Chapter 108: Things Get More Interesting Tomorrow (3)
Chapter 108: Things Get More Interesting Tomorrow (3)
"West is Strong, East is Weak."
This single phrase perfectly encapsulated the current state of the continent.
To the north lay Evergreen, the homeland of the elves. To the south were the Iron Mountains, where the dwarves had made their home. While there had been some complications with these two races in the past, they were not currently hostile toward humanity. In fact, they weren't considered a major problem, as much could be gained through trade and exchange with them.
The real problem was the Great Forest, situated in the eastern part of the continent.
It was a Demon Realm teeming with monsters—an unexplored territory where the deeper one ventured, the less they knew what horrors awaited. Countless humans had attempted to conquer it, only to eventually give up on its development and retreat in defeat.
And that was a grave issue.
Monsters from the Great Forest frequently crossed into human territories, causing constant havoc. Consequently, the eastern nations sharing a border with the Great Forest were forced to perpetually drain their national strength to defend themselves.
The Flame Kingdom.
The Yuzef Kingdom.
The Decatur Kingdom.
The Atronia Kingdom.
These four nations served as a breakwater against the Great Forest. Because they held the line, the other nations of the continent were able to develop in peace and stability. As a result, the four eastern nations became the weakest on the continent, while the others grew into relative superpowers.
Prince Sierion of the Yuzef Kingdom harbored a deeper dissatisfaction regarding this fact than anyone else... No, it was more accurate to say he harbored a grudge.
You hypocrites, descendants of traitors. Do not think your false glory will last forever.
It was then.
Accompanied by the blast of a trumpet, an attendant shouted at the top of his lungs.
"The delegation from the Benator Empire is entering!"
The banquet hall buzzed with excitement at the announcement.
"The Benator Empire's delegation?"
"Ooh... Does that mean the Sword Saint’s grandson has arrived?"
"I’ve been dying to see him at least once."
The delegation from the Benator Empire, the strongest nation on the continent, had arrived. The most powerful candidates for victory had made their appearance. As they stepped grandly into the entrance of the hall, their mere presence overwhelmed the surroundings.
"They all look magnificent."
"I’d believe it if someone told me they were active-duty knights rather than academy cadets."
"Which one is the Sword Saint’s grandson?"
"Isn't it that blonde youth in the center?"
"Ah... I see. He truly is on another level."
The Benator Empire was a powerhouse that had won the Arcana a staggering thirteen times. They were always considered favorites, but this time, their victory was seen as a near certainty. This was because the grandson of the Sword Saint himself was participating.
The strongest knight in the Empire—or more accurately, the man called the strongest knight on the continent—Duke Carlos Reinardo, the Sword Saint. His grandson was competing in this year's Arcana.
Garcia Reinardo.
He was said to have already reached a realm surpassing that of the Sword Saint in his youth. As he appeared, the atmosphere of the banquet hall shifted entirely. Representatives from other nations watched him with wary, searching gazes, while the local nobles were desperate to exchange even a single word with him.
The grandson of the Sword Saint and the heir to an Imperial Dukedom. In truth, he was a much more valuable connection than the royalty of other nations. It was impossible not to covet his favor.
Just as people began to approach the Imperial representatives one by one...
"The delegation from the Saint Louis Holy Church State is entering."
Another heavyweight appeared in succession. The Saint Louis Holy Church State was a superpower that shared continental hegemony with the Benator Empire. This powerful religious state, led by the invincible 12 Paladins, had also won the Arcana ten times in the past.
And among the Holy Church State's representatives was an individual whose presence carried as much weight as the Sword Saint’s grandson.
"Oh... Silver hair and golden eyes already?"
"Has he already succeeded in manifesting a miracle?"
"As expected of the youngest candidate for the 12 Paladins..."
The crowd’s attention was fixed on a man with silver hair and golden eyes standing at the center of the delegation. When a Holy Knight reaches a certain level, their body undergoes changes as proof of divine blessing. Silver hair and golden eyes were that very evidence.
A Holy Knight who displayed such physical changes could perform a porténtum, or miracle, granted by God. The power of a Holy Knight capable of such miracles was equivalent to at least a 5-Star level in terms of regular knights. Depending on the type of miracle, they could even surpass the 6-Star or 7-Star realms.
In other words, the young man participating as the representative of the Holy Church State was at least at the 5-Star level or higher.
Upon entering the hall, the youth with silver hair and golden eyes didn't spare a glance elsewhere and headed straight toward the Imperial representatives. Then...
