No More Protecting the Empire (2)
"Simple. There's a dragon tournament happening in a nearby city, so we just go there."
"Ah!"
The dragon tournament was an event where Dragon Knights competed for prize money.
They said it had become even more popular since Owen's death twenty years ago.
The reason was clear: many Dragon Knights had lost their fiefs or been expelled from their orders and fallen into ruin.
The problem was the enormous maintenance costs for their dragons afterward.
In the end, the Dragon Knights had no choice but to participate in tournaments held across the Empire to chase those prizes.
It was quite the entertaining spectacle for the common folk, so it drew huge crowds.
Even the Emperor couldn't do much about it.
After the great purge, there were still plenty of dragons roaming free—enough that wiping them all out would have sparked a war.
Besides, the Empire was vast, and the Emperor's influence didn't reach everywhere.
That was why he grumbled that exterminating them was as hard as getting rid of rats.
"The Empire's guardians reduced to ancient gladiators putting on shows for amusement."
Owen couldn't help but lament the current state of affairs.
But thanks to it, the dispossessed Dragon Knights were able to scrape by.
Ben spoke up then.
"Better to just farm and herd cattle like our family, eh? Anyway, if you're set on going, I'll get things ready."
It would take a day and a half to reach the city.
If they were going, they'd need to prepare properly.
"Fine. Let's go."
"Hehe, good thinkin'. I'll load up the pack mule, so just wait."
"Hm?"
What was so smart about it?
Owen found it a bit odd, but he was too excited about seeing dragons to dwell on it.
A day and a half.
That was how long it took to reach the city of Kanid.
It was also the moment Owen realized he'd been duped by his scheming servant.
"No way..."
Owen stood there in a daze, gripping a shovel.
Ben grinned beside him.
"Think positive, young master. Hehehe. Since we're here to see dragons anyway, might as well earn a bit? On the way back, grab a hunk of beef, and everyone'll say what a fine lad you are."
Owen felt utterly conned.
No wonder Ben had eagerly guided him straight to the tournament grounds.
Turned out this sly servant had planned to scrounge up work here with him all along.
The Leire family, little more than rural farmers, had to work no matter what—even if they called him "young master."
"The tournament grounds always got good-paying gigs. We make a haul and head home rich. And of course, you get your fill of dragons first. I won't stop ya there. Kehhehehe!"
"...You're the worst servant in the world."
No helping it now.
Owen's job was to dig pits for burying dragon dung in advance.
Sweat was already pouring down like rain.
Scoop! Thud!
The shovel plunged into the earth repeatedly.
Owen and Ben were at the tournament arena on the city's outskirts.
Dragons needed vast space to move, so these venues were always built outside towns.
Tents and fences were going up, and soon Dragon Knights would start arriving one by one.
The matches wouldn't start for a few days, but curious citizens were already milling about.
"Young master, dragons are finally here! Look at that big fella leadin' the pack!"
Ben pointed, and sure enough, a massive dragon lumbered in with a knight aboard.
"A Blue Tongue Dragon."
It was one of the representative medium-sized breeds.
Long body, short legs, docile temperament.
It belonged to the ground dragon family—no wings—but its toughness was legendary.
Many advantages, but the feed costs were a nightmare.
But Owen's eyes were fixed on the text floating above the Blue Tongue Dragon.
Finally, it works the same on this one too!
C-Rank
Owen's heart pounded.
His ability was the real deal.
Tanares the black dragon had given him an incredible gift.
More dragons arrived at the arena after that.
While working, Owen checked each one's potential.
D-Rank
F-Rank
E-Rank
By the end of the day, Owen had seen every dragon that arrived—and learned there were almost no B-Ranks.
The only one was ridden by a famous knight named Magnus.
Incredible. At this level, even a B-Rank would be worth securing.
Owen wanted to leverage this ability as soon as possible to claim dragons.
A few days later.
The dragon tournament finally began.
Spectators flooded in from the city, packing the area with crowds.
Jugglers performed, stalls opened.
The dragon tournament was basically a local festival.
"Who ya bettin' on!"
"Odds on Sir Lance are five to one!"
Gambling tables drew thrill-seekers hoping for a big win.
After days of hard labor, Owen finally had time to look around.
The atmosphere's completely different from before.
In his past life, these tournaments had been serious mock battles.
No entertainment—just a gathering of Dragon Knights honing military skills.
Yet in twenty years, it had devolved into this.
Bitter.
Owen scanned the surroundings with a complicated expression.
Then something flew at his face.
Whoosh.
He turned his head and dodged easily.
Even in a boy's body, he had once been a master warrior.
Splat!
It was a clump of mud.
No—dragon dung mixed with dirt, foul as could be.
"Huh? He dodged."
"Just luck."
A group of boys stared at Owen from where the sound came.
Who were they?
He couldn't place them at first glance.
But digging into the body's memories brought it back.
They were the punks who picked fights whenever he visited the city.
"Long time no see, eh? Owen!"
The leader stepped forward, mocking him.
The memory clicked.
Son of the city lord. And now he knew why they hassled him.
The name Owen.
Traitor's name—perfect target for bullying.
"O~ we~n~!"
"O~ wen! Traitor!"
They jeered gleefully until a new dragon arrived, then rushed off to gawk.
"Leave that traitor punk, let's go!"
It was too childish and pathetic for anger.
But a touch of melancholy was unavoidable.
"Traitor, huh..."
And it wasn't just that.
