Chapter 192
Chapter 192
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 192
Chapter Title: Grand Martial Dragon Tournament (1)
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December 15th.
A single assembly order was issued to all cadets from the 1st through 5th years.
Not every cohort mobilized, however.
The order had gone out only to those qualified to participate in the Grand Martial Dragon Tournament.
Namely, the top five ranks from each cohort.
Upon receiving it, they left their respective living quarters in the east, west, south, and north, converging one after another on the circular arena where the tournament would be held.
The first to arrive were the 50th Cohort, moving with the swiftness befitting the rookies.
Yuri at the lead, followed by Gunter, Ppoppi, and Arin.
The four perennial fixtures on the 50th Cohort's top ranks list.
Plus Clarice Vann, who had clawed her way to 5th place amid the fierce back-and-forth competition.
Right beside the 50th Cohort, who had claimed their spots first, the 49th Cohort gathered a hair later.
Their vibe was somehow off.
Sure, Chief Theresia of the 49th Cohort looked closer to the 50th than her own classmates, but that was one thing.
The rest of the 49th's top ranks were subtly watching the 50th Cohort's eyes.
No—more precisely, they were eyeing Yuri, who lounged among them with her legs crossed cockily.
Amid that awkward tension, the third group appeared from the southern entrance.
It looked like the 48th Cohort in the lineup, but surprisingly, it was the 5th-year 46th Cohort.
Leading them with their white shoulder tabs were Fritz Sing and Vangelis Aniston.
Vangelis and Theresia's gazes met briefly in the air.
"......"
"......"
The two shared a strange battle of wills, but with no real friction, Vangelis simply turned and walked away.
Once the 46th Cohort had settled a short distance off, the 47th and 48th Cohorts—marked by blue and green shoulder tabs—emerged from the eastern and western entrances.
Leading the 4th-year 47th Cohort were a man with red hair and a shady-looking woman with black hair.
The 50th Cohort glanced at them before turning toward the 48th.
Goetz locked eyes with Arin.
But something was off about him.
He whipped his head away in surprise.
It was so unlike the usual Goetz that Arin couldn't help tilting her head.
Meanwhile, she wasn't the only one cocking her head at the 48th Cohort.
Yuri did the same.
'What? He's not here?'
The 48th Cohort from the western entrance numbered only four.
It was obvious who was missing.
Kwonter Rider, who always exuded such a commanding presence, was nowhere to be seen.
As Yuri puzzled over his absence, the Black Sword Soldiers burst in.
Leading all of them this time was someone Yuri hadn't seen in ages.
The one-eyed man who had overseen the 50th Cohort's dragon plaque trials about a year ago.
Vice Captain of the Black Sword Corps, Duran Bikovich.
Standing before the neatly arrayed cadets, he bellowed in a spirited voice.
"Attention! The Grand Martial Dragon Tournament begins now!"
His booming declaration drew a sigh from the haughty-looking woman standing a step behind him, who whispered into Duran's ear.
A brief murmur followed.
"Oh, right?"
Duran scratched his cheek and shouted again.
"Correction—we're drawing lots for the brackets first. The tournament kicks off this afternoon!"
As the somewhat dim superior waved his hand dismissively, his sharp subordinate sighed and handled the rest.
"...Bring it here."
Rattle.
One Black Sword Soldier brought over a small blackboard.
It already featured a bracket for twelve groups, with twenty-four empty slots.
Arin, eyeing it closely, shot her hand up.
"I have a question!"
"What is it?"
No sooner had the one-eyed man given permission than Arin asked, puzzled.
"Why are there twenty-four slots? Shouldn't there be twenty-five in total?"
"Ah, that?"
Duran nodded as if he'd just grasped the question.
He picked up a piece of chalk and drew four square boxes at the top of the blackboard.
Then he wrote a name in one.
[Kwonter Rider]
Thud.
Duran dotted the i and answered casually.
"We've got to give last year's champion his due, right? Kwonter Rider starts in the semifinals. You lot just need to battle through these twenty-four slots and send up the final three for the semis."
Duran tapped the remaining three boxes.
The other cohorts, already in the know, brushed it off as a given.
Yuri's group, now clued in on the rules, nodded slightly.
Satisfied, Duran rapped on a small prepared box.
"Alright, time to draw lots. 46th Cohort, you're up first."
At his words, the 46th stepped forward, and Vangelis deftly plunged her hand into the box.
Clatter, clack.
Something rolled inside as she stirred.
Finally, she pulled out a wooden ball.
A wooden ball marked with '12'.
She handed it to a Black Sword Soldier, who wrote her name into one of the slots in Group 12.
With Vangelis leading, the 46th finished their draws smoothly, and the other cohorts followed suit one by one.
Soon enough.
Theresia's name filled the last slot in Group 5, wrapping up the 49th Cohort.
Finally, it was the 50th Cohort's turn, and Yuri beckoned to Clarice.
"Come on, last place first."
"Last place? I'm fifth."
"Yeah, last in our group."
"......"
"What? Don't like it? Should I not let you go first?"
"...I'll take the courtesy."
Grumbling but accepting the offer, Clarice stepped forward quickly.
He stared tensely at the blackboard.
'The leftovers are one slot each in Groups 1, 7, 9, 10, and 11.'
No matter where he landed, it'd be tough opponents all around.
'Groups 1, 9, and 10 have the 48th Cohort, and 11's got the dreaded 47th...'
The least bad was Group 7, with the 49th Cohort.
Clarice prayed inwardly.
'Please... Group 7! Let me draw Group 7!'
His hand, brimming with desperate hope, delved into the box.
Clack.
He drew one of the five remaining balls.
His soul seemed to follow it out.
'Ah...'
The ball read '11'.
