Chapter 218
Chapter 218
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 218
Chapter Title: The Blindly Devoted Knight and the Enigmatic Mage, and the Little Demons -4
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Sabak. Sabujak.
Footprints from iron boots stamped into the arena sand. The full plate armor weighed heavily on his body, leaving deep impressions with every step. Yet after a couple gusts of wind, those traces vanished without a sign.
But the crowd had no time to ponder such ephemerality. The knight had already reached the center of the arena. It signaled the start of the fight.
"The tournament of 'Valor' has now entered the second round. On the left, the vice-captain of the 'Azure Wind Knights,' who has shone brightly on the eastern front—Cisel Yurensuto—!!"
Wuuuung—!
The knight gripped the hilt of the zweihander slung over his shoulder and let it drop naturally. Even that alone produced a heavy roar, like the wind screaming in agony.
From the blade's tip embedded in the sand came a constant ticking sound. Grains of sand were pushed away by the inherent power in the sword.
The greatsword was primed to smash through anything blocking its path. Be it massive boulders, towering mountains, or even castle walls.
"And on the right, stepping up in his advanced years to become a hero—the Alonso from Windmill Village!"
Facing the knight was a wrinkled old man.
His joints ached with age, his knuckles bulged prominently, and his eyes were dim and murky. The poison called time, which melted all things away, had reduced a once-youthful man to this wretched shell.
Yet had time's rot not reached the old man's heart? He opened his mouth in a cheerful, lively voice.
"Haha! To think I'd already face a top contender—I'm the luckiest guy on this stage today."
"Lucky, you say."
Was certain defeat such a welcome thing?
There were signs of training, but it fell short. Passing the qualifiers with that frail body was praiseworthy, sure, though everyone had seen him struggle through with labored grunts.
He was worlds apart from Cisel, who had shattered three layers of holy shields with a casual swing.
Even if time flowed backward and the old man returned to his strongest youth, beating Cisel Yurensuto would be impossible. And yet, he spoke of luck?
The old man chuckled.
"How could I not be thrilled to reach the finals so soon? For an old codger like me, time is precious. I've got plenty to do outside this tournament."
"...Your confidence is remarkable. If you're so busy, why enter this tournament at all?"
"No grand reason—just wanted to give it a shot. And you, knight? Why did you join?"
"That's..."
To return to the eastern front. Cisel Yurensuto nearly gave that vague answer, but the old man's sparkling eyes stopped him short.
For some reason, it felt wrong. Inappropriate.
Speaking such dry words might make him seem like a noble lady showing up to a ball in a shabby servant's rags. He needed to give an answer... more fitting for those eyes.
But what fit, and what didn't?
He had no memory of learning such things.
Faded memories held the Yurensuto estate in vivid detail. A garden elegantly adorned with purple lavender, servants moving with disciplined precision. The Yurensuto family's refinement was renowned even in high society. Though a nouveau riche house without deep roots, their grace ran deep. Guests to the manor universally called it perfect. How beautiful was the garden, without a single errant branch? How satisfying were the servants' movements, like a perfectly choreographed play? Count Yurensuto and his wife were the epitome of nobility, like figures from a painting. Surely his roots were itinerant tenant farmers, and Lady Evelé from a merchant family. Yet not a trace of lowly origins showed in their every gesture. They embodied aristocratic etiquette like entries from an encyclopedia. One could only bow in respect to their efforts. Even their young children were nearly flawless. The little girls, barely seven or eight, were doll-like in beauty and manners. Tiny hands gripped forks without flaw, meals eaten silently. Not a single whine. Their speech, too.
"Was the meal to your liking, guest? I hope the Yurensuto hospitality pleased you. Mother prepared it with such care."
Smooth, without a single stutter. That precocious maturity, paired with the violet eyes of Yurensuto blood, doubled their charm.
"It's like angels descended."
Some manor guest had said as much. Society thus praised: The Yurensuto line was born to be nobility! Blessed by the goddess herself! Perfect manor, perfect family, perfect bloodline. A house like a finely wrought gem. But night falls. All things have their underside. When night cloaked the beautiful purple manor, the basement echoed with children's sobs and the crack of whips.
"The m-meal was..."
"Again."
"The meal, the..."
"Again."
Until perfect. A beautiful flower bloomed from near-obsessive compulsion. ...... The 'Wall of Glory' brimmed with the Yurensuto family's honors and accolades. Medals from the imperial family for their loyalty, the count's battle records, clippings of Lady Evelé starting trends in society. And countless other minor feats. Once solely for the couple, the layout shifted after children arrived. The top still overflowed with the parents' 'glories.' Below were spaces for the children. 'Cisel,' 'Yuna,' 'Juel.' Under each nameplate, their achievements hung nailed in place. 'Placement in the Redburn Duke's youth martial tournament.' 'Praise from Lady Alorad's salon.' 'Academy admission certificate.' And more. 'Praiseworthy deeds' displayed with paranoid fervor. Proof of the Yurensuto blood's talent, the house's greatness. The true Wall of Glory. Lady Evelé, entranced by those heights, frowned at the empty spaces below. Insufficient. Utterly lacking. Children born to this house should achieve twice that. They must proclaim their talents far and wide. She and Count Yurensuto had built this great house from nothing. So children born to 'fine blood,' given 'superior education' and 'ample affection,' should surpass them. If they failed despite the couple's devotion and investment—it must mean the children's efforts fell short. Lady Evelé took a brush and drew a massive rectangle on the wall. So large that Cisel, looking up, paled blue.