"Are you the successor of the Sword Saint?"
He addressed the Imperial representative bluntly.
At that, a handsome blonde youth among the Imperial delegation stepped forward, looking slightly piqued.
"I am Garcia Reinardo."
"I am Antorius Denar, a servant of Yupinel."
"I have heard the rumors. That there is a talented individual expected to become the youngest Paladin in the Holy Church State."
"The rumors about you are quite loud as well. They say you’ve surpassed the Sword Saint in his youth. Is it true?"
"How could I dare claim such a thing? It is merely the kind words of those around me."
"Even so, it is impressive. Your current realm is..."
"Hahaha. I believe you can confirm that for yourself at the tournament grounds."
The atmosphere was peculiar. Though they were smiling and complimenting each other, the air was cold. As the two engaged in a conversation filled with both scouting and posturing, the other representatives behind them glared at their counterparts with murderous eyes.
"Hoho... It ends up like this after all."
"It’s inevitable whenever the Empire and the Holy Church State gather in one place."
"That is true."
The nobles in the banquet hall weren't so much surprised by the tension as they were accepting of it as a matter of course. On the surface, the two nations were not enemies. However, countless skirmishes, both large and small, occurred along their borders. As nations vying for continental supremacy, they possessed a fierce sense of rivalry.
In particular, the eyes of the Holy Church State representatives looking at the Sword Saint’s grandson seemed ready to spit fire.
The Sword Saint. They couldn't help but be sensitive to that name, which had brought indelible shame to the Holy Church State. After the Sword Saint fought five of the 12 Paladins to a draw simultaneously, he was bestowed with the title of the strongest on the continent. Conversely, the reputation of the invincible 12 Paladins, the symbols of the Holy Church State, had lost its luster.
Well, technically, "invincible" still applied. It was a draw despite a five-on-one gang beating, but they hadn't lost, after all...
Just as the atmosphere was becoming increasingly strained...
"The delegation from the Tower of Truth is entering."
Yet another titan appeared. With a total of six Arcana victories, the Tower of Truth was the headquarters of mages. Though not a nation, it possessed military strength greater than most countries. The Magic Swordsmen representing the Tower made their entrance.
"Ho... So those are the Magic Swordsmen."
"It’s my first time seeing them."
"They rarely leave the Tower, after all."
The banquet hall stirred once more at the sight of the Magic Swordsmen entering with their ornate uniforms and fluttering capes. They all wore jewelry like bracelets or necklaces, which were the Soul Weapons that symbolized their martial prowess.
Soul Weapons. They were inventions of the Tower of Truth, created by imitating Ancient Artifacts. Unlike artifacts, which performed the same for anyone, a Soul Weapon was a magical tool whose performance depended heavily on the wielder's capability. If used well, they could exhibit performance superior to Ancient Artifacts—even to the point of not falling behind the Paladins of the Holy Church State or 7-Star knights.
The fact that the Tower of Truth had won the Arcana six times was proof of their strength.
The Benator Empire.
The Saint Louis Holy Church State.
The Tower of Truth.
Over the last fifty years, these three powers had virtually monopolized the Arcana championships. With all three powers now present, the atmosphere in the hall turned strange. While there had been a somewhat social vibe until a moment ago, a heavy silence now descended, so thick that one felt the need to swallow carefully.
One of the Magic Swordsmen walked toward the Imperial and Holy Church State groups and spoke.
"It has been a while, Sir Reinardo."
"A long time indeed, Lord Sierra."
The two seemed to be acquaintances. Garcia spoke in a polite but firm tone.
"I have not yet received my formal knight conferment, so please refrain from using the title 'Sir'."
"Hahaha. If one is the grandson of the Sword Saint, no one would complain even if you were knighted the moment you were born. You are quite cautious."
"My grandfather is my grandfather, and I am myself."
"I wonder if that's truly the case?"
On the surface, it was a friendly "let's compliment each other" atmosphere, but the subtext was quite different.
You're just riding your grandfather's coattails, aren't you?
No, I'm not.
Is that so?
That was the gist of the exchange. Having mocked the Sword Saint’s grandson, the Magic Swordsman turned to the Holy Knight of the Holy Church State.
"A pleasure to meet you. I am Riman Sierra of the Tower of Truth."
"I am Antorius Denar, a faithful servant of Yupinel."
"I’ve heard the rumors, but seeing you in person is quite surprising. To have perfect silver hair and golden eyes at your age... How many miracles have you been granted?"
