Chapter 84
“Haa… damn it.”
“I-I’m sorry, Count! If it would ease your anger, please—take my life instead!”
“If you die, does that make what happened yesterday disappear?”
“Aaah…”
“From now on, you’re banned from drinking.”
“Yes, sir…”
So that’s why he said he doesn’t drink often.
Thanks to Isbart’s wild vomiting session, one of my going-out outfits was completely ruined.
He said the laundry in Wisselan would take care of it, but who knows if it’ll actually come out clean.
For now, I changed into my spare set of casual clothes.
I didn’t think I’d need a spare for just going out, but thankfully Islin packed one for me—
otherwise I’d be walking around in my underwear right now.
Not that I planned to go anywhere today anyway, since the match is tomorrow.
“Now only four remain.”
As I lay on the bed, bored out of my mind, Islin walked in.
As always, she had a sheet of paper in hand—
an analysis of the remaining contestants.
Perhaps meeting Princess Iglen last night helped,
because she was back to her usual stoic expression again.
‘Yeah, that’s better. If she doesn’t want to smile, I’d rather she look like this.’
Islin grinning like Irene would just feel… weird.
“Tomorrow’s the semifinals, and the day after’s the final, right?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…”
I reached for the paper she handed me—
but suddenly got curious about what she and the princess talked about last night.
Still, prying into someone’s personal business felt wrong.
“I had an enjoyable time with Princess Iglen,” Islin said first.
“Oh? Really?”
I hadn’t planned on asking, but she brought it up herself.
“A lot has happened for her, it seems. But the most interesting part was…”
“The most interesting part?”
“The princess seems to have taken quite an interest in you, my lord.”
“…What? Me?”
No way—don’t tell me she’s fallen for me.
That’d be a nightmare.
Becoming the son-in-law of a family that includes people like Erengold and Gallen?
No thanks. That’s a straight-up death sentence.
“Yes. Apparently, thanks to you, Prince Gallen was placed under a ‘Vow of Silence’ for an entire month, and she was quite pleased about it.”
“What? A Vow of Silence? Haha! Serves him right!”
That’s a punishment where the person isn’t allowed to utter a single word in front of Erengold.
I’d read about it in the novel—
Gallen fuming quietly in a room full of other officials, unable to speak a word.
“Heh! That idiot. They should’ve just ripped his tongue out instead.”
At that, Islin’s lip twitched slightly.
Judging from that, Gallen must’ve wronged her too.
“…As you might have guessed, I studied at the same Magic Tower as the princess. And, of course, Prince Gallen as well.”
“Oh?”
Almost like she could read my mind, she began explaining her past.
“I was from a branch family of Veronia, but my aptitude for magic was good enough to earn a place at the Tower. I reached Rank 4 in magic, but…”
“Something happened that made you leave.”
“…Yes.”
No one just leaves the Magic Tower for no reason.
Most likely, Gallen harassed her because she was close to Princess Iglen—
and eventually she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Well, I can’t blame you. Being close to Princess Iglen isn’t a bad thing though.
If we get a chance later, we should greet her together.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Alright, then…”
That was enough reminiscing. Time to focus on tomorrow’s semifinals.
—2nd Round Survivors—
[Ian Impera – Aisother]
[Garrion – Wisselan]
[Reni Benat – Frostland]
[Shelang Deckard – Wisselan]
“So these four remain.”
My opponent in the semifinals: Garrion.
He had no family name—
a commoner, maybe even a former slave.
“You said he’s a mercenary, right?”
Yes. He was from Wisselan, but not tied to any noble.
A freelance mercenary, but a strong one—
the leader of the renowned “Garrion Mercenary Clan” that operated around Wisselan.
He probably entered this tournament to raise his worth—
the better he performed, the higher his price would climb.
No one knew where he was born,
but since his base of operations was here, his affiliation was listed as Wisselan.
His weapons: a longsword and a dagger.
That alone made him a tricky opponent,
since he fought differently from the standard knight.
But at least there was one good thing.
“This guy isn’t Rank 6.”
Rumors said he was Rank 6, which had worried me—
but after observing him in the previous rounds, I was sure of it.
He definitely wasn’t.
Which meant—this was winnable.
‘If I play it right, I can beat him.’
If Garrion was my opponent, I could save my potion for the finals.
And if I used the elixir there… maybe I could actually win the whole thing.
‘No, no. Don’t get ahead of yourself. That’s how you jinx it.’
Garrion aside, the other semifinal was harder to predict.
‘Hard to tell who’ll win that one.’
The top contender, Reni Benat, was a Rank 6 powerhouse.
He’d been toying with his opponents so far, barely using his full strength.
The problem was Shelang Deckard.
I’d thought he barely scraped by the first round,
but in the second, he completely overwhelmed his opponent.
Unless something crazy happened, Reni Benat would probably win…
“Clicking my tongue won’t solve anything. Just keep an eye on them.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Alright then… Friana!”
“Yes, Count!”
“Bored, aren’t you?”
“Hehe! Of course! I’m dying to move!”
“Then let’s go stretch a bit.”
“Yes, sir!”
“What?”
The next morning, the day of the semifinals—
news broke that the schedule had suddenly been changed.
Originally, my match with Garrion was the second one.
But now, it had been moved to first.
“My apologies, Count.”
The steward delivering the news bowed deeply.
It annoyed me, but it wasn’t really his fault.
“If you’re sorry, at least tell me why.”
