Chapter 213: Stratagem
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 213: Stratagem
‘Truthfully, participating in the tournament is a gamble.’
If the Witch of the Sky were to use her Clairvoyance to watch the duel tournament, she would see my opponents flailing helplessly and the crowd cheering wildly.
The witch's intellect is more fearsome than her ability, so upon seeing that, she would likely deduce that the ruler of three continents has hidden his identity to participate in the tournament.
In other words, the duel tournament hosted by Duke Babel, one of the Three Powers of the Southern Continent, was both an opportunity to confirm if Vivian had sought refuge with him and a stage where my identity was at risk of being exposed.
Despite such risks, the reason I participated was because the Witch of the Sky's Clairvoyance is an inconvenient ability.
‘When she uses the ability, she can't do anything but see.’
What good is seeing things so far away? When she uses her ability, she's as good as blind to her immediate surroundings, which restricts her actions.
Therefore, the Witch of the Sky can only use her ability for absolutely necessary tasks.
For instance, the moment I am declared the tournament champion and chosen as Vivian's guard knight would be the perfect time for her to use it.
‘I've already prepared a double.’
From the moment I planned to use the duel tournament, I had Boatman prepare a double disguised to look exactly like me.
Since it's such an inconvenient ability, I should be able to approach Vivian as her guard knight if I can just pass her verification once using the double.
However, I needed to hide my skills more thoroughly. If I appeared too outstanding, she might endure the inconvenience and try to verify me before the tournament ended.
Even if Vivian were taking refuge with another faction, they would likely wait until the latter half of the tournament to use the Witch of the Sky for confirmation.
From the perspective of other factions, the duel tournament is nothing more than a large-scale entertainment event.
Strong fighters are more often of noble birth, with the leisure to properly train in swordsmanship, so why is it that the highest-ranking participants in the tournament are knights?
It was all a matter of dignity.
Not a single noble would want to mingle with their inferiors, get covered in dust, sweat, and become a public spectacle.
Baron Allanton even asserted that no noble would willingly subject themselves to such a thing, not even with a knife to their throat.
In short, it was a hot topic only within Duke Babel's faction; for the powerful figures of other factions, it wasn't worth much attention.
But when all the participants gathered before the tournament's opening ceremony, I had to admit that my thinking had been shortsighted.
‘Van der Belt?’
There was one champion who stood out among the participants, his clothes dyed black.
He was the second son of Count Belt's family and a semi-named character who would later take the lead in dealing with the Witch of the South.
‘Ohalla the Butcher is here too.’
The bastard son of Baron Weshin's family, a notorious hound who handled the family's dirty work, was also among the participants.
His recognition was lower than Van der Belt's, but his skill with dual swords was so great that even the hero and his companions in the game had admired it.
However, he was a character who operated in the shadows, making him an odd fit for such a public tournament.
Besides them, numerous other figures from my modern memories were included in the various regional delegations. Most of them did not belong to Duke Babel's faction.
‘The Dragon's Pool, is it?’
The situation was completely different from my plan. I had a gut feeling. They were all here for the same reason I was.
Duke Babel had held the tournament to select a guard knight to prevent an assassination, but instead, he had ended up inviting spies and assassins.
It wasn't a good situation for me, either. The stronger my opponents, the harder it would be to hide my true strength.
I was pondering how to handle the situation when the southern delegation caught my eye. This was after Duke Babel's opening speech emphasizing exchange and harmony, when we had all moved into our regional waiting rooms.
“Haha. Do not worry. I will spread the fame of the South!”
“This tournament will be an opportunity to show the world the true face of the South!”
“Have faith in me! I will carry my lord's banner to victory and make his name and family known to the entire world!”
The four champions representing the South were making grand proclamations to their sponsors.
But whenever their eyes met, they would glare fiercely at each other as if facing an enemy, their competitive spirits flaring.
The real targets of their competitiveness were elsewhere, though. It seemed they hadn't realized that formidable foes were hiding among the other regional delegations.
If so, perhaps I could use their rivalry to my advantage.
“By the way, who will be taking the vanguard?”
The tournament's official purpose was exchange and harmony between the regions. Thus, the first matches were set as region versus region.
As a result, the South was pitted against the North, and the West against the East. The problem was that each region was left to decide its own fighting order.
“The vanguard?”
The champions, who had been ignoring me until now, finally turned to look at me. They didn't seem to have grasped my intention yet.
“Every participant here wants to prove their region's superiority. This will undoubtedly be a fierce contest, no less than a war. That is why the vanguard is crucial. If the first fighter breaks the enemy's morale, the following matches will be much easier. Therefore, the strongest champion must go first.”
