Chapter 216: Conspiracy
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 216: Conspiracy
‘It’s only a matter of time before our disguises are seen through.’
My guess is that another purpose of this tournament is retaliation from Duke Babel, who was unilaterally attacked through a dream.
He must have guessed that Vivian would resort to direct action if he continued to resist. Isn’t that why he deliberately set up a suitable stage?
An assassin on a stage of his own making would be easier to deal with than one who could pop out from anywhere at any time.
Perhaps the rumor about him recruiting guard knights through the tournament was a fabrication of his own making.
‘Not just me, but all the tournament participants.’
The difference in capability between a merchant like Boatman and one of the Three Powers is vast.
The disguises of Van der Belt, the Black Knight, and Ohalla the Butcher might be more elaborate than mine, but they won’t be able to avoid being discovered.
I knew this because of the time it took the pursuer, presumably under Duke Babel’s command, to close in on my identity.
It’s only been four days since the tournament began. In just four days, they’ve come close to the truth. That means Duke Babel was dead set on this.
No matter how much effort the other two participants put into their disguises, isn’t it only a matter of time before their identities are exposed?
‘Though they won’t be able to figure out my identity completely.’
Following the trails of the other two participants would lead to the domains of the other Three Powers, but following my trail would only lead to the sea.
There was no way Duke Babel’s influence could reach the continent across the sea.
Of course, the fact that my identity is unknown could make me even more suspicious. That’s why I need to act in a way an assassin wouldn’t to get myself off the list of suspects.
In addition, I need to be by Duke Babel’s side to uncover the masterminds behind the other two assassins and track down Vivian.
Achieving these two contradictory goals seems like a paradox, but it’s not impossible.
“Booo!”
“Fight! Fight!”
The jeers of the crowd snapped me out of my thoughts. The duel had entered a lull because Ohalla the Butcher had frozen like ice.
He wore a complicated expression. His hesitation was evident in the way he unconsciously fiddled with his spare sword.
He wasn’t sure if he should draw it. Suspicion would follow the moment he did.
For a mere champion, this was a tournament with an enormous prize at stake. The fact that he wasn’t using his full strength was enough to draw suspicious glances.
Ohalla the Butcher knew this, which must be why he continued to agonize, ignoring the jeers that made it seem like the whole world was against him.
‘But in the end, he’ll have no choice but to draw it.’
Ohalla the Butcher would take that risk and draw his sword. The fact that such a high-caliber individual was sent in disguise was proof that they were serious about the assassination.
It was also because his current situation was precarious.
The presence of the hound who operates in the shadows, the bastard son of the Weshin barony, had grown too large.
Baron Weshin was probably getting the urge to dispose of him. If Ohalla were to give up the mission and return, the baron would seize the opportunity and use it as a pretext to cast him aside like a useless tool.
The very act of sending him on such a dangerous mission—where he could suffer a fate worse than death if discovered—was proof that such intentions were in play.
From Ohalla the Butcher’s perspective, he was caught between a rock and a hard place.
‘He’ll aim to win the tournament, as it offers the best chance of survival.’
Of course, there was a third option: give everything up, escape Baron Weshin’s shadow, and live a life of freedom.
However, he was unlikely to choose that path, even knowing it was an option. Since he truly harbored rebellious intentions, he wouldn’t abandon the foundation he’s built so far.
In the end, his choice was already made. And just as I expected…
Shing.
After a long deliberation, Ohalla the Butcher drew another sword.
“Dual-wielding?”
I could hear the crowd murmuring from here.
Ohalla the Butcher’s face hardened even more. Masters of dual-wielding were rare, so the more of a spectacle he became, the higher the chance of his identity being exposed.
“You’ll regret making me draw another sword.”
“Don’t tell me you have the childish notion that drawing another sword doubles your strength. If you ask me, it looks like it’ll just get in your way.”
“We’ll see about that. Hah!”
Did my taunt work? Or was he trying to end this quickly to minimize exposing his skills, now that things had come to this?
Ohalla the Butcher charged at me with a completely different momentum than before.
When I made a light thrust to check him, he used the shorter sword in his left hand to parry it and tried to close in on me. The right-hand sword that followed swept horizontally, aiming for my side.
Dual-wielding usually involves defending with one sword and attacking with the other.
I took a step back diagonally to the right with my rear foot, delaying the moment Ohalla the Butcher’s sword would reach me.
In that opening, I slightly bent the knee of my front leg. My body naturally twisted, bringing my shoulder forward.
