V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (14)

A tournament, in the end, was a proving ground for knights to flaunt their feats of arms.

As such, competing in tournament events came with many restrictions.

No lethal strikes meant to kill, no blows to the groin or other vital points, and no excessive force driven by personal grudges were permitted...

Naturally, chivalry ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠took precedence above all else.

If even duels between knights had their own rules, then a tournament—where knights showcased their prowess and gained learning by competing against one another—went without saying.

Keldric tightened his grip on the mace in his right hand.

The knights of the Red Paulownia team ahead had already finished their preparations and were exuding a murderous air.

Among them was Sir Rupert, who had jousted with Sir Ortvin on the first day.

A seasoned knight who had won no fewer than sixteen total victories at tournaments across various regions.

Six of those wins, moreover, were a great record set back to back.

Had the circulating rumors been sufficiently outlandish, he might have dismissed them as mere gossip, but winning a tournament sixteen times was not entirely impossible.

'Forty-eight-time winners existed, after all.'

Keldric recalled Sir Werner, whom he had met in Yalta.

The sight of him in black armor facing a rock troll suggested that, even in his age, he must have fought with bold aggression in his youth.

The mace Sir Werner had passed to him was proof of that.

The solid-iron mace, marked with considerable signs of use, was a weapon focused on utterly smashing one's opponent.

That mace had come full circle and was now in Keldric's hand.

Which meant it was time to smash the knights before him.

"Sir Keldric. Can you take the right flank? We'll handle Sir Rupert."

"Understood."

Keldric clicked his tongue in disappointment.

Sir Rupert, who appeared to be the strongest on the Red Paulownia team, was in the center of their line. To face him, he should have met him head-on in the center.

But no matter how overwhelmingly Keldric had won every match in the joust with sheer power, entrusting him with the center of the formation after only three or four bouts was a stretch.

The other veteran knights had judged that Keldric might simply be a powerhouse.

Keldric himself knew he was still a green young knight. So he silently complied with the other knights' words.

"Thank you. Let's fight with honor and win without regret."

"I'm counting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on you, Sir."

With the hulking Keldric agreeing without any trouble, the mood among the other knights noticeably improved.

The Red Paulownia knights lined up ahead also finished their preparations. Cheers poured incessantly into the tension-laden arena.

"Knights! The time has come to prove your skill and courage! Fight for the honor of your houses and lieges! May God bless the valor of these brave knights!"

With Burggraf Kuno's cry, the other knights lowered their helmet visors in unison.

Keldric had no need for that. His coolly gleaming navy-blue eyes silently locked onto the far end of the opposing knights' line.

Keldric began to creep forward alongside his fellow team members. The steadily approaching Red Paulownia knights did the same.

Shields forward and each gripping a different weapon, the approaching knights' momentum was ferocious and sharp.

A knight was a killing machine raised to take human life. War and duels could not exist without knights, and conversely, without knights, war and duels were unthinkable.

Everyone on this field, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠except for Keldric himself, had experienced at least one territorial war.

The gap made by that experience or lack thereof was quite large, and so even Keldric, who had drawn attention for his size and great strength, had not been marked for severe caution.

Yet no one was letting their guard down. Great strength alone was enough to make a knight a threat.

Gripping ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their weapons, taut muscles made the knights' breathing grow rougher, and the clanking of metal armor gradually quickened.

As the distance between the two groups of knights narrowed, the first to kick off the ground and charge were the knights of the Blue Dragoon team.

"Let's go!"

"Fight for honor!"

"God preserves me!"

"For House Hohenfeld!"

Not to be outdone, the Red Paulownia knights also met them head-on, shouting their own slogans and war cries.

Rather than stand still and form a defensive line, they simply charged the knight in front of them all at once and swung their weapons first.

It did not take long for brawls to break out everywhere.

Having just arrived before his own opponent, Keldric stole glances at the other knights around him clashing weapons.

'Weapon reach must be decisive.'

The ones holding an advantage from the start were the knights using polearms like poleaxes.

Since each team had at least two such knights, four or five of them were aggressively exploiting the benefit of their long weapons to press their foes.

"Grrgh...!"

"Is this really all you've got? You'd best suck some more milk and come back!"

"What! This bastard...!"

And naturally, when fundamentally ill-tempered knights contended in a contest of strength, taunting words were bound to fly.

Keldric glared at the knight standing before him and adjusted his grip firmly on his shield. The knight closing the distance was somewhat larger in build than the others.

As he advanced bit by bit with his shield forward, the knight who had likewise reached Keldric bellowed.

"I am Ricart of House Garenvalt! Before we fight, I would hear your name!"

"God be with you. I am Keldric of House Bellaf. Let us hope this bout ends honorably."

Sir Ricart silently hefted his axe and shield.

At the back of the axe head was a small spike like an awl; if he punched a hole with that and then struck down with the blade, it would surely tear through armor helplessly.

Keldric decided to approach with a bit more caution rather than smashing everything apart immediately.

Setting aside the question of whether he could even just bring his mace down on Sir Ricart's head with full force, doing so would certainly kill Sir Ricart on the spot.

Not only would that violate the rules, but killing an opponent in a tournament would bring infamy for dishonorable conduct.

Moreover, if he rashly pushed forward, another knight beside Sir Ricart might join in.

Especially in a melee like this, he had to fight while minding every direction.

"What? Has rust set into your mace? Come on, stop dawdling!"

But as if gaining confidence from Keldric's cautious demeanor, Sir Ricart began banging his axe against his own shield and provoking Keldric.

"If you're a knight, you should show courage! Don't hide behind your shield like a coward!"

"I like that."

So, Keldric obliged him.

