Duel Festival (4)
"Waaaaaah—!!"
The Coliseum seethed with scorching heat. Warriors clashed in a frenzy of blood and sweat, and the crowd's roaring cheers only stoked the flames higher.
The dueling grounds burned with endless passion—yet Emperor Caesar felt nothing but a deep, gnawing unease, as if he were sitting on a bed of thorns.
That just now…
Only moments earlier, Great Priest Antonio had been chatting with him in the most pleasant of moods. Then the old man's gentle face had locked onto someone in the crowd, and his expression had twisted into something utterly demonic. The sheer force of that presence had been enough to make Caesar instinctively pull his son aside and step away.
Antonio had vanished for a time and eventually returned to his seat… but Caesar still had no idea what could have driven him into such a rage.
For a Great Priest who has spent a lifetime tempering body and spirit to lose his composure like that… something truly serious must have happened.
He had heard the stories. When Stultus—the man the Empire had once dispatched—had uttered blasphemies right to the Great Priest's face, Antonio had worn exactly that same look.
Did that mean another demon worshipper had appeared here today?
Caesar told himself it couldn't be… yet the unease refused to leave him. He began scanning the stands around them.
His restless glances drew a quiet question from the guard knight at his side.
"Your Majesty, is something troubling you?"
"Mm… no. I was merely looking for the Empire's knights who have entered the lists."
A convenient excuse. Caesar was still watching the matches with a complicated heart when the missing Antonio reappeared, chuckling softly as he reclaimed his seat.
"Hohoho. Your Majesty, my deepest apologies. An urgent matter arose and I had to step away for a moment to attend to it."
"I-is that so?"
Antonio smiled with gentle benevolence—yet a single droplet of blood clung to one cheek. The jarring sight sent a cold sweat trickling down Caesar's spine.
Crown Prince Julius, blissfully unaware of anything, pointed at the Great Priest's face with innocent delight.
"Great Priest! There's something weird on your face!"
"Hmm? Oh dear, how clumsy of me."
"Father, the Great Priest must have snuck off to eat something without us! Look!"
"Hohoho, I tried to keep it a secret, but I've been found out. Your Highness, if I treat you to something truly delicious, will you forgive me just this once?"
"Yaaay—!"
Antonio wiped his cheek clean with a handkerchief and cheerfully matched Julius's eye level, playing along. To any casual observer he was the very picture of a kindly grandfather. Caesar, however, was certain of one thing.
Whatever he had just wiped from his face was most definitely, absolutely not food sauce.
…A wise man does not go poking at a hornet's nest.
Caesar quietly averted his gaze and pretended he had seen nothing.
"Hoo—"
Kenis stepped onto the dueling grounds, steadying her breath as she took in her surroundings. Crowds packed every direction. Six towering thrones loomed above. The air itself seemed to shimmer with heat and anticipation.
Across from her stood a warrior already burning with fighting spirit, eyes locked on her alone.
Kenis closed her eyes and deliberately calmed her mind and body. It was not fear or tension that drove her to do so.
She was trying to keep herself from getting too excited.
Gently… gently! Ease the strength from your hands… gently!
If she let excitement take over and put even a fraction too much power into a blow, her opponent might die. In a way the thought was arrogant, yet from Kenis's perspective it was only natural.
Her body, remade by divine blessing, was something that had already left the realm of ordinary humanity. Until she grew fully accustomed to this new flesh, even eating a meal had been a careful, cautious affair.
"Hoo—"
Eyes still closed, she soothed her racing heart. Then they snapped open.
"Come at me!"
"I ask for a good match!"
Kenis yielded the first move, and her opponent charged at once. A sharp spear lanced toward her head with vicious speed—
CLANG—!
It rebounded with a hollow metallic ring. The spear, struck by a sword Kenis had swung with every ounce of force deliberately withheld, spun several times through the air before clattering to the ground.
"Ugh…"
The warrior's palms had split open from the force transmitted through the shaft; blood dripped steadily onto the sand.
"Shall we continue?"
"…I forfeit."
Having tasted even a brief sample of Kenis's monstrous strength, the opponent bowed his head low and conceded.
"Hero Kenis—!! In an instant she neutralizes her foe and claims victory!!"
At the announcer's cry the crowd erupted, chanting her name over and over.
"Kenis! Kenis! Kenis!"
"Kyaaah!! Big sister is so pretty!!"
"Hero, I love you!!!"
