Chapter 122
Chapter 122
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: The Heir's Challenge
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[Chapter 121 - White Hell (3)]
A very brief silence fell over them.
Fortunately, they had been eating, which bought him a little time.
Arsen slowly chewed on something like a sandwich packed with strong spices as he gathered his thoughts.
Those few seconds stretched into dozens thanks to his specialty, thought acceleration. Finally, having sorted his mind, Arsen tossed the question back at her.
He perfectly concealed any hint of impatience or fluster.
“Is there a ruin here?”
Thanks to the time to compose himself, his tone was quite calm. It carried just the right amount of curiosity—nothing excessive.
Hetia laughed as she answered the question.
“I wouldn’t know. There were a few back in the day, so maybe some are left. I just said it because you lot have so many relics.”
She chuckled, saying he seemed like a walking treasure chest.
Arsen smiled back while scrutinizing her closely.
‘Is she probing? Or just casual?’
It wasn’t easy to tell.
Even when she smiled, her wrinkled face held a chill that made her seem perpetually serious. Come to think of it, she’d had that expression ever since they first met. A face that was unusually hard to read.
A moment later, she shook her head with a smile.
It was barely a twitch at the corner of her mouth, but still.
“You’re staring too hard. Do I look that pretty? I turned a few heads in my youth.”
“……No, that’s not it. My apologies. I just got caught up hearing about the ruins.”
Deny it, and it sounded like an insult to her looks. Agree, and it implied he was smitten with an old woman’s face.
Faced with the tricky joke that was hard to respond to, Arsen changed the subject with an apology.
Afterward, he took a sip of the alcohol served for him to refocus.
That was when Hetia brought up a new topic.
“I hear you’re brave enough to bring back the head of a scorpion messenger. Some of my disciples here were curious about your skills. Care to show them a move or two later?”
Arsen pondered her proposal without answering right away.
A sudden offer.
The context wasn’t hard to grasp. The people of Galaiyo revered strength, and strength only proved its worth through comparison with others.
So it was natural they’d want to measure themselves against a knight from elsewhere as a benchmark.
Especially one who’d already shown results.
“No need to overthink it. Galaiyo folk respect strong warriors. Even the estate lord is chosen from among knights. They’re just curious about a powerful outsider’s skills and fighting style.”
Sure enough, Hetia’s explanation matched Arsen’s guess exactly.
As he mulled it over, Arsen realized she recognized how unusual Galaiyo’s lord selection process was.
‘She takes in knights from other lands as disciples and trains them…… Probably meets outsiders often.’
After some thought, Arsen nodded.
Unfortunately, knights in this world weren’t like game characters with fixed martial prowess.
Without real combat against other knights—or even just sparring—combat sense dulled quickly.
Like soccer players who struggled after months without matches.
Of course, Arsen had kept it sharp by sparring nonstop with his fellow knights on the journey, but endlessly facing familiar opponents bred mannerisms.
Sparring knights from another land would help him a lot. He could even pick up useful techniques.
“If the chance arises, I won’t refuse. But I’m leaving the estate in a few days, so nothing too drawn out.”
“I wouldn’t hold up a busy guest for my convenience. Understood. I’ll send letters to my disciples right now. Have them come by tomorrow afternoon. The ones out at other castles will kick themselves.”
* * *
The next morning, Arsen was in the estate’s market district.
Not alone—he had Rino and Eloise with him, plus two soldiers.
He’d told the others to enjoy some personal time without stirring up trouble.
The market bustled with chattering crowds. It wasn’t all that different from Belluan.
The architecture and clothing styles varied a bit, but that was it. People here laughed happily, cried sadly, and lived their lives just the same.
As they browsed, Eloise looked around and spoke up.
She wore a robe and mask for easy outings, so only a few who got very close startled. She wasn’t drawing much attention.
[It’s really amazing, though.]
[What is?]
[We’re in the middle of such a sweltering region, but it’s not that hot here. A bit warm, sure, but normal for summer.]
She was right. Galaiyo estate’s interior felt refreshingly cool for a spot in the desert’s heart.
Of course, call it “cool” to passersby, and they’d think you mad.
With temperatures over 35 degrees, most would call it a bad joke.
Indeed, many folks fanned themselves against the muggy air.
But compared to the sauna-like inferno of the outer desert, this was cool.
No thermometer, but it felt like a 20-degree difference.
[The outer heat probably isn’t natural—it’s some kind of poison gas. That’s why it’s like this. Even here, the mist doesn’t enter the estate or castles.]
[True.]
After walking a bit more, Eloise asked,
[Do you really think mages could’ve made the world like this? I mean, ancient mages.]
[Who knows. Everyone says it was mages……]
Eloise’s question was odd. Not “why,” but “could they?”
Arsen gazed blankly at the sky. It had a strange reddish tint. Another effect of the local poison, perhaps.
This world—the bizarre one where Arsen had reincarnated—was choked with poison everywhere outside estates, castles, and a few special spots.
A place where humans couldn’t live, growing only plants inedible to them.
Mages had ruined the world. Mages made it this way……
Every time he heard the widespread tales, Arsen doubted. Could magic really be that powerful—to warp the whole world? Just spitting fire, hurling lightning, crafting stronger gear?
Modern mages made it laughable, but ancient ruins made it hard to dismiss.
They built steel golems rivaling knights by the dozens, indestructible gates, manor houses and castles pristine after ages, maybe even satellites.
Think about it—Earth, where Arsen once lived, had advanced from primitive tech to nukes, the pinnacle of science.
Unbelievable weapons of destruction forged by overgrown monkeys.
Maybe this world’s mages had birthed something similar……
[I don’t know. Maybe the library has answers.]
[You think?]
After their fruitless chat, they roamed the market, buying oddities.
Bracelets from local magic beast parts, bomb-like things that boomed loudly. Little physical force, but startling enough. Arsen bought a few.
“Hey now, thank you! Sir Knight!”
The grinning merchant beamed at Arsen.
Then someone called from behind.
“Hey, Sir Arsen! What brings you here?”
A boy’s voice—Arsen guessed who before turning.
Few in the estate would address him so since arriving.
“Master Blasset.”
Sure enough, it was Blasset—one of the estate lord’s sons, the boy who’d guided him here.
A knight in his mid-to-late twenties stood beside him. Likely his guard.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when the knight lightly nudged Blasset’s foot as he waved.
“Kid, don’t act so frivolous. Mind your dignity.”
“Ah, sorry, bro.”
Seeing Blasset sheepishly lower his hand revealed the knight’s identity.
‘I see. He’s one of the official heirs.’
The knight introduced himself right then.
“Pleased to meet you. Diebvda, son of great Urta.”
“I’m Arsen of Belluan. An honor.”
By local custom, an estate lord’s awakened knight son was a prime heir. Arsen was a touch more formal than with Blasset.
Unexpectedly, Diebvda didn’t seem pleased.
Arsen read a faint disappointment on his face.
“I hear you’re a brave man who took down a scorpion messenger in one blow.”
From his expression and tone, Arsen grasped what he wanted.
He adjusted—straightened from his slight bow, squared his shoulders, lifted his chin a bit.
To cement it, his speech turned rougher.
“Not a tough foe. One hit did it.”
Unlike the polite junior moments ago, blatant arrogance oozed from Arsen now. Blasset looked flustered beside him.
But unlike Blasset, satisfaction—and relief—finally lit Diebvda’s face.
The look of expectations met.
“Indeed, you’ve got spirit. Blasset said you faced the desert king without flinching.”
In truth, some of Arsen’s group had panicked at its appearance and fallen from their mounts.
Knights held firm, but Arsen had clearly seen Anun clasp her hands in prayer at first sight.
Compared to that, his mere gasp and stare must’ve passed muster.
Honestly, he’d watched half like a Hollywood blockbuster.
“I’d like to invite you personally for a bout.”
Arsen nearly refused, then changed his mind.
He’d assumed heirs didn’t train hard, but this one’s posture and bearing were no joke.
Staying longer, maybe—but leaving soon, no reason to pass up a skilled knight.
From their brief exchange, refusing might invite nitpicking.
“Hetia’s introducing her disciples this afternoon to gauge skills. If you’d like, join us, Master Diebvda?”
Polite words, but laced with clear provocation.
Come if you dare. I’ll make you never want to fight again.
Diebvda laughed heartily, pleased.
“Of course! Perfect! Noon’s nearing—gotta prep quick.”
Blasset, listening anxiously, asked,
“Bro, can I come watch too?”
“What’s a kid doing at honorable knights’ sparring? You’d jinx it. Stay home.”
Chided, the boy sulked and backed off. Wanted to go but dared not defy his brother.
A knight and prime heir—hard to cross.
For Blasset’s sake, Arsen offered goodwill.
“If it’s fine, I’ll invite Master Blasset in my name. Saplings need lots of watching to grow, right?”
Diebvda frowned slightly, displeased, then nodded.
“Fair enough. Sapling, huh…… Funny term. Calling kids that. Your own coinage?”
Only then did Arsen realize his unusual word choice.
Just when he thought his past erased, it stepped boldly behind him, asserting itself.
Shaking it off, Arsen nodded.
“Yes, something like that.”
Diebvda said he’d eat lunch, gear up properly, and head to Hetia’s. Then he left.
Blasset bid see-you-soon and followed.
After the whirlwind, Eloise whispered,
[Fight’s okay? Lose or win, seems lose-lose.]
[Fine. Doesn’t seem the type to sulk if he loses…… Even if, hard to show. Face matters. Ignore types like him, and they get peskier.]