Using a stride as wide as his large frame, Keldric instantly closed the distance and swung his mace with full force toward Sir Ricart's flank.

It was the attack that had once battered Sir Johannes's body as if pounding it with a battering ram.

The grim sound of splitting air—whoosh—struck the ears. Seeing it, Sir Ricart was horrified and hastily angled his shield to deflect it.

What he overlooked was the monstrous impact imparted to the shield.

CRASH!

"Kurgh!"

"Wh-whoa!"

"What the!"

He had barely blocked the blow, but Sir Ricart, sent reeling three or four steps sideways together with his shield, collided with another knight.

That knight, in turn, was shoved into yet another, and that knight was knocked sideways into another...

"Grgh...! Where do you think you're grabbing!"

"Get out of it! You bastard!"

"You son of a bitch! I'll make you kneel and beg!"

Thanks to this, the knights who had been fighting passively while maintaining a semblance of formation became all tangled up together.

Four or five Red Paulownia knights were shoved back in a mob, collapsing their formation, and the Blue Dragoon knights seized the gap to charge in at once.

Keldric had no intention of merely watching the chaos.

Kicking off the ground with his solid legs, Keldric immediately hurled himself after Sir Ricart. Seeing him, Sir Ricart reversed his grip on his axe and aimed its spike at Keldric's shoulder.

"Hup!"

With Keldric's short exhalation, Sir Ricart's axe lodged deep into the edge of Keldric's shield.

It was the result of Keldric pushing forward hard rather than batting it away with his shield.

Thanks to that, Sir Ricart's axe was stuck fast in the shield and could not easily be yanked free, and by the time he scrambled to draw his sidearm, Keldric's mace was already flying in.

WHAM!

"Krgh!"

Once again, the mace was blocked by the shield. By now, Keldric was beginning to grow irritated.

'Shit. Am I pulling my strength too much?'

No matter that he mustn't kill or cripple anyone, if he held back excessively, the unfortunate situation kept arising where a tough, heavily armored knight could readily block and endure his attacks.

From Sir Ricart's perspective, who was barely managing to block the attacks, a single mistake would have him smelling incense, but Keldric, not being the man himself, had no way of knowing that.

Keldric resolved to ease off his restraint a little.

There was reason enough: even after swinging his mace twice, Sir Ricart's shield had not been smashed.

Had he swung with his usual full strength, it was a shield that would have been split in two or three blows.

Even with iron reinforcements, a shield could not withstand Keldric's strength added to a battle axe or mace designed from the outset to tear apart and break shields.

A clear tightening sound—creak—came from his right hand gripping the mace. Keldric strode rapidly toward Sir Ricart, who was hastily resetting his stance.

That did not mean Sir Ricart was merely taking hits.

The axe that had been stuck in Keldric's shield had long since been sent rolling on the ground, and in Sir Ricart's hand was a short arming sword as his sidearm.

Immediately, Sir Ricart raised his sword and rushed at Keldric.

Sir Ricart wasn't charging recklessly after sensing the difference in strength. Keldric perceived one nameless knight charging simultaneously from his left and swiftly raised his shield.

"That's dishonorable. Have you no shame?"

"Krgh...! Shut up!"

After blocking the incoming attack from his left with his shield, Keldric immediately shoved the shield hard.

Thanks to that, the knight who had tried to ambush Keldric was toppled in an instant.

"Well done! Sir Keldric!"

"You cowardly bastards!"

"W-wait! Aaaagh!"

Once he confirmed that his fellow team members were mobbing the downed knight, Keldric pushed off the ground behind his shield.

The thunderous, overwhelming footsteps echoed in every direction.

Amid the dust raised by the impact, several knights besides Sir Ricart turned their gazes toward Keldric.

"If you intend to stop me, be prepared to have your bones broken!"

"Ah, aah...!"

CRASH—!!

Shield first, Keldric rammed them with all his might.

From the shockwave, Sir Ricart, who had tried to counterattack, and another knight were momentarily lifted into the air.

Keldric did not stop there.

He hurled his now-bent shield straight at another knight's head, and drawing yet another mace from his waist, he plunged into the chaos unfolding into a scene of pandemonium.

BANG! BANG! CRASH!

Maces held in both hands lashed out in every direction, and a sound much like thunderclaps reverberated continuously.

"Waaah!"

"The Knight of Superhuman Strength! The Knight of Superhuman Strength!"

"Sir Keldric!"

Thanks to this, the spectators' cheers intensified further.

Be that as it may, Keldric was swinging his maces, sweat running beneath his helmet.

"Blergh!"

"Aaargh! W-wait! My shoulder!"

One knight, struck in the ribs, collapsed to the ground then and there, and another, hit wrong in the shoulder, dropped his weapon and was immediately struck down by a different knight.

"Sir Keldric! If you go in too deep... Eh? Huh?"

"Wh-what in the..."

The knights on Keldric's own Blue Dragoon team stared vacantly at the spectacle.

Amid armor crumpling and links flying in every direction, Keldric was at the center of it.

"Stop!"

In the end, even Sir Rupert, unable to watch any longer, stepped forward to face Keldric.

But Keldric's blood was now up.

Even as his breathing grew ragged, Keldric continued to swing the maces with all his strength.

His excitement-pickled mind delivered a thick pleasure. A tingling exhilaration raced down his spine.

WHAM!

"Krup?!"

And when he attempted to deflect the full-force mace blow with his shield, Sir Rupert dropped to one knee.

Seizing that opening, the mace in his left hand struck Sir Rupert's slightly raised shield upward from below.

Instantly exposing its inner face, Sir Rupert's shield flew far across the arena and crashed to the ground.

Sir Rupert was indeed a knight whose tournament record was evident.

That was clear just from the fