“How about a glass of whiskey?”
“Sounds good. It’s been a while since I got falling-down drunk.”
The House of Speda was filled with sweltering heat, utterly unlike the North’s perpetually cold climate.
Even the colosseum, which was usually quiet, was bustling with people today.
It was a sight possible only because today was the day of the North’s largest event: the Martial Arts Tournament.
Duke Speda nodded in satisfaction at the scene spread out beneath the castle.
“Attention, everyone! Duke Speda will deliver a speech before the Martial Arts Tournament begins!”
Yegor’s voice rang out powerfully, proving that he had not grown old yet.
Duke Speda stepped onto the platform set up on one side of the colosseum.
“Welcome, warriors of the North.”
As he took in the territorial residents gathered like clouds, Northerners who had come from other territories to watch, and the participants, he reflected once more on the purpose of this Martial Arts Tournament.
The fostering and selection of talent.
The North was always under greater or lesser threat from demonkind and monsters. That was why it had to uncover those gifted in martial pursuits.
Accepting anyone from the North as a participant and opening the doors of the ducal vault were both measures meant to draw them in.
Ambition, honor, competitiveness, relics.
The energy born from all those desires entwining together was quite satisfying to the duke.
“Some of you may be curious because the prize for this tournament has not been properly revealed.”
Word had spread quietly among the nobles, but commoners who had no contact with them at all were also here.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing the participants’ reactions.’
Duke Speda grinned as he spoke.
“The prize for the winner is the right to enter the ducal vault. You may take out any one relic you wish.”
“WAAAAA—!”
“The vault? Did he just say the vault?”
The right to enter the vault.
It was not merely something the ducal house selected and bestowed, but the privilege for the winner to choose a relic personally.
Both the participants and spectators erupted into cheers at the unexpected, extraordinary prize.
“His Grace is generous.”
“The fights will be even fiercer because of the reward.”
The stands grew noisy once more.
Yes. This was the picture he had wanted.
Duke Speda smiled to himself in satisfaction at the reaction of his territorial residents.
There was neither the Central Region’s infrastructure, the East’s food, the West’s casinos, nor the South’s golden markets.
It was a frozen continent with nothing.
Given the external threats and harsh environment, even entertainment was scarce.
Shouldn’t there be some amusement like this at least once a year in the North?
The Martial Arts Tournament had a long history, but one-on-one duels had originally been the exclusive domain of nobles.
Allowing commoners to participate and admitting so many residents as spectators—
He had changed all of it.
He gave Yegor various excuses, such as the need to select talented individuals and to display the strength of the next generation of warriors so the territorial residents could see the future of their security.
However, the duke’s true purpose had always been the people before his eyes, simply enjoying the tournament.
‘Come to think of it, that attendant said he was participating too.’
He was an outsider who had not been in the North for long.
Originally, he had been far from meeting the tournament’s eligibility requirements.
A voice passed through the duke’s mind.
- Father, what if you gave Hans a chance too?
- …He is from the West.
- He is practically a Northerner now. He is also strong enough to fight me evenly. I’m sure he will bring a great upset to this Martial Arts Tournament. Please.
How long had it been since he had heard such an earnest request from his daughter?
‘Then again, it would be a problem to apply such inflexible standards to someone who could be considered a benefactor of House Speda.’
In the end, he had allowed Hans to participate at his own discretion.
If the young man achieved a good result in this Martial Arts Tournament, that too would create a favorable development.
‘It would serve as a fitting excuse to allow people from other regions to participate as well.’
He could even aim for the tourism windfall brought by goods and attention flowing in from every region.
“Now then, let us witness the martial prowess of our Northern warriors together.”
Without ever realizing that he was cheering for an outsider, Duke Speda finished speaking.
The colosseum was once again filled with applause and cheers.
***
“This is incredible.”
The excitement of the North’s largest event, which had never even been shown in the game, was comparable to the oases and casinos of the West in Hans Byron’s memories.
“Hehe. Is that so?”
Luciana, who took great pride in the North, smiled at my praise as well.
Recently, she had been smiling more often than wearing her usual expressionless face as she diligently maintained her sword.
“Coincidentally, you and I are in different brackets.”
I agreed.
Whether it was truly a coincidence or deliberate manipulation, I honestly had no idea.
