Knight Tournament (7)
Calix inspected his teammates' weapons.
Lance wielded a one-handed sword, Todler a mace and shield, Sial a spear, Bernu a two-handed sword, and Rones twin axes.
Only one with a shield. Good thing I grabbed an extra one.
He tossed his own shield to Lance.
"Catch."
"I've never used a shield before."
"Learn now."
"……Understood."
He'd brought the shield he never used in daily life precisely for a situation like this.
"Lance, Todler—you're on point."
"Yes!"
"Point's job is to block or deflect enemy attacks with minimal damage."
"Got it."
"Bernu, Rones—you're on the flanks."
"Yes!"
"Yes!"
"Flanks cut down enemies that slip past point."
"Understood."
"Sial!"
"Yes."
"You're rear guard. Cover gaps in point and flanks. Short, quick thrusts only. Harass anyone probing to keep formation intact."
"Understood."
"I'm free role. I'll handle whatever needs doing from outside the formation."
"Yes!"
"Listen up. Don't stop. If you halt before you're out of breath or I order it, I'll rip you apart."
"Yes!"
"Start at brisk walk. Move out!"
"Move out!"
The inverted pentagon formation began to shift slowly.
Of course, none of them had ever drilled it before, so it quickly started to warp.
Each time, Calix's sword lashed out.
Thwack!
"Todler! Match shoulders with Lance!"
"Ugh, yes!"
Thwack!
"Sial! Too far forward!"
"Kuh! Got it!"
Calix and the team circled in a wide loop, orbiting the same spot.
They drilled formation alone for a good while.
As time passed and it sank into their bodies, the clanking of their standard-issue armor began to oddly harmonize.
Realizing they were ready, Calix shouted.
"11 o'clock!"
"11 o'clock!"
Clank-clank-clank.
They charged toward a goblin nest—huts clustered in a small huddle.
The goblins perked their ears at the rattling and swarmed out.
Krrrowl-grrr-bark bark!
"See 'em?"
"Yes!"
"Time for payback."
"Ooooooh!"
"Keep cold reason. Break formation, and I'll show you hell."
"Yes!"
"Go!"
"Waaaaah!"
Boom!
Screech!
Lance and Todler, clad in heavy armor, shields up, slammed into the goblin pack.
Several stretched out horizontally couldn't withstand the impact and bounced away.
Thud-thud-thwack!
The left and right flanks broke through too, swinging two-handed sword and twin axes in wide arcs.
No chance for a second strike if they wanted to hold formation.
But their weapons were lethal enough in one solid hit.
The single pass dropped four or five goblins, spraying verdant blood.
Rear guard and free role didn't even need to lift a finger.
"Reverse!"
"Reverse!"
Scrape-scrape.
At Calix's command, the formation wheeled to face the opposite direction in an instant.
With their small numbers, a slight widen and close was enough.
"Double time!"
"Double time!"
Clank-clank-clank.
"Charge!"
"Charge!"
Thud-thud-boom!
Screech.
The second charge felled another four or five.
But this time, the goblins reacted differently.
They started chasing the team breaking past them.
Heavy armor slowed pursuit, but they'd catch up soon enough.
Calix yelled.
"Big circle, clockwise!"
"Yes!"
Just like their formation drill—they executed without panic.
The goblin pack naturally swung toward the formation's right flank.
"Todler and Bernu to point on reverse. Lance drops to free, then back to point. Rones left flank, I take right."
"Yes!"
"Now!"
With Calix's shout, the formation snapped ninety degrees.
They met the onrushing goblins head-on.
Crunch!
Bernu cleaved a frontal goblin in half, pausing a beat—Lance surged forward from just behind to reclaim point.
Calix peeled off right flank; Bernu returned to his spot.
As the formation churned, Sial's spear from rear flashed like lightning.
The goblin mob, panicked from the third charge, milled in chaos—Calix's reformed unit skewered them again.
Splorch!
Nearly twenty goblins lay pulped.
