it was often said that there were residents who were beyond the imaginations of ordinary people. Among those incomprehensible people were the main house of the Qilong, an assassin’s organization. There had always been several mysteries and rumors surrounding them.

“Hey. Move our coins to the names closest to where they fell.”

“Uh, yes, sir.” Still taken aback by the absolutely chaotic nature of their choices, Nastine moved the black coin and the white coin. “Are you satisfied with these choices?” he asked for confirmation, too afraid to make the wrong adjustment. The old men nodded.

“You really okay with such a random method?” Kaffes asked.

They smiled.

“It’ll only hurt a little. I’ll have to skip my special family treat just this once.”

“It won’t be long until I have no need for money. The only reason I came here was because I might walk away with a nice allowance for my beloved grandchildren.”

Kaffes couldn’t get a read on these guys at all...but in any case, they’d made their bets. Keya Kin’s black coin was set on Lynette Bran. Zen Fowah’s white coin was set on Asuma Hinoki.

Truly terrifying... Both of those picks had been fighters the Liston kid had said might win. Had they actually aimed for those spaces? Was it even possible to aim for an exact spot with such a casual throw? Or was this solely because of their luck?

These old men really were impossible to read.

Kaffes had begun to understand just what kind of person the Liston girl was. That was exactly why he’d done his best to avoid her at all costs. Honestly, he’d started panicking a little when he learned that Anzel was quite involved with her.

She wasn’t someone they should get too involved with. All it would take was upsetting her even slightly to bring everything crumbling down. And she would do it as casually as if she were adding an errand to a stroll. As if it were a little something for her to do in her free time. As if it were just a simple quick detour.

That was why Kaffes had so adamantly avoided her, and though he’d remained aware of her movements, he had refrained from digging too deeply into her circumstances. If she happened to learn of them, it was over.

Cedony Trading had handled the cards they’d been dealt well, he thought. Or...maybe not. If they got on that thing’s bad side, they might not be able to continue doing business. They would need to remain just as cautious of her.

In any case, the elders from Wu Haitong had bet on two of the fighters who the Liston girl had mentioned as possible winners. The chance was high that these idiots hadn’t realized it yet, but that kid’s predictions had all been correct so far.

It was highly likely that both Lynette Bran and Asuma Hinoki had a chance of winning the tournament.

He wanted to say something about the way the old men were acting.

“Who will you bet on, Grieg?”

But the two ambitious youngsters from Vanderouge and the unfathomable elders had made their bets. The only ones left were Grieg and Kaffes. Kaffes was betting last, so Grieg was up next.

“I mean no ill will, but...” Grieg held out a red coin between his index finger and thumb. “Care to bet together, Kaffes? If you wait until literally everyone else has bet, you might get complaints later.”

“I thought you were about to ask if we should bed together for a moment there.”

“Sorry, you ain’t my type.”

“Ha ha, same here.” Kaffes leaned forward off the backrest and held the yellow coin he’d been fiddling with in the same fashion. “Sure thing. Let’s do it.”

The two of them placed their coins down...on the same competitor.

“So we went for the same one, eh?”

This was also within Kaffes’s expectations. The moment Grieg had said he meant no ill will, he’d become certain this was what was about to happen. Honestly, if he hadn’t been able to see this far ahead, the man would’ve probably been dead by now. Grieg had been trying to lead Kaffes in various directions through this money game, but the real question was whether or not he’d caught on to the real reason for this betting game.

Kaffes had gathered these members here today to win. The only reason he’d called Grieg early was to force him to think this far ahead, to let him dig deep enough to determine exactly who Kaffes would bet on. He had let Grieg freely gather information as he wished—about Kaffes’s assets, the scale of the groups working under him, his area of influence, his businesses, and also who he would bet on—all without leaking a bit of it himself.

This was the result. In just a few days, Kaffes had been stripped bare. He was fairly sure Grieg had discovered around eighty percent of his secrets. It seemed that Grieg had some great intelligence agents on his side. He was jealous.

“Anzel. He’s your man, ain’t he?”

“Up for debate. He’s gotten powerful. Too powerful. I can’t control him the way I used to. I’m quaking in my boots imagining the day he finally turns on me.”

Quit with the jokes, Grieg couldn’t help but snap internally.

Kaffes’s face had been blank as he’d flatly uttered those words, not an ounce of his true feelings present.

“But there’s no reason for you to mind, is there? My man is in the tournament, simple as that. There’s no fancy tricks here. You can examine me all you want if you don’t believe me. I’m coming at this fair and square. When I gamble, I always win, and I spare no effort in laying the groundwork for that victory. That’s just how I roll. Though I’m sure that goes for everyone else here too.”

The underworld wasn’t so kind a place that those who weren’t willing to win by underhanded means could survive. It was for that exact reason that Kaffes’s gamble had gone through. Because if any of them showed even the slightest hint of weakness, they would immediately be crushed. Because he’d been able to create a reason to gather the exact types of people who despised those shows of weakness. Because if he could crush them, all that was left was to steal from them. Because this would become the ultimate justification for him to take action.

After all, even subordinates he’d trusted until yesterday would turn their backs on him. It was unavoidable. Relationships in the underworld were based on nothing but shared interests. The exceptions to that were a miraculous handful.

“The only thing behind this gamble is my trust in my subordinate. I fully believe he will become champion. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Grieg and the elders all huffed, as if they didn’t believe him. But this was the one time Kaffes revealed his true feelings. He truly believed in Anzel’s victory. There was no clear reasoning for his confidence. But if that wasn’t the case, he wouldn’t be able to taste the excitement that made his instincts tremble.

Kaffes Jacks had spent all his time as the ruler of the Altoire underworld indulging in these kinds of gambles, intoxicated by the thrill and violent thrashing of his emotions—and he’d won his way here. Really, he viewed himself as nothing more than a gambler. He’d long been aware that his emotional wires had been crossed since birth.

His feelings toward gambling might honestly have been a desire for destruction. But whatever it was, he’d made it all the way here. He couldn’t change anymore.

That was just the kind of man Kaffes was.

Chapter 6: The Matches Worth Seeing

“This stuff really is amazing.”

It was day four of the main tournament. Lynokis was in her room fixing her disguise. Looking at her face in the mirror, she couldn’t help but marvel at the quality of the most luxurious aristocratic makeup once more. It really didn’t come off. The staff had said it wouldn’t when she’d bought it at the magic pharmacy, and clearly they had been telling the truth. No matter how much she’d sweated or rubbed at her face this past week, the disguise had stayed put.

The makeup was much closer to a kind of potion, and the secret behind it... Well, Lynokis had it explained to her, but she was so clueless about magic that it all went in one ear and out the other. Basically, it was magic makeup. Once the product settled into the skin, you could remove it without disturbing the look, so you could wear makeup with none of the feeling of it on your face. Even washing your face didn’t take it off. No wonder it had been so expensive; it made life so much easier.

Lynokis had been using it since preliminaries, so she could attest to its effectiveness. The effects would start wearing off after a week, but it only wore off gradually, so there was plenty of time to reapply before it fully wore off. (On a related note, there was a potion to remove the makeup too, similar to what was used to remove Nia’s magic hair dye.)

“Okay, let’s do this.”

After pumping herself up, Lynokis left her room. Now that she’d reapplied her makeup, she didn’t need to worry that it would start wearing off in the middle of a match. Knowing that her identity wouldn’t be revealed made it much easier for her to focus on her fight. After all, her opponent today would definitely not let her win easily.

Starting today, matches would only be held in the afternoon.

The number of competitors in the main matches had started at around three hundred. That number had been cut in half after the first and second days, and the tourney then started in earnest on the third day. Now that the first matches of the tourney were over with, there were roughly seventy-five fighters left. The organizers said it was a number that allowed for an even split without needing to work with anyone being allowed to automatically qualify, but since that number combined both the weapon and bare-handed divisions, it all became a little complicated. For the fighters, all they needed to remember was that they had one match a day.

By the end of day four, the second matches of the tourney, those seventy-five competitors would be cut in half again, so they decided to only have matches in the afternoon taking into account how fast they went by.

At least, that had been the plan, but because of the rule that had been added the other day, a number of fighters had already dropped out, the injuries they sustained having been too serious to continue. Lynokis could guess who those might’ve been. If someone’s match ended in a narrow victory, chances were the damage dealt to them would make fighting in the next match a hopeless endeavor. Unfortunately, they just had to accept that reality.

In any case, very few matches dragged on. She was fairly sure all the matches would be finished by evening.

“It’s Leeno!”

“Leeno’s here! Leeno!”

A whole crowd of spectators were loitering by the entrance to the arena. The moment they saw Lynokis, they erupted into cheers. There was still time before the matches began, so they must’ve been waiting to see the competitors enter.

The sight of such a massive crowd of people started to make all the work feel worth it.

With that thought, Lynokis responded with a friendly wave. The staff trying to hold the crowds back were clearly struggling, so she quickly made her way inside.

“Zeon’s here too!” someone yelled.

Lynokis turned around. The moment she saw the wolf beastkin walking toward her, she swallowed nervously. She could feel the murderous aura emanating off of him. Each step he took felt like another corpse would fall to his feet—that was how dangerous he felt right now. Never mind being motivated, he was the definition of a starving wolf.

Ever since the prelims, Lynokis had thought that Zeon wasn’t normal. But that was to be expected. Sonicspeed Zeon was so well-known that even those outside of the adventuring scene knew his name. His experience and achievements were not to be ignored. That was why he was incomparable to someone like Leeno, whose achievements were all a sham.

“I won’t lose.” Those were the words he left as he walked past Lynokis and disappeared into the building, not even stopping for a moment.

Lynokis silently watched as he passed, and then let out the breath that she had been holding.

This match might be a bit of a doozy.

After we interviewed the audience members in the morning, we entered the arena and stood at the ready beside the ring—this was where the Liston production crew would be stationed for the rest of the day yet again.

Still, the crowd sure was excited. Today’s matches wouldn’t start until the afternoon, but they were already here so early in the morning. I would say that they were too restless, but that wasn’t really true. Just like the capital, the tournament island was overrun with a festive air.

Delicious scents were wafting from the several pop-up stalls near the arena, and MagiPads had been set up around the venue showing interviews and previous matches. Naturally, we were selling merchandise as well—but the main attraction was undoubtedly the presence of the fighters themselves.

The defeated fighters were separated from those still in the tournament, moved to the losers’ lodgings—as mean as it was to call it that—but they weren’t required to leave immediately. This was where the organizers stepped in. They’d approached several of the losing competitors and asked them if they were able and willing to stick around until the end of the tournament to interact with the spectators and provide some fan service. They even offered to pay for the losers’ daily expenses. It was basically day labor.

Even those who lost were likely still curious who would win, so a good number of them wouldn’t want to leave the island right away. Many of them had traveled from afar, after all. If someone had made it to the main part of the tournament at all, even if they lost in their first match, then they were likely someone who lived off of their strength. That made it more likely for them to be curious about the strength of their fellow fighters.

Those losing fighters who remained would then meet with the audience. For the audience, it would be like those faces they’d been watching on magivision for the past few days were now here in front of them. They might even be able to meet the fighter they’d been rooting for.

It seemed it had been received well. The fighters themselves were also realizing that they’d had fans all along and that surprisingly led to further work—there was strangely quite the interest in them. In fact, those tygre beastkin brothers had become quite famous due to the demand that came with popularity, even though they had lost in the prelims. It turned out they’d been really popular with the children.

Honestly, it felt like all the beastkin were pretty popular. Probably because they weren’t all that common in Altoire. They were quite a combative people, so a country known for its naive peace likely wasn’t that attractive to them.

Anyway, that was exactly why this island was now so alive. It made sense.

The matches worth watching today would be the third match of the first half and then the matches of the second half. When the tournament first shifted to its current format, the weapons matches were placed first and the bare-handed matches second, but starting today, they’d decided to swap the order.

Apparently, the audience reaction to the previous schedule hadn’t been good. In a tournament like this, it was important for the matches to get more exciting as the day progressed. Was it the lack of blood? Compared to the weapons matches, the bare-handed matches saw little blood being spilled. Without blood, it didn’t really feel like there’d been a fierce match. Blood excited the audience and made it more fun to watch.

The change might have also been because there were fewer bare-handed matches, though.

Whatever the reason, now that the change had been made, we just needed to adjust.

“Nia, we’re going to start the commentary now.”

“All right.”

The audience seats were filled again today. When it was almost time for the rounds to start, we began recording.

“The fourth day of the main matches will soon begin. The match I’m personally most looking forward to is the third match of the bare-handed division—the match between Leeno and Zeon. Leeno’s matches until now have shown her consistent strength, even while holding back. However, the intensity with which Zeon is approaching this tournament is nothing to take lightly. How long can he hold out against such a formidable opponent?”

I paused to let that question hang in the air and then continued. “With the newly introduced rule banning magic treatment following the matches, no matter what injuries the winner of this match sustains, they will have to fight in tomorrow’s round as they are. Leeno sustaining a grave injury today may even alter the course of the tournament entirely.”

The third match of the bare-handed division would see Lynokis and Zeon battling it out. In the weapons division, we’d see the match between Lynette and the Kenki.

“And then in the second half, we have the battle between Lynette Bran and Asuma Hinoki. This match will pit a fighter who has won her matches easily with steady precision against a renowned adventurer with the title of the Sword Demon—who has also won his matches with plenty of reserves to spare. Both are sword wielders, but there is one big concern...”

I raised a finger to punctuate my point.

“Asuma cannot use his cherished Eastern blade. He has been using a wooden sword since preliminaries, but it no doubt feels different from his familiar partner. He isn’t under a condition that will allow him to use his full strength. If we talk solely about skill with the sword alone, then Asuma no doubt wins. However, battles are not determined by swords and magic alone. One’s overall strengths, areas of expertise, and other factors can all have great effect. Judging from total strength, then Lynette has the upper hand.”

At least from my assessment, in both matches, my students were the ones on track to win. The problem was what would occur during the battles. Sure, Lynokis and Lynette would likely win their battles, but I couldn’t predict whether or not they would leave unscathed.

Zeon was clearly quite motivated in these matches. He would no doubt show just how fearsome a beastkin could be when no longer holding back. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was fighting with no concern for whether his opponent lived or died. He had become the very essence of one’s fighting instincts; that was how little mercy he would show. The only place you could still see a shred of reason in him was when he wouldn’t continue attacking his opponent once they were down.

Not to disparage Lynokis, but Zeon had trained himself well. I almost hoped that he could give the favorite to win a run for her money. That would make things so much more exciting.

And then there was the Kenki. He was someone I’d need to wait for the actual match to get a proper read on. Reaching the precipice of martial arts truly shined when in a moment of desperation. His true growth would come when he was backed into a corner. The real question would be if Lynette could handle such volatility.

A part of me wanted him to win. Compared to Lynette, Asuma went above and beyond her as far as time and quality of training and actual battle experience went. He’d also been through his fair share of dangerous situations. As a martial artist, I wanted to cheer for someone whose martial arts had been forged through years and years of effort.

But reality was cruel. No matter how much one trained—or even slacked off—the stronger one would win. Effort was tied to one’s results, but it did not mean that person was always guaranteed to win. That was true of pretty much anything.

This ruthless aspect of martial arts was part of its appeal.

The strongest would win. Such a simple and clear principle was merciless yet completely fair. Even fairer than the gods. They were all a whimsical bunch in comparison.

The day’s matches had begun. Now that we were on the second day of the tourney, there would be around thirty-five matches. I remembered someone saying that if the winners ended up with an odd number, then those in Block A and Block B would battle it out. That was the only detail that was slightly irregular.

In any case, with a few exceptions, competitors would fight in one match a day. Understanding that much should suffice.

I was a little concerned about the gaps left by the withdrawals, though... Several fighters had dropped out due to injury. The same would probably happen tomorrow too.

Well, surely the organizers would do something about it. I’m counting on you, our beloved king.

Though I must say, now that we were this far into the tournament, it had become much more exciting to watch. Every match had seen blood spilled. What had started with ten thousand participants had been cut down to fewer than one hundred survivors. Naturally, no amateurs had made it this far, so all of them were serious about their matches. Even the bare-handed matches were interesting to watch.

Right, of course. Throws are always an option. Strangleholds are quite plain, but the exchanges after the straddle are fun. It should be easy for the audience to follow too. But even these sorts of battles can involve some advanced moves that result in sudden changes in control. Hmm... This level of skill seems much more for those who are experts in the field. Just trading blows while standing is easy to understand, but pinning moves are a whole different game. All it looks like to the uninformed is two guys grappling each other, so it may look dull.

After all of that, we were onto the third match. Sonicspeed Zeon and the predicted champion Leeno walked onto the ring. The audience immediately erupted with cheers. They’d already been fairly loud to this point, but these had to be the loudest cheers of the day.

“What incredible noise. You can tell how high everyone’s expectations are for the match between these two popular competitors. I’m sure they’ll put on a fabulous display.”

Especially Zeon. Except for the afternoon matches on the first day, I’d seen all his matches for the main tournament from this distance. Every day, each time I watched him, the intensity of his hostility and desire to fight became stronger and stronger. He’d been so calm and collected during the preliminaries, but now, a light had finally been lit under his beastly instincts.

Innate physical prowess coupled with a naturally combative nature was the beastkin I knew. They trained themselves to fight, to quench their endless thirst for victory, all to follow what their instincts told them.

I’d heard that fights...well, civil unrest surrounding the throne still persisted in their country, so I imagined their nature was still on display even in modern times. I’d like to believe that, at least. It was a country I wanted to visit one day.

The two fighters stood in the middle of the ring. The cheering came to an abrupt stop. I was sure many of our spectators today had come just to see this match. Both of them had very real popularity, so I was looking forward to it.

It’s time to begin. Dazzle us all with your brilliance.

“Let the match...begin!”

The referee gave the signal. Zeon strode forward, looking as if he were on a casual walk, no hesitation in his movements, no stance readied.

And he kept that up until he was right in front of Lynokis, fully prepared to strike.

“This will be a match of speed,” I informed the audience. “Watch closely. Try not to blink.”

Like a flowing wave, Zeon’s body swayed slightly left...

And then his fist shot right out.

He aimed for Lynokis’s face, but she dodged and sent out a counter punch—but it was too slow!

Zeon had already dodged her fist, and his kick hit Lynokis square on the back of the head.

Or not—she was able to dodge that one. She had moved forward slightly when she’d thrown out her punch, and that moved Zeon’s target. It looked like it might’ve landed ever so slightly, but it wasn’t a direct hit. If it had been, this match would’ve been over.

Lynokis rolled away from Zeon and got back into her stance.

“Whoooooaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” The crowd went wild. That interaction was over in a moment, but it almost certainly caught their attention. That was a level of exchange we hadn’t seen in the tournament so far.

This may be quite an interesting watch, after all. Though in my case, I could defeat both of them at once even while lost in the daydream of beating Bendelio to a pulp.

Sonicspeed Zeon. The speed he was exhibiting now was above and beyond what he’d been showing previously—this must be him at his most serious.

But he was delicate. His body was light and he didn’t have much in the way of muscle, so his physical strength wasn’t anything to write home about. He was strong enough that he could definitely take a regular person out in one hit, but against someone like Gandolph, his attack probably wouldn’t even tickle. With his limbs being buffed only by his speed, it was only natural that his bone had broken back then.

And that was fine. He was an adventurer by trade, so he would usually be using a weapon. Of course his body wouldn’t be built to win a bare-handed fight.

All of that said, he was certainly strong. He was still a baby bird trying to fly, but he was a little faster than Lynokis even when she used chi.

However, judging from all aspects, Lynokis was the stronger fighter. If Zeon didn’t confront her head-on without any crafty tricks, Lynokis would win.

The real question was if she could finish this match having sustained as few injuries as possible.

“You’re not as bad as I thought.” Zeon, having closed the distance between them again, was staring down Leeno with ferocious eyes.

“What makes you say that?”