"You must fill this rectangle by year's end, Cisel. Understood?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Juel already has twelve 'glories' this year alone. You've only five. Far too few to be a knight upholding the family. My dear Cisel, this isn't you!"
"......"
But Juel's 'glories' were fabricated lies from society. And I tried so hard. I trained swordsmanship through the pain, holding back tears. And now... more?
"Cisel, we've hired a new swordmaster. Famous for his strictness—better than that soft weakling last time. It cost a fortune, but... for our precious gem like you, no price is too high."
"......"
"I work so hard for you children—don't you pity me? Aren't you ashamed? If you have any conscience, don't slack. Not like lazy Yuna."
"Yes, I will. I'm sorry, Mother."
Young Cisel bowed his head. He had to fill the rectangle. He'd entered every nearby contest. How to gather more 'glories'? Anything half-hearted would only stoke Mother's anger. Lady Evelé scanned the Wall of Glory with a nitpicking gaze, then reached out. A past certificate from a local artist—Cisel had sung well. 'Baekryeom Arts Academy recommendation.' "This useless thing's still here. When you're to be a knight."
"......"
Rip. The recommendation tore away. Cisel couldn't tell if the pain in his heart came from the growing emptiness in the rectangle or something else. His hollow heart held only dogged duty. Fill the rectangle. Become the person to fit it perfectly. He must. Somehow. Somehow become a knight. Somehow a great knight worthy of the Yurensuto name.
"...I must. Elder."
"......"
Kikigik. Cisel Yurensuto raised his zweihander. Win the tournament, become a hero candidate, get lucky with the goddess's choice and heal his body. Then he could fill the rectangle a bit more. Even if he died. The old man grimaced as if witnessing something unseemly, like swallowing bitter fruit, then spat out the aftertaste.
"I won't fight you."
"Forfeiting?"
"Aye, I yield. Any urge to challenge has withered. What's the point in bullying someone already beaten? I forfeit. I'm stepping down."
"......"
The old man grumbled as he descended from the arena. Cisel watched his back, loosening his grip on the hilt. He'd won. The announcer spat excitedly.
"A forfeit! Even the brave elder couldn't stand against the 'Azure Wind Knights'' might?! The winner of this match—Cisel Yurensuto!"
A victory without meaning. No joy in grasping these 'glory' crumbs. But knowing no other value to pursue, Cisel forced a smile and turned away. It throbbed. The old man's disappointed face lingered like a brand. Facing that look of unfulfilled expectations still weighed heavy.
"The next match—" As Cisel Yurensuto headed to the waiting room, the announcer's voice faded behind. A lackluster bout meant no break before the next. Walking the long corridor, Cisel encountered the next participant.
"......"
"Hm."
A girl in a butterfly mask... No eyeholes, revealing only pursed lips and faint golden blonde hair. Streaks of gold suggested nobility. She felt... familiar somehow. The masked girl pouted slightly, as if sulking. As Cisel froze, unsure, she spoke.
"A lot's going to change, Cisel. A whole lot."
"...What do you mean?"
"Heh, want to know? Climb to the finals. Follow the brackets... and we'll meet in the end. One of us has to fall."
And then, the girl struck a pose. Inefficient and pointless, but a bit cool.
"I am the Enigmatic Mage X...!! Keep your neck safe till then and wait!"
Dodododo. With that, she dashed toward the sunlit exit. Cisel blankly followed her receding figure with his eyes. She seemed so familiar. ...A declaration of war? From the exit stage came raucous noise. Cheers, fervor, the commentator's yells. Unlike Cisel's dull match, something fierce was unfolding.
"Ultimate move, Dragon Spiral Kick—!!"
"No way, Enigmatic Mage X is going for close-quarters brawl?! A fearsome whirlwind kick!"
"What, you expect me to block that or something? Seriously!!"
"......"
That joyful clamor somehow stung Cisel Yurensuto.
The session had begun. After rounds one and two, he'd roughly grasped the targets. Peeking into their deep psyches took heaps of magic stones and prep, but this intel was a bargain. He'd billed the magic stone costs to Irid as business expenses—only his glare got 5% more venomous, otherwise smooth. Now, the real deal. The Yurensuto household was a powder keg. The Red-flavor duke at least schemed coldly through hard work to abuse; these fools wrecked their home on raw pedigree alone, doing everything you're not supposed to with kids. Comparing siblings, corporal punishment, mood-swing attitudes, forced opinions, et cetera. Even if you study abuse manuals, you couldn't botch it this bad. Is abuse a talent...? Seeing the past bummed him out too. Poor Yuna. Escaping that hellhole only to land in the Violet Magic Tower... what a nightmare. He wanted to hug and kiss her right now, but Yuna was busy role-playing as Enigmatic Beauty Mage X. Just got multi-hit by her illusion Dragon Spiral Kick. She seemed thrilled, which made him happy. Maybe play with her more like that usually. Anyway. Yuna—not Mage X—and Cisel meet in the finals. Unless he soothed her sulk by then, who knew how the story twists—even a daughter-in-law couldn't say. No malice from Yuna. No intent to outright kill his session. Seemed playful, but tigers playing can still kill. So ideally... resolve Yuna's pout before finals. While handling Cisel Yurensuto care too. The latter seemed easy; the former, a nightmare. But must-do for his happiness! A gate to pass! Cisel Yurensuto. Dreamed of being a singer as a kid? He'd dangle irresistible bait. He had modern song data galore...!
"......"
Cisel Yurensuto hugged a bag stuffed with bread, walking Trumpet Hall street, pondering inwardly.
Lately... weren't there suspiciously many street singers around?