Finally, terror broke them—they scattered in all directions.
"Halt!"
"Halt!"
"Confirm kills on downed ones. Harvest proof."
"Yes!"
They panted on the verge of collapse, but faces beamed.
Victory had come too easily.
Faith in Calix deepened.
In the vast command tent, dozens of screens floated in midair.
Images streamed from surveillance crystals dotting Penna Mountain, where Knight Tournament Part 2 unfolded.
A dozen evaluators scanned with hawk eyes, scoring contestants.
"Ugh, this…… We're practically helping the commoners by pitting them only against each other."
"Indeed. No one challenging hierarchy from the start means superb teamwork."
"Just because he's the sole noble in the group? I'd say leadership and charisma too."
"That formation and tactics…… Aren't those from Jaipur Union mercenaries?"
"Not rank-and-file—elite strike teams. Records say they inflicted massive casualties on the Empire. But how does he know……."
"No proper training from Count Collin, yet blood will out."
"Hmph, watching this boils my blood."
"Hahaha! I get it. Reminds me of my worthless son……."
"Today's command duel will drag on, grrr!"
Dusk cloaked the forest.
Calix and team sat around the campfire.
A unlucky wild boar roasted whole atop it, dripping fat.
"As I said, Part 2 scoring: time to complete mission, team cohesion, monster headcount."
Lance smirked at Calix's recap.
"Isn't that already out of reach?"
"Why think so?"
"Top seeds like Rublin Lander from this morning finish in 8 hours mostly, 6 at best."
"Heh, you know your stuff. So why no disappointment? Don't you want Part 3 tournament?"
"Honestly…… I figured tournament entry would get someone to spot my potential, sponsor mana breathing."
"And now?"
"Now…… I don't think I'm stuck just because of mana breathing."
"Hoo……."
"If asked if the last 10 years matched today's training…… I'd hang my head in shame."
"Same here."
"Me too."
"Heh, good. Can't sit idle hearing that."
Expectant gazes locked on Calix.
He might be "country bumpkin" to other nobles, but to commoners, he was sky-high.
Mana breathing they craved? Easy if he got them into Blue Lion Knights.
"Wait, misunderstanding. I can't authorize enlistment—that's Viscount Russell's call as regent."
Disappointment flickered—then Calix continued.
"But I can give you the highest score in this Blood Rite."
"Huh?"
"Highest?"
"No way!"
Calix eyed their stunned faces.
"Ever hear of a time limit in Part 2?"
"T-time limit?"
"Uh……."
"Was there such a rule……?"
They tilted heads.
They'd assumed fastest completion for top scores.
"What was the third criterion again?"
"Monster headcount……!"
Calix's smile deepened.
"Right. No time limit in Part 2. Score scales with kills."
"But time wasted hunting docks the first criterion."
"So hunt a ton. Aaaaa ton. Even if we turn into Penna Mountain reapers."
"R-reapers?"
Chill gripped them despite the warm fire.
Their future looked grueling.
"We'll forage our own food till the end too."
"……Gulp."
"His Majesty might hate us. All game vanishing."
Back in the scoring tent.
As Calix predicted, staff fought yawns desperately.
"Th-these stubborn bastards!"
"Please quit and come down……."
"Why no time limit rule?"
"All rules on the founding king's stele. Can't add time limit ourselves."
"Damn it all!"
"How many more for Group 12 to take first? Just concede and call 'em down."
"No intervening till they descend. Stele rule."
"Sh……."
"Watch your mouth. Lèse-majesté against the founder."
"Ahem!"
They were just tired and cranky.
True agony burned elsewhere.
"Damn it!"
Servio Viscount chided the swearing Lander Count.
"Told you—be more aggressive."
"Ugh!"
"No choice now."
"Direct force is out. Elders gripe over this 'intervention' already."
"Fine. As long as not direct force?"
"What're you planning?"
"How frail humans are, how worthless faith—I'll show you."