Gerard's Tournament (2)

It was just a feeling.

But in any case, each city got exactly four slots.

Which meant he'd have to deliver a bit of a shock.

Ah.

Yeah. This one absolutely has to be picked.

"I'll give it a try."

The moment Seo Hwarang stepped forward, the crowd stirred again.

"Who's that?"

"Black hair?"

"I don't see a staff. No sword either. A martial artist?"

Most people didn't think much of it. There was never just one or two hopefuls who tried their luck and washed out, was there? To everyone watching, Seo Hwarang was simply one more face in a long line of them.

"Okay! The representative selection is simple! It's the Iron Wood dummy right here! Shatter it in a single blow, or cut it clean apart—that's all you have to do!"

The staff member, too, was just mechanically reciting the words they always spewed out.

Hmm.

What should I use?

They said one blow, so it had to end in a single strike. Which meant, as always, the strongest option was the Thunder Strike combo.

First.

1st Circle. Master Aqua Splash.

Shhhraaaak!

With Aqua Splash ready to soak the wood down, next came—

2nd Circle. Master Thunder Strike.

Tzing!

A current snapped off his fingertip and shot skyward.

Krrrrrumble...

The sky darkened overhead.

"Whoa."

"What the—"

"He's a mage?"

"Ooooh!"

Even that simple gesture was enough to draw a reaction from the crowd. And then—

Shhraaak!

A surging wave of water crashed over the dummy in an instant, and—

KWAAAROOOM!

With a roar of thunder, two Thunder Strikes slammed down from above. A perfect timing attack. And the entire sequence unfolded in barely one second. The fruit of a full day's practice, from morning to night.

"Wh-what was that!"

"Thunder Strike?"

"Isn't that Paleyn's signature spell?"

"But something's different! I'm sure I heard thunder twice!"

"Didn't you hear water too? Looks like multi-casting to me?"

The dummy still stood untouched. Only the ground around it was scorched black.

"How is that possible?"

"Obviously. To break an Iron Wood dummy with 2nd Circle magic, you'd need at least 4th Circle—"

KRRRAAAACK!

That was when it happened. A sound like wood splitting rang out, and everyone saw it. The dummy, cleaved precisely in half from the very center, toppling to either side.

"Gasp."

Someone's breath leaked out in a wheeze. "Aaah..." From someone else's mouth, a thin line of drool.

"Wow! That's our mage for you!"

Bella jumped up and down, shouting hooray, while Yoo Seon-ah muttered under her breath, "...You little fraud."

Even the eyes of the judges, who had expected nothing, were bulging wide.

In all the years until now, there had been people who scratched that dummy, people who managed to split it apart. But had anyone ever cut it into such perfectly clean halves?

No.

Not once.

And what's more— the man hadn't even used a staff. He'd simply made one casual sweep of his hand. On top of that, he'd clearly been multi-casting; before the lightning fell, the area around the dummy had been thoroughly drenched.

...A tremendous talent.

The judge realized it instinctively. Perhaps this man might be the precious one who could finally resolve Brandel's long-cherished wish—and bring home the tournament victory.

"P-pass—"

Flustered, the judge's neck and belly wobbled in opposite directions. "Ahem." He recomposed his cracked voice, drew a deep breath, and mustered every ounce of strength into his stomach. And then he bellowed:

"PAAAASSSEEEED!"

"My lord."

An administrator hurried into the office of Count Adrian Lowell.

"I have news. Someone has already broken the Iron Wood dummy."

"Is that so?"

Lowell replied indifferently. Every year, about ten people managed to break the dummy. From there, they would narrow the field down to four representatives. In other words, nothing worth getting worked up over.

"That's just it, my lord—he didn't simply break it. With a single spell, he split it precisely in two. We've never seen talent like this in our ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Brandel before."

"Hmm?"

Only then did Lowell react. "Is that true?"

By his knowledge, shattering an Iron Wood cleanly required at least a 5th Circle mage. If a swordsman, a mid-tier Sword Expert.

"...And why would someone like that—"

A 5th Circle mage was the elite of the elite. The academy would snap them up as a full professor, and if they wished, the Magic Tower would open its doors to them. A presence welcomed in any territory in the land. And—

A frontrunner for Gerard's Tournament.

Historically, the champions of past tournaments had always been 5th Circle mages or mid-tier Sword Experts. Brandel had never produced such talent. And yet—now a being like that had walked in on his own two feet?

Fortune that rolls right up to your door is not to be kicked away. You gather it into your arms and hold it close.

Swoosh.

Count Lowell rose from his seat.

"Select him as a representative at once. And invite him to the citadel."

"Select him immediately, my lord?"

"Of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠course—if what you've just told me is the truth."

There was no need to make the applicants compete against one another. Do something foolish like that, and what if he applied to another city instead? The talent would be stolen right out from under them.

"Bring him to me at once."

"Yes, my lord!"

The administrator snapped to a rigid bow.

He had waited only a short while after breaking the dummy when—

Doom doom doom doom...!

A troop of heavily armed soldiers of the lord approached.

"The successful applicant!"

"Is the successful applicant here?"

Oho. Quick on the uptake, these ones. Probably here to hand over his reward, now that he'd passed.

He'd have to go make that request right away. Ask him for some books. He'd originally planned to avoid contact with nobles as much as possible—but books were something he couldn't resist.