Truthfully, Lynokis was terrified. Her instincts were cowering from the intense bloodthirst she could sense from the man in front of her. She’d felt the unrestrained ferocity of monsters aimed at her before, but never so clearly from a human. His kick had been incredible. She’d dodged a direct hit, but just barely.

This beastkin’s intense pressure, starving eyes, and killing intent... Was it possible for human malice to terrify the soul to such a level?

“As we can all see, I’m a beastkin. My fights are equivalent to a hunt. I hide in the shadows, leap from my prey’s blind spot, and take it down. I see no meaning or reason behind fighting so publicly. At least, I didn’t.”

Lynokis understood what he was saying. Ambushes carried out with the element of surprise were the cornerstone of hunting and an ironclad rule. There was no good reason to fight a monster head-on. The hunter would launch a surprise attack, set up traps, and make use of the terrain. They wouldn’t shy away from fighting in numbers.

Hunting was a form of survival of the fittest. “Fair play” and “cowardice” held no meaning in a fight for one’s life. Hunters who wasted their time spouting such philosophies wouldn’t last very long.

“Now, though, I’ve changed. I no longer view fights like this as pointless. The cheers, the eyes watching us, none of it bothers me anymore, so long as I have resolved myself. It even motivates me now.”

Lynokis also understood this. She’d also found that fighting in this tournament had gotten easier for her when she’d solidified her resolve.

“Take this seriously or I’ll rip you to shreds,” he snarled.

There was no beating around the bush.

Lynokis closed her eyes...and then opened them again.

She asked herself.

Was this beastkin frightening?

No.

How could he be considered frightening? She’d shared her meals and slept alongside a far more terrifying person than this man. Compared to Nia, this man was nothing more than a pup.

Her mind calmed.

She could still fight. She could never call herself Nia’s number one disciple if she couldn’t even win this.

“Don’t die, okay? I’ll be disqualified if you do,” Lynokis taunted.

Chi Fist: Rumbling Thunder was a move that Nia had told her not to use against regular people. But Zeon wasn’t a regular person. Nia shouldn’t care if she used it against this wolf.

I saw when Lynokis’s eyes sharpened. She’d finally found her resolve too. She was ready to see this battle through with all of her strength. If she’d reached that headspace, the end would be near. Both fighters had ultimate winning moves. It wouldn’t take long.

“Both fighters are about to make their move. You’ll miss it if you so much as glance away.”

The cheering slowly faded, the arena becoming so quiet it was as if it were empty. It was so quiet you could hear someone swallowing. Everyone was holding their breath as they watched the two squaring off in the ring. You could feel the tension rising in the air.

And then...they moved.

Zeon went in for a punch followed by swift footwork and a feint. Lynokis responded to each move with clear intention. She blocked a kick, dodged the following roundhouse kick, and then closed the distance.

She was in range to punch him—but Zeon had also moved forward at the same time.

The two pressed together and then...

“Agh?!”

Lynokis let out a small scream.

Now that’s more like it. This was what I was expecting from a beastkin.

Zeon had bit her. He’d aimed for her throat, but Lynokis had realized and managed to dodge at the last minute, so he’d caught her shoulder instead. It was a good attack too. He’d managed to bite right into her even through her clothes.

But it wasn’t good enough. Zeon’s jaw was not powerful enough to do anything more than that. He could sink his teeth into her, but he didn’t have the power to tear apart meat and bones. If he could, he might have been able to overturn the likely outcome of this match.

The fact he couldn’t tear through her meant that he was rooted to the spot for a moment—and that was his downfall. Lynokis had already grabbed onto him. She’d grabbed his hair as if hugging him and pulled him in so he couldn’t escape.

And then, with the sound of falling thunder, Lynokis rammed her fist into Zeon’s stomach. It was a little unorthodox, but that was most certainly Rumbling Thunder.

So she’s finally learned how to use a Technique in a unique form, has she?

She must have been training much more seriously than I’d given her credit for. If she’d become able to use Techniques in a different form than I taught her, that would mean that she’d reached a point of understanding the basic principles and logic behind it. In other words, it was no longer simply just a Technique, but her own Technique. At least on some level.

A heavy collision sound echoed out, and Zeon slowly fell to the ground.

The match was over.

Lynokis stepped down from the ring amid thunderous applause. Blood was trailing down from her left shoulder and dripping off her fingers. The rules stated that she couldn’t receive magic treatment for the bite, so she would be going into the next match with the wound if she didn’t drop out. All she could use were ointments and bandages.

I wasn’t sure how deep the wound was, but it didn’t look like a wound that would heal in one or two days. I could have healed it right away, but she wasn’t so proficient at chi yet to manage that. What effect would the injury have on her coming matches? That was just another thing to look forward to.

“Zeon tried to bite into Leeno’s neck, but Leeno deftly dodged and finished him off with a direct punch to his body. Did you hear the rumble that came from it? It might have just looked like a punch from afar, but the destructive power of such a move is immense. Zeon’s ability to survive that attack is a show of his strength and endurance. Had that been a normal person, their insides would’ve been all messed up and they’d be vomiting blood every—”

Bendelio signaled at me.

“Ah. Yes. I’m looking forward to Leeno’s next match. How will her injury from this match affect the rest? Make sure to watch how this drama unfolds with your own eyes. I’m sure many of you were looking forward to the rematch between Zeon and Gandolph. However, Zeon’s journey in this tournament must end here.”

At Bendelio’s command, I quickly wrapped up my comment.

Goodness me. I still can’t judge just what is good or bad to say. But if I don’t give them details, the audience won’t truly understand, will they?

Lynokis went straight to the infirmary the moment her match was over. The bite on her left shoulder hurt like hell.

“Hmm... Yeah, it’s pretty deep.”

When her wound was assessed by one of the doctors, his response made her worry for her future matches.

The one looking her wound over was Dr. Drisla, a serious, middle-aged man, and one of the most famous doctors in Altoire. There were a lot of other doctors and nurses surrounding her, examining the state of her injury.

Zeon’s many fangs had sunk into her shoulder and nearly ripped it apart. She’d grabbed onto him as soon as she could to stop him from pulling away, but he’d still had an opportunity to widen the wound. If Lynokis hadn’t grabbed onto him at all, he might have taken a whole chunk out of her shoulder.

“Are you aware of the rules? Those with matches tomorrow onward cannot receive magic treatment from us, which means all we can do is basic first aid. If you intend to drop out, however, we can do more for you.”

“I won’t drop out.”

Lynokis was well aware of the rule, but she didn’t think the wound was so extreme that she had to give up here—it wasn’t as if she’d been poisoned. If her shoulder had been broken, it would certainly have made the choice to stay more difficult, but something like a bite wound wouldn’t stop her from fighting. The pain was irrelevant; what mattered was how much she could still move it. Broken bones would greatly affect her range of motion. A broken leg, for instance, would be the worst—the chances of winning after a wound like that would be nearly nonexistent. If there were no issues with her bones, though, then she would be fine. It definitely hurt, though.

“I see... Well, I can’t say I approve as a doctor, but I will respect your wishes. Would you like us to suture it?”

“Yes, please.”

Lynokis would seek out proper treatment the second the tournament ended, but for now, the finals were still days away. If her wound would have to remain for a few days, then she’d at least like them to patch it up enough that the injury wouldn’t worsen.

“Dr. Shine, would you like to try?”

“Is it okay for me to do it?”

“Of course. I’d like to see how you handle an injury like this without magic.”

“All right.”

Hang on, Lynokis nearly said, but then hesitated. What was that about? Did Dr. Drisla just ask a magic physician he didn’t have full confidence in to suture her wound? Were they using an injured person’s body to test the extent of someone’s medical ability? They were. They definitely were. Dr. Drisla wasn’t going to be the one to treat her? That famous Altoire doctor wasn’t going to treat her?

“U-Um...”

Her worry must’ve shown on her face, because before Lynokis could say much more, the new physician reassured her. “Don’t worry. This is the second time I’ve treated you, after all.”

“What?” The...second time? “Have we met somewhere before?”

“Yes. Your arm had been cut off at the time.”

Her arm had been cut off... She must have been referring to the Umbral Arena. Had she met this magic physician back then? She’d barely been conscious—her arm had been reattached before she knew it. She’d even wondered if her arm being chopped off had only been a bad dream.

Was this woman the one who had treated her back then? Whatever the case, she absolutely could not speak carelessly here. She had no idea how much this woman knew about her and Nia. While she had no way to judge, she had to be careful.

“I’ll stitch up your wound now, okay? If you could come to this bed over here, please.”

Right now, she couldn’t say anything careless. All she could do was continue observing the situation by giving her body up as a test subject.

Are we sure we didn’t just watch the finals?

The majority of the crowd’s chatter was about the match between Leeno and Zeon. I was fairly sure it went by too fast for the uninitiated to have any idea what had really happened, but they could at least tell that they had borne witness to an exchange between two highly skilled fighters. It was clear they had felt that that match had been different from everything else they had seen to this point.

And it very much had been. No match thus far had been carried out at such a level of speed. If this was how excited they were already, I looked forward to seeing how they’d react to the real finals.

The finals of the bare-handed division would likely be between Lynokis and Gandolph, assuming there were no sudden upsets. Now that Lynokis had been injured, she might even... No, let’s not think about that.

“This is a match I have personally been greatly looking forward to. Standing in the ring now are Lynette Bran and Asuma Hinoki.”

This would be the second most exciting match of the day.

You’ve thought this through, Lynette. Or is this your original style? Before beginning her training with me, Lynokis had originally used a sword as well.

“Lynette has come bearing a shield, completely different from what we have seen her wield thus far. She must understand that her opponent is not someone she can take down with superficial skill, so she must be a skilled shield user.”

In her right hand was a sword, in her left hand a small wooden round shield. I hadn’t known that Lynette knew how to use a shield nor had I ever seen her wield one. But considering her tendency to play it safe, it wasn’t so surprising to learn that she knew how to use one.

Speaking solely from a logical perspective, you carried out your offense and defense with a defined role for each arm. It increased one’s stability compared to fighting with just a sword. You simply took the attacks with a shield, and attacked with the sword. This alone made it a safe fighting style.

But the shield itself could also make for an interesting weapon. It may look like an object solely used for defense, but you could attack with a shield just as effectively, just as a sword could also be used to block. If there were sharp spikes added to the shield, all you had to do was thrust it forward and you could easily cause damage. That wasn’t to say shields were useless for defense. It was just that depending on the situation, you could use it in either role.

The Kenki was unsurprisingly fighting with nothing but a wooden katana. There was no tension in his stance, no fear. Even though a match was about to begin, he was standing as if everything were normal.

I see I wasn’t wrong. You’ve reached that state of mind, after all. Is this because of your teacher? Or did you reach that precipice through your own efforts? It’s certainly surprising, but that tends to be the case in the martial world, anyway. I see, I see...

The precipice of that murderous man’s martial arts was that of the empty mind and empty killing intent—the soul of the crane. The twilight wavers within the clear pearl river... Wonderful.

“Asuma Hinoki appears perfectly calm. In all of the matches we have seen, he has never been overwhelmed by the audience nor shown an ounce of tension. We haven’t even seen him be aggressive. He is constantly in a natural state. A martial artist like this is strong.”

Reaching the precipice of one’s martial arts did not simply mean calming the mind or striving to empty the mind of all thoughts. To put it very simply, it was like a fusion with one’s weapon. It meant not viewing the tool as a tool, but as an extension of one’s self. It was a psychological state that affected the very core of one’s consciousness.

Right now, the Kenki was both weapon and man. That was what it meant.

It...was a little hard to explain with words, but honestly, it had always been one of those concepts impossible to understand through theory alone. The only ones who really understood were those who had also reached a precipice of some kind.

In any case, I really was getting excited now.

I’ve come prepared, you know? Don’t let me down now.

“Let the match begin!”

Lynette held her shield firmly in front of her the moment the match started. It was the most basic stance combining offense and defense—shield held out in front, blunted broadsword held behind. It was a basic but effective stance, one that left very few openings. Though that did mean it was lacking in the excitement department.

The Kenki also took up his stance. He brought his sword low, gripped in both hands, so that the tip of the sword was angled slightly lower than horizontal. From Lynette’s perspective, it was being held at an angle a little past three. It was a stance I hadn’t seen in any of the other matches, not even preliminaries. It was similar to a waki-gamae in Kendo, but the concept seemed fundamentally different.

The stance itself suggested he was planning to counter. He appeared to be preparing to defend himself from the opponent’s incoming attack and then immediately strike back. I would’ve loved to see him use the technique with a real sword. I was devastated that I could only see it with a wooden one. The weapons ruling really did put him at a disadvantage.

“Asuma’s stance is that of a traditional style. The stance is focused only on striking, yet it is relaxed. It is a form awaiting the opponent’s attack. There will be no exchange of blows or intention to lure the enemy in mind, only slashes. Only with a real sword could the true potential of this form shine. A wooden sword may not be... No, a wooden sword may be enough.”

It was clear to me that he was stronger than when I’d faced him a few years ago. But what if he was even stronger now than I thought? In that case, a wooden sword should be enough—he may even have the potential to kill.

“Lynette makes her move.”

Lynette charged forward with her shield raised, her sword hidden behind it. This was another way shields could be used. It effectively served as a blindfold on the opponent.

The Kenki...remained still.

“Asuma has readied his stance to attack. He fully intends to cut with that wooden katana. Someone skilled enough with the blade can certainly manage it. Lynette has now stopped. Has she realized Asuma’s intentions?”

Would the tip of his sword reach her or not?

If she stepped forward, she would be slashed.

If she pulled back, she would be slashed.

Had Lynette not realized what the Kenki was about to do, he would have cut through not just her shield, but her arm... Well, no, it seemed impossible for him to cut off her arm. But he would definitely have easily cut the shield.

This battle may reach its end early. If it dragged, Lynette would only get more injured and pushed further into a disadvantage. In that case, rather than thinking about how to deal with the Kenki’s attacks, she would be better off considering how to take him down quickly.

Lynette aside, the Kenki really was quite good. There was no need for bared hostility or killing intent. They were nothing more than distractions, emotions that would impact one’s concentration and even dull the blade. Pure murderous intent was its own precipice if it was intense enough, but reaching that point with a purely twisted nature was dangerous—it was impossible to remain sane.

An empty mind and absent killing intent was good.

His only goal was to cut. The mind had merged with the blade.

That was perfect. There was no need for murderous hostility.

Regardless of what emotions lay behind the attack, if you kept slashing your opponent, they would eventually die.

What is this feeling?

The second Lynette had felt it, she stopped her advance.

Asuma Hinoki remained motionless with his wooden katana held horizontally. The two were close enough that a strike from one or the other may very well reach. It was at that moment that Lynette had strongly felt something was off and came to a stop.

Is it really a good idea for me to go further than this? In that moment of hesitation, Asuma Hinoki stepped forward just the smallest bit.

Lynette’s body reacted on impulse to the sudden intense chilling fear that ran up her spine and raised her shield. When her body first moved, she wasn’t quite sure why—until she did.

Thwuck!

The broken pieces of her shield danced through the air...before she could even register that Asuma Hinoki had moved.

She hadn’t even felt the slash that had broken her shield. If her arm hadn’t moved, her body would’ve taken the hit. If she had angled her shield even slightly differently, it could have been her arm that was slashed off instead.

Wait. Slashed with a wooden katana? It sounded absurd thinking about it logically, but Lynette already knew it was possible; young Nia had shown her. If one person could do it, then it was possible for someone else too.

But what about this man in front of her?

Did she even need to consider the question? He had practically shown her. That had been a ridiculously fast strike.

Had she messed up? Had she just entered Asuma Hinoki’s attack range while she was practically defenseless?

Perhaps she should put some distance between them.

But her brain was screaming at her not to move. Right, if she retreated too carelessly, her opponent would just follow up with another attack. It was at dangerous times like this where it was important to not make any unnecessary moves.

In any case, she had to try and predict his next moves. The shattered pieces of her shield were still in the process of falling to the ground.

Maybe it was because she was so intensely focused, but so many thoughts had run through her head in that split second.

He had swung that wooden sword sideways and cut her shield right through.

What would he do next?

Well, of course, he would do a follow-up attack. He would try to slash Lynette again.

The issue was the timing. When would he strike?

From what she could remember of the Technique Nia had shown her, it was fast, but more importantly, it required very precise movements. It was a Technique that allowed one to cut objects with weapons that were ordinarily not capable of such things. Fressa had used something similar in her first round of the main matches, but what Asuma Hinoki had just displayed was far more advanced. That was how skilled he was with the sword.

It seemed impossible for her to get out of this. But if she didn’t, her time in the tournament would be over.

“Ah!”

She heard the sound of the wooden pieces clattering on the ground.

Asuma Hinoki’s shoulders dropped slightly.

And as expected, he went for a horizontal slash. His second strike had been within the realm of predictions; a strike that matched his stance. Lynette wasn’t sure how it looked to an outsider, but to her eyes, he had been so fast it was like the sword had disappeared. She’d managed to read the timing, so she just managed to dodge...but this didn’t look good.

Asuma Hinoki was far stronger than she had imagined. She might not be able to win. If Neal hadn’t been watching, she would’ve just surrendered right then and there.

Lynette had her own priorities. Having never been that interested in the tournament, she had only been interested in the reward or possible benefits that would come after. She didn’t particularly want to fight those who were strong, and she naturally didn’t want to get injured either.

She’d been aiming to win. If she won, who knew how her relationship with Neal would progress? She thought perhaps it might create the possibility for something more. Five hundred million krams? She didn’t need all that money. She just wanted to remain by Neal’s side. That was much more valuable for her.

Next, she obviously didn’t want Neal to see her lose. It didn’t help that the entire Liston family was here to watch the matches. If she lost and she couldn’t prove herself as a Liston bodyguard, she could be let go.

The next most frightening thing was losing in front of Nia. This was solely a fear of the training from hell that likely awaited after, but the biggest price for that would just be her body. The fact that it would have nothing to do with Neal meant that she could rest easy. She doubted it would turn into her getting fired.

Since becoming the champion was such a difficult feat, her main priority was not losing in front of Neal. At the very least, she’d like to have a match worthy of someone known as Neal’s bodyguard, and leave behind some sort of achievement.

She had a secret move up her sleeve. But should she use it here? If she used it here, she’d definitely never be able to win the whole tournament. She’d be showing her hand to the other competitors. She doubted anyone still left in the tournament would fall for it a second time.

No. She had no choice. If she didn’t use it now, she would lose, simple as that.

“Lynette has entered an offensive stance.”

After her shield had been cut in two and she’d managed to dodge the following attack at the last second, Lynette stepped forward. She began sharply swinging her sword, driving the Kenki back.

Good, that’s it. The ability to slash with a wooden sword may look absurd, but in reality, it was built upon delicate and careful skill with the blade. The Kenki was cutting with the single sharpest point on the blade, where it was most likely to cut. In other words, all that was required was shifting the position of that point along where you wanted it to slash. However, that in and of itself did raise other issues.

My original judgment was correct: If talking about skill with the blade alone, the Kenki is far superior to Lynette. Even while dodging Lynette’s attacks, he was easily striking back—because it was a wooden sword. If it couldn’t cut, then he didn’t need to force it. He just needed to hit with it like a regular practice sword.

Lynette took multiple hits, but she was managing to make every one of his strikes land where it wouldn’t hurt. She would move to prevent the sword from hitting a bone directly, instead blocking and deflecting with the fatty part of her muscles. She was very skilled at that. Even though the Kenki was getting in direct hits, they were barely doing any damage to Lynette. This was part of the reason for Lynette’s stability. They were in a stalemate of trading blows.

“Asuma appears to be struggling. He may look like he has the upper hand right now, but he is unable to make the decisive strike to take down Lynette. At this rate, he will be tired out by his opponent.”

Lynette’s defense was far better than I had expected it to be. And even though her shield had ended up breaking in that first move, she’d been wielding it well.