Instead of putting more force into my sword, which was locked with his left-hand sword, I just slightly changed its direction, pointing the tip toward the ground.
In that position, I pulled it back and held it diagonally in front of my protruding shoulder.
Clang!
Ohalla the Butcher’s right-hand sword, which had been aiming for my waist, slid down the angled flat of my blade. A line of sparks flew.
I could see his face, now close enough for me to feel his breath, contort. He had realized the match wouldn’t end as quickly as he’d thought.
‘That’s not nearly enough.’
I wanted him to feel the alarm that he could lose even if he gave it his all.
As I released the muscles I had tensed to block his sword, immense power flowed into my blade.
His right-hand sword was flung back faster than it had come. So much so that his arm lifted slightly, unable to handle the force!
I kicked at his exposed torso. He tried to block with his now-free left-hand sword, but my foot struck his abdomen first by a hair’s breadth.
“Keuk…”
Ohalla the Butcher staggered backward, his upper body slightly bent.
In that time, I recovered my posture, secured an advantageous distance, and began my counterattack.
His left-hand sword reflexively came out to meet mine. He likely intended to parry it and strike from behind as before.
However, the sharp clang he expected never came. I had anticipated it and withdrawn my sword to evade his. It was a feint.
‘Did you think I’d fall for the same trick twice?’
‘This bastard…!’
I attacked again after his left-hand sword had passed. My sword, crossing his path with a half-breath’s delay, aimed for his chest.
He glared at me as if to kill me and leaned his body back. He managed to dodge the sword, but his stance was broken, so he couldn’t even dream of a counterattack.
It was still my turn.
Faced with my relentless, non-stop thrusts, Ohalla the Butcher could only retreat.
Then, as if realizing he might lose if this continued, he forced his sword upward in a desperate strike.
Both his sword and mine were knocked high into the air. But he still had one more sword.
A long-awaited opportunity. He threw himself forward, thrusting the short sword in his left hand.
“Die!!”
I immediately let go of my sword and did a backflip. In the process, I didn’t forget to kick Ohalla the Butcher’s left-hand sword with my right foot.
“You think I’ll let you get away!”
Ohalla the Butcher paid no mind to his disarmed state and thrust with his right-hand sword. But I had already used the momentum to create a large gap between us.
He kicked off the ground, refusing to give up. He intended to finish me off, banking on the fact that I had no way to resist without my sword.
It was just as he was about to charge again. I raised the palms of both hands and shouted to the tournament official, who had retreated to a distance.
“I surrender.”
There was still some distance for Ohalla the Butcher to cover to reach me.
Ohalla the Butcher acted as if he hadn’t heard, or rather, as if he didn’t care, and tried to finish the job. The fact that his speed didn’t decrease was proof of that.
“Stop!”
Before he could, a dagger thrown by the tournament official flew with exquisite timing. It was thrown with just the right speed to hit Ohalla the Butcher if he continued to advance.
He was clearly qualified to officiate a duel of this significance.
In the end, Ohalla the Butcher had no choice but to halt his advance. In the meantime, the official, who had picked up the dagger, pointed at Ohalla the Butcher and shouted.
“The winner is Jackson of the East!”
Even though his alias was announced as the winner, Ohalla the Butcher’s face remained hard.
He stared at me, his sword still not sheathed.
“What are you plotting?”
He couldn’t understand how I, who had so easily parried his exquisite first attack, had crumbled before a move that was little more than a desperate, hasty gamble.
Wouldn’t anyone with some knowledge of swordsmanship have the same thought after seeing that scene?
I glanced to the side and saw that Duke Babel was also looking down with a peculiar expression.
“It was just a mistake. I don’t have much experience fighting against a dual-wielder.”
“And you expect me to believe that?”
“What if you don’t? Are you going to surrender and yield your spot in the next round to me?”
Having revealed his skills at the risk of exposing his identity, there was no way he would give up his chance to advance.
Ohalla the Butcher sheathed his sword with a look of displeasure. Then he turned his back sharply and was the first to leave the stage.
In his stead, I expressed my gratitude to the official who had helped at the right moment and to Duke Babel, who was looking down with an intrigued expression, before descending from the stage.
Count Ohohena was waiting for me in the waiting room. Despite my loss, his expression wasn’t too bad.
“You really were hiding your skills! If it weren’t for you, I would have lost a fortune!”
It was because his expectations hadn’t been high in the first place, and because I had advised him to bet on Ohalla the Butcher this time.
As the following matches confirmed that the representatives from the North and the one recommended by Duke Babel would advance to the next round, Count Ohohena’s face brightened even more.