“Well…”
“Don’t tell me you thought I’d just let you off with an apology and no explanation.”
“N-no, sir! It’s just that…”
The poor man was drenched in sweat, clearly panicking.
Well, it didn’t really matter whether I fought first or second—
but I still deserved to know the reason.
“Actually… Sir Reni Benat has disappeared.”
“…What?”
Reni Benat disappeared? Why?
“He hasn’t been seen since early dawn. Because of that, we decided to move the other match up and handle it later.”
“Ha… So you’re saying he might not show up at all.”
“…Yes, sir.”
“Hm… understood.”
“I’m terribly sorry once again, Count…”
“Yeah, yeah. Go back.”
“Yes, sir…”
The steward left, looking troubled.
“Hm…”
I said I understood, but this was no small issue.
A participant disappearing without notice,
in the middle of an ongoing grand tournament—
and not just anyone, but the top contender?
Maybe he had an emergency and returned to Frostland.
But surely he’d have informed someone first.
‘And if it’s Frostland we’re talking about… they’d need that dragon mana core from Lesha right now…’
No matter how I thought about it, it didn’t make sense.
Maybe he went drinking after his last match and overslept?
“…No way.”
“What will you do, Count?”
“What else? I’ll just focus on my match first.”
“Understood.”
Worst case, Shelang Deckard would advance to the finals by default—
which would make his actual skill even harder to gauge.
Anyway, I got ready for the match.
But even by the time my duel with Garrion began,
Reni Benat still hadn’t shown up.
The semifinals of the Grand Tournament.
Making it this far was impressive enough in itself.
There were no true monsters like the Knight Commanders here,
but among the competitors, the skill level was high.
‘Technically, I’ve only fought one real duel, but still.’
Even so, I’d done well.
Fitz Light alone was strong enough to have won the whole thing with better luck.
This tournament’s prizes were extraordinary, so the overall level was higher than usual.
“Boss! You got this!”
“Garrion Clan, let’s go!”
“Haha! Don’t worry! I’ll win this thing for sure!”
My opponent stood across from me—Garrion.
He didn’t serve any noble, but as a clan leader,
his men filled the stands, cheering like crazy.
“Alright then…”
The referee went through his usual speech,
explaining the rules and safety conditions.
Meanwhile, I stood face to face with Garrion, staring him down.
“Heh! Count of Aisother, was it? Why not save yourself the trouble and just surrender?”
“Hmph.”
Great. My head was already full of thoughts, and now this guy starts mouthing off.
He clearly didn’t think much of foreign nobles—
probably because he fancied himself near Rank 6.
But I knew better.
This bastard wasn’t Rank 6 at all.
“Well then—may the match begin safely.”
The referee sprinted out of the arena before he could get caught in the crossfire.
And Garrion immediately flared his aura.
BOOM!
A violent burst of blue aura exploded outward like a storm.
Stronger than any Rank 5 I’d faced so far—
at a glance, he seemed comparable to Croad.
But to someone who’s seen countless blades… something about it felt off.
Bzzz…
The aura sword in one hand, and a faintly vibrating dagger in the other.
If I hadn’t known better, I might’ve been intimidated—
but knowing the trick just made me grin.
“Heh.”
“What, lost your mind already after seeing a higher-rank aura? Don’t hurt yourself trying to—”
“Higher rank, my ass.”
“Eh?”
“I can do that too.”
FLASH!
A blinding surge of light burst from my blade,
its energy raging like a storm swallowing the earth itself.
KRUMBLE—!
“Guh!”
“W-what the hell is that?”
“The Count’s that strong?!”
“Waaah!”
The crowd roared as my fierce aura filled the arena—
but the more experienced ones knew the truth.
It was all a trick.
“A mix of Aura Sword, Lightning Bolt, Wind Cutter… and a few other spells.”
“Urgh…!”
A combination of swordsmanship and magic—
a hybrid technique.
True Rank 6 auras engulf the land with sheer power.
I was just mimicking that effect with magic.
Until our blades clashed, no one could tell whether it was genuine or not.
That’s how Garrion’s rumor of being Rank 6 had spread.
It was all smoke and mirrors—
probably from the enchantments in his dagger.
“Hmph! You think that changes anything?”
“No, not really.”
“Then I’m coming!”
“Go ahead.”
The moment Garrion charged, weapons ready—
I cast a spell underfoot.
“Dispel.”
PFFF!
As soon as he stepped into the area,
the light around his dagger flickered and died.
“W-what!?”
While he was still panicking—
THWACK!
My kick smashed into his jaw.
CRACK!
“Ugh!”
He crumpled instantly, collapsing face-first into the ground.
“…Huh?”
[M-Match over! The winner—Ian Impera!]
“WAAAAH!”
I’d read about guys like him in novels.
Those who hit a wall and tried everything to push past it—
using tricks, lies, anything to seem stronger.
Garrion was one of those types.
And those types always—
‘End right here.’
The wall doesn’t open for people who look away from the truth.
‘He’s probably Rank 4 in magic. Talented, sure, but half-baked talent is just poison.’
In pure swordsmanship, Fitz Light was actually stronger.
If he’d gotten a luckier draw, he could’ve reached the finals himself.
“Grrgh…”
Garrion groaned, white foam spilling from his mouth.
He didn’t look good—
but he wasn’t dead.
He’d wake up soon enough.
Though whether he’d be the same when he did… was another question.