As the other man hovered on the edge of being outright rude, Antorius slightly furrowed his silver eyebrows.
"Divine grace is merely proof of one's faith. I ask that you do not equate it with the Soul Weapons of Magic Swordsmen or the realms of knights."
"Hahaha. Those are nice words to hear."
"Are you implying they aren't true?"
"Well, the Holy Knights do seem particularly eager to step forward whenever the Holy Church State intervenes across the continent in the name of God."
"We merely exercise the necessary amount of force according to the Divine Will."
"I often find myself confused as to whether that is the Divine Will or the Pope’s will."
He had finally crossed the line. At Riman’s words, the Holy Church State delegation flinched, radiating a murderous aura. Regardless, Riman maintained a leisurely smile.
"My, my. For people who serve God to be so bloodthirsty."
Another Holy Knight behind Antorius shouted in a fit of rage.
"Do you expect to remain unscathed after insulting His Holiness the Pope?"
"And what do you think you're doing right now? Threatening me? Are you saying you want to take on the Tower of Truth?"
The situation was on the verge of exploding. To begin with, even if they were the young representatives of their respective nations, they were hot-blooded youths. Furthermore, they had grown up being treated as precious elites, giving them immense pride. There had been instances of trouble in previous tournaments as well. But then...
"Hahaha. Everyone’s fighting spirit is truly remarkable. I am looking forward to this tournament even more now."
A man with black hair and red eyes stepped forward to de-escalate the confrontation.
Jeyton Rud Magellan.
He was a prince of the Magellan Kingdom and the representative of the host nation for this Arcana. He stepped between the three clashing powers and spoke with a smile.
"Starting tomorrow, you will have to fight with everything you have, whether you like it or not. Is there any need to waste your strength now because you can't wait a single day?"
His words made sense. Besides, doesn't even a mutt get a boost in its own yard? If this were anywhere else, who knows? But here in the Magellan Kingdom, they couldn't simply ignore the mediation of the prince himself.
The Empire, the Holy Church State, and the Tower of Truth all decided to back down for the moment.
"I shall do my best in the tournament."
"That is my intention as well."
"We shall see then."
The three powerful factions stepped back and separated. Having mediated the hostile atmosphere, Prince Jeyton raised his champagne glass high.
"To the success of this Arcana!"
"Cheers!"
The nobles of the Magellan Kingdom followed his lead, and the atmosphere of the banquet hall softened once more. While the representatives of the three major powers kept their distance, the representatives and nobles of other nations began to mingle and converse actively.
Prince Jeyton thought to himself.
Yes. This is it.
He felt extremely proud of the current situation. He had personally stepped in to mediate the conflict between those three great powers—and right in the center where everyone was watching. To others, it might seem like nothing, but to him, this was an event of great political significance.
Jeyton Rud Magellan.
Born as the seventh prince of the Magellan royalty, he was quite far from the throne. Normally, he would have been a prince who left no more impression than "Oh, there was a prince like that." However, he possessed a talent for the sword that his brothers lacked, and though he had royal support, he had earned his spot as the Arcana representative through his own skill.
Publicly, his realm was 5-Star, but in truth, he had recently set foot into the 6-Star realm. Although it was a realm he had forcibly reached using royal heirlooms and secret techniques, being a 6-Star at his age was still a remarkable feat. In this Arcana, he had the skill to aim for at least the semi-finals—or even the championship, if he was lucky and the monsters eliminated each other.
If I win the Arcana, I can start building my own faction in earnest. If that happens, the throne won't just be a dream.
To achieve that, this Arcana was his opportunity. Not only did he need to achieve good results, but he also had to prove his qualifications as a future king by building the right connections at the tournament.
I’ve shown enough charisma by mediating the fight between the three powers. Shall I show some magnanimity this time?
He wanted to create an image of himself as a benevolent leader, not just a tyrant who relied on strength, by mingling with the representatives of weaker nations. While searching for a target...
There looks good.
The representative of the weakest nation in the Arcana. An outcast who, despite attending the banquet, wasn't talking to anyone and was only focused on consuming the food and drink. How merciful would he, a prince of the Magellan Kingdom, look if he approached such a person and treated them well?
Having finished his calculations, Prince Jeyton approached his target. Radiating as much kindness as he possibly could, he spoke.
"Hahaha. Is our country's food to your liking?"
The figure, who had been busy eating, turned his head.
And then, he said one thing.
"Wha? 'm-ma?" (What? Punk?)
Tsk, tsk, tsk.