A Perilous Festival (2)
Lyla, the princess, stared at me with an expression of utter disbelief. "Look here, Chrome. It's true that we have our share of connections, but no matter how you look at it, you can't seriously think I'd just follow along because you called—"
"But Princess Lyla, you don't exactly have anyone else to go with, do you?"
Her body flinched. Before she could muster a logical rebuttal, I pressed on quickly. "Ah, of course, that's not your fault. It's not like you're lacking in charm or anything. If anything, I imagine there are plenty of people who'd love to accompany you. But… even if there are countless people who want to, if none of them can actually step forward, then it's the same as having no one, isn't it?"
That was the simple truth. From the way she effortlessly commanded the room during joint training exercises or how students sent her looks of admiration even in regular classes, it was clear Princess Lyla was neither unpopular nor socially inept. Stunning beauty, outstanding grades, noble bloodline, overwhelming charisma. But in this case, those very qualities worked against her. If this were some class assignment or something that affected grades, others would rush over in a heartbeat. But this was a festival. A festival. How would it look if someone was seen hanging around the princess during this time? It would just seem like favoritism. With students from families loyal to the crown prince or other princes watching with sharp eyes, no noble student could approach her based on personal goodwill alone. Commoner students had it even worse. They already struggled to speak up even when there was a proper pretext—there was no way they'd initiate a private conversation now.
In that sense, wouldn't spending even a single day with me be good for both Princess Lyla and myself?
"Well, even if it weren't you, Chrome, I doubt anyone would coldly refuse if I personally invited them to accompany me."
Princess Lyla shot back, clearly offended by my suggestion. I thought it over. Hmm, she was probably right—they wouldn't refuse. Turning down a princess asking for an escort would make someone a complete lunatic. That said…
"Uh… are you actually planning to do that?"
Could this lofty princess really grab some random person and say, 'I have no one to go to the festival with, so accompany me'? Really?
"……"
She fell silent for a while, likely coming to the same conclusion, before finally lifting her head. "Now that I think about it, it would be rude to coldly reject a rare invitation. I'll gladly join you, Chrome."
"…Should I check your schedule for other days as well?"
No, I was just being nice—why was she glaring at me so fiercely?
Some time later, on the morning of the festival's first day, I met up with Ligret and told her everything that had happened.
"—and that's how it went. Don't you think it's unfair?"
"I don't know if it's unfair or not, but I do know your head is regrettable."
"Come on, what's wrong with my head? Honestly, even if it were Fiore, it'd be better than you—ack!"
At the intense impact, I clutched my forehead and groaned. Several passersby chuckled at the sight. To them, it must have looked pathetic—a small girl flicking the forehead of a guy who was screaming over it. I could guarantee that if any of those people took the same hit, they'd either pass out on the spot or go looking for a doctor. Could this girl really split a 9mm wooden board in two with just a forehead flick? Someday Ligret and I would need to obtain a Star's Blessing ourselves, but if she ended up with the War God's blessing by mistake, I seriously worried I'd be the first one to get beaten to death.
"So, what do we need to do?"
"We head to Duke Mars's martial arts tournament."
That said, even though it was called a martial arts tournament, it wasn't anything like a grand "strongest under heaven" competition. While Planetarium incorporated over-technology from ancient civilizations and magical engineering, its overall aesthetic remained medieval. Among the various festival events, this one had quite a modern—whether that term was accurate or not—feel to its attractions.
"Yes! Dear tourists who have traveled far, and students of the Academy freed from your grueling classes! Please stop by here for a moment! What unfolds from now is a grand showdown to determine the strongest! The winner will receive an enormous prize! If you have confidence in your strength, come challenge it right away!"
A murmur spread through the crowd. On one side of the shopping district during the festival, people began gathering around a muscular man speaking into an amplification magic tool. Despite the flashy introduction, the stage behind him was relatively simple—sturdy chairs and desks with rubber pads installed at both ends, arranged in several sets.
Ligret muttered, "All that talk about martial arts and the strongest, and it turns out to be just arm wrestling."
"It's not like we can have students and tourists mixed together swinging swords at each other."