Timing, distance judgments, her sword and her shield—it was because Lynette was skilled in so many aspects that the Kenki was struggling to cut her. He couldn’t unleash that blindingly fast slash, and even when he fired it out in desperation, it didn’t land. He was likely starting to feel irritated. Honestly, it was amazing Lynette was able to deal with such speed given that, in terms of attack speed alone, she was overwhelmingly inferior.

It was clear that simply hitting Lynette wouldn’t be enough to take her down.

Show your next move, Kenki. If you have nothing, then it’s over for you.

“Both sides are trying to find the perfect time to unleash the finishing blow. When will this equilibrium shift?”

Oh, here it comes.

Just as I said that, the stalemate moved. The Kenki tilted. He’d stepped on one of the broken pieces of shield and lost his balance. At that same moment, Lynette gripped her sword with both hands and held it by her waist.

You made him step on that, didn’t you, Lynette?

This was another sign of how balanced her strengths were. She’d been observing her environment while keeping up her offense and defense, and that was how she’d managed to lure him in that direction.

Hmm... I did think that Lynette had greater natural martial talent than Lynokis, but I never expected it would show itself in moments like this too. The ability to adapt to the surrounding environment and respond accordingly was also a fine display of martial arts. It was a skill that usually showed itself in a real battle as opposed to a friendly match.

All it took to disrupt the scales was that little tilt. And in this match, Lynette had had time to build up her momentum.

The Kenki was aware of the danger and tried to get back, but—

Lynette swung her sword without hesitation.

A strong step forward, and speed and chi put into the blade, she performed what was called a gyaku-do in Kendo—a strike that hit the left side of the torso.

There was distance between them—it should’ve been impossible for the blade to reach.

But the slash flew.

“Ngh!”

Letting out a voiceless cry, the Kenki rolled across the ground as if he’d been blown away.

A wonderful display!

Chi Fist: Singing Palm. It was a Technique using external chi that I had taught her. Techniques that used external chi were more difficult than ones that used internal chi, but with her talent, it wasn’t so surprising that she’d pulled it off. It was quite rough, but it was good enough to be considered a proper Singing Palm.

Incidentally, this was usually a Technique performed with one’s bare hands, hence the name. It was possible to unleash strikes and slashes with your palms, and Techniques like those could be altered for use with weapons.

And yet, the Kenki managed to block that invisible attack with his sword. If it had hit directly...well, Lynette’s sword was also blunted, so it wouldn’t have cut, but that still would have been more than enough to take him out of the match. Even if it was just a sword-shaped stick at the end of the day, it was still a blunt weapon, and the slash that Lynette sent out was befitting of one. With such strength and weight and sturdiness, one direct blow would have been enough to end it.

Only if it managed to make a direct strike, though. After losing his balance, the Kenki had desperately put distance between them. He had been slow to react in a way that made it look as if a direct hit were inevitable, and yet he still tried to block it with his sword. As a result, his sword broke and hit his right arm near the elbow. It was a good reaction, even if it probably broke his bone.

The fact he had been able to block an attack he couldn’t see while also being off-balance must have meant that he’d sensed Lynette’s chi. If not, there was no way he would’ve known to lift his sword. It seemed like he’d just had a vague sense—something more fuzzy and instinctual than anything else.

But this match would almost certainly have an effect on him. He had now keenly learned that there was some new power that he didn’t know about, and he would be stopping at nothing to find it.

That was what it meant to know.

The Kenki swiftly stood back up...

“That’s unfortunate... Guess this is my loss.”

...and after looking at his broken sword, gave a great sigh.

As he was both sword and man, he cared more about that than the injury on his arm? As the blade was an extension of himself, even if it was only a practice sword, was that where his soul lay?

He truly was an Eastern martial artist.

“Asuma has surrendered. The match has come to an end. What a wonderful battle. Lynette fired off a ranged Technique. She was unable to break skin due to her blunted competition blade, but if that had been a real sword, it would’ve slashed right through him. Asuma’s show of cutting through Lynette’s shield with just his wooden sword was also superb. His skill with the sword must be one of the highest in the tournament. Most fitting of a man who goes by the name of the Sword Demon.”

I guess that’ll do.

After wrapping up my comments, I signaled to Bendelio to turn the camera away from me and left my spot to go see Lynette as she stepped off the ring.

“Lynette, a moment.”

“Huh?”

She looked shocked by the sight of me. For someone who was usually so calm, that had been a very exaggerated reaction. She must not have thought I would speak to her at a time like this. Fressa had been shocked when I’d done the same to her.

“Y-You’re not going to ask me to help with commentary, are you?”

Oh, that’s why she got so nervous. Unfortunately, it would have definitely been a bad idea to be caught favoring competitors at this stage. Besides, Lynette had been injured after those hits from the Kenki’s sword, even if the strikes only left light bruises.

“I want you to pass on a message for me. You’re going to the infirmary, yes?”

“A message? Very well.”

All of the fourth day matches were now over. Today was just as exciting, and plenty of blood had been spilled. Though fighters were injured here and there, thankfully, there had been no deaths. In other words, we could say it was another success.

A few days still remained. As we could see the number of remaining matches decreasing, I found myself hoping that we would be greeted by richer matches in the last stretch.

That’s enough family time for now...

“I will be returning to my room now. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I stood from the table.

After having dinner and dessert with Neal and my parents, we were able to sit and have quite the nice chat. We were staying on our private airship for the duration of the tournament. Although Neal and I technically had school, it would have been far too strenuous to keep going back and forth every morning, so it was decided that we would stay here. Reliared and Hildetaura had similar arrangements.

Usually, we only got to see our parents when we went home for the holidays, so the time we had together was precious. That was why I wanted Neal to spend all the time he wished. He was family, after all.

“You’re going to bed already?” father asked.

“As lovely as that sounds, I have to check my schedule for tomorrow and make sure I know who’s facing off against who... Just the usual work things.” I was honestly quite exhausted and would have loved to just sleep, but there were still things I had to do. When the number of competitors left was this small, it stood out when you didn’t know your stuff. If I didn’t remember the bare minimum, I’d bring shame to the Liston crew’s name.

When I saw the way Neal’s face saddened, I reassured him, “Take your time, Neal. You saw your work through to the end, didn’t you? I have my own work to do. That’s all. Don’t feel guilty.” He had already succeeded with his Wingroad performance. That was more than enough. “Good night, then.”

Besides, there was something else I absolutely had to do.

When I returned to my room, I checked everything I needed to for tomorrow just as I’d told my family I would.

Though, to be honest, even if I didn’t, Bendelio would be there. No matter what happened, he would support me. At least I would very much like him to do that much! If he didn’t, I would never forgive him! Even if he did, I would never forgive him!

Once it hit the right time, I stopped and put on a hooded coat. This was a quick one-off outing, so I’d just have to leave my hair as it was... Actually, no, let’s at least wear a black wig. It was so dark outside that I didn’t imagine the slight color difference would be noticed.

After getting changed into that simple disguise, I pulled the hood down to my eyes and sneaked out of the room.

I don’t detect anyone. Let’s get this over with.

I swiftly exited out onto the deck and ran down the thick anchor rope that connected the airship to the port. Whoops, there’s people down there. Are they staff? Or sailors? Whatever the case, I had to make sure I didn’t get caught, so I moved stealthily past them, making sure to stay alert for any further signs of people.

Nights on this island were tranquil. The spectators were already back at the capital, and it was winter. Barely anyone would wander around in the biting cold for no reason. I sometimes saw people on runs, most likely those who were still in the tournament. It was nice to see how motivated they were.

There weren’t many competitors left, but there were certainly a lot of staff out on patrol. The tournament was reaching its climax with only a few days left. The upcoming matches would be the culmination of everyone’s hard work. The last thing they wanted was for there to be trouble at such an important juncture, so the security detail had been stepped up.

Ah, there he is.

I’d been sneaking around the island to come to this accommodation. A man was standing by the entrance wielding both a long and a short sword.

“Hey, sorry for being a bit late. Did you have to wait long?”

The moment I spoke up, I was met with two slashes.

“Well, that’s no way to greet someone.”

I’d dodged, though. He was still way too slow.

“Tch... Still can’t touch you, huh?” With that click of his tongue, the man sheathed his sword. “I’ve wanted to see you again, child.”

The person I was meeting tonight was the Kenki, Asuma Hinoki. “There is a child who wants to see you. Wait here tonight if you’d like to meet with her.” That was the message I’d had Lynette bring to the infirmary—and it appeared she’d made sure to deliver it.

“As promised, I came to see you again because you’ve gotten stronger.” It was the promise I had sent to him after that night at the Umbral Arena. From how he’d improved, it seemed the black-suits had been kind enough to pass it on for me. “I have a little time to spare. Do you want to chat or do you want to spar? You can decide. Oh, but if it seems like we’re about to get caught by the staff, I’ll make a run for it. I’m sure neither of us wants trouble, yes?”

The Kenki silently crossed his arms. He wanted to get payback against me, but that was exactly why he was struggling to decide what he wanted to do. He likely wanted to have a conversation with me, but he also wanted to spar too. Martial artists were often selfish.

“What...are you?” he eventually asked.

“Someone stronger than you. You don’t need to know anything more than that, do you?”

His eyes ran over my face for a moment before he nodded. “You’re right. That’s more than enough.”

Of course it is. His interest in me was solely based in my strength, anyway. There were dangerous people like my attendant who didn’t even hesitate to say they didn’t care about my age...but he didn’t seem to be that kind of person, so I was relieved.

“Have I gotten stronger?”

“Yes, undoubtedly so. You’ve gotten even stronger than I thought you would.”

The reason I’d brought my wig to the island with me was in case I ended up meeting with him. Depending on the result of the match, I might not have.

“And I think you’ll only continue to get stronger.”

I was certain he’d sensed Lynette’s chi. Singing Palm was just an expulsion of external chi, after all. I wasn’t sure how much of it he’d grasped, but the fact he’d been aware of it meant that he would one day acquire it himself.

And when he did, his growth would be uninhibited. The acquisition of chi was like a tall, thick wall. Whether or not one could achieve it would greatly alter a martial artist’s strength.

I could teach him if I were his teacher, but...I couldn’t teach absolutely anybody. If I misjudged a student, they could easily slip up and kill someone. If it was between martial artists, then fair enough, but if it wasn’t? It’d be the worst thing ever for both of us.

If they were often around me as my student, then I could easily take responsibility for their mistakes. At worst, I may have to kill my student, and there would be no avoiding it in that case. As a teacher, it was my duty to correct my student if they strayed onto the wrong path and take responsibility for their actions. That was why I wouldn’t teach those who didn’t meet my criteria. The Kenki wasn’t my student, after all.

“You’ve reached the precipice, haven’t you?”

“Precipice? Do you mean the great will?”

Ah, he knows it under a different name than me. I do think it’s the same, though.

“The soul of the crane—empty mind, empty killing intent.”

“Don’t know what that is. Though it sounds like the meaning is the same.”

Pfft, he doesn’t know.

He...doesn’t know? My memories were vague so I couldn’t explain it properly, but...

“Like a crane in the twilight, fleeting and delicate, so quiet it’s almost frightening. He strides through an illusory backdrop, showing no presence, no hostility, no killing intent. That is the state of mind you reach upon that precipice of martial arts. At least, that’s what I remember.”

“No, seriously, never heard of it. A crane? I don’t get it.”

I see.

Well, I was old. Perhaps my sense just didn’t mesh with the young kids. I’m so sorry this old lady spoke a bunch of nonsense as if I understood exactly what you meant... Man, who does this guy think he is?! It pisses me off! If you don’t even consider the idea of letting the other save face or being considerate, you’re going to get punched in the face one day! By me!

“I guess I’ll go, then.”

What a waste of time. I should have just gone to bed.

“Wait.”

“What? Do you need something from an old fogey with such outdated sensibilities?”

“What are you talking about? Just hang on.”

The Kenki slowly drew his tachi.

The steel bathed in the pale moonlight was so beautiful that it sent shivers down my back. I was starting to understand those maniacs who found themselves enchanted by swords.

“Please give me some guidance. There’s a level much higher than myself, isn’t there?”

Well...

“At the end of the day, this is all we martial artists can do.”

Who was strong and who wasn’t? Fighting over something so small and petty was perfect for us.

Much more perfect than chatting.

We were now on day five of the main tournament, the third round of matches. Just like yesterday, the matches would take place in the afternoon. Since we were now down to only thirty-two competitors, there would be sixteen matches. This would be announced officially later, but we were given priority so we could prepare for recording.

Apparently, they were concerned about players withdrawing due to injury, so they’d filled in the gaps to prevent any wins or losses by default. It was just a little extra work from the organizers.

Still, we’re down to thirty-two fighters, are we? The end of the tournament was finally approaching. With so few competitors left, it was about time that the audience would be able to very clearly put names to faces.

Tomorrow would have eight matches, the day after would have four, and then we’d have four competitors left, leaving the finals for both the weapon and bare-handed divisions on the final day.

For now, all my students still remained. Naturally, if they ended up matched against each other, those numbers would decrease, but that still hadn’t happened yet.

The match of most interest to me today was the one between Gandolph and Tohaulow, that blue fox beastkin. I still couldn’t get a read on that girl. Just like Sauzan, all her matches until now seemed like she was barely breaking a sweat. There wasn’t anything particularly notable in her fighting style either, she was just strong. She’d taken no risks—in fact, she’d seemed like she was holding back.

Personally, I would’ve loved to have seen her and Zeon fight. As two lightweight beastkin, it would have likely devolved into a brawl of speed. It was fun to watch fighters who were skilled maneuverers since it was always so flashy.

It was hard for me to consider that Gandolph would lose this match, but Tohaulow was definitely hiding something up her sleeve. It was just a question of whether or not that would be enough to take down Gandolph.

How exactly would this girl fight? Gandolph’s victory was practically inevitable, so her fighting style would be the point of interest in this match.

All righty.

“Shall we get going?”

After having breakfast with my family, I’d had a meeting with Bendelio and the rest of the production crew. And now, it was time to head off to recording once again.

“It’s Nia!”

“Ah, Nia!”

Yes, yes, it’s me.

When we stepped off the airship and began heading for the arena, the crowds instantly began making a commotion when they saw me.

Yes, there was already a crowd by the arena. It seemed there were still plenty of stalls and opportunities to interact with the fighters, so there were lots of ways for the visitors to spend their time. Everything was just as successful as the day before.

The Altoire and Silver production crews were also recording the festivities. Apparently, the recordings of the competitors interacting with the regular citizens were being received well. Hildetaura and Reliared were probably off doing interviews somewhere right now.

“Hey, ain’t that the Liston prince’s little sister?!”

There was that deep voice again. How many times had I heard it now? Who the hell was he? Ugh, there’s too many people for me to try and pinpoint him... He seemed dangerous, like he could pose a potential risk to my brother, but I couldn’t figure out who it was. I wanted to question him to understand why the hell he was getting so excited.

Wait, huh?!

“Mr. Bendelio, could you wait a moment?”

“Huh? Oh, do you want to go see Relia?”

I was pointing to where Reliared and the Silver production crew were standing. The real thing that had caught my eye was who was in the middle of them all.

“Sure, so long as you don’t take too long.”

“Okay.”

If even Bendelio was saying that, then I definitely didn’t have much time. I’d better make it quick.

I stood to the side, waiting for them to wrap up recording, but then Reliared noticed me and came over. “What’s up, Nia?”

“I was wondering what you were doing.” And why Anzel was here. And Rikelvita. I wanted to figure out why these two were together.

“Oh, Rikel is sketching portraits of competitors and spectators together. Just as a little way to involve the fans.”

Wow, that sounds fun.

Rikelvita was the artist behind those paper plays on magivision. She wasn’t that famous, but she was well-known in certain circles as a brilliant artist. Her illustrations were beautiful and she worked fast. She was definitely the right person for the job. If the ones getting drawn could keep the picture, it would serve as a nice keepsake.

But the one I was interested in wasn’t her.

“And Anzel?”

Right now, Rikelvita was sitting in a stool drawing a couple—one of them was a losing competitor. Her name was... Uh, I forgot, but she was someone that Lynette had fought. If I recalled correctly, she was a martial artist who used sai as her weapons of choice.

Standing beside Rikelvita was Anzel, sometimes waving when the crowd would call his name. Whoa, whoa, what’s going on? Since when have you been someone so cheerful and sociable as to do fan service?

“He’s serving as Rikel’s bodyguard. When I brought up what we were doing and asked if he could help, he agreed.”

“He agreed?” Anzel did?

“Yeah. He’s not a stranger to Rikel and he said it was fine if all he had to do was stand beside her.”

You’re a member of the underworld, aren’t you? What are you doing?

There must have been a reason. I considered calling him over to ask, but it wouldn’t have been a good idea. Understanding he had a reason was good enough—if the teacher was too nosy, my student would end up hating me. I was very curious, but there was no time, so I put it aside for now. Besides, Rikelvita looked kind of happy. It would have been rude to interrupt.

“We are now on day five of the tournament—finally, we are approaching the climax.”

I was at my usual place by the ringside, giving my commentary.

“Now that we are this far into the tournament, all the matches are exciting to look forward to. Everyone left is a skilled fighter—anyone could win now. I am personally most interested in the fourth match today.”

I was fairly certain of how the rest of the matches would go. This was the only one I couldn’t predict.

“It is the match between Gandolph, a vice-deputy instructor of the Heavenstriker style, and Tohaulow, a blue fox beastkin. Although Gandolph defeated another beastkin, Zeon, in the preliminaries, it appears there remain doubts as to the nature of his win. People still question how Zeon could’ve been the one injured when he had kicked Gandolph. Tohaulow is another beastkin who specializes in speed—perhaps the doubts around Gandolph will be cleared up with this match.”

As I was giving my comments, the first match of the day began.

The matches went by smoothly, and before long, the fourth match was up. The controversial man and the fox-eared beastkin entered the ring.

“This will be a battle of fortified defense against nimble speed. Depending on how Tohaulow chooses to attack, she may struggle to deal damage to Gandolph. How will she choose to fight? This will be worth looking out for.”

Mixed in with the cheers of the crowd were the occasional jeers toward Gandolph. This had been the case for pretty much all of his matches, though, so it was pointless to take note of it at this point. It didn’t look like the man himself was all that bothered either. I had asked him about the doubts surrounding him during an interview, but it seemed he had been much more concerned about Zeon than his own reputation. He hadn’t intended to break Zeon’s leg and was worried he’d gone too far.

I’d been looking forward to their rematch, but...unluckily, Zeon had been paired up with Lynokis before they got the chance.

Gandolph might have been inexperienced, but he was undoubtedly a fine martial artist. No matter the issue at hand, he would simply prove himself with his strength—his acceptance of that was what showed he had the spirit of a warrior. He was definitely of the opinion that he could clear up the doubts surrounding him with his performance.

In this respect, he was similar to me. He was the type to find overthinking pointless. He was likely of similar mind that everything would be so much easier if we could just solve everything with our strength. That way of thinking didn’t fly in regular society, but in the martial arts world, it was surprisingly reasonable logic. Too many of us martial artists weren’t huge thinkers.

The real problem was Tohaulow. Now that I was seeing them opposite each other like this...I was getting worried.

She’s strong, right? I’m correct in thinking she’s stronger than Zeon, right? She won’t fall into the same trap as he did, will she? This fight with Gandolph won’t end without her even leaving a scratch, will it? She’s definitely a Hero candidate, right? This’ll be fine, right? There won’t be a disappointing match this close to the end, right? I’m begging you here, even if you lose, at least put up a good fight.

“Let the match begin!”

The moment the referee gave the signal, Tohaulow took a huge step forward. Hmm, she’s pretty fast.

Using that speed, she leaped for Gandolph’s head and fired out a dropki— No.

“Ngh!”

It was very clear that Gandolph had just been caught off guard.

“Tohaulow has gone for a choke hold.”

The beastkin slithered around Gandolph’s body, and in a matter of seconds, she was on Gandolph’s back, circling her arms around his neck.