Looking around, he figured out why they'd thrown dung-mud at him.
"Come one, come all! Throw dung at the Empire's traitor! Hit the face for ten points! Chest for five!"
A stall had a game where you hurled mud at a straw dummy labeled "Owen"—and it was booming.
"Haha..."
Absurd.
This was the reward for a lifetime of sacrifice for the Empire?
In his previous life, he'd lived on the battlefield.
Never even married by his thirties.
Even if the Emperor had framed him, for the world to remember him like this...
It felt unjust.
He stood motionless, lost in thought.
Truth be told, even before his death, Owen had questioned his devotion.
He'd endured every hardship for the "greater good."
But lost his partner and died anyway.
Now, reborn, his thinking had to change.
"......"
He stood there so long, unresponsive even to greetings. Then he reached a conclusion.
"Fine."
This incident forged a completely new resolve in the man named Owen.
No more living for the Empire.
He hadn't done it for reward.
But he didn't need to endure this outcome.
Owen had plenty of chances to live for himself.
He could've left the hard fights to the front lines and lived luxuriously like a proper duke.
Then maybe the Emperor wouldn't have stabbed him in the back.
From now on, I'll look after my own life.
But first, there was business.
That damned Emperor who screwed him was still alive.
And the Emperor's human enemies.
Dark elves, orcs, undead, demons.
He planned brutal revenge on them all.
Especially make them weep blood for touching Tanares.
Glory and riches after.
Looking back, he'd never done anything properly for himself in his last life.
Since I'm alive again, I'll pile up wealth, marry a pretty wife, and live happily.
And since he owed Sir Leire, helping his family was fine too.
With that decided, Owen's tangled mind cleared refreshingly.
"Yeah."
Shaking off his gloom, Owen picked up a nearby mud clump. He stealthily trailed the boys who'd left earlier.
This Owen always repays what's done to him. Even to bratty kids—no mercy.
Daring to throw dung-mud at the Empire's guardian.
There were limits to insolence.
Tailing them secretly, he hurled the mud from afar.
Swoosh!
It smacked the city lord's son right in the back of the head.
"Argh!"
The screamer face-planted into a puddle of filth.
"Who was that!"
"Which bastard!"
By the time his cronies looked around, Owen had melted into the crowd.
"Heh."
Petty revenge complete, Owen headed back to Ben.
Enough sightseeing the arena.
He walked leisurely.
Suddenly, people surged toward one side.
"What's that!"
"Whoa! Amazing dragon!"
"Look at the color! Blood red all over!"
Owen wondered.
A late-arriving Dragon Knight?
Curious, he followed and spotted a dragon trader showcasing his wares.
The crowd oohed and aahed at the dragon he'd brought.
"Wow! Incredible!"
"Seen a lot of tournaments, but never one like this."
Even Owen's eyes widened.
About ten meters—small breed—but enough to stun even his experienced eyes.
"That's..."
A Tokay Dragon breed, far from ordinary.
The trader began boasting to the crowd.
"Behold! This mighty dragon! Among them, the rarest variant—no equal among the Empire's Tokay Dragons!"
True to his word.
This was a rare variant.
Normal Tokay Dragons had blue bodies with red spots.
But this one's spots had spread, turning it blood-red all over.
Hence, "Super Red."
Variants outclassed standard Tokays in power.
But that wasn't Owen's concern.
He couldn't look away from the text above the Super Red.
Impossible!
Scanning with Tanares's power, he'd found an S-Rank potential dragon.
And it was such a powerful variant!
To think a beast like this exists...
Owen's heart raced.
How could he not want it?
But variant dragons cost a fortune.
This Super Red was top-tier among them.
The fallen Leire farmers couldn't dream of affording it.
"Sigh... yeah, no. Makes no sense."
The trader had probably brought the Super Red to hawk to the competing knights.
Give up.
Owen eyed it a few more times, then turned to leave.
That's when he overheard a mutter.
"That dragon's infamous, y'know?"
"How so?"
"Won't tame for anyone. Temper so vicious, it's bitten over ten riders to death. Three were proper Dragon Knights."
"What? Totally feral! Even for a fierce Tokay breed, that's nuts."
Owen hadn't known, but it had a reputation.
Famous for killing anyone who tried to mount it—no one could tame it.
Expensive variant acting up like that? The trader must be desperate.
With no buyers, he'd dragged it here.
As if expecting the reaction, the trader shouted.
"True enough! Many fine lives lost to Super Red. But that doesn't make this splendid dragon worthless! Legendary swords have destined owners, and dragons their rightful knights! It just hasn't found its master yet."
With that, he announced challengers to tame it right here.
The crowd loved the drama.
"Wonder what happens?"
"Hope we don't end up hauling corpses."
No restrictions on challengers, but he clearly targeted the tournament knights.
Using their pride to offload the Super Red somehow.
Even knights prepping for matches gathered, intrigued.
The trader called out.
"No brave knight to claim Super Red as master?"
But the Dragon Knights hung back.
They all knew its bloody history.
Tokays were notoriously savage; only the boldest knights specialized in them.
"Ahem! Bad day for me..."
"Tricky spot."
"Heh... indigestion from lunch."
Despite expectant stares, they looked away.
Then the trader dangled bait.
"If anyone tames Super Red here today, half price! And the rest payable in installments over years!"
Watching quietly, Owen realized the trader had orchestrated this whole scene.
Half off, payments? Suddenly, knights perked up.