Kenis waved with an embarrassed little smile. Every wave only made the cheers swell louder.
After greeting the stands she withdrew to the waiting area.
Inside the waiting room a fair number of warriors sat scattered about, each recovering in their own way. Some meditated. Others performed light exercises to settle their nerves. One massive fighter, face hidden behind a helmet and clearly nursing a serious back wound, groaned and shifted in pain.
And among them, impossible to miss, was a woman carefully tending an axe of truly enormous size.
Friga was honing the edge of the Dragon Hunter's Axe with a whetstone. The stone itself was being ground away far faster than the blade, yet she paid it no mind. The act of sharpening seemed to be her preferred method of rest.
The moment Kenis spotted her she hurried over. She still had not received Friga's forgiveness. Friga had been thoroughly furious and had even declared open war before storming off; the memory still weighed on Kenis's heart.
"Um… Lady Friga…"
Kenis called out hesitantly. Friga pretended not to hear and kept working the axe.
"Lady Friga… I-I'll apologize. I was far too—"
"No."
Friga cut her off. The Dragon Hunter's Axe gleamed, its edge now razor-sharp and proud.
"The only conversation you and I are going to have is a conversation of steel."
"Uh…"
"You want to apologize? Then do it the way intelligent, civilized people do."
THUD—
The Dragon Hunter's Axe slammed into the ground with a heavy, earth-shaking weight. The massive weapon radiated pure intimidation all by itself.
"Northern style."
Friga looked Kenis dead in the eye and grinned.
Had Kenis's rude question angered her? Of course it had. But as always, Friga had shaken it off quickly enough. Once her head cooled, a far more appealing idea had taken root: she could use this as the perfect excuse to go a round with Kenis.
And right now, with Kenis fretting and desperate to apologize, the girl would have no choice but to go along with whatever Friga said.
A conversation between intelligent people. A civilized dialogue.
In the North, those things were conducted only with steel.
A talk carried out with a keen blade and a heavy axe was every bit as honest as one shared over drinks.
Friga wanted that civilized conversation with Kenis.
"Let's settle this like civilized folk."
The corner of Friga's mouth curled upward into a fierce smile.
As always, her grin was nothing short of savage.
— "Kenis—! Instantly neutralizes her opponent!!"
"Whoa, Kenis is ridiculously strong."
The second Kenis stepped into the arena she crushed her opponent in the blink of an eye. One basic swing and the guy was done.
All that careful nurturing had paid off. Yeah. After everything I'd invested in her, she damn well better put on a show like this.
Friga, Kenis—every adventurer I'd given a weapon to had breezed through the group stage without trouble. At this rate they would keep climbing just fine even without me handing out extra buffs for a while.
That left only Iscal, and he was the one I was most worried about. A guy whose only weapon was a single shield—how exactly was he supposed to beat anyone?
His turn hadn't come up yet, but if things looked bad I would probably have to drop a buff on him.
— "And now, the final duel of the day!! Let us meet the warriors who will close out today's festival!!"
"Looks like he's up."
With nearly eight hundred warriors gathered, the event schedule was clearly going to stretch on for a while. Today would cover the group stage, then pick up again later.
— "I can do this. I can do this!"
Iscal strode into the arena carrying his enormous shield—a massive rectangular slab that looked more like a castle door than a piece of equipment. Defense was rock-solid, sure, but the offensive power still looked painfully lacking no matter how I squinted at it.
His opponent wielded a pair of wickedly curved twin blades. Light cloth armor, a lean build that screamed high agility—anyone could see the guy was built for speed.
"Tch… is this gonna be okay?"
I kept tilting my head, unable to feel any real confidence in Iscal. Defense had already been proven in the last boss fight, so that wasn't the issue. The real question was whether Iscal could land a single effective hit.
— "Hup!"
While I was still debating whether to throw a buff, the match began. True to form, the opponent dashed in and seized the initiative. Twin curved blades crossed and scythed toward Iscal.
The blades whipped through the air so fast I wondered if the screen had even managed to capture a single frame.
CLANG—!
Thankfully Iscal's shield reacted just as swiftly, catching both blades cleanly. His health bar didn't drop a single point.
His opponent's, on the other hand…
"Why is your health going down?"
The guy who had attacked was the one losing HP.
I stared at the screen for a long moment, trying to make sense of it, then slapped my knee.
"It's bugged."
I'd thought things had been quiet for a while. Guess a trash game never really changes its spots.