What a clever idea. If the defense is too strong, then don’t bother trying to break it. It was such a simple line of logic.

“Ah.”

I couldn’t hear Tohaulow’s voice from here, but she almost certainly let out a little noise, before quickly jumping away.

“It appears the choke hold was ineffective.”

“What the hell are you? Why’s your body so solid?” Tohaulow grumbled. They were in the middle of their match, but she couldn’t help but say it. She’d executed the choke hold perfectly; she’d wrapped her arms around his neck without getting caught on his jaw at all.

And yet, she hadn’t even slightly managed to constrict his neck.

Even his neck muscles had been rock solid—no matter how much power she put into her arms, she hadn’t been able to do any damage. The throat and airways were not an easy part of the body to train.

“You just didn’t have enough strength,” Gandolph replied, in complete seriousness. It was the obvious response.

“If I can’t strangle you, then... Oh well,” Tohaulow sighed. “Don’t hate me if I go too far, ’kay?”

“And the same to you.”

Gandolph had just witnessed Tohaulow’s speed. He had not been underestimating her, and he had been ready to counter at any time. And yet, she had managed to climb around his neck. If that had been a real fight, his throat would likely already have been slit with a blade.

At that moment, Gandolph believed that Tohaulow was the better martial artist, regardless of who had the stronger body or mental fortitude. The way she had entered into that choke hold was almost certainly rooted in martial arts. Throws, chokes, and joint locks all required skill, unlike simple punches and kicks. Skill was something acquired and honed through training and sparring. Her strength had a proper foundation. If he dared think about holding back or not injuring her too badly, he would lose.

Although it was unintentional, Gandolph was the one who had chased away the main dojo Heavenstriker instructors from the tournament. If he didn’t manage to place in this tournament, he had no right to remain in the school. It was just as Leitao, his fellow instructor, had said. If he didn’t bring results here, there would be trouble later. Though he personally wasn’t so fussed about that part. The result of a battle couldn’t be changed, win or lose.

But his students were cheering for him. Nia was watching too. He wasn’t sure if he could win the whole tournament, but if he went down, he would go down fighting with everything he had. He absolutely did not want to step off this stage with any regrets. In that case, his only choice was to fight with all his strength. He might injure his opponent, but...

No. Even if he had to injure his opponent.

If someone was in this tournament, that meant they were as prepared as he was for the possibility that they may get injured.

Don’t look down on her. We’re equals. So fight with all of your strength.

Drops of blood scattered like early rain.

“Tohaulow has decided to scratch her opponent with the signature sharp claws of a beastkin.”

Tohaulow had combined her speed with scratches—a move that could pierce a tough defense.

The injuries that Gandolph was suffering were shallow. The beastkin was scratching through his dogi, so she wasn’t able to slash very deep, but her attacks were the type that opened the wounds wider with more slashes landed. That was what it meant to slowly chip away physically at one’s defenses.

The defending arms, the anchored legs and waist, his torso, all of it was gaining more and more shallow scratches. Tohaulow was dancing like the wind, using her speed to scratch the man from all directions. In return, Gandolph only fortified his defenses further.

“Gandolph is waiting for the decisive moment to make his move. He knows that his attacks will not land at this moment, so he is biding his time while protecting his vital points. However, this stalemate is tough. Even if the cuts are shallow, he is bleeding from each scratch. Even if they seem like light wounds now, they could be fatal in the long run.”

Not bad at all. Tohaulow wasn’t showing a bit of restraint, and Gandolph never wavered even as his skin was being shredded to pieces. An offensive that seemed one-sided, and a defense with no opening.

“However...”

However, there was a reason it only seemed one-sided.

“Tohaulow may be beginning to feel the pressure. No matter how fast she may be, the more one watches her, the more their eyes adjust. Her movements and patterns will become easy to read. And while she is maintaining her speed now, it is no doubt using an incredible amount of stamina. She is practically maintaining max speed, after all. She may be a beastkin, but that does not mean her stamina is endless. From my reading, she is very good at bursting down opponents, and that is precisely why her body is not built to last for long periods of time. The more time that passes, the more the injuries on Gandolph’s body will increase, but at the same time, Tohaulow’s speed may slow before she can complete her assault. From her position, she will want to end this fight while she can still move at her best.”

Tohaulow, aiming for a lethal strike, and Gandolph, waiting for an opening. What would the end result be?

Oh, there’s a shift.

“Tohaulow’s knees have buckled.” It was the result of her having kept up that speed for so long—she’d lost her balance and stumbled onto her left knee.

“Gandolph makes his move.”

Except the whole show was fake. C’mon, don’t fall for such an obvious trap.

Gandolph swung his fist upon seeing an apparent opening—and now that he’d opened his defenses, Tohaulow swiftly leaped for his chest.

A clean uppercut audible even from here gouged right into Gandolph’s face. Flecks of blood went flying—it wasn’t a punch, but a scratch. It looked like she had aimed for his right eye. Did she catch it?

No, it was too shallow. In fact, Gandolph had dodged, just barely. Could it be that he’d pretended to have fallen for the trap? Did he try to lure her so that he could dodge? Damn, you’re pretty clumsy, but you can come up with some crafty tricks, after all.

“Wooooaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!” Gandolph roared, grabbing Tohaulow’s shirt with his left hand and slamming her into the ground as hard as he could. The same moment he did that, he gave her a violent punch.

Yeah, that’s the deciding blow. If Tohaulow had been a normal person, she’d have been a goner with that one.

“That’s enough!”

The referee put a stop to the match—and no wonder. That had been dangerous. I was sure even the regular audience members could tell.

“Gandolph is the victor!” The moment I made my own announcement, cheers erupted from the audience mixed in with low murmuring. I could hear the worry of the spectators—had Gandolph killed Tohaulow? There was no way she was dead, right? Their concern showed just how aggressive the punch had been.

The right half of Gandolph’s face was covered in blood, while the rest of his body was covered in scratches. He was standing, looking down at the fallen Tohaulow. He didn’t appear shaken, so it seemed he didn’t think he’d gone too far. He was acting the same as always. He’d gone through with that punch, aware this would be the outcome.

He had foreseen his victory.

Gandolph had managed to avoid the attack to his face. His movements weren’t as sharp as the other fighters’, but his eyes weren’t bad. He had probably been able to see Tohaulow.

For Tohaulow, who had fully expected to hit her mark, Gandolph’s dodge would’ve been unexpected. That small moment of hesitation caused her to misjudge her timing to retreat. She likely tried to make her escape while getting a kick in—but she had been too late, and Gandolph had managed to get his hands on her.

Still...that really was quite the violent hit he got in. He usually made sure not to be too aggressive toward his opponent—perhaps because he knew his students were watching. He was constantly being careful not to go too far. As a result, he hadn’t fired any all-out punches in his previous matches, but...finally, he’d done it. And that was okay. A martial artist who didn’t know how not to show mercy would always remain second-rate, no matter how strong they became.

It wasn’t something he needed to worry himself about; Tohaulow had been prepared for something like that to happen. A strong fighter had been fighting a strong fighter. You couldn’t blame anyone if they got injured... Huh? Is she dead? She’s fine, right?

As the referees frantically called for the medics—

“Tohaulow appears to be safe.”

Oh, good. The fox girl had been lying unmoving on the ground, but then she suddenly hopped back up. Of course you wouldn’t die from that.

She said something to Gandolph with a grin and then stepped off the ring.

That punch really looked like it hurt, though. She definitely had a few broken ribs.

“Shit, that hurts...!”

The moment Tohaulow had made it away from the eyes of the audience, she crumpled to the floor.

“Hey, Toha! You good?!”

She’d known that Sauzan would definitely come to find her here. Her pride as a Hero candidate and her ability to pretend she wasn’t in pain could only last so long.

“Take me to the infirmary. I can’t walk.”

“It’s that bad? Got it.”

Picking up Tohaulow in both arms, Sauzan dashed off.

“I seriously thought you were a goner.”

“I did too. It’s been a while since I completely lost consciousness. Ugh, could he not have held back?”

“You’d have been pissed at him if he did.”

“Of course I would’ve.”

The girl was being completely irrational, but Sauzan understood what she was trying to say. She didn’t like to think that she’d lost against someone who hadn’t been using all their strength. It was humiliating.

“Dude, Sauzan, the city is scary as hell.”

“It really is. There are far more strong fighters here than I ever imagined. Sure, we’re not using our Divine Techniques, but I didn’t expect you to lose like that. And to a regular old martial artist.”

Tohaulow could beat basically anyone at the Heroic Star Assembly with her bare fists, and yet this was the state of her now.

“Gandolph of the Heavenstriker style, huh...? I ain’t forgetting you anytime soon.”

Chapter 7: The Final Day

Day six of the tournament, it was time for the fourth round. Sixteen fighters were left, leaving only eight matches for the day. The match schedule dictated that today would only be for the quarterfinals, but that also meant that we only had a small number of matches today. Would people really travel all this way just to watch eight matches?

Clearly, my worries were for naught; the audience seats were filled again, and the festive atmosphere still filled the air. It must have been thanks to the arrangements they’d made after all—the MagiPads that let you see past matches and also if you were lucky, you’d get an opportunity to talk to the competitors themselves.

Well, whatever the case, with so few matches left, our production meetings barely took any time. There wasn’t anything we needed to talk at length about, after all.

We finally had a bit of free time, so we decided to record the island events before the rounds started, from interviews with the spectators to fan service from the fighters. We’d been leaving that all to the Altoire and Silver production crews until now, but I’d been curious about it all myself, especially after that moment with Anzel yesterday. It was fun when unexpected things happened.

“It’s Nia!”

Even though there was still time before lunch, there were already so many visitors here. Me and many of the other competitors were constantly being called out to. It was great to see.

“Are you here to watch the matches? Or are you here on a date?” I decided to interview whatever people I came across.

“I’m here to support my Lady Freeze!”

Here for Fressa, are you? Well, she was still in the running. But she’d seemed more uncomfortable recently. She was a member of the underworld, so it could have been that she was feeling the pressure of standing out. Honestly, “standing out” would have been a bit of an understatement at this point. The sixteen remaining fighters were practically famous in Altoire.

Even so, the defeated fighters were all around, cheerfully interacting with the visitors. They didn’t appear to be dwelling on their losses, or rather, their losses didn’t appear to have much of an effect on them. There was the large warrior, Jinatan; the half-elf, Lestra, the martial artist who used the sai... Even that nine-section chain sword user that left one hell of an impression on me. The tygre brothers were assisting with the recording too, and I was sure I saw Headsplitter Geeg somewhere—he stood out when he was standing up, but less so when he was sitting down, so I couldn’t quite spot him from here.

“Hah hah hah hah hah! Do you like me? You do, don’t you?” Tohaulow, after losing to Gandolph yesterday, was laughing away. It seemed she was back to form after receiving magic treatment. From my eyes, she had suffered quite a grievous injury, but now, she was surrounded by lots of small children and giving them piggyback rides. Were they children from the academy? Wait, no, they should be in class right now. They must’ve been children from abroad, then.

Whatever the case, I was happy to see it. I was thankful that she was willing to help bring excitement to the tournament even after losing her match. If I had been in that position, I’d probably have been so frustrated with myself at having lost on such a big stage that I’d end up absorbing myself in my training right away.

Or...maybe not? If I fought with all of my strength, I might have felt quite refreshed after it. I couldn’t say for sure because I had no memories of losing.

“Nia!”

Ah, Hildetaura. Surprisingly, she wasn’t with her production crew, and instead just had two members of staff that looked like bodyguards with her.

“Nia, do you have a free moment?”

In fact, it seemed like she had come searching for me.

“I’m recording right now, but I think I have some time.” I was really in charge of the recording of the matches—this part was usually left to Hildetaura and Reliared. We were just doing spontaneous recordings right now, so we could stop at any time. We were just doing it because we were here. Hell, Bendelio could even do it himself.

“Since all three of us happen to be here, I was thinking we could get a portrait of us all drawn. I do not think this chance will arise again for the rest of the tournament.”

Was she referring to Rikelvita’s booth?

“I think it’ll be fine for me to go, but what about Relia?”

“It will be fine. We will be recording it, after all.”

Ah, this isn’t a suggestion for the purpose of having a commemorative picture, but for magivision. Okay, I’m on the same page now. This is work. Or maybe it would be nicer to view it as us getting something nice done that they could record on the side. Hildetaura didn’t often mix her business and her personal lives.

“If that’s what it’s for, then go ahead.”

After gaining permission from Bendelio, I left our crew’s recording and went to get pictures drawn with the girls. We got one picture each, all with slightly different poses and positioning. Apparently, all it took was our presence to draw a crowd, a whole group gathering while we were getting drawn. Like Hildetaura had said, we hadn’t really managed to gather as a trio recently, so it must’ve been a rare enough sight to catch the general public’s eye.

And so, after spending the morning doing whatever I pleased, it was time for the matches again.

With my crew back in our usual spot, we started livecasting the recording right away.

“Today’s eight matches will be the quarterfinals of this tournament. Slowly but surely, we near the finals. Out of ten thousand initial competitors, only the most elite of our fighters have made it here—all of these matches will be filled with unpredictable drama. Let’s watch over our fighters, cheer them on, and let ourselves be absorbed by their performances. What you’re about to see, you’ll never get the chance to see again. Well, unless you have a MagiPad—then you can watch the rebroadcasts all you want!”

After putting in a shameless marketing line, I continued.

“The fights I am personally most interested in today are the matches between Sauzan and Lynette, and Anzel and Freeze. Both will be in the second half. Sauzan has made it through his matches without having to take any risks. His match against the famous adventurer, Lestra, became a very popular topic of conversation. He is a skilled fighter with unbelievable calm that goes far beyond simply being stable. His opponent of the day, Lynette, also had a notable fight with the Kenki, Asuma Hinoki. In order to counter Asuma’s shield-shattering skill with the wooden sword, she used an invisible attack. It has become a popular topic of discussion in martial arts circles as they debate how she did it and what sort of skill it was.”

This was another match where I wasn’t able to predict the outcome. Right now, I thought Lynette was stronger, but I still wasn’t quite sure how strong Sauzan really was. Both of their styles placed emphasis on the fundamentals.

Just how will this match play out?

I could see it becoming a long fight, but on the other hand, it may end surprisingly quickly.

“Next, the match between Anzel and Freeze. Anzel has shown no signs of struggle in any of his matches thus far, while Freeze has been fighting fiercely since the preliminaries. From my prediction, they are equally strong, so I am very curious to see how their match will turn out.”

Finally, my students would clash. That said, it was probably a little awkward fighting each other as two underworld dwellers. But things were finally heating up.

According to the rules of the tournament, fighters through to the next round couldn’t receive magic treatment. As a result, many of the remaining competitors were injured. So many had already dropped out along the way—it would have been stranger if they hadn’t.

Lynokis—the predicted champion—was clearly moving less cleanly compared to before her fight with Zeon. She was trying to hide it, but many people would have noticed by now. That bite from the beastkin had to hurt.

Gandolph was at the arena with his top half bared—after his fight with Tohaulow, his dogi had been ripped to shreds, so it was easier to remove it entirely. The bandages covering his right eye were painful to look at, and the scratches were clear to see all over his skin. Had Tohaulow actually managed to scratch his eye? I thought her claws hadn’t gone too deep.

There were other fighters beyond those two who were also starting to move oddly. When they weren’t in their best condition, a lot of factors other than one’s strength began factoring in to who would win the match—it made it much harder to predict the outcome. Now more than ever, it seemed likely for there to be a sudden upset.

All of that said, while there were many injured among the remaining bare-handed competitors, that wasn’t the case for the weapons division. Most were either unscathed or only suffering from very light injuries. That comparison alone made it clear what difference it made to be wielding a weapon. Most fights with weapons were decided with one blow. There were a lot of fights where whoever got in the first strike won. There were very few matches that focused on trying to wear the opponent down.

Finally, it was time for those two to step in the ring.

“Our next match is between Sauzan and Lynette. Both fighters use a style reliant on the fundamentals and are therefore very well-versed in them. How will a match between two steady fighters shake out? Let’s pay close attention.”

The two fighters squared off, both wielding blunted swords. Sauzan’s sword was just a little longer than Lynette’s—a broadsword. Lynette’s was practically half its size. Incidentally, she wasn’t using a shield this time.

Just like all imitation weapons, no weapon was better or worse than the other. It would all come down to how they handled it.

Now, how will this turn out?

“Let the match begin!”

My anticipated match was now underway.

Oh, I see... So this is how it’s going to go.

I had viewed them both as steady fighters, but that was perhaps exactly why things had turned out this way—right from the outset, a fierce clash had begun. They might have both realized that their match would never end if they didn’t take an aggressive approach. Neither swung widely, neither stepped in too far, but neither let up on their offensive as they continued their attacks. It was because both of them were skilled at such a style that their blades crossed so frequently.

At least the clash was exciting enough to watch for the audience. From my eyes, though, all I could notice was that there didn’t seem room to get in a decisive hit. It felt more like...that was what they were searching for. Lynette had her Singing Palm, Sauzan had...well, something, probably.

But...

Lynette, no. It’s not like that. Singing Palm isn’t meant to be used like a defining move, you’re supposed to use it with your regular strikes, like a way to strengthen them. It’s a very basic external chi Technique. Don’t aim for a specific time to use it, just keep using it. If your opponent gets used to it, then mix up regular hits and Singing Palms to throw them off.

Maybe...that was too much for her right now. But a prolonged fight wouldn’t be good for her either. I could already see her starting to tire.

“That’s enough!”

She did her best. Unfortunately, the moment Lynette’s chi wavered, it was over for her. Sauzan had been toe-to-toe with Lynette even without using chi himself—it was obvious that the longer the match went on, the more of an advantage he would be at.

Then again, I was fairly sure Lynette was stronger overall by just a smidge. But Sauzan was just better with the sword than Lynette. That was probably why he’d been able to continue a clash with her. Even the Singing Palm Lynette had fired out in desperation had been predicted. The moment Sauzan put a stop to that, the match was over. He ended it very stylishly too, thrusting his blade to her throat. His ability was nothing to scoff at.

“And Sauzan is our victor. Lynette lost in the battle of endurance. That was an aggressive match neither had been part of until now.”

What was more, Sauzan wasn’t even out of breath nor was he even slightly injured. Even against Lynette, I never got to witness his true potential.

So this is a Hero candidate of the Heroic Star Assembly.

I definitely wanted to see his potential. Same with Tohaulow, as another Hero candidate.

“Next is the match between Anzel and Free... What?”

Bendelio suddenly wrote something on the blackboard, and I couldn’t hide my surprise. Are you serious? I asked with my gaze, and he nodded with a straight face.

Seriously?

Oh, of course. Are we nearing your time limit, Fressa?

“Ahem, it appears that Freeze has dropped out. We will deliver the details as soon as we know more.”

Fressa was a resident of the underworld. She must have come to the conclusion that she couldn’t afford to stand out any longer. Honestly, even making it this far seemed like a risk. It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say she was famous by this point.

The pair must’ve made some sort of deal behind the scenes. I imagine Anzel bought her out. Honestly, rather suiting given their roots. I wouldn’t call Fressa out for it. She’d fought her matches fairly until now, and even helped create hype for the tournament. I wanted to respect her choice.

Let’s put that behind us and move on.

Nia had guessed correctly. On the night of the fifth day, Anzel and Fressa had met in secret. They’d chosen an area beside the lodgings where they were certain they wouldn’t get caught. It was dark enough that you couldn’t see anything without looking closely.

The deafening noise of the day had been replaced with the deafening quiet of the night. The wind was cold, but winter hadn’t truly started yet—it would only get colder from here.

A while after Anzel had lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall, Fressa silently appeared beside him.

“I saw you on magivision, you know? Look at you making a name for yourself.”

What a greeting.

“Talkin’ about the portrait thing?” Anzel replied. “I’m just tryin’ to increase my popularity. I can’t run away whenever I want in the way that you can.”