Even in war, it is always the strongest knight who takes the vanguard.
How could the champions, already burning with rivalry, refuse such an opportunity? The one closest to me snapped, as if to intimidate me.
“Are you daring to covet the vanguard position!?”
“Of course not. I am merely pointing out that it is time to decide.”
I held up an open hand to make it clear I had no such intention and stepped back. Now that I had lit the fire, it would burn well enough on its own without any further intervention.
Just as I expected. The champion who had been watching me with narrowed eyes soon turned his head to the others. They, too, glanced at one another.
The silence didn't last long. The champions, fired up by their thirst for fame, began to raise their voices, almost all at once.
“The vanguard is obviously me!”
“What nonsense! Am I not the greatest champion in the South!”
“You've never even fought me, how can you be so sure you're above me!”
“What? Then let's have a go right now!”
The argument didn't end with just words. It escalated into a fistfight, and in the end, one of them was sporting a black eye before the tournament had even begun.
And yet, the champion with the bruised face was ecstatic, celebrating his victory in securing the vanguard position.
‘He'll regret it.’
His joy wouldn't last long. It was obvious the enemy would also send their strongest champion first. And in the North, they had the Black Knight, Van der Belt.
“I'm next!”
“Get lost! I won't back down either!”
It didn't come to blows this time, but the atmosphere was still quite hostile as they decided the second spot.
The third was the same. The champion pushed to fourth place trembled with rage and then shouted at me, who hadn't joined the competition for the order.
“You coward!”
It was a classic case of taking out his anger on the wrong person.
It wasn't worth a response. Besides, I had already achieved my goal in speaking up. As I stepped back, pretending not to hear, his sneer deepened as if to say, ‘I knew it.’
“This is why those with no breeding are…”
The gazes from the nobles sponsoring the champions grew even colder. To them, I must have looked like a common man who knew nothing of valor, which was understandable.
Baron Allanton and Pompiné, who had been pushed to a corner of the waiting room due to their lack of influence, also looked clearly disappointed.
“Hah… This is all because my power and Baron Allanton's are weak.”
However, their disappointment was directed at themselves. They thought that because my backing was weak, I couldn't assert my rightful claim despite having the skill.
In truth, I had deliberately engineered it so I would get the last spot, where the weakest opponent would likely appear, because it's harder to hide my skills against a stronger foe.
“The order proves nothing of strength. In the end, the one left standing will be the true champion representing their region.”
When their expressions remained dark, I continued my explanation.
“Besides, there's an advantage to going last. By watching the preceding opponents, we can deduce the skill of the one who comes next. At a time like this, with no accurate information on our opponents, that knowledge will be incredibly useful.”
The two of them forced a bright smile.
“We should be the ones comforting you, yet here you are, comforting us.”
I decided it was impossible to change their minds no matter what else I said, so I kept quiet. It was a misunderstanding that would be cleared up once the tournament began anyway.
Just then, an attendant entered the waiting room to announce that preparations were complete.
“Huhu. All of you just shut up and watch. I will engrave the power of the South into everyone's minds!”
The champion who had seized the vanguard position puffed out his chest, and his shoulders didn't come down until the tournament official, with Duke Babel's permission, announced the start of the match.
And the North's vanguard was, just as I had predicted, the Black Knight, Van der Belt. The moment they finished introducing themselves, Van der Belt's sword shot out like a flash of light.
The duel was over in that instant.
Standing before our champion, who was frozen in an awkward stance, Van der Belt calmly flicked the blood from his blade and sheathed his sword.
The moment the click of the sword locking into its scabbard was heard, blood erupted from our champion's neck like a fountain, and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
“Huh…?”
The champion who had stepped forward as the South's vanguard had lost his life in a single exchange—no, without even putting up a proper fight.
The crowd, who had expected a fierce, close battle between regional representatives, was frozen like ice.
Even after cheers belatedly erupted from the stands, the stiffened bodies of the southern champions and their sponsors refused to relax.
When the Black Knight, Van der Belt, calmly approached the edge of the stage and looked down on the southern side with an air of arrogance, the southern champions couldn't help but avert their gazes.
Only I met his gaze, my expression indifferent. A strange light flickered in Van der Belt's eyes, and his gaze lingered on me for about three seconds.
If the official hadn't asked him to step down for the next match, our staring contest might have continued.
Tearing my eyes away from Van der Belt, I looked back at the southern champions. Even though he had left the stage, their frozen bodies showed no signs of relaxing.
The aftershock of the duel was eating away at them. As expected of a semi-named character, I suppose. It was a perfect psychological blow.
“Hmph. The North is pretty good, aren't they?”