Although he hadn’t achieved his initial goal of demonstrating the South’s power, they had at least avoided last place.
“Heh heh, objectively speaking, you fought better than the West, who were eliminated with us. Yes, indeed. Everyone will think the West was the loser of this tournament.”
“You are absolutely right! Of course the West is beneath us!”
“If they hadn’t had a lucky draw, the West would have been eliminated long ago!”
The southern nobles wagged their tails beside Count Ohohena. With a satisfied smile, Count Ohohena pushed through the nobles and stood before me.
“Don’t you be disappointed either. Although you didn’t make it into the rankings and won’t receive His Grace the Duke’s reward, you have us, don’t you? Since you saved the South’s honor, I’ll stake my name on it and give you a fitting reward.”
For a noble who cared so much about honor, staking his name meant he would reward me even if he had to go into debt.
“I am simply overwhelmed by your lordship’s kindness.”
“Haha, you should get ready and come stand by me. The tournament isn’t over yet, so there are still chances to bet, right?”
He thought it was all over, but I thought differently.
‘The real beginning is now.’
The next day, the match to decide the winner ended simply.
Perhaps thinking he had already drawn suspicion when he fought me, Ohalla the Butcher surrendered to Van der Belt, the Black Knight, without even trying to fight.
Since three knights were needed to properly manage a guard rotation anyway, he was satisfied with becoming one of the final three.
The remaining finalist fought hard, but he was no match for Van der Belt. In the end, the winner was Van der Belt, the Black Knight.
At the award ceremony that followed, Duke Babel descended from the spectator stands to the stage, accompanied by more than a dozen knights.
The way the knights immediately surrounded the stage was a bit too much to be considered a simple escort.
The final three seemed to think so too, as their faces hardened.
As Duke Babel stood before them in silence, the excited energy of the crowd gradually subsided.
A suffocating silence fell. Duke Babel looked down at the final three and spoke.
“What are your names?”
The tournament had lasted for eight days. Duke Babel had been present for every single one. There was no way he didn’t know their names.
All three remained silent. They realized from the ominous atmosphere and the question that they had been found out.
Duke Babel could have felt insulted by their silence, but he asked again with a composed face.
“Where are you from?”
Their origins had also been vouched for by the nobles who sponsored them.
The three men exchanged subtle glances. The fact that they didn’t move immediately suggested they had infiltrated from different factions.
Duke Babel spoke again.
“Who do you work for?”
That was the moment.
“Die!!”
The first to move was Ohalla the Butcher. He threw his small sword to create an opening, then swung his large, two-handed sword.
Just as one of Duke Babel’s guard knights stepped forward to block him, the second-place champion leaped over them both and charged at the duke.
Another guard knight stepped in to block him.
At that moment, though there were still over ten guard knights left, they were too far away to immediately protect Duke Babel.
Van der Belt, the Black Knight, did not miss that opening.
“I will execute judgment according to the Lord’s will!”
It was a thrust that disregarded all defense, filled with the sole obsession of taking Duke Babel’s head.
With no guards to protect him, it looked as if Duke Babel would be struck down at any moment.
It was then that a sharp sound was heard.
Just before Van der Belt’s thrust reached Duke Babel, a swiftly thrown dagger struck his sword. A familiar dagger. It was the work of the tournament official.
‘Just as I thought. He wasn’t an ordinary official.’
The force behind the dagger must have been great, as the sword was knocked far to the side.
Van der Belt tried to force the sword’s direction back, but before he could, Duke Babel’s foot struck his abdomen.
“Gack.”
The impact must have been greater since he had been charging at full speed. Van der Belt staggered back a few steps, bent over, and dry-heaved.
Simultaneously, the knights who had surrounded the stage closed in and pointed their swords at him.
“Don’t kill them. We need to find out who’s behind them.”
Despite having just escaped having his throat slit, Duke Babel’s face was as impassive as if a needle couldn’t pierce it.
Just as the duke turned to leave, our eyes met by chance as I watched the situation unfold from the waiting room.
No, I had positioned myself there deliberately, and the fact that his gaze lingered on me, even for a moment, made it clear that he was interested in me as well.
When I gave a slight bow, Duke Babel left without any reaction. The tournament official who had saved him by throwing the dagger followed behind.
‘I’ve thrown the bait, so now all I have to do is wait.’
However, the response came much faster than I had thought.
“Balak. There is someone who wishes to see you.”
That night, I was summoned by Duke Babel.