Fressa could flee Altoire the moment things got dangerous for her, but Anzel couldn’t, not yet. He would only make his escape once he’d won the tournament or once he’d reached as far as he could go...or when it seemed like he was about to get arrested. The moment any of those happened, there was no need for Anzel to be considerate. He didn’t believe Kaffes would think badly of him for it either. If he did, Anzel would be pissed. He’d just tell him, “It was your fault for choosin’ the wrong man for the job in the first place.”

“You’re trying to increase your popularity?” Fressa asked, eyebrows raised.

“The more popular I am, the more value there is to my name. The only reason they’re turnin’ a blind eye to what I’ve done is ’cause they can still use me. ’S why I haven’t been arrested yet. At least, I assume that’s why. I think I woulda been arrested well before now otherwise. That’s why I’ve timed it the way I have.” He had no proof, so he wouldn’t confidently state it out loud, but he was pretty sure that Kaffes had worked his magic as well.

Fressa snorted at that, seeming to have accepted his reason. “I see. So they’re letting you roam free because you seem useful. Well, I suppose you aren’t wearing a disguise. It’d be easy to dig up your dirt.” She paused for a moment before asking, “Do you think they’ve already figured me out too?”

“Seems pretty likely, don’t it? Do you think the guys up top are stupid? You’ve been bringin’ a lot of attention to yourself too.”

It only made sense that the organizers would’ve done their research into the fighters that had made it this far in the tournament. If they’d won this many matches, then they had to be strong enough to be a real threat to the country if they became their enemy.

Who are they? Where are they from? What organization do they belong to? What is their nationality? What do they do for a living? What had they achieved? It was natural for a government to want to know such things and, unless they were stupid, they’d absolutely do their research. If that talent was yet to be loyal to any one organization, they’d want to take them for themselves.

That was why Anzel was pretty sure his identity as a criminal with a shady record was already known.

“Ain’t it about time for you to call it?”

The only reason Anzel had called Fressa out here was to bribe her. To be fair to her, he would probably have called it himself under ordinary circumstances. If he wasn’t here on Kaffes’s orders, he’d be on his way out already. In fact, he might not even have participated in the tournament in the first place.

“Yeah, I know. I should’ve called it a loooong time ago, to be honest. I don’t want to drop out with nothing, though.”

Naturally, Fressa had chosen to heed his call knowing this was likely what he’d wanted to discuss.

“Give me one hundred million exactly.”

So she decided to be blunt about it.

“No interest. You can pay it in installments if you need to. You have to pay me at least ten million annually, though. If you accept those conditions, I’ll drop out.”

“Got it. Sounds fine to me.” Anzel’s response was immediate. “Lynokis agreed to give us all a share of the prize money if she won, right? I’ll give mine right to you.”

“And if she doesn’t win?”

“Then I’ll pay with my winnings. If neither of us win, well...I’ll probably already be halfway out the country. Just because I’m runnin’ from Altoire, though, doesn’t mean I intend to run from you. More like I doubt I can. I’m well aware of how terrifyin’ you can be.”

When Fressa was dead set on a target, they’d never get away. She did used to make a living as a freelance assassin, and she’d been good at her job. Not only was she strong physically, but she was strong mentally too. She would do anything she put her mind to, and she would kill anyone she’d sworn to kill. As far as Anzel was aware, she’d never given up on a single commission she’d taken on, and she’d never messed up either. She often argued with clients when the situation was much different than the one they’d described, but that was because she was rigid with her boundaries when it came to her work.

It was the fact that she never wavered that was so terrifying. She might have looked frivolous and carefree, but in reality, she was quite heavy-handed and persistent. Once her interest had been piqued, she refused to let go, very rarely giving up.

Long story short, Fressa was someone Anzel never wanted to make his enemy.

“If I disappear, come look for me. I know that you can find anyone you want so long as they ain’t dead. I’ll pay you when you find me. I’ll put the money aside for you.”

He knew what he was saying was absurd. But if he was on the run, there would be no way to predict where he’d end up. He would just be running for his life, no matter where it took him. He wouldn’t have the leeway to decide on specific destinations or meeting spots. If he had the time to think, then he needed to be running. He’d seen far too many underworld dwellers think they were finally safe and let their guard down, only to immediately be caught. If you were on the run, you had to run with every fiber of your being. Every. Single. Fiber.

“Huh... Well, okay. Whatever the case, that’s a hundred million decided.” After that, Fressa walked off into the shadows, just as suddenly and silently as when she’d arrived.

“Champion, huh...?”

Just two or three more matches. If he kept winning, he’d have five hundred million krams in his possession. He’d somehow managed to get so far that it really felt within reach.

Though it was debatable if he would even be eligible to receive it now that they knew what he was...

But now that he’d made it this far, he had to see it through.

The next morning, Fressa told the staff that she was feeling unwell and would be dropping out. The moment she delivered that message, she took the first flight off the tournament island.

We were now on day seven—the fifth round. It was time for the semifinals, which meant we had four matches left. There were two matches each for the weapon and bare-handed divisions to decide who would fight in tomorrow’s finals.

To be honest...none of the matches today are that exciting. It seemed likely that my predicted winners would go through. There would be no sudden upsets.

The tournament island was crowded again. The Liston crew was hanging around waiting to record any interactions between the visitors and the fighters, but...unsurprisingly, all the voices we could hear were people excited for the final rounds. They were debating who would win: “Hmm, I think Leeno’s the strongest.” “Gandolph’s pretty wild himself.” Or being truly disappointed that Fressa had dropped out. Or mumbling my brother’s name while walking around...

Wait, who was that?! You’re that guy with the deep voice that keeps calling my brother’s name, aren’t you?! You’re that threat to his life! Shit, I can’t tell who he is! He should be nearby!

...

Calm down. Don’t let your killing intent out. People will get suspicious. If you can’t find him, just let him go for now.

That aside...though everyone had high hopes for the matches, unfortunately for them, it was hard to think that today’s matches wouldn’t end in a flash. It was a result of the matchups, so I wasn’t about to start complaining, but... No. Today might be boring, but the finals were guaranteed to be fun. There was no mistake about that. With that in mind, maybe I could forgive how boring today’s matches would be. That was what I would tell myself.

Still, I had to remark on the fact that we had a full house again today... Were people really so willing to come all this way for four matches? Did they want to see them so bad that they were willing to pay the extortionate price? The next day would only be the finals, you know?

Hmm... All right, I guess I may as well try to help with a little fan service myself!

Today’s matches might not be worth talking about, but I at least needed to let them go home with a fun memory!

Day eight, time for the sixth round—the finals of this tournament. Yesterday’s semifinals went as expected: anticlimactic and ending in the blink of an eye.

But today’s matches would be something else.

“We have finally reached the last day of the tournament. It’s time for the finals!”

After spending the morning providing fan service for the visitors, we arrived beside the ring shortly after noon and began recording. The camera panned along the audience. There was not a single empty seat in sight—all of them were filled with spectators who were impatient for the last rounds to begin. Apparently, there were people standing outside the arena watching it on the MagiPads too, along with some of the losing fighters.

The arena was huge, but as the tournament progressed, there had been fewer and fewer matches each day. I’d thought that regular spectators would gradually lose interest, but...it turned out that every day was a full house. Honestly...it kinda made everything feel worth it.

So much had happened since I had decided I wanted to hold this tournament. There were nights I wanted to kill Bendelio, and several moments I wanted to try and take advantage of the crowds to give him a huge punch without anyone noticing it was me. I felt no different even now. Almost every day was spent recording, fully engaging in working away from home. There were very few days that I truly had time to rest.

But once I’d decided to dedicate myself to it, this whole period had passed in a flash. All of this started from my selfish desire to discover who was the strongest in Altoire. It became much bigger than I ever anticipated, and even though it all only increased my workload, even that was finally coming to an end. Everyone was here with different intentions, but in the end, it all came down to one single question.

Who is the strongest?

The answer to that question would now be decided. I felt overwhelmed with emotion.

Though, unfortunately, the tournament went as expected and there wasn’t a single fighter who I thought would be worth my time to fight. But enough of that. It wasn’t as if I’d expected one to appear to begin with. Plus, it wasn’t as if I’d be walking out of this with nothing.

“Our last day will have only two matches: the final rounds for both of our divisions. First, for the bare-handed division, we have Leeno versus Gandolph. For the weapons division, we have Sauzan versus Anzel. To be honest, I cannot predict the outcome of either match. I will watch with rapt attention along with all of you!”

This wasn’t a lie. For the bare-handed division, Lynokis had the greater all-around strength, but Gandolph’s improvement had been beyond what I’d expected. He’d beaten Tohaulow despite her speed.

They were also both injured—we would have to watch and see just how it would affect their movements.

For the weapons division, Sauzan was stronger. At least, from what I saw in the match with Lynette. But Anzel wasn’t weak, and the fact that he was willing to stand on this grand stage at all meant that he was willing to put his life on the line. I believe he said he was doing this to repay someone that he owed greatly.

Whatever the case, we could definitely expect to see matches worthy of the finals.

“WOOOOOOOO!”

The moment Lynokis and Gandolph stepped into view, the impatient audience absolutely exploded with cheers. They were so loud that it was impossible to single out any individual voices. Without a doubt, those voices held the expectations for the two who had fought this far.

“The finals for the bare-handed division will now begin! Can you hear the roars of the crowd?! Every single one of these voices is for the two standing across from each other in the ring right at this very moment!”

I had to strain my voice just to be heard over the crowd. There was a parabolic reflector nearby to help my voice be picked up by the camera, but I was starting to wonder if that was even working at this point.

The voices of the crowd were so painfully loud, and amid it all, those two stood facing each other.

On one side was a seemingly uninjured woman, yet hidden underneath her clothes was a deep wound in her left shoulder.

On the other side was a large half-naked man, bandages wrapped around his right eye. Raw scratches were visible all over his body.

“We have our expected champion, Leeno the adventurer. We have the vice-deputy instructor of the Heavenstriker style, Gandolph. At long last, we will finally see who the strongest bare-handed fighter truly is!”

The referee stepped into the ring. He looked tense, nervous. When he stood next to the pair, the cheers slowly died down. It felt almost as if we were bearing witness to a ritual, everyone sitting up straight in preparation.

The referee raised his arm.

And then finally...

“Let the match...begin!”

Boom!

It happened the second the match started. Lynokis’s fist collided with Gandolph’s chest with a sound like thunder. The referee had tried to escape the moment he started the match, but he’d been too slow, falling down in surprise at the volume and intensity of the noise.

But no one was paying him any mind.

Boom!

There was another thunderous rumble as Lynokis fell to her knees. Gandolph’s right hand, which had been positioned high, came down on her in a knifehand strike. It hit her on the shoulder, and her knees immediately buckled.

No, wait.

Lynokis had bent her knees herself to knock Gandolph’s aim off. That hadn’t been a direct hit.

Now that both had initiated their first hits, they made distance again.

A beat of silence passed, and then the crowd erupted into chants of their names.

This. This is what the finals should be.

“Both first strikes have been blocked! By taking half a step back, Gandolph succeeded in evading a direct hit from Leeno’s thunderous strike! Meanwhile, by lowering her body, Leeno managed to avoid a direct hit of Gandolph’s intense counterattack! Neither are going at this half-heartedly! There is not a single opening!”

You two aren’t half bad! Since they were fellow disciples who knew each other well enough to abandon me to go off drinking, I had been worried they would hold back against each other, but it was clear I had been worried for nothing.

Lynokis had fired a Rumbling Thunder and Gandolph had countered with a Roaring Thunder. Even Gandolph had become able to use a Technique in an unorthodox form. If either of those attacks had hit directly, they would have been dead. Lynokis had aimed for either Gandolph’s solar plexus or heart. Gandolph had aimed for Lynokis’s head—it only hit her shoulder because she’d dodged.

This is amazing! This is exactly what I’d been waiting for! Now go! Shine even brighter! Show us your martial arts! Show us how beautifully you scatter in the wind!

The match was extremely fierce, even taking into account every single match leading up to this point. To put it bluntly, it was just a fistfight. It wasn’t fast—each punch was calculated with full commitment. But the weight of each punch was different. Each punch was accompanied by the sound of thunder.

Though Leeno’s arms and legs were thin, the strength behind her punches and kicks was enough to shake Gandolph’s thick arms and torso. Though Gandolph was largely on defense, he was firing out his own attacks too. Considering his enormous body, each strike was very clearly fired with great strength. That same body had grabbed a beastkin with one arm and thrown them into the ground, after all. Right now, punches from such a man were hitting Leeno—strikes that would look direct to an amateur, but to a trained eye, it was easy to see that Leeno was shifting the point of impact ever so slightly.

The exchange of punches continued.

Blood danced in the air.

Leeno remained valiant, undeterred by their difference in physique.

Gandolph never backed down, even though he was covered in scars and bruises.

Everyone was holding their breath as they watched the fight unfold. They were so engrossed that they forgot to breathe, forgot to cheer.

The arena was so quiet that all that could be heard was the rumbling strikes of the two fighters.

Over and over again.

That was the type of match that unfolded for the bare-handed finals. It was crude, with no hint of elegance or grace, furthered only by each fighter’s primitive instincts.

That was the final blow.

“Ngh!”

A kick-based Rumbling Thunder from Lynokis collided with Gandolph’s stomach, completely breaking through his block.

Their movements had gradually been slowing, so I’d thought it was about time for something to give. Whichever one of the two managed to break through first would be the winner.

Gandolph went flying back and landed face down within the ring.

Yeah, that was predictable. Gandolph’s suffered way more damage, after all.

He wasn’t able to move his arms anymore. After taking so many hits directly to them, his bones had probably broken at some point. It would’ve been fine at first, but as the fight progressed, his chi would’ve run out, and once his muscles could no longer take the strain, cracks would’ve kept forming in his bones until eventually they shattered.

And then there was that right eye of his. Having lost the vision on the right side of his body, there were many occasions where it had been impossible for him to dodge. Rather than miscalculating the dodge and taking a direct hit, it was much safer to guarantee a block.

Lynokis was also injured, but there was a difference. Her upper body movement might have been limited due to the bite from Zeon, but she had always been more proficient at kicks—enough so that she was able to use Rumbling Thunder with her legs. The impact of her injury was comparatively little.

“Nwaaaaaaaaaagh!”

Gandolph tried to push himself up on trembling arms, a terrifying expression on his face as he tried to stand. That was the look of a starving martial artist hungry for victory. I never would’ve imagined such a gentle soul was capable of such a face. It was fascinating to see. He really was a born martial artist. He would definitely get stronger from here.

“Stand up! You can do it!”

“Gandolph! Gandolph!”

The crowd had been so quiet, but suddenly, they raised their voices in support, yelling so loud it sounded as if they were straining their vocal cords.

Lynokis was still standing, shoulders huffing with breath. Looking closely, there was blood all over her. She was a mess. Naturally, so was Gandolph, still on the ground. After having taken so many heavy hits directly to his arms, they were covered in fresh bruises. The internal bleeding was so severe, they were even starting to blacken.

The audience had finally understood the situation. But it seemed impossible now. Even if Gandolph managed to stand himself back up, there was no way he could fight any longer.

“Gack...!”

Oh, that’s blood. This isn’t good.

“That’s enough!”

The referee put a stop to the fight there. If Gandolph was coughing up blood, then there was a good chance he had internal bleeding somewhere. That could be potentially lethal.

“The victor is Leeno!” the referee yelled. They had clearly seen that it would be impossible for Gandolph to continue. Even though the man himself seemed motivated to keep going, there was no way his body could keep up.

It was a good match, though.

“And so, we have our victor for the bare-handed division! Put your hands together for our champion, Leeno!” I enthusiastically declared with pride at my beloved pupil’s victory, with acceptance of the defeat of another of my beloved pupils, after he’d shined with the brilliance of a true martial artist, and with praise for each of their valiant efforts. My declaration was met with earth-shattering cheers and applause.

Gandolph was taken away on a stretcher carried by four people while Lynokis left the ring on her own two feet, albeit limping the whole way. She might have been unsteady, but she was still walking without support.

I’d assumed her injuries were light, but apparently, her body had gotten closer to its limits than I thought. Well, even if she avoided any direct hits, the blows did still land.

I didn’t want to say anything, but...both Rumbling Thunder and Roaring Thunder were very basic Techniques. It’d have been better if they’d been using more advanced Techniques like... No, let’s not. My students still had the opportunity to improve. Rushing such things never ended well. For now, this was fine progress.

Since there were only two matches today, we didn’t rush onto the next. The staff took the time to carefully clean the ring after that intense fight, removing all the blood that had been spilled. Though even then, they hadn’t managed to completely remove all of it, so bloodstains remained here and there.

They were the marks of all those who had fought in the ring. The audience could just view it as the history of the martial artists. It was only a few months’ worth of history, but it was proof of how the fighters had shined.

Incidentally, what should have been showing on magivision right now was live footage of a different part of the island. That, or past matches. So the Liston crew took that time to have a break and hold a meeting.

“Miss Liston, are you free?”

Hmm? While I was going over the itinerary for the next match and what came after, a man with a staff armband approached.

“Leeno and Gandolph are both asking to see you... Would you come with me?”

What?

“They’re asking for me? Why?” I asked, voicing my confusion.

But he looked just as confused as me. “I apologize, but I’m not quite sure myself... I was just asked to bring you as soon as possible. I’m sorry I can’t give you any more information.”

It really was unclear.

“You were asked to? As in, by Leeno and Gandolph directly?”

Both of them should be at the infirmary right now.

“No, I was asked by one of the doctors. It was a woman...”

Oh. A female doctor in the infirmary? I could definitely make a guess as to who it was. But that was definitely bad.

“I understand. Mr. Bendelio, I must take my leave for a moment.”

I didn’t even wait for his response before I dashed away.

“What? Oh, uh, don’t take too long!”

Of course I wouldn’t. I was looking forward to the finals of the weapons division myself. There was no way I would miss it.

“Y-You’re so fast...”

“I can find my own way from here. Thank you for bringing me.”

Honestly, I’d practically left the man in the dust on the way, but I thanked him anyway, and let him leave before heading into the infirmary alone.

“Oh, you’re finally here. This way.”

Inside was a single doctor, and Gandolph and Lynokis lying on some simple cots.

“How are they?” I asked. Lynokis was still conscious and turned to look at me, but there was no response from Gandolph.

“She’s fine, he’s in pretty bad condition. I can treat him, but the question is whether or not his body can handle it. Lend me that power from before. Oh, and his eye is in rough shape.”

“Okay.”

Neither of us asked too many questions. This was the underground doctor I had met at the Umbral Arena. She was the one I’d met when Lynokis’s arm had been cut off by the Kenki. It seemed she’d remembered me after all, even though I’d worn a disguise back then... But if she remembered me, then there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about that.

I turned to Gandolph. His body was covered in bruises... This isn’t good at all. Lynokis’s final kick had left a very clear bruise. There hadn’t even been a slight usage of chi to defend himself. No wonder his insides got messed up.

“Mind if we start?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

The doctor and I stood on either side of Gandolph as she stretched a hand out.

“Ultra Heal.”

Light appeared from her hand in a pentagonal shape, stretching over Gandolph’s stomach area. I then forced chi through that part of him to stimulate his chi and speed up his body’s natural healing processes.

“Oh, that’s already much better.”

Really?

“Teaming up makes it so much faster,” I remarked. I felt like I might have said something similar back in the Umbral Arena as well.

“The guy’s own vitality also helped a lot, I think.”

I see. His vitality. Gandolph did certainly seem like he had a lot of it when you saw how tough his body was.

“What about his eye? Was it gouged out?”

“No. But he has been blinded. If he’d gotten treatment right away, he’d have been fine, but with how long it’s been, it’s a coin toss whether or not he’ll regain his sight.”

Really now. Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine.

“Let’s do it.”

If his vision didn’t return, we could just take out his eye and regenerate it. Since it wasn’t congenital, that would be enough to cure it.