In other words, he'd somehow drawn the toughest matchup of the bunch.
'D-Damn, one in five odds! And my first draw ever... of all things... a 4th-year!'
He'd thought a 2nd-year might be doable.
But his tiny hope shattered.
Clarice stared half-dazed at his name slotted into Group 11.
Leaving him behind, Gunter, Arin, and Ppoppi scampered up one after another, drawing Groups 1, 9, and 10.
Naturally, that left Yuri with Group 7.
Tap-tap.
Seeing her name go up on the board, Yuri swept a glance over the 49th Cohort.
Her eyes met one particularly pale face, and she flashed a grin.
That smile turned the already ashen 49th Cohort member's complexion ghostly white.
"Hic!"
He hiccuped from the shock.
Meanwhile, Duran clapped lightly.
"That's it. See you all this afternoon!"
With that, he waved grandly and vanished.
"......?"
The crowd stared blankly after him.
Then Duran's adjutant sighed and stepped up.
"The Grand Martial Dragon Tournament will span nine days total. We'll run half of the round of twenty-four this afternoon, finish the rest tomorrow afternoon. Exact schedule will be posted later—check it."
"......"
"What matters most to you is probably the prizes, so let's start there. First, everyone participating in the Grand Martial Dragon Tournament will receive..."
She got that far when—
"Hang on!"
Duran, who'd wandered off, hurried back.
"Forgot to mention this!"
"...Seems like that's not the only thing you forgot to say."
Ignoring his adjutant's exasperated jab, Duran pressed on undeterred.
"The Sword Lord has specially authorized opening the Black Dragon Pavilion to this tournament's champion."
"...Pardon?"
Even the adjutant sounded shocked, hearing it for the first time.
The cadets were beside themselves.
"The Black Dragon Pavilion?!"
"I-Is that for real?!"
Shouts of astonishment erupted everywhere.
But not everyone could join the hype.
"...What's that?"
Led by Yuri, the clueless 50th Cohort blinked repeatedly.
* * *
Around lunchtime, as the sun dipped slightly past its zenith.
The stands brimmed with spectators murmuring down at the circular arena.
One topic had them buzzing.
"Heard the news?"
"What news?"
"They're opening the Black Dragon Pavilion to this year's winner."
"No way... For real?!"
Those in the know about the Black Dragon Pavilion.
"The Black Dragon Pavilion—what's that?"
"The Sword Lord's trophy room—or treasure vault!"
"Th-There was such a thing?!"
And those who weren't.
Everyone chattered nonstop about the Black Dragon Pavilion dangling as the tournament prize.
It was that unprecedented.
Surprisingly, though, the actual participants stayed quiet.
No—tense was more like it, a stifling sort of silence.
'The Black Dragon Pavilion's out of reach anyway.'
'So... I'll grab the best prize I can actually claim!'
Just participating came with rewards.
Round of twelve, six, semis—the higher you climbed, the better the prizes.
These contenders steeled themselves to seize the top rewards within their grasp, writing off the seemingly predestined Black Dragon Pavilion.
Of course...
Not everyone fit that mold.
"Ah..."
Theresia sighed softly.
As a Group 5 fighter with a match today, she'd tried to muster some tension for peak condition.
But...
"...It just won't come."
The nerves wouldn't kick in.
It was hardly surprising.
"Haa..."
Theresia sighed again, scanning her surroundings.
Crunch, crunch.
First in view: Ppoppi, clutching a pouch of rations and stuffing her face furiously.
That was just par for the course.
But elsewhere...
"Hey, why do you keep following me?!"
"It's not that I want to—your scent just draws my body inexorably."
"...Then why not come closer at least! Why skulk around like a pervert from afar?!"
"I'm afraid my heart might stop from being intoxicated by your fragrance..."
Arin, annoyed, and Goetz trailing her persistently.
Hiding behind a tree and peeking out shyly—hardly normal behavior for him.
But even all that combined...
'Couldn't top what that one's stirring up.'
Theresia's gaze drifted farther.
"No, why won't it work!"
"I-I'm telling you, it just won't!"
"Then why?!"
"It's the rules, okay? Tournament participants can't bet on match outcomes!"
"Ah, why?!"
"How many times do I have to explain? To prevent match-fixing!"
"I'm just gonna bet everything on myself winning?"
"Doesn't matter—it's not allowed! This is a time-honored rule passed down from my seniors at the betting house!"
"Ugh, screw that—get your boss out here!"
"I *am* the boss, you punk!"
Yuri, grappling with the betting house owner and grabbing his collar.
The crowd around the betting house gasped at her boldness toward a 5th-year senior.
Theresia sighed again.
"Haa..."
How could anyone get pumped in this chaos?
She gave up on forcing tension.
Instead, she yanked Yuri by the scruff away from the betting house owner, then rounded up Arin and Ppoppi too.
With a baffled look, she asked them.
"You guys okay messing around here?"
"Any reason we shouldn't be?"
"Yeah. Ugh, gimme one, you pig!"
"I'm hungry!"
Yuri and Arin lunged for the ration pouch; Ppoppi fought tooth and nail to keep it.
Not kids who'd scatter if unsupervised, but the three gave half-hearted answers while goofing off, so Theresia sighed.
"Haa... Aren't you going to watch the matches?"
"It's optional anyway, right?"
"Sure, optional... but shouldn't you at least watch yours?"
"Why?"
"Why?"
"I'm hungry?"
Faced with their utterly baffled stares, Theresia answered deadpan.
"First match... is Gunter's."
At her words, the trio froze solid for a good three seconds.
"...Huh?"
"Ah...?"
"...I'm hungry."
Only then did Yuri, Arin, and Ppoppi realize Gunter was missing, blinking in unison.