In any case, being in different brackets in a tournament meant that I would not face Luciana until the finals.
She would reach the finals without much difficulty.
There were opponents of some renown, such as a mercenary with an exceptionally promising future who had supposedly wiped out a monster pack alone, and the young lady of House Frontal, who was said to have an unprecedented gift for magic.
Still, that was all.
Luciana would be able to overwhelm them effortlessly in a real fight.
“I’ll see you in the finals.”
“Come on, what kind of unreasonable demand is that of an attendant?”
“Do not exaggerate.”
As if encouraging me, she placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Under no circumstances are you to lose to that idiot from House Valtrion. Understood?”
CRUNCH.
It seemed she had not intended to stop at simple encouragement. Her hand tightened around my shoulder so hard that it made a sound.
“Argh! That hurts!”
“My apologies. I misjudged my strength.”
Contrary to her calm tone, her face plainly showed a level of fluster that was unlike her.
As though trying to hide it, she hurriedly changed the subject.
“So, what is your answer?”
“Of course. I’ll snap that stuck-up nose of his and send him out in the preliminaries, so please do not worry.”
I had no intention of losing in the first place.
I had even beaten Luciana in sparring, after all!
‘There is the very minor issue that the score was one to nine.’
Dmitri Valtrion.
He was one of the renowned favorites to win, but compared to Luciana, he was no more than a firefly before the sun.
“You should be more worried, My Lady. What if I defeat you in the finals?”
“How presumptuous of an attendant. But that is what I hope for. Do your best.”
DING! DING! DING!
At that moment, the bell announcing the start of the match rang through the colosseum waiting room.
“Participants Dmitri Valtrion and Hans Byron, proceed to your designated positions.”
“I will not say much more now that you must compete. Win and advance.”
“As you command.”
Encouraged by Luciana, I slowly entered the colosseum.
The countless people in the stands, Duke Speda looking down as if observing from the special seats, and the young master of House Valtrion waiting ahead with his sword drawn.
Everyone’s eyes were on me.
***
Dmitri had waited a long time for this day.
Status, martial strength, even the results of their coming-of-age ceremonies.
It was finally time to settle the past, when he had been constantly compared to Luciana in every respect and had even been humiliated at the social gathering.
‘The brackets are perfect too.’
Unlike Luciana’s bracket, which had several fairly famous people assigned to it, this one was full of rabble.
They might have put in effort in their own way, but without their family names, they were nothing worth seeing.
For the first time in the Martial Arts Tournament’s history, even an outsider had been allowed to participate.
“Participants Dmitri Valtrion and Hans Byron, proceed to your designated positions.”
The instant he heard the name Hans Byron, Dmitri clenched his fist in delight.
That man was the contaminant of this Martial Arts Tournament, bearing the label of someone from the West.
It seemed they had paired him against Dmitri in the very first match to swiftly eliminate an outsider, so he ought to oblige them.
‘House Speda is quite cruel.’
Was he not an attendant they had brought in from the West?
Did they really have to throw him away so brutally?
Standing in position, he raised his weapon.
It was the same greatsword with which he had cut through the thick hide of a Northern Orc during his coming-of-age ceremony.
“Hey, Hans Byron. How about forfeiting even now?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. I have desires of my own, after all.”
“…Are you aiming for the winner’s prize? That is an ambition beyond your station.”
Dmitri clicked his tongue and lowered his assessment of his opponent even further.
This was why Westerners and Southerners were a problem. They never considered their own level or the sort of opponent they faced, becoming blinded by the gold and relics before their eyes.
Of course, Easterners and even people from the Central Region were not much different. There were plenty who were poor at gauging the level of strength that mattered most in battle.
Only the North.
Only Northerners, who had vowed to hold a single sword throughout their lives and bind their feet to the front lines, were warriors who truly respected genuine worth.
“There is no need for further conversation. Watch the spirit of the North closely.”
“WAAAAA—!”
Cheers rose from the stands.
In contrast, countless jeers rained down upon his opponent.
‘Hehe. How do you like that, outsider bastard?’
A cunning light appeared in Dmitri’s eyes.
People tended to shrink when criticized. He looked forward to seeing the reaction of this outsider who had dared reject his warning.
There were exceptions, such as Duke Speda, who actively employed people from other regions, but Northerners were generally closed-minded.
However, regardless of the jeers, his opponent did not move in the slightest. No pressure could be felt in the pupils behind his slightly raised, narrow eyes.
“Let the match begin!”
Even after the referee declared the duel underway, Hans merely stood with his arms folded, bouncing one leg.
Dmitri narrowed his eyes.
Where did that composure come from?
A weapon? Or perhaps a hidden card in magic?
A faint hesitation entered Dmitri’s steps.
Since he knew nothing about his opponent, he found himself reluctant to move in carelessly.
However—
‘With one step, I shall tread the earth. With three, I shall touch the sky.’
Recalling the sword dictum he had repeated until his ears bled, Dmitri raised his greatsword before him and assumed a defensive stance.
It did not matter what card the man had hidden.
A hasty attack could lead to an irreversible crisis.
The moment that bastard stepped in, Dmitri intended to punish him immediately.
A proper knight had to be able to shift freely between offense and defense in a single step.
“That armor looks very nice.”
“…?”
“With that lion’s-head ornament on the chest and the magic stone in its eyes, it does not seem ordinary at all. Is it a relic?”
Dmitri’s face twisted at the unexpected comment.
The man’s gaze roamed over his armor from every angle as though appraising it, steeped in greed.
“…I misjudged you.”
He had wondered whether the man had a hidden card.
Was he merely distracted by a relic?
‘Then again, it is an item a brat from a baronial house would covet.’
The armor he had retrieved from the vault to replace the Amplification Orb stolen by that mad Phantom Thief.
It was said to have been worn by an ancestor and was a defensive relic specialized in deflecting thrusting attacks.
For Luciana, whose weapon of choice was a rapier, it was a powerful relic that completely shut down one of her options.
‘That is right. My opponent is Luciana. Not a nobody like this.’
Only then did Dmitri recall his goal and regain his composure.
At the same time, intense displeasure flooded through him.
The opponent before him was merely a step on the way.
He was from an obscure baronial house whose name he had never even heard before, and someone who had come all the way to the North merely to serve as an attendant. No matter what hidden card he possessed, Dmitri could not possibly lose!
‘I heard he is Luciana’s attendant. It will be satisfying to smash that smug face of his.’
“I will make you regret entering the Martial Arts Tournament without knowing your place!”
“Wow. If we are judging solely by aura, he might even be above My Lady.”
***
‘He is quite good.’
Colorless aura surged from Dmitri’s greatsword. Befitting his temperament, it overflowed past the blade without restraint, rippling like a heat haze.
Even as the wind pressure created by the aura scattered my hair, I maintained my original attitude.
Naturally.
“What?!”
“I told you, I can see it all coming.”
The chronic problem with Northern knights.
Every one of them had overly large preparatory movements.
As the fierce attack came flying in as if to split the sky, I took two steps to the right and one step forward, bending at the waist.
The sword barely brushed past me.
“Why…? Why can’t I hit you?!”
“I am not a monster. Why are you using that kind of swordsmanship in a one-on-one fight?”
Naturally, Northern swordsmanship had developed in that direction because it needed power to cut through the thick hides of monsters.
However, that sort of swordsmanship could never catch Hans Byron.
“Is it my turn now?”
Dmitri, who had kept swinging at empty air, finally came to his senses.
But it was already far too late.
Kicking off the ground, I charged into his blind spot.
His stricken face came plainly into view.
***
The price of abandoning defense in his anger was painfully steep.
Hans had already closed the distance.
Still, Dmitri believed that Hans was merely good at dodging like a fly, and that his own victory was assured.
The armor passed down from his ancestors was protecting him securely.
Dmitri judged the situation coolly.
‘This is even better. The distance has closed, so I only need to withstand his attack and counter immediately.’
That was why he only considered a counterattack even when he saw Hans pull something from within his clothes.
However, Dmitri was soon forced into a second shock.
SHHHK—
CLATTER.
The moment Hans’s weapon touched the White Lion Armor, its buckles came undone, and it split cleanly into two before falling to the ground.
Dmitri’s mind went blank at the sight that defied all common sense.
“W-Winner! Hans Byron!”
By the time he came to his senses, Hans’s dagger had already stopped at his solar plexus.
Dmitri’s face twisted into a miserable grimace.