Thankfully, his sight did return as normal. Perhaps this was also thanks to his vitality.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to talk with you more, but I’ll leave that for the next time we meet, should the opportunity present itself.”

Gandolph’s and Lynokis’s treatments were complete. Lynokis was going to return to the main hall to watch the other final round, but Gandolph would need to remain here for a while to rest. He was still unconscious, anyway.

According to the underground doctor, she’d had the other doctors leave in advance of my arrival. “I’m about to do some really difficult magic treatment. If you’re here, it’ll disrupt my concentration, so please go elsewhere for now,” she’d told them. And then, since she’d called me directly by name, it was impossible to hide the truth. So when I asked directly what she was going to do about me, she’d essentially said, “See you next time.”

If the opportunity presents itself, huh?

“Will there be such an opportunity?” I pondered.

“You can’t say there definitely won’t be, right? We did meet for a second time.”

In other words, there was always the possibility of a third.

“I don’t like getting involved in troublesome business, but I do have a great interest in your medical skill. If there’s something I don’t know, I want to learn it. But we don’t have time to sit and chat right now.”

Right. Maybe in the future, but right now? Definitely not.

“You won’t try and actively find me again?”

“Good question... No matter what way you slice it, you’re not normal. All I want to do is learn as much about medicine as possible, not get involved in trouble. Getting involved with you means doing just that, right? Sorry, but I’m still not ready for that.”

I see. If that was how she thought, then I likely wouldn’t need to force her to keep her mouth shut.

She continued, “If there ever comes a time in the future that I hit a roadblock and feel I need to pursue my medical studies further, I’ll likely want to find you. But only then.”

“I understand. May I ask your name?”

“Shine. A magic physician from the major hospital in the capital.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Would the day ever come that we met again? I wasn’t too bothered whether it did or it didn’t, but I’d at least keep note of her name.

I actually ended up meeting Shine again practically right away. Specifically, today.

“H-Huh? Nia?”

When I exited the infirmary, there was a whole gathering of medical staff standing outside. They must’ve been worried enough about what was going on inside to wait nearby.

Crap, I can’t let them know why I was here. But now they’ve seen me leave. There’s no way I can make up a believable excuse.

Fine, in that case—

“We asked her to hear our wills.”

The one who spoke was Lynokis, who had stepped out with me.

“Both Gandolph and I had suffered serious injuries,” she continued. “We were in critical condition... If things did not improve, we wished for her to speak our final words on magivision. I realize we didn’t necessarily have to call on Nia specifically. She just came to mind first because I’d seen her so often on magivision recently. It appears I was not thinking straight.”

Ahhh, I understood her play. She was trying to make it seem like I had made an impression on her, since I’d been doing all the match commentary, and she was so out of it she just called for the first person she could think of. Will this really work?

“O-Oh, I see...”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure if they believed her, but at the very least, they didn’t seem as if they were going to dig any further.

Thank the gods. I was about ready to just knock them out and then pretend they’d been seeing things. I really did not want to have to raise my hand against innocent doctors, though, so the thought of doing it had bothered me greatly.

“Treatment’s complete,” Shine announced as she joined us. “Things were touch and go for a bit there, but they’re fine now. Gandolph’ll need to rest. I really think Leeno needs rest too, but she wants to go back and watch the matches in the hall, so I’ve decided to respect her wishes.”

Okay, good. I’ll take that as our excuse worked.

Lynokis and I slipped out while the doctors were talking.

“We’ll part ways here, then.”

Lynokis then separated from me to go and watch the last match on the MagiPad in one of the competitor’s waiting rooms. We had a lot to talk about since we’d been apart for over a month, but today was the last day of the tournament. Lynokis was prepared to play the part of Leeno the adventurer until the end, so she never said anything more to me, and I never said anything more to her.

I returned straight to the ringside without making any detours. Bendelio looked genuinely relieved when I returned. I must’ve cut it close.

Now, it’s time for the grand finale.

The bare-handed finals had come to an end. With Leeno as the victor, her previous matches were being shown again on magivision as a little intermission while waiting for the weapon finals to begin. They must have been setting up for it right now.

It had been an interesting match. It seemed like the crowd had been enjoying it, and even through the MagiPad, it had been exciting.

But for everyone gathered here, this was where the game really began.

After a bit of a wait, the white-haired kid returned to the screen.

“The finals of the weapons division will begin momentarily.”

It was finally time.

“We’ll finally see who wins this game.”

As Kaffes had said, there was only one match left. This illegal gamble between the villains of society was reaching its climax.

Their little group of bad guys had been gathering in a special warehouse at the port of the capital for the past few days. Every day, they watched the matches on the MagiPad, and cheered or despaired at the fate of the fighter they had bet on.

It was a gamble of fifty billion krams, after all. It was high-risk, high-reward. And some of them had already lost.

Freeze—the competitor that Frozen Geitz had bet on—had dropped out. Frozen had been incredibly distraught at this news, thrashing about in anger, but no matter how much of a tantrum he threw, a loss was a loss. He no longer had the opportunity to win.

And now, he was looking incredibly pale. He’d have no choice but to pay up now after all.

Even the oldies from Wu Haitong, Keya Kin and Zen Fowah, had lost their bets. In fact, their fighters had ended up clashing against each other. Lynette Bran and Asuma Hinoki had faced off and Lynette had been victorious. Not that it mattered much. Lynette lost right after.

Despite that, they were both calm. In fact, they looked like they were enjoying watching the remaining matches. They would ramble away, making comments while watching the MagiPad as they drank and drank and drank their liquor. It went on and on, and they always looked as if they were truly having so much fun. They were saying the kind of shit that made the white-haired kid seem way more reliable.

And so, no matter who won this match, Frozen, Keya, and Zen would all have to pay up. Anzel and Sauzan had both been bet on. No matter which fighter won, there would be a payout.

Lesten quietly clasped his hands, leg bobbing up and down, clearly unable to remain calm. He was the one who had bet on Sauzan. Given he was still young, he was feeling the pressure both at the idea of paying out the bet, and also at the idea of receiving fifty billion krams from each member of the underworld here—that would make a total of two hundred and fifty billion krams.

Actually, he might have been more concerned about what would happen if he lost the bet at this point. Since there were two people here who had bet on Anzel, if Anzel won, they wouldn’t need to pay up just fifty billion krams, they’d be paying one hundred billion, fifty for each. Fifty billion was already deadly enough, double that would be...well, he’d never get his life back.

“You good over there? Looking a bit pale,” Kaffes, one of the people who had bet on Anzel, smirked with an irritating amount of comfort.

“It’s just a fifty-billion-kram gamble. Calm down.” Grieg, the other who had bet on Anzel, sneered at him next.

“Sh-Shut up! This is just how I enjoy things!”

Everyone could see just how shaken Lesten was. The fact he was still able to act tough showed he might have actually been on the courageous side of the younger generation.

Kaffes sent a signal with his eyes to the black-suits. Get ready, he was telling them. The only one who noticed was the one man keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Kaffes’s movements—Grieg.

Someone knocked on the door of the waiting room before opening it.

During the majority of the tournament, these huge rooms had been filled with people. Now, though? Only one man remained.

“Anzel, you’re up,” a staff member informed him.

Anzel stood. He was the last one left in this room. His opponent was likely similarly waiting alone in a different room.

“Please wait here.”

He was stopped in the corridor right at the entrance to the ring. Beyond the darkness was a large ring bathed in light. The eyes of the crowd, the deafening voices... It was a place where all sorts of attention would gather.

“Man, I really do not belong here...”

“Sorry?”

Anzel had muttered so quietly that the staff member hadn’t picked up what he’d said. “It’s nothin’,” he said, before clamping a cigarette between his lips.

“You’re certainly calm,” another man said, stepping up beside him.

It was Sauzan.

There were several paths into the ring, so it was possible for them to go through different entrances, but it seemed Sauzan wanted to walk out with him. Or he was just led there by the staff.

“I may not look it, but deep down, I’m shittin’ myself.” Anzel lit his cigarette and puffed out the smoke.

He wasn’t exactly lying. He didn’t care so much about the prospect of fighting in a match on a huge stage—it was having so many eyes on him in broad daylight that was frightening. He genuinely believed he did not belong somewhere that was so blindingly bright.

“But it ain’t like panickin’ now’s gonna do me any good. Hell, how are you so calm about this?”

“The only thing I’m capable of is fighting,” Sauzan replied. “If all I have to do is my usual to the best of my ability, then I have no reason to be nervous.”

A very straightforward answer. Anzel was starting to think that they were similar. The only thing he could be proud of was that his body was on the tough side and that he was a little strong.

“You used to be a bodyguard, right?” Sauzan asked. “And yet you seem pretty damn strong.”

“Because I trained. What about you? You came from the Kingdom of Slengradd, right? The media’s sayin’ you’re one of those Heroic Star Assembly folks. Are you?”

“O-Oh, uh, n-no...”

“Dude, you gotta work on your poker face.”

Sauzan was a funny guy. One of those people who was obviously hiding something but was really bad at hiding that fact. Honestly, Anzel wasn’t sure how serious Sauzan was being about that. Was this all an act? Or was he really this ditzy?

“It’s almost time,” one of the staff warned.

Anzel snuffed out his cigarette in his portable ashtray, and then rotated his neck.

This was his last match. Now that he’d made it this far, he could not afford to lose.

“Say...you willin’ to throw for three hundred million?” Anzel was pretty sure what the answer would be, but he gave it a try anyway.

“Ha ha, funny joke. If my partner were here, she’d be rolling on the floor laughing.”

Yeah, didn’t think it would work. Guess I just gotta lock in.

“At long last, we have reached the final match of this martial arts tournament. Who will join Leeno on the throne of victory? Sauzan? Or Anzel? It is time to decide who will stand at the peak, having survived over ten thousand fighters. This is the one match of this long tournament that you should not miss. Have you been to the bathroom? Have you readied your drinks? Are you ready to watch this match to the end? In that case, it is time for the finals!”

The two men of the hour walked out a few seconds after my comment and the audience immediately erupted into cheers. Anzel and Sauzan were walking to the ring together. Anzel looked completely relaxed, same as usual. He looked a little tired too—it was hard to sense any motivation from here.

But that was just how he was presenting himself. Deep inside, he was a raging storm.

Of all my students, I’d always thought Anzel was the one with the most desire to fight. Years ago, he kept challenging me again and again, even though every time, I fought him off. He wasn’t someone who broke easily. Surprisingly...it could be that he still wasn’t content with how our battles had ended. He may even still be planning some sort of revenge. I couldn’t picture a version of Anzel that had truly given up.

His opponent was Sauzan Flameen, a young man with sharp features. Seeing them side by side, I realized they looked pretty close in age. I still hadn’t seen the depths of this man’s strength. He’d reached this point without me managing to figure out how strong he really was. Even against Lynette, he had barely struggled.

This is gonna be tough, Anzel. He’s strong.

From my analysis, Sauzan was the strongest one at this tournament. But, of course, I could defeat him easily even while calculating the area of a trapezoid.

The two of them stepped onto the ring and faced each other.

One was wearing a black suit without a blazer, the other was dressed in light adventurer’s gear.

One was wielding a metal pipe, the other a dulled sword.

They seemed like two people belonging to two very different worlds, but in the face of strength, they were equal. No matter who they may be, the strongest would win. That was all there was to say, but nonetheless everyone here wanted to know the answer.

They were holding their breath, waiting impatiently for the round to start.

The referee’s voice rang out loudly in the silent arena.

“Let the finals...begin!”

Just like the bare-handed finals, the weapon finals also came down to a clash.

Actually, that would have been inaccurate. It was more like Anzel was one-sidedly slashing at Sauzan. Straightforward, sharp, and all-around ferocious. As Anzel charged forward, Sauzan was calmly dealing with each strike. Anzel blocked and dodged several of the other man’s counters, but some still slipped through and hit him.

Perhaps that was fine. Sauzan was incredibly stable and his defense was solid. Attacking recklessly may not break his guard, but not attacking at all meant the chance wouldn’t exist. He was a steady fighter, and he showed in his battle with Lynette that he had a lot of stamina. If the match went on for too long, Anzel would be at a disadvantage. If his chi wavered, Sauzan would immediately push through. Anzel would have to end the match before that happened.

And in order to end it, his only option was to move forward and keep attacking. It was simple, but it might have been the best way out of the situation. I agreed with his decision to be aggressive rather than to wait and see what Sauzan would do. Anzel would not be able to win a battle of endurance. Their difference in base strength would definitely start to show.

Oh?

“Anzel has come to a stop. He’s raised his hand. Is he...forfeiting?”

What? What happened? Is something wrong?

Such an unusual action shocked both myself and the audience, but... Ah.

“Anzel is removing his clothes. They appear to have been getting in the way.”

After taking off his shirt, he dumped it at the edge of the ring. His beautifully toned muscles were now on full display. Though he was on the slender side, the work he’d put in was clear. Countless bruises already littered his body.

After he smoothed his hair back...the match started once again.

Though Anzel had stripped, nothing had particularly changed. Anzel kept pushing forward and Sauzan kept deflecting him. Despite that, he didn’t stop.

And then I realized. Anzel...was slowly adapting.

The wounds on his body were only increasing, and I was pretty sure that on a technical level, Anzel was a few steps behind.

And yet, he was almost certainly starting to dodge Sauzan’s counters. Sauzan’s offense, the way he maneuvered, the way he struck his sword—Anzel was learning all of it.

My opinion had not changed: Martial artists found the most improvement in a close match. Through battle, one learned their opponent. Through learning their opponent, they learned themselves. The closer they were in strength, the more their opponent was a reflection of themselves, allowing them to see clearly what their strengths and weaknesses were.

Anzel’s pipework was slowly starting to mirror Sauzan’s swordplay. It was becoming sharper, more direct. There was gradually less excessive movement and force, each strike becoming more efficient.

Beautiful.

This was what it meant to be a martial artist. In a fight where your opponent was only slightly stronger than yourself, you learned and grew within the fight and overpowered them. This was a shining example of a fight between two martial artists.

Though he still had to win. You’re letting him get too many hits in, Anzel.

Even if he was successfully dodging any hits to lethal areas, that damage was building up. That was how Gandolph ended up wrecking both of his arms. The damage to his insides had been bad, but the arms that had taken the brunt of the damage had been completely busted. If he hadn’t received magic treatment, there was no telling if he would’ve recovered fully from that.

And then there was the issue of time. The fight had been going on for long enough that Anzel would soon start struggling to manage his chi. I could already see it starting to waver. If he didn’t hurry up and try to get in his decisive hit, he’d lose, and without making Sauzan even break a sweat.

What’s your plan, Anzel? Do you really intend to lose like this?

Anzel was starting to panic. He was nearing his limit. He’d been relentlessly striking at Sauzan, but he couldn’t break through. He’d been countered so many times that his body was aching. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure how he was still standing.

Despite that, his fighting spirit was only getting sharper. He was slowly becoming able to keep up with Sauzan’s movements. He was also vaguely getting the sense that Sauzan wasn’t even using all of his strength—he might have been viewing Anzel as someone unworthy of it.

Anzel was being underestimated. But he had a card up his sleeve that would fluster even this cool guy. He couldn’t use it yet, though. He had a feeling that if he tried to use it now, he would miss. And even if the attack did land, he’d need to make sure it hit directly, with every ounce of strength, or it wouldn’t take this man down. If he messed up, there was no way he’d win.

The time to release his trump card was when he was ready to end this. He had nothing else up his sleeve. It was win or bust. Mess up and he’d end up just like Lynette.

The problem was that he was failing to find a way to connect to it. He lacked offensive power, he couldn’t land a decisive blow, he couldn’t disrupt Sauzan’s defense. He couldn’t reach. He couldn’t get a single hit in. This man was steady. Just like Lynette, he was a steady, rigid, and boringly strong type of fighter. It wasn’t a fighting style that could captivate an audience, but it was one that exhibited firm fundamentals. He had no gimmicky moves nor big flashy finishers. His fundamentals were strong and that was it. Anzel never would’ve imagined a fighter like this could be so troublesome...

Anzel was approaching his limit. He was slowly struggling to control his chi. The second he completely lost control, this match would be over.

Before that happened, before he could no longer move, he had to fire off that trump card.

And then, all of a sudden, he had a realization.

No.

That’s not how I should use it.

Anzel had been thinking of nothing other than slamming his final move right into this irritating man’s face. But he realized that wasn’t how he should be thinking about it.

If he was going to use it, he needed to use it now. He should just use it specifically to break the man’s defenses. If he broke the man’s defense, nothing else mattered.

He’d crush him with all he had!

“Anzel has stopped once more.”

Right after I’d finished explaining what was happening, Anzel came to another stop. Last time, it was to remove his shirt, but this time... Ah, he’s got a plan, hasn’t he?

“Anzel has begun bending his metal pipe. I’m not sure what his plan is, but he appears to have thought of something.”

He’d grabbed his pipe at both ends and was slowly bending it in half. It was taking so much effort, the muscles in his arms were bulging. He glared at Sauzan, who simply watched him as he bent the pipe into a right angle.

“He threw it!”

Only to lead into an unexpected throw.

Anzel had taken his metal pipe and flung it at Sauzan with all his strength. Hey, what the hell are you doing? What do you even think you’ll achieve? Just because it looks a bit like a boomerang now doesn’t mean your pipe will come back.

Unsurprisingly, Sauzan showed not a single emotion as he easily dodged—

Thwack!

And then it hit him.

The pipe changed trajectory in midair and struck Sauzan. No, it was the other way around. It was because the pipe struck Sauzan that it changed trajectory.

That was external chi. Anzel had just extended his weapon in the way I’d taught him. He’d used external chi to extend the pipe’s range and then flung it.

At such a distance, he would only have needed to control the chi for a couple of seconds. And the extension was only about a fist’s worth. One did not have to be a master of chi to manage something as small as that. He’d thought this through.

The pipe was longer than expected, and it hit Sauzan, who was usually precise with his expectations. It had to be something Anzel had picked up on during the fight. Sauzan was a steady fighter—he never moved more than was necessary. That meant that he never dodged wide. He would always dodge as little as he felt he had to.

Anzel had read his opponent correctly.

And now...

“Eat shit!”

Now that Sauzan had been thrown off-balance with the unexpected strike, Anzel roared out loud as he leaped for his opponent. Anzel resummoned his pipe, once again perfectly straight and ready to whack someone to death.

“Oh, crap!”

I accidentally let out my fear when I saw Anzel leap forward without any hesitation. By the time I raised my voice, though, it was too late. With the way Anzel was leaning, Sauzan’s thrust was aimed right at Anzel’s throat.

A thrust to the throat is definitely deadly!

Despite being knocked off-balance, despite being hit by an unexpected attack, Sauzan was still calm. And in that calm, he’d chosen to counter.

“Ngh?!”

However...

Anzel pushed through.

He refused to pull back. He continued charging forward.

The tip of Sauzan’s sword slid past the side of Anzel’s throat.

Did he just...defend with external chi? Did being put in a do-or-die situation bring it out of him?

Almost as if it were a counter, Anzel’s swing connected with the side of Sauzan’s head. He used no Technique—it was all raw strength in that hit.

But that was all he needed.

The arena went quiet. Just like the bare-handed finals, this had been a fierce battle that left the viewer forgetting to breathe.

Anzel coughed harshly, wobbling on his feet as he retrieved the shirt he’d stripped off.

And then he left the ring, leaving behind Sauzan collapsed on the field.

It was only after Anzel had disappeared down the corridor that the cheers suddenly came from the crowd.

They were the loudest cheers of the day.

“And our victor is Anzel! Anzel is our champion of the weapons division!”

The long tournament had finally drawn to a close. Both of the final matches had been more than worth watching. As proof of that, the excitement of the spectators refused to settle. Even the short break before the closing ceremony wasn’t enough to calm them down, but at least they knew to quiet down when the king took the stage.

