Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Mounted Combat (1)
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The next day, the day of the mounted combat arrived.
Demian headed to the waiting area behind the tournament grounds early in the morning.
The knights who had arrived ahead of time were preparing for the matches.
“Young master, are you really going to fight in armor like this?”
Victor the valet held out a leather breastplate to Demian as he asked.
The leather armor Demian had brought was small, covering only the torso.
It left the shoulders and upper arms exposed, so even a glancing sword strike would draw blood immediately.
“This will be enough.”
Demian spoke nonchalantly as he donned the armor.
All the participants in the mounted combat were quasi-knights or low-class.
They didn’t have the skill to even graze a hair on Demian’s head.
In that case, light leather armor was better than heavy plate.
“Even chainmail would have been better...”
It was while Victor spoke with a deeply worried expression.
Dong- dong-
A soldier in his upper garments struck a large drum set up on one side of the tournament grounds.
At the sound, the knights’ attention focused on the grounds.
Count Copperhead was walking out to the center.
“Ahem, thank you all for gathering like this. I am Chester Copperhead.”
With his introduction, Count Copperhead began the opening ceremony.
“Today, brave knights from the west have all gathered here. The winner’s name will spread not just through the west, but to other regions as well.”
Tournaments of this scale didn’t happen often.
Surely, not only the west but neighboring areas were paying attention.
As the count said, the champion would gain tremendous fame.
“Of course, it won’t just be fame. We’ve prepared a prize befitting the winner.”
Count Copperhead gestured. Several servants brought out an object covered in cloth.
The count pulled off the cloth, revealing a crystal the size of a child’s fist.
Unusually, a small flame like a candle burned endlessly inside the crystal.
“What’s that? A magic tool?”
“Doesn’t look like it. Magic tools have magic circles engraved on the surface.”
The nobles gazed at the crystal with faces mixed with puzzlement and curiosity.
At the count’s gesture, another servant approached carrying a large silver tray.
Atop the silver tray burned bright red flames.
The count gripped the crystal and thrust his hand into the flames.
“Kyaaak!”
“Uwaaak! What is that?!”
The nobles cried out in shock. The knights in the waiting area did the same.
But the count himself showed no sign of pain.
“This is a treasure collected by my grandfather. As you can see, it has the power to protect its owner from flames. It also maintains body temperature.”
At the count’s words, the nobles began to murmur.
Magic tools that protected the body from elements like that crystal were extremely valuable.
Usually, only mid-rank mages of 5th circle or higher could create them, and even then, with limited uses.
But that crystal showed no such limits.
And it even had the added effect of regulating body temperature.
It was no ordinary item.
“I don’t know its origins either. Even the mages didn’t know.”
Its unclear origins were a slight drawback, but not a major issue.
The crystal’s effects were simply too outstanding.
“This will be given to the winner as the prize.”
The count held up the crystal high as he spoke. The nobles erupted in cheers.
The knights in the waiting area also gazed at the crystal, steeling their resolve.
‘What?’
Amid them, Demian alone was stunned.
‘Why is a Spirit Heart here?’
* * *
Spirit.
It was a term for the mystical beings born embodying the power of nature.
Their intelligence was that of a child, but their power was terrifying.
Even the weakest spirit was rated as low-class in strength.
‘They’ve put out an incredibly rare item as the prize.’
Unlike the count, Demian knew exactly what the object was.
Spirit Heart.
A mass of power that formed with extremely low probability when a high-grade spirit perished.
High-grade spirits possessed excellent intelligence and wielded power comparable to high-class.
‘So the rumor I heard in my past life was true.’
The mystery was solved.
From what Demian knew, the mounted combat winner had used the prize to reach high-class.
A heart left by a high-grade spirit made that entirely possible.
Melting and absorbing it would grant immense mana and spirit power.
‘Spirit power, huh...’
Demian recalled the elves he had fought in his past life.
Under Dorgo’s orders, when destroying the empire, the elven race had come to stop Demian.
All of them had contracted with spirits, including some with spirit kings.
‘Those were terrifying bastards. It felt like fighting nature itself.’
Demian had battled over dozens of spirit summoners for more than three months.
And he had won by tearing apart the spirit king.
‘To put out a treasure like that as a prize... He really didn’t know what it was.’
Humans knew little about spirits.
So no mage had recognized it as a Spirit Heart.
Demian could tell thanks to the knowledge from Dorgo and his battles with the elves.
‘I wasn’t expecting much from the prize, but... that one tempts me.’
Absorbing the Spirit Heart could accelerate his return to his past life’s realm.
‘But where the hell is Abel?’
Demian scanned the stands. There, squeezed among the nobles, was Abel.
Abel was staring enviously at somewhere.
‘What’s he looking at... Ah.’
Olivia Copperhead sat in the VIP seats. Other nobles crowded around Lady Copperhead.
He wanted to talk to her but lacked the confidence to push through the nobles, so he had given up.
‘What an immature fool.’
Demian clicked his tongue inwardly.
He was displeased, but it was half-expected. Abel was hopeless in that area.
“Victor, follow me.”
“Yes! ...Yes?”
Demian pushed through the knights and stepped out onto the tournament grounds.
“Y-Young master? The matches haven’t started yet.”
“I know.”
Dismissing Victor’s complaint, Demian stood before the count in the VIP seats.
“Your Excellency, good morning.”
“Oh, Sir Demian. Good morning.”
“Thanks to the fine accommodations you provided, I rested comfortably.”
The count looked pleased at Demian’s response.