"There he is!"

"Go that way. The black-haired young man over there."

"He's an incredible talent! He'll be representing our city in the tournament now, won't he?"

There was no need to raise his hand or anything. The crowd introduced him all on their own.

"You are summoned by the Count. You must come with us."

"Ah—I have a companion with me. Is that all right?"

"My apologies, but only those who have been invited may enter the castle."

Ah. I see how it is. Nothing to be done about it.

"Noona, head back to the inn with Bella."

"Yeah, you be careful out there."

After seeing Yoo Seon-ah off, he trudged along after the soldiers.

A continental noble, huh. And a count at that. That last baron had felt like just some neighborhood uncle—would this one have a bit more presence? Half anticipation, half nerves.

Once inside the citadel—

"We greet the Count!"

"We greet the Count!"

The soldiers bowed their heads deeply toward a gray-haired middle-aged man. Seo Hwarang, reading the room, awkwardly followed suit.

Right. When on the continent, do ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as the continent does. Especially when the man in question was about to hand him books.

"Heh heh. So you're the applicant who carved up the dummy, are you?"

"I am, my lord."

"Would you... be able to show me that feat directly, here before me?"

Ooh. Our lordship. A bit of a doubter, is he?

"Of course. Just have one prepared."

At Lowell's nod, the soldiers brought over a dummy. He'd cooled off on the way over anyway, so he repeated exactly what he'd done before—dampened the wood with water, then gifted it two bolts of lightning. The Iron Wood split apart with ease.

Clap clap clap clap clap!

Count Lowell applauded with a genuinely delighted expression.

"You are precisely the sort of talent to untangle our Brandel's long-held wish! Tell me—you aren't affiliated with the Magic Tower, or another noble house, or serving as an academy professor, are you?"

"Not at all."

"Truly? With skill like that, how—hahahaha!"

The Count laughed heartily, his face full of satisfaction. By the tournament's rules, anyone already holding a position recognized by any faction was barred from entering. Otherwise, wouldn't all the continent's 7th Circle archmages sweep in and pocket the rewards? Mages, in particular, could only compete if they fell below exactly that threshold. Which was precisely why talent was so precious—any ordinary 5th Circle mage already had a seat locked up somewhere.

"Then might I ask you—"

"Yes."

"—to represent our Brandel in the tournament? In the name of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this city's honor?"

"Gladly."

Seo Hwarang placed his right hand over his chest and gave a slight bow of the head.

"If my strength can serve Brandel, I would accept the honor with pleasure."

"Good, good. That puts my mind at ease. You there."

"Yes."

"Bring the token of our gratitude."

The steward beside the administrator gave an elegant bow and presented a leather pouch holding ten gold coins. At the same moment—

The clear message popped up.

"This is a reward for your resolve. Accept it freely."

"Thank you, my lord."

Seo Hwarang accepted the gold pouch and bowed his head in gratitude. Then, ever so secretly, he licked his lips.

There's still more, isn't there. Something worth more than these gold coins! The entire reason he'd bothered to spend his time entering the tournament in the first place!

"And is there anything else you desire? I've taken a liking to you, and I should like to grant you one thing more."

There it is!

Seo Hwarang's eyes sparkled.

"My lord, the truth is..."

"Speak freely."

"If there are any books containing techniques here—magic tomes, or swordsmanship manuals—I would very much like to obtain them."

He couldn't say he wanted to read them. They were sealed for now, after all. He had to outright ask for them.

"Hmm. Books?"

The Count fell into brief thought, then nodded.

"Unfortunately, Brandel is a city famed more for martial arts than magic, so we have no magic tomes. We do, however, have the swordsmanship and footwork manuals our Brandel knights train with."

"Might I be able to obtain one of those?"

A faint spark of hope kindled in Seo Hwarang's eyes. So what if it wasn't magic? He was the Skill Book Collector, not a magic book collector.

"Hmm."

But then—the Count seemed to hesitate, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Like a man turning a thought over in his head, wondering if this was really the right call.

"I find myself wondering whether I should show them to you at all. The truth is, those books are handled only within my own family. You'll understand—these are the swordsmanship and footwork left behind by the legendary Sword Master, my ancestor, Brandel."

"..."

He didn't really know, but he wasn't graceless enough to admit it. He simply waited.

"Whew."

The hesitating Count let out a short breath.

"Very well. Administrator?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Bring me copies of the five secret manuals handled by the knights of Brandel."

"...Do you mean that sincerely, my lord?"

"I won't be giving you all of them, so don't worry. Hurry now."

"As you command."

Before long, the administrator returned carrying five books that looked considerably thick. Seo Hwarang knew at a glance.

Those are skill books, all right.

Of course, he couldn't read what they contained. But experience told him they were one hundred percent skill books.

Thud.

Heavy as they were, the administrator set them down before the Count with sweat beading on his brow.

"I'm sorry, but unless you join our city as one of its knights, I cannot hand over all five. There's nothing to be done for it—it's a promise made to my ancestor."

Huh?

What.

That's a bit of a letdown...!

"However, there is one thing."

Swoosh.

The Count pointed at the books with a finger.

"Choose just one of these to take with you. It breaks the promise to my ancestor, but for this alone, I, Adrian Lowell, will grant my permission on my very name."