No matter how reckless the Academy was, if a bloody incident broke out during a school event, the aftermath would be a headache. Holding it only for students would also draw complaints from tourists eager to test their mettle. Even now, it wasn't just Academy students—burly men who looked like they could throw some weight around were loosening their shoulders here and there.
I told Ligret, "You can't use magic power enhancement. There'll be detection devices, so you'll be disqualified for cheating."
"Was it already decided that I'm participating?"
Though she grumbled, she seemed interested enough to obediently submit her application. It was fortunate that we probably wouldn't need to offer a separate reward. Lately, high-grade magic stones had been hard to come by, making it difficult to open black cubes as well.
The preliminaries began, and participants took their seats one by one. The ratio was roughly twenty percent students, with the rest being civilians. Ligret's opponent was a skinhead who clearly looked like he could throw some power around. He wore a very relaxed expression—after all, his arm thickness alone was more than twice that of Ligret's.
"This is unfortunate. Be careful not to get hurt from overexerting yourself, young lady."
"Yeah, you be careful too."
"Hahaha! Thanks for worrying!"
The skinhead laughed, taking Ligret's indifferent reply as a joke. Yeah, laugh while you can.
Ding!
Thud!
"Huh?"
The moment the starting bell rang, the skinhead's hand slammed against the rubber pad. It was an instant victory—he hadn't even had time to resist. Staring at her in confusion, his friends in the audience jeered.
"Hey, Dylan! What are you doing? Do it properly!"
"You think acting gentlemanly here will make you popular!?"
"Shut up, you idiots! That's not it!"
Snapping irritably at the spectators, he alternated glances between Ligret's hand and his own before leaving with an expression of disbelief.
"Yes! Round 1 is over! Surprisingly, all the Academy students have passed! Incredible skill!"
Cheers mixed with surprise and doubt rang out, but it was only natural. The Academy's entrance exam tested physical ability first and foremost, and most students here were from the martial arts department. With all the experience they'd gained under Professor Istal, there was no way they'd fall so easily in a place like this.
As the rounds progressed, the number of civilian participants dwindled rapidly, and dropouts began appearing among the students as well.
"Beep! Participants 6 and 17! As previously stated, using magic power is an automatic disqualification! Please leave your seats!"
"Tch."
"Damn it, I tried to put in strength and it just came out on its own…"
"Why did I have to run into Crow in the second round of all things?"
"Hey, you're still better off. I got Grendel as my opponent."
Some tried using enhancement, thinking a little wouldn't hurt, only to get caught. Others used it unconsciously out of habit. Or they simply ended up matched against fellow students.
"A fierce battle! And an even fiercer one! This tournament to determine the strongest warrior has already reached its final stages. Who will be the ultimate victor? The first quarterfinal match is between participants 66 and 95!"
"Hmph, Ligret. You've toyed with me plenty in the past, but when it comes to a contest of strength, I'm at an advantage!"
Crow Vein confidently extended his hand toward Ligret. It made sense—while dual-wielding gave the impression of speed at the cost of power, swinging two heavy hunks of metal freely required considerable muscle strength. But Crow, weren't you forgetting something?
"Ligret also swings different weapons in each hand all the time."
And not just swords or blades—heavy blunt weapons, at that.
"Aaaagh!"
Unlike the other opponents who were defeated in an instant due to the overwhelming difference, Crow's ability to resist even clumsily might have been his misfortune. He managed to hold out for about three seconds, at the cost of his arm twisting in an unnatural direction. The festival safety personnel carried away the foaming Crow on a stretcher with practiced efficiency. I'd thought their faces looked familiar—they were civil servants from the Academy's martial arts department. That job seemed pretty extreme too.
In the suddenly chilled atmosphere, the announcer hurriedly continued.
"The match is decided! The winner is participant 66! Where does such power come from in that slender frame!"
"Did she use some kind of cheat?"
"No, I faced her earlier—she's on a completely different level."
"That's really something."
Crow, being carried away on the stretcher, muttered, "N-next time, I'll… kuhk."
May he depart peacefully without lingering attachments to this world.