“But what brings you out? Do you have something to say?”
“Before the tournament begins, I wanted to raise a concern.”
“A concern?”
The count’s eyes widened as he asked.
“Mounted combat can be quite rough, and sometimes brutal scenes occur.”
Demian glanced at Lady Olivia sitting beside the count as he spoke.
“I worry whether someone as delicate as Lady Olivia can fully enjoy the tournament.”
Demian continued with the most concerned expression he could muster.
“So, how about placing someone beside her to explain and help her enjoy it? My brother Abel has trained under me as a squire and is well-versed in swordsmanship and mounted combat techniques.”
Demian pointed to Abel in the stands. Abel stared back in surprise.
“Thank you for your concern, but Olivia isn’t so fragile as to fear the mounted combat. She enjoys hunting as a hobby...”
“Great idea! I’ll do as Sir Demian suggests.”
Lady Olivia Copperhead spoke up quickly. Count Copperhead turned to her in bewilderment.
“Olivia?”
“It’s better than watching alone. Someone explaining beside me would be nice.”
Demian looked at Lady Olivia with surprise.
‘She’s a very perceptive woman.’
To defend it the moment Demian mentioned Abel.
Even better was Lady Olivia’s proactive attitude. She clearly had feelings for Abel.
“Hmm... If Olivia insists, no choice then. Have Lord Abel come here.”
It was when the count gave the order. A shout erupted from the waiting area.
“Your Excellency! That’s too hasty a decision!”
A burly knight strode out onto the grounds.
“My squire has trained under me for a long time. He’s in no way inferior to Lord Abel!”
After asserting his view, the knight glared at Demian provocatively.
“Your Excellency! My squire has exceptional talent and skill!”
“My squire...”
Other knights rushed out from the waiting area, shouting.
‘They’re all desperate.’
Most knights participating in the mounted combat had come to court Lady Olivia.
Having their squire beside Lady Copperhead would allow them to leave a good impression by having the squire praise his master during the tournament.
So they couldn’t bear handing the opportunity to Demian.
“Hmm, what to do...”
The count rubbed his chin with a troubled expression.
Even as a count, he couldn’t arbitrarily decide with the knights objecting like this.
“Your Excellency, no need to worry.”
Demian spoke up again. The count’s gaze turned to him.
“Simply select the most outstanding one to sit beside the lady.”
“What? The most outstanding? How do you plan to select?”
“Right. Are you suggesting the squires fight?”
Some knights shouted at Demian.
Demian shrugged as he replied.
“The squire of the most outstanding knight must be the best, no?”
“Then you’re saying we knights duel now?”
“We can’t do that right before the mounted combat. Not a duel—let’s compete in another skill.”
Demian addressed the count.
“Your Excellency, since Lady Olivia enjoys hunting, how about seating the squire of the knight who shoots the best bow?”
At Demian’s proposal, some knights strongly objected.
“What nonsense! How can you judge knights by something like that?!”
“I agree. There must be a fairer way!”
Not all knights opposed.
“Archery contest? Sounds good to me.”
“I can show off my skills as the famed marksman of Octavia Forest.”
Above all, Lady Olivia’s words sealed it.
“I like it. I was curious how the others shoot anyway.”
“With Olivia agreeing, it’s decided—an archery contest.”
With Olivia’s support, the opposition couldn’t press further.
“Then, who goes first?”
“I’ll go first.”
Demian stepped forward and said. He turned to Victor.
“What are you doing? Go get a bow.”
“Yes, sir!”
Victor dashed off and quickly returned from a soldier with a bow and arrows.
“Here you go!”
“Good work.”
“B-But young master, do you even know how to shoot a bow?”
“No.”
Victor’s face went blank at Demian’s answer.
“...No? Then why did you suggest this?”
“Because I’m confident.”
Demian nocked an arrow.
As he had just said, Demian didn’t know how to shoot a bow. But he knew it all in theory.
‘Let’s see... How did that guy do it?’
Among the masters Demian had fought in the past, there was one called Archfiend.
Surprisingly, Archfiend was not human, but a half-elf.
Archfiend was one of the most dangerous masters Demian had faced.
Arrows loosed from impossible distances each rivaled high-circle magic.
Demian had spent a full week fighting before severing Archfiend’s neck.
Of course, during the battle, he had absorbed all of Archfiend’s techniques and realms.
“Soldiers, hear me. Go fetch the training targets.”
“No need. Aren’t there targets right there?”
Demian pointed to the sky with his arrow tip.
A bird was flapping across the sky.
“Sir Demian, surely you don’t mean to shoot a flying bird...”
Demian loosed the arrow at the bird. But it sailed far past the bird.
“Hahaha! All that talk, and you can’t even get close.”
“Sir Demian, seems you’re no good with a bow.”
Some knights laughed loudly. Demian didn’t care at all.
‘I’ve got a rough idea of its flight now.’
The first arrow was to gauge the trajectory.
With just one shot, Demian had fully grasped this bow.
“Your Excellency, I’ll hit that bird’s left eye.”
Demian nocked the second arrow. Without even aiming, he released the string immediately.
The arrow pierced the bird’s face in the blink of an eye.
The bird fell limply to the ground. A waiting soldier ran up and held it aloft.
“H-He hit the left eye!”
At the soldier’s shout, the entire tournament grounds fell silent.
Demian handed the bow to the knights as he asked.
“Next?”
The knights stared at Demian with awkward expressions but didn’t take the bow.
And so, without anyone objecting, the seat beside Lady Olivia became Abel’s.