“Hah, he got lucky. Sir Hastiyo only knew how to throw a punch; his actual skills were pathetic.”
The second champion, having finally come to his senses, deliberately downplayed his dead comrade's ability before stepping onto the stage.
He did indeed put up a better fight than his predecessor. But even so, all he managed was to last ten exchanges.
“Gah-!”
With a look of disbelief, he stared down at the sword piercing his chest before collapsing.
When the third champion suffered the same fate, the southern side had no choice but to admit it. They had been frogs in a well.
“Boo! We didn't come here to watch this crap!”
“How can there not be a single decent fighter among those southern country bumpkins!”
“You might as well just fall on your swords and die!”
The greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment. It didn't take long for the audience, who had paid a high price for their tickets with great anticipation, to shower the stage with boos instead of cheers.
As things turned out this way, the faces of Duke Babel and his key nobles began to harden. It was like someone had thrown shit at a feast.
The southern nobles flinched when they met those cold gazes. Count Ohohena, who could be called the leader of the South, his face flushed red, began to hound the fourth champion.
“Sir Yotten is our only hope now! If you can't secure even a single victory, how will the other nobles look at us! It doesn't matter if you can't win! Put your life on the line and save the South's pride! If you lose without doing anything like the last three bastards, I'll personally take your head even if you return in one piece!”
They say a person's true nature comes out when they're cornered. Count Ohohena didn't hesitate to threaten him. The other nobles echoed his sentiment.
“No, but…”
Faced with the sudden change in circumstances, the fourth champion, Yotten, couldn't hide his bewildered expression.
‘Even an idiot would have realized the gap in skill by now.’
Compared to other regions, the South had fewer conflicts with the other Three Powers. This was because they shared no geographical borders.
Thanks to that, they had enjoyed prosperity, a step removed from the ravages of war, but their lack of experience had stunted the growth of their knights.
The results of that were now on full display at the tournament.
‘So there was a reason people from other regions looked down on the South.’
Count Ohohena and the other southern figures had been indignant, thinking they were being looked down on for no reason, but the truth was they had simply failed to see reality.
It was when he was hesitating, unable to say a word, that I raised my voice.
“Sir Yotten is a brave man. I am certain he will reclaim the South's pride.”
Yotten, realizing this was payback for him calling me a coward, glared at me. But this was not the time to pick a fight with me.
“Sir Yotten! Why are you silent! Don't tell me you're scared!?”
“Of course not!”
The pressure from Count Ohohena and the other nobles intensified, and he had no choice but to let himself be pushed onto the stage.
Was it because of the pressure? He couldn't even display half of his true skill. That was why he lost to an opponent of similar ability.
“My lord-!”
The only fortunate thing was that Count Ohohena had clutched the back of his neck and collapsed, meaning Yotten wouldn't be killed immediately.
Yotten didn't miss the opportunity, stealthily retreating to a corner of the waiting room to gauge the situation. Having finished my own preparations, I brushed past him and whispered.
“If you'd been lucky, you could have been the first victor and monopolized the nobles' attention. What a shame. But what can you do? Time cannot be turned back, and regret comes too late. I suppose this is all karma for underestimating your opponents.”
“You-”
“Shh. It will be troublesome if you raise your voice and draw their attention again.”
Yotten's face turned red as he ground his teeth. I ignored him and turned my back. From now on, he would have to worry more about his own safety.
It seemed Count Ohohena and the other nobles had already decided there was no hope, even though my turn was still left.
As I left the waiting room, not a single person spared me a glance or offered a word of encouragement.
Only then did Baron Allanton and Pompiné, who had been stuck in the corner, approach me. Pompiné needlessly retied the strap on my gambeson and spoke.
“Don't feel pressured. I know you're not the type to be the weakest link. If you fight like you did in the last duel, you'll win easily.”
“It seems you're more nervous than I am, Lady Pompiné.”
Pompiné was fumbling with a simple knot, making it even more tangled. Giving up on a neat bow, she just pulled it tight and looked up at me.
“I'm a member of the South, too.”
Baron Allanton, standing beside her, nodded in agreement. I gave them a reassuring smile.
“The South's journey will by no means end today.”
“I'll believe you.”
I nodded and stepped onto the stage. The North's final champion was already there, waiting for me.
“You're late. What? Did you get cold feet?”
So there was one in the North who underestimated his opponents, too. Seeing as he's the last one, he must be the weakest champion on their side.
I scoffed.
“Aren't you the one who's in too much of a hurry? This very moment is the last you have left.”
It was a declaration that I would end his life on this stage. The bastard's confident face turned shades of red and purple.