“What a fantastic display. Though the plan was originally to hold the award ceremony for our victors today, as both are exhausted from their fights, we will hold it at a later date. We will broadcast it on magivision in the near future, so we must ask for your patience. Now...it would be rude to continue talking for too long. Citizens of Altoire and our foreign guests, we must thank you for your cooperation during this tournament. To all our competitors who narrowly missed the prize, we praise your efforts. We would like to also express our warmest thanks to those who have assisted behind the scenes. All of you should celebrate with delicious food and plenty of alcohol. You must all have much you wish to talk about. I would like to now declare that Altoire’s first martial arts tournament has concluded.”

His Majesty left the stand to cheering and applause. A short message for both the opening and closing ceremonies, hmm?

Well, the organizers were no doubt busy. There would be a lot of cleanup to do after this. I had something I also wanted to do myself.

The audience members were all returning home while passionately talking about the day’s matches. The competitors who had remained on the island were also starting to take their leave. A lot of them had probably wanted to see the conclusion of the tournament. I wasn’t sure if they were happy with the result, but it had certainly ended now.

After my crew had finished recording the sight of everyone leaving, I was called to the VIP seating area where I went around greeting all of the foreign dignitaries with my parents and Neal.

It turned out that Prince Christo and Princess Crowen had come from Vanderouge to watch as well, along with the two commanders-in-chief of their armies. I hadn’t seen them since that wedding, but they seemed to be doing well.

Our royalty was already off wrapping everything up for the tournament, so they weren’t present. There would apparently be a lavish feast tonight, so the dignitaries would be gathering again later. Things were hectic for them too, huh?

We Listons would be having our own separate feast tonight with the Silvers and Hildetaura. I was a little curious about Hildetaura—she was royalty, so would she not have to be at that other feast? But if she’d said that she was coming to ours, it must be fine.

Either way, it was perfect timing. I had intended to try and find a way to stay on the island until night, whether through offering to help clean up or some other excuse. But since our feast would be held on the Silvers’ airship, the Listons would be staying here until tonight as well. The adults would definitely be talking late into the night too. It appeared luck was on my side.

In any case, time for me to decide the evening’s schedule.

“How is Gandolph?”

While helping clean up the arena and packing away all our recording equipment, I found a moment to slip away to the infirmary. The doctors looked just as busy preparing to relocate.

“He’s still asleep, I think,” one of the doctors told me.

“In that case, where is Shine?”

“Shine? She should be in the intensive care unit, I think... Sorry, I’m not sure.”

Well, I couldn’t blame her. They seemed plenty busy packing up. If I recalled correctly, the intensive care unit was where Gandolph had received treatment. Where I was now was where those with lighter injuries were treated.

Shall we go take a look, then?

I thanked the doctor and headed for the intensive care unit. Compared to the bustling light injuries area, there was only Gandolph sleeping here alone.

“Oh, Master Nia.”

Never mind, guess he’s awake. He must have just been resting.

“You can stay as you are,” I said, walking up to his bed. If he was sleeping, I would’ve let him be, but surely it would be fine to talk to him if he was conscious. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m a little tired, but I don’t feel any pain anymore. I was told to continue resting for a little longer.”

“You’re tired because you used too much chi. Make sure you eat plenty when you get back home.”

“Will do. I’ll make sure to eat a big dinner.”

Good. It was hard to be lively when you didn’t eat enough. Food was the source of one’s energy. He should eat as much meat as he could.

“Have Anzel and Sauzan dropped by at all?”

“Yes. The moment their match ended. I heard the audience’s cheers all the way from here. The weapons finals must have been just as exciting.”

They certainly were.

“Your match was good too.”

“But I lost.”

He did, but I thought he fought well. Lynokis had been learning how to manipulate her chi longer than Gandolph had, so of course she was stronger. Actually, I thought she’d struggled far too much... Nope, let’s not do that.

Both of them had fought well. Today, that was enough.

“You didn’t view her as an unbeatable opponent, did you? Then next time, make sure you win.”

“Yes, Master. I will do what I can.”

Yes, all he had to do was get stronger. If possible, stronger than even me.

Oh, right.

“Can I leave a message with you?”

I’d wanted to see Shine, but if she wasn’t here, then I may as well get Gandolph’s assistance.

Evening rolled around and a banquet began in the Silvers’ private airship. Hildetaura had said that they would hold an official banquet hosted by her father for everyone who assisted with the tournament at a later date. In other words, they would hold a wrap-up party. With an event of this size, there had to have been a lot of people involved. Without the king’s assistance, it would be difficult to rein them all in.

Tomorrow, my parents would return to our territory, and the Silvers would return to theirs. Hildetaura would remain on the tournament island for a few days to assist with the cleanup. Perhaps there were matters that could only be handled by a member of royalty. Neal and I would be returning to the academy tomorrow ourselves, so this would be the last day I’d get to spend on the island.

When the Silvers’ modest feast concluded, everyone went their separate ways and we Listons returned to our airship. I was quite tired, so I laid down on my bed for a while. The next time I awoke, it was midnight.

This should be late enough. Donning the wig that I thought had made its last appearance, I put on my coat and left the room. Sneaking through the quiet airship, I exited out onto the deck and made my way down the anchor rope as I had the previous night.

Now that the tournament was over, the island was no longer crawling with patrolling staff. The competitors without any reason to remain should also have made their way back to the royal capital by now. The only ones who remained were those who did have a reason to stay.

As expected, the night after the most exciting day of the tournament was quiet. It was the calm after a day of festivities.

I proceeded through that quiet, dark night toward the arena.

“A bit late, ain’tcha?”

Upon noticing me, the man standing by the entrance—Anzel—moved forward.

“Are they here?”

“Sure are.”

“Good. Sorry, but I’ll need you to stick around for a bit.”

“Yeah, ain’t a problem. Hurry up and go.”

Those were the only words we exchanged. I walked past Anzel and— Oh wait, before that.

“Congratulations on your victory.”

“Thanks. That last one was a bit of a fluke, though.”

He viewed it as a fluke, did he? It could have been, but I didn’t think he could definitively say so. The one thing I could say for certain was that in that moment, that one moment, Anzel had surpassed Sauzan. That was why he had won. That was the undeniable reality. Personally, it was something he should have been proud of, but, you know...

“As my student, I really would expect you to be able to win a round like that even while shaking a cocktail.”

“While makin’ up a drink? I wouldn’t be caught dead doin’ something crazy like that.”

After that bit of lighthearted banter, I continued inside.

I walked down the corridor reserved for the competitors—the same corridor I’d walked down many times over the course of the tournament. During the day, I had walked down it for work, but this time was different. Right now, I felt like one of the competitors.

The ring faintly came into view underneath the pale starlight.

And then, so did two people.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. You haven’t been here for too long, have you?”

I stepped up onto the ring and approached them—Sauzan and Tohaulow.

Sauzan’s face was entirely composed, but Tohaulow looked a little lost when she saw me. “U-Um... We were told that someone strong wanted to challenge us. Is that...you?” she asked.

Oh. Of course.

“Yes, yes, it’s me.”

I’d asked Gandolph to pass on a message for me: Someone insanely strong who could effortlessly take on the two of them at once wanted to meet them. If they were interested, they were to wait by the ring of the arena at night. I hadn’t told him to say that I wanted to challenge them, so they must’ve just assumed it was the case. The specifics weren’t important so long as we got the opportunity to fight.

I had also put a call out to my students—I asked for help in keeping other people away from here at this time. It wasn’t just Anzel who was keeping watch but my other students too. They should still have been stationed at the other entrances.

Just in case, I’d also asked Shine to stay back so that there would be a magic physician available at the infirmary. Now I wouldn’t need to worry if I ended up injuring either of them. I didn’t check to confirm after leaving the message, but surely she listened, right?

“Uh, we came here cause we heard there’s someone stronger than us,” Tohaulow repeated.

“Yes. I’m strong. Honestly, from what I saw of your matches, I could take you both down with one hand easily.”

“Easily, huh...”

Tohaulow was clearly unsure of how to take what I’d just said. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe me, it was that she couldn’t. She was still treating me like a child after all.

“You’re both Hero candidates from the Heroic Star Assembly, aren’t you? Oh, don’t think you need to answer me. I know you can’t. Honestly, I don’t really care what the answer is. Whatever the case, I felt that sending you home like this would be a bit of a shame.”

“A shame?”

“Well, neither of you got the chance to go all out, did you?”

The moment I said that, Tohaulow finally tensed up.

I’d thought to myself that it was a bit of a shame for them to have come all this way and not get to use their full strength, so why not set up a situation where they could? They’d helped considerably with hyping up the tournament after all—I owed them that much. In a way, it was like a personal gift from me to them. Though I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t also partly because I wanted to fight.

“The tournament wasn’t enough for you, was it? You were approaching it as if it wouldn’t be such a big deal if you lost. You weren’t in there desperately fighting to win. I sometimes noticed how easy you were finding it all.”

It wasn’t that they hadn’t been taking their fights seriously, just that they were fighting with self-imposed restrictions. At least, that was how I saw it. They’d put shackles on themselves by not allowing themselves to use their special moves or something like that. The pair had lost without even using anything surprising. They weren’t beginners who were unable to spot the deciding moment of a fight, so it seemed odd that both had gone out that way.

“Our full strength,” Sauzan began, “is only to defend against threats to humanity. It isn’t something we can aim at a regular person. Even during my match today, I almost accidentally released an attack that could’ve killed my opponent. I still have a long way to go. My inexperience is even more reason that I can’t participate in a silly fight like this.”

He must have been referring to that thrust toward Anzel’s neck. That attack could have been incredibly lethal, far different to what he had shown up to that point.

“Are the threats to humanity you’re thinking about along the lines of demon kings?” I asked.

Tohaulow looked at me with a measuring gaze. “Yes, something of that level.”

“Then you’ve no need to worry,” I immediately vouched for myself. “I’m stronger than any demon king you can find. Come at me with all your strength. Don’t worry about hurting me.”

Not that there were actually demon kings just anywhere. I wish there were. They seemed like the perfect sparring partners.

“Uhh... What’s the call, Sauzan?” Tohaulow asked uncertainly.

“I don’t think she’s joking, but whatever the truth is, if we end up killing her, we can’t rewind time. We’d never be able to face anyone again.”

Ugh, stop with this already.

“Fine then. You know of Leeno the adventurer.”

“Huh?”

“How about I imitate her?” I pointed at Tohaulow. “I’ll fire you out of the ring with one punch. I’m sure you won’t die and you have fast reflexes.”

I was sure she could jump back herself. She hadn’t died even after that punch from Gandolph, and she had the natural toughness that came with being a beastkin. And of course I’d make sure not to completely let loose.

“Weeeell...if that’ll make you happ—” Tohaulow looked reluctant as she went to accept, but then she suddenly prepared herself.

I had bared my hostility.

“You ready?”

It was cold, and I had to hurry and get back, and I wanted to let my students go already.

Let’s see... This should be okay, right?

Boom!

I punched Tohaulow with a boom as loud as thunder. Since Tohaulow had been using a proper defense, I punched her from above.

Good reaction. I could tell from how the punch felt that she jumped back at the last second to reduce the damage. Rather than punching her, I suppose it was much more like I pushed her. The arms she was guarding with were very soft—she’d pulled them back to soften the blow. It was a very advanced defensive maneuver.

After being sent flying back, Tohaulow rolled out of the ring and fell off the edge.

Very good. Forcing herself to resist my strike or stand her ground would’ve made a clear opening. Given the speed at which I’d attacked her, she must have realized that if she wasn’t careful, I could easily have continued into a follow-up attack. As such, she had chosen not to stop rolling.

And then—

“Toha!”

By the time Sauzan’s piercing yell rang out, Tohaulow was already right beside me.

She was fast. Far faster than she had been during the tournament. She’d fallen off the ring and went out of sight and yet had immediately returned.

Suddenly, there were metal boots on her feet.

With those metal boots, she was already entering a motion for a dropkick.

I felt the wind—a wind against my back trying to suck me into her attack.

“I see now.”

I blocked the incoming high kick aimed at my head with my palm.

“Huh?!” Tohaulow’s eyes widened in surprise and she immediately jumped back. “What the hell are you?! Are you seriously a demon king?!”

Well, it seemed I’d gotten her to believe me, at least.

Actually, no, not quite yet.

“I’m not a demon king. I told you, didn’t I? I’m even stronger than a demon king.”

The boots on Tohaulow’s legs were a kind of sacred weapon. This had to be why I sensed divine chi from them both. I had the feeling they were working on the same logic as Anzel’s attuned weapon, able to equip it through just a single thought. How convenient.

Were the weapons stored inside their bodies? It would explain why it felt as if the divine chi was coming from them.

Sacred weapons, hmm? I believe it made sense to regard them as holy weapons imbued with powerful magic. As far as I could recall, holy swords were a different matter altogether, though.

“Toha! You know that’s breaking the rules! We’re not supposed to use our Divine Technique on humans!”

“Wake the hell up already, you godsdamned idiot! You absolute glutton!” Tohaulow loudly cursed at the complaining Sauzan. “This freak didn’t just block my kick, she stopped it! I tried to do a full kick, but she didn’t move an inch! How could we not investigate such a weirdo?! What if she’s a demon king?! And even if she isn’t, she could be a threat to humanity! If we don’t fight here, we have no right to say we’re part of the Heroic Star Assembly!”

Oh hey, she just said it outright. I was pretty sure the reason they hadn’t been saying it was because they were sworn to secrecy, but, uh... It was fine. I’d just pretend I hadn’t heard anything.

“It’s up to you to decide whether or not you want to fight,” I said to the hesitating Sauzan. “Your partner looks fully prepared to fight, but you don’t want to, right? You can just sit and watch her get beaten up. Oh, but could you step out of the ring? You’ll just get in the way if you don’t want to join in.”

Now, back to the beastkin.

“Holy wind magic is imbued in those weapons of yours, isn’t it? That’s why you can move so fast, yes? Oh, and consequently, it has the power to gather wind too, I believe?”

“I’ll tell you about that once we’re done!”

Ooh, she really is fast. Much faster than she was in her fight with Gandolph. The number and ferocity of her strikes were commendable. Plus, the wind assisting her was actually quite troublesome. Heh heh, trying to blind me by kicking up sand, are you? Using tricks like this suggests you’ve got plenty of real combat experience.

“You’re kidding me...”

One hundred and thirty-three hits consisting of kicks, punches, and invisible wind strikes. I blocked all of them. Tohaulow was smiling even through her surprise, so viciously she was like a beast thirsting for blood.

“I can go all out, right? You won’t die, right? Right?”

I nodded. This was a reward for hyping up the tournament, after all. Of course I would take her full strength.

“Wait.” Sauzan put a stop to the blue fox’s excitement to continue.

“Cut it out already or I’ll knock your lights out first.” Tohaulow was in a state of uncontrollable passion. Beastkin always had a very strong combat instinct.

“I’m not stopping you. I’m joining you.”

Sauzan raised his right hand, and then swung it down. With a golden flash of lightning, a sword appeared. This was clearly also a sacred weapon. It was a regular broadsword enhanced with holy lightning.

“I’ve come to the same conclusion as you, Toha. We can’t leave this child be. We have to figure out who she is—it’s our responsibility as those qualified to become Heroes.”

Yeah, let’s just...pretend I didn’t hear anything.

“I’m glad you’ve found the desire to fight. I was afraid you were going to act as some pretty statue forever. May I confirm something before we begin?”

Neither of them responded verbally, but I took their gazes as a yes.

“Is it bad for me to break those weapons of yours?” As in, would they return to normal if I broke or damaged them in any way? Just like how attuned weapons could be resummoned in a mended state.

“You don’t need to worry about that. They won’t break so easily,” Sauzan reassured.

“No, hang on, Sauzan.” Except this time, Tohaulow was the one to stop that train of thought. “I think there’s a chance she could... You ever hear of someone’s Divine Technique breaking?”

“Nope. But they’re weapons bestowed by the gods. They can’t break.”

“But what if they did? We couldn’t just laugh that off. Can we even repair these things?”

“They can’t break.”

“But what if they can?! You’re usually so careful, but you can get stubborn over the weirdest things! If it’s a risk we can avoid, then we should minimize it as much as possible, you greedy glutton! If you like me, then listen to me!”

Okay, okay, quit your squabbling.

“I get it. I’ll be careful not to break them.”

Surprisingly, they weren’t quite a duo in a battle, but they were still strong when they fought together. Tohaulow consistently engaged in extremely close range while Sauzan slipped attacks in slight gaps that wouldn’t get in her way. Sometimes, wind would fly at me from unexpected angles and at unexpected times. It was rather frustrating.

And then, there were the electric strikes. Those weren’t so much of an issue—I just blocked them with chi.

Lightning was fast. Usually, lightning users were the ones you had to take out as quickly as possible. But the goal of this fight wasn’t really to take my opponents out, so that didn’t matter here.

“Heh heh.”

Regardless, they were good. Fighting just one of them would’ve been boring, but taking them both on at once was kind of fun. Those moments where it was dangerous to let my guard down were exciting. They were decent as a team, but it would admittedly have been a bit more fun if they had been more used to fighting alongside each other. I would’ve loved to see some risky combo moves that could potentially lead to them taking the other out if they messed up, but that was asking a bit too much from them right now.

Their sacred weapons appeared to be fortifying their bodies, so their strength now was entirely different from what they’d shown during the tournament. Had they shown their true strength, they would’ve blown through the whole thing. I could understand why they’d chosen to limit themselves, and why Sauzan had said they weren’t supposed to use these abilities against humans. Though it wasn’t as if they’d have been allowed to use these weapons in the tournament anyway—they were pretty lethal.

Personally, it was because these weapons were so strong that they should use them more. You had to get the experience of using powerful moves a lot in order to get used to them. While it was fine to reserve them for the times it really mattered, training and actual experience were very different. If they let themselves use it in real battle more, they’d be able to control it better without having to restrict themselves entirely.

I could tell they were both starting to feel the pressure the longer the exchange of blows went.

I see now. They have a time limit because of how strong these weapons make them. That was fairly similar to my students. I wasn’t sure if it was because these two weren’t used to their sacred weapons or if it was because the energy each one consumed was that severe. Well, there was no such thing as power that was simply convenient—there was always a price.

“Sauzan! Now!”

“You got it!”

It seemed they were about to do something. As I watched with excitement...Tohaulow suddenly disappeared.

Oh my, this has to be the fastest attack of the day. Even I can’t see it.

But I could sense her presence. She was above me.

A heavy wind came crashing down, pushing me into the ground as if to seal my movements. Tohaulow took advantage of that tailwind to aim a kick, her heel coming down toward me.

Yup. She’s fast. Looks like quite a heavy kick too. Even made me look up. I can sense Sauzan coming at me from below.

They were coming at me with such satisfying intent to kill.

Wonderful.

I was glad I’d asked for this spar. If they were willing to come at me with their full strength, then maybe it was only right for me to give them a show of my own.

“Huh?!”

This was something I wanted to teach Gandolph one day. I blocked Sauzan’s horizontal slash with my left arm. The blade sank into the skin—but only a little. Blades severed limbs by sliding, but you could halt its movement by gripping them with the flesh it cut into.

Remember this well. There is flesh that you cannot cut in this world.

Chi Fist: Bamboo Revelry—a defensive Technique for use against blades, turning the human body into something akin to supple bamboo. Amateurs would halt slashes with their bones, but I stopped them just below the skin. Though it still caused injury since it involved cutting through my clothes and a layer of skin... That was why I didn’t like using it very much. There would never be a time I would ever feel so threatened as to use this, to be honest. It was almost always easier for me to dodge and punch back.

Time to aim up.

Sauzan’s attack was just a little earlier than Tohaulow’s since his role was to lock me in place; it didn’t matter whether his attack landed or not. He was the decoy to allow Tohaulow’s strike to hit. The frighteningly fast wind-assisted heavy strike coming down from above right this moment was the real attack.

I know. Let’s teach this wind user the unwavering power of the earth.

I moved back a step from Sauzan and entered a handstand. Rotating quickly to build momentum, I kicked up in sync with the heel descending down on me.

An oppressive impact sounded out across the night sky.

There was a sharp crack. That was likely the creaking scream of Tohaulow’s sacred weapon. I didn’t break it, did I? Surely that wasn’t enough to do it in.

“H-How?!”

Tohaulow had put her all into that attack and yet it had been completely neutralized. The moment she landed on the ground, she put distance between us, lining up beside Sauzan, who had also pulled back. They’d definitely thought there was no way that strike could be blocked. I couldn’t blame them—most martial artists would’ve either died or tried to dodge. Perhaps this was enough to make them realize I was stronger than a demon king.

What I had used this time was Chi Fist: Mountain Gate—your body became one with the ground, borrowing the earth’s toughness. This was also a defensive Technique, a step above Gandolph’s usual defense. Though I had swung my leg up, it technically wasn’t classified as a kick. It was a defensive maneuver to dull the impact. It was like blocking the strike with a shield, though I could’ve just taken the hit normally. It wasn’t such a powerful strike that I needed to use a Technique.

Hmm.

“I suppose that wasn’t bad.”

So this is their full strength?

By my estimation...both of them at once were maybe half of my current strength.

So these were the Hero candidates of the modern day. If there were ten of them equal to their strength, I might’ve been able to really let loose, but this still wasn’t enough. I’d wanted them to drive me further into a corner. I’d wanted them to come after my life more violently. It wasn’t fun, otherwise.

But...at least I could acknowledge that there were in fact martial artists in this generation who were pretty strong.

“There’s no way...”

The two of them were dumbfounded. That move they just fired off had to have been the one that used all their strength. Even their sacred weapons looked like they were losing their luster a little, like the color was fading. Had they run out of energy?

“Have you tired yourselves out now? Are you done?” I asked, taking a step forward. “Then it’s my turn. Don’t worry. I’ll be nice.”

The strong are defined by enduring the attacks of the weak. Once you had taken them, it was your turn to strike.

And so, I very gently beat them up, until neither of them could stand.

What? There’s still a doctor on the island. They’ll be fine.

Epilogue

“And our victor is Anzel! Anzel is our champion of the weapons division!”

The white-haired kid made a declaration that was nearly lost in the deafening cheers.

“Tch!”

“Shit!”

Some of the villains made their escape from the warehouse where the illegal gamble had been taking place—specifically Lesten and Frozen. The two dashed out as fast as their legs could take them. Their bodyguards dashed out after them.

“Heh heh heh.”

“Hoh hoh hoh.”

The elderly men of Wu Haitong were chuckling to themselves. They clearly found the shameful conduct of the cocky upstarts rather amusing. Whether fifty billion krams or a hundred billion krams, such large sums of money were barely anything to them, no doubt. But to the two who had run out, that amount was enough to completely destroy them.

“What’s the plan now, Kaffes?”

Anzel had won. In other words, Kaffes had won the bet. As had Grieg.

“I’ve already given orders to my men. They aren’t getting far.” That was why he had sent a signal to them earlier. They’d decided beforehand that the signal meant that something was about to happen, so they were to remain at the ready. “Grieg, you’re going straight back to Vanderouge, aren’t you? Bring my men with you. I’d like to ask you to collect some debts.”

Lesten and Frozen were both based in Vanderouge, right next to Grieg’s turf.

“Wanna use me as a debt collector, eh? I doubt they have even fifty billion on them, though. Guess we’ll just split what they own between us?”

“I don’t mind splitting thirty-seventy.”

Kaffes would make sure they collected every last kram from those two even if it meant digging through all the cracks. Something like that would take its fair share of time and effort, though. If he was going to ask Grieg to go through all that, he couldn’t ask for a fifty-fifty split.

“Hmm... Well, that’s acceptable.” Grieg stood up. “I’ll get going, then. This was fun, Kaffes. I’d like to invite you to an event next time in return.”

“I won’t get my hopes up too high.”

With two large men trailing behind him, Grieg left the warehouse.

“Shall we oldies get ourselves going too, then?” Keya Kin said as he stood up.

“Of course.” Zen Fowah stood up too. “It’s been a while since we’ve attended anything this exciting.”

“Kaffes, I’ll send the money over to you in the coming days.”

“I’ll give you a bit of a tip too. Don’t waste it now.”

The inscrutable old men left with their subordinates.

“Go confirm what happened with Lesten and Frozen,” Kaffes ordered the remaining black-suits. When they were gone, he was alone. The cheers were still echoing from the MagiPad.

Everything was starting to sink in.

He’d won.

He’d won a fifty-billion-kram bet.

“The kid really did it...”

Kaffes poured a celebratory drink into a glass and chugged it down. For once, there was a smile on his face.

Indeed, the taste of alcohol after a victory was truly exceptional.

The long martial arts tournament had come to a successful end and everyone who had been involved returned to their usual lives. Over time, even the exhilarating passion of the Altoire citizens slowly died down as they also returned to normal.

After a week, the foreign competitors had mostly left the country. After a month, tournament merchandise began disappearing from the shelves. The rebroadcasts of the tournament matches had drastically decreased too, but it turned out there were still those enjoying them, so there was quite the demand to keep the rebroadcasts going.

Naturally, a lot changed after that tournament. For the competitors, there were quite a lot of them who had ended up liking Altoire, and the number of people seen going in and out of the adventurer’s guild had increased.

There were those like the tygre brothers who had gotten so many magivision offers that they’d chosen to remain in Altoire for a while. There had been more competitors than just the Kedo Brothers who looked like they would shine on magivision, like Scarlet. I wonder what happened with her?

Sauzan and Tohaulow, the two Hero candidates of the Heroic Star Assembly, had already left the country.

My students had returned to their own everyday lives.

And then I also...did not return to my old normal, however much I wish I could say that.

Instead, my life took a dramatic turn.

“Nia Liston, I now sentence you to exile.”

That decree came from His Majesty the King himself.

Afterword

I’ve finally finished the big job that had been weighing on my mind.

Hello, it’s Umikaze Minamino here. I’m writing this afterword at the end of March 2025.

We’ve made it to volume 8. This volume was another complete original following volume 7. I spent so long crying to myself thinking that I would never reach the end, but here it is, successfully published. I tried really hard. Please praise me.

This time, I have space to write in the afterword. That’s why I thought I would take this opportunity to ramble a bit, but then I heard a voice say that if I was going to ramble, I should at least make it about the important stuff. As such, I will not ramble. Space is limited, after all. If I ramble about pointless topics, that space will be filled up in no time. When I need to meet a word count, I can’t do it. When I need to write, I just can’t write. Yet when it comes time to talk about something pointless, I can go for hours. Why is that? Maybe it’s because I don’t need to consider consistency when writing randomly. Or maybe it’s because I can just write whatever comes to mind. In any case, I’ve decided I won’t ramble. I’d feel bad if you had to read a whole load of blabber. But I always wanted to do this. I wanted to just ramble forever. I wanted to fill my afterword with a bunch of pointless fluff. Please forgive this author’s selfishness. But I really will stop now. There is absolutely no substance to any of this.

We’ve gotten through 8 volumes of Nia Liston: The Merciless Maiden. Isn’t that amazing? Reaching an eighth volume is no easy feat. It’s so amazing that double-digit volumes are starting to feel like a real possibility.

Speaking of double digits, that means it’ll reach the same numbers as DQ and FF. When you think about it that way, you can get a sense of the overwhelming presence that double digits grants a series. It essentially puts it on par with those greats. I hope it continues long enough for me to reach that...

I apologize for bringing up a more personal matter, but it’s just this one thing. My other work, Kunon the Sorcerer Can See, has been greenlit for an anime adaptation. I would be greatly appreciative if you would check it out. To put it simply, the story is about a boy called Kunon who does a bunch of things.

Katana-sensei, thank you for all your beautiful illustrations. This volume had a lot of battle scenes. The dynamic pictures really nicely complemented the text. It must be nice to be able to draw. Unfortunately, I’m someone with absolutely no artistic talent whatsoever, so I’m very jealous.

Kodai-sensei, thank you for always making the manga so fun to read. Will the sixth volume of the manga be out before this? I’m not sure, but I’m looking forward to it. Please recommend it to all your friends and people you know. It can be hard to recommend light novels to people who don’t really read, but manga should be easier to recommend. Give it a try.

My editor, S-san, you’ve helped me out a lot yet again. We’ve somehow made it to the end of two completely original volumes. It was really tough. I might have gotten a little too enthusiastic and written way too much, so progress was painfully slow. At the point of me writing this, there is still a bit of work yet to be done...but by the time this book is released, it should be finished.

Thank you to all of the editing team that worked alongside S-san as well.

And finally, a message to my readers. We’ve reached volume 8. I’ve made it to volume 8 because of all your support. Thank you so much. This volume shouldn’t really be read before volume 7, so if you haven’t read it yet, please go do so.

Last volume, I didn’t have many pages left by the end, so I was only able to write the required things. View my rambling as the rebound from that.

The tournament was completely cut from the web novel, but how did you find it? I hope you enjoyed it. The story will take a drastic shift in the next volume. Please continue to join Nia and friends on their journey.

Let’s meet again!

Bonus Short Stories

Dragging Along for the Ride

“Um, Nia, I kind of have to go...”

“You can squeeze out a little more time, surely? Just a little.”

“Come on...”

Well, this is unusual. It wasn’t often that Fressa would allow such despair to show on her face.

On the first day of the martial arts tournament that I had spent roughly two years painstakingly working toward, I grabbed Fressa just as she’d finished her first match of the day and asked her to join me in commentating. The main matches were being broadcast in real time. This tournament had the attention of not just Altoire, but the surrounding countries as well. In other words, the current situation was that Fressa, taking on the fake identity of Freeze, was constantly appearing on magivision programs viewed by thousands of people. I could understand why she felt so glum.

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” I whispered.

The rest of the crew wouldn’t hear anything Fressa and I were discussing since they were busy going over the itinerary while we had a break between the matches. Even if there was any risk, the audience would be loud enough to drown us out.

“Your disguise is perfect. No one will know it’s you.”

Fressa knelt down so that we were eye to eye. Her face was devoid of hope.

“Yeah, sure, if you’re just taking a cursory glance at me... I can change the color of my eyes and my hair, but I can’t change my bone structure. The professionals in my neck of the woods will be able to tell almost immediately.”

That made sense. The way muscles developed varied from person to person, and the burdens one carried could be seen by how they held themselves—like they felt the weight of their sorrows on their back.

“Is that a problem? If they try to start anything, you should just beat them all up.”

“You know... No, you know what? You’re right.” The light returned to her eyes. “I’m already drawing attention just by participating in the tournament. Maybe I should stop caring. Nothing’s going to come from worrying about it all the time.”

Well, at least she seemed to have come to accept her current situation?

“Man, I wish I could say that...”

Or maybe she hadn’t. But I’d still make her join me. She wasn’t going to get to run.

I will admit, I hadn’t been expecting the variety of weapons that would appear at the tournament. As it had become larger and (unexpectedly) more international, many weapons entirely foreign to Altoire were being used.

Sword and spear users seemed to be the most plentiful. There were broadswords, longswords, rapiers, lances, long spears, and short spears... While the specifics of the weapons were different, around forty to fifty percent of them fell under one of those two categories.

There were rare weapons too, of course. The nine-section chain sword whip thing stuck out in my mind, but there were also people using sai, chakrams, knuckle dusters, morning stars, maces, axes, halberds... Actually, would a halberd have its own category? Would it be counted as a spear?

Simple blunt instruments like clubs were uncommon. Not many people would bother bringing one to a big event like this.

“The next match is about to begin.”

This time, the competitors were both from Wu Haitong.

“Ah, nunchaku appear to be their choice of weapon.”

One was using nunchaku, a weapon consisting of two short sticks connected by a cord. These were also a fairly common weapon.

“They’re light and therefore can be used to attack quickly,” Fressa explained. “By taking advantage of the ability to rotate them at high speeds, they can cause considerable damage. While its reach is short, the defining trait of the nunchaku is its sheer speed and high attack frequency. By keeping the opponent at bay with constant pressure, it becomes possible to aim for the kill when the moment presents itself—that tends to be the most common way to use them.”

Interesting.

“Their opponent is using a sasumata spear fork, I believe?” I observed. It was long like a spear, but the head was split into two prongs. Since this tournament forbade weapons with high lethality, though, it was made entirely of wood.

“Yes. Originally, they were used to capture and subdue enemies, but naturally, it can very easily be used as a deadly weapon. Its shape means it can also be used like a spear. In any case, its length is its defining feature. That alone offers an overwhelming advantage.”

Wow, how interesting. I see...

This was why I couldn’t let Fressa go. I only knew the names of weapons and the standard way of using them. I didn’t have such extensive knowledge that I could go in-depth about each of them. I could talk plenty about unarmed combat, though.

I quite liked this stubborn side of Fressa—the one that always saw something through to the end once she’d decided she wanted to do it, even though she knew that she was talking and explaining too much. As much as she was complaining about how much she was standing out, she was still making sure to do the job properly. It was wonderful.

Now, keep it up for just a bit longer.

When the cameras were stopped during a break between matches...

“Um, Nia...”

Fressa leaned over and whispered into my ear.

“The morning matches are already almost over...”

Oh? Oh, I see. Now that she mentioned it, the sun was quite high now. It felt like only moments ago that Neal had performed in the Wingroad formation flight, but it appeared time had been passing normally.

The matches felt like they had passed by in a flash. To my surprise, they had actually been fun.

I’d caught Fressa after the first match of the morning and kept her here for all this time. So...you know...

“Wouldn’t it feel much nicer to wrap up at lunch rather than halfway through?”

“You’re kidding me, Nia...”

I can’t help it. You’re just too good, Fressa. She really had been doing wonderfully. Thanks to her, I’d started to get a handle on how to commentate the weapon matches. I felt confident I could do it alone from here. I really was grateful.

“Freeze, are you quite all right? You look a little pale...” Bendelio asked worriedly. Given he was the one managing our crew, he was concerned about what was going on with us.

“She’s fine,” I quickly answered. “Freeze is so desperate to do more that she was wondering if she would be allowed to continue for the rest of the morning.”

“Nia, Nia, Nia, come on, this is too far, this is definitely too far,” Fressa whispered desperately into my ear as she shook my shoulders.

It was her fault for being so good. She’d already gathered so much attention in the preliminaries that she’d had a whole special put together on magivision focusing on her as a beautiful femme fatale. It was impossible for her to try and hide herself now. She’d already consumed the poison—no point wasting the food.

Bendelio silently stared at me. I silently stared back. I’d worked with him for years by this point. Surely he could understand what I was trying to say with that level of eye contact. I wished he couldn’t, though!

And in the end...he smiled. To an outsider, he seemed cheerful, with no hint of ill will whatsoever...

“In that case, Freeze, we look forward to your continued assistance.”

But everyone on the Liston crew knew. We knew just how much pain had been born from that smile. It was that face he made when he knew that something about this was painful, but we were to just continue trucking on. It was that face he made when he wanted to make it clear that there was no point complaining. To put it even blunter, it was the face he made when he wanted to force work onto you. Damn you and your distinctive face. You won’t get away with this.

Well...I guess, just this once, I didn’t mind so much. He’d only done it because he’d caught on that I wanted to make Fressa continue.

Dearie me, being too talented really is such a headache. Isn’t it, Fressa?

Not for Commemoration, But for Work

Even though there was still time until the matches began, the tournament island was already crowded with people, from the spectators, to the competitors who had finished their matches, to the tournament staff. Hildetaura was pulling me by the hand through those massive crowds, both of us waving whenever a fan called our names.

“I have brought Nia,” Hildetaura announced once we arrived at the portrait booth.

Rikelvita, the second daughter of the fifth-class Silver family, was drawing people’s portraits, something that would make certain well-informed people practically drool. She was the main creator of the paper play program on magivision—in other words, she was a very lucrative artist. It seemed no exaggeration to say that she was likely the most famous artist in Altoire.

The martial arts tournament had become a much bigger affair than I had originally expected, and it was being held up by a whole myriad of big faces. Rikelvita would come under that with her willingness to sketch the portraits of our attendees. Aware that there was a need to create excitement for the tournament, she was contributing to the event in a way other than fighting. As the one who had come up with the tournament to begin with, I was eternally grateful for her efforts.

“Oh, Nia. You good for time?” Reliared, standing by the booth, greeted me and walked up when she noticed us. It appeared she was aware of the reason we were here.

“For now. We’re going to have our portraits drawn, yes?”

Hildetaura had pointed out that this would likely be the only time all three of us would manage to be gathered together during the tournament, and since I agreed, I chose to come with her. Reliared must have come to the same conclusion. It would serve as a commemorative picture for us all—though I heard we would be recorded as well.

“Ah, Nia. Um...I’m gonna draw you all, okay?” Rikelvita looked up from her fervent drawing and gave an awkward smile when she noticed me in line.

Yes, yes, I’m here. You’re helping so much with attracting people to the island despite your popularity. Thank you.

And...there Anzel was yet again. I’d heard that he was serving as Rikelvita’s bodyguard, but he refused to even glance at me. Not that I minded. I’d prefer it not to be known that we knew each other on a personal level or things would get annoying fast. I doubted I would need to touch on him at all.

“P-Please...wait a bit. I-I’ll try to be quick...”

Currently, there was the person being drawn now and two more groups in the line, but given how quickly she was working, we likely wouldn’t need to wait long.

This booth really was popular, though. Overall, there was a lot of interest in it. Because it was necessary to wait around a little, there weren’t as many customers as other booths, but the fact that the line was never empty showed how popular it really was.

Portraits with competitors who have lost, hmm? Those who were still in the running appeared to stay away from areas like this to avoid being overrun with fans. The only one I’d ever seen out and about was Anzel sticking around as Rikelvita’s bodyguard.

“Who seems to be the most popular?” I asked the girls.

We’d managed to negotiate for some losing competitors to join in for the portraits. Even the child getting a portrait drawn right now was being joined by one—it was Lestra, one of the female competitors being spoken about for her beauty. Since the child alone was getting the portrait drawn and not the whole family, she must have become a fan... It seemed the father might have become quite the fan as well—he couldn’t take his eyes off her. And the mother was staring very intently at him. Her face was very serious. I could sense the impending battlefield.

“Lestra’s been really popular,” Reliared said. “This is the sixth time she’s been requested today alone.”

That made sense. She was a very beautiful woman.

“But apparently, someone else is the most popular.”

Ah, so they’d been tracking who was the most popular after all.

“Who do you think it is, Nia?”

“Hmm? I wonder.” A competitor who had already lost, but was greatly popular... Oh, I know. “Zeon?” He’d really caught people’s attention. Beastkin were rare in Altoire, and he’d already been popular as an adventurer. The story of his return from the losers’ bracket had made waves too. A lot of people had been talking about how he’d managed to wound the predicted champion.

“He is popular, but it doesn’t seem like he drops by here. He did say in an interview that he doesn’t really like attention.”

Oh, of course. So he wasn’t in the running because he didn’t really agree to having the portraits drawn to begin with.

“Hmm... I would be tempted to say Leeno, but she probably doesn’t accept requests because she’s still in the tournament, right?” She would be the definite winner if she did, though.

“Unfortunately.”

No surprises there.

Who else...? I really couldn’t think. It was almost time for us to get our portraits drawn too, so instead I just very honestly said, “I have no idea. Tell me.”

“The Kedo Brothers.”

Them?! They dropped out in prelims! They haven’t even appeared in the main matches!

But...I could kind of get it. They’d been popular even before the preliminaries started and they really shined on magivision. They were really funny in interviews, and they were loud, so it was easy to pick up what they were saying.

Popularity was a very strange thing. They’d never appeared in the main matches and yet they were the most popular fighters of the tournament. There was this kind of captivating, indescribable aura that people sometimes had in this world, a power that didn’t seem logical or possible to explain.

If only it was a world where everything could be solved by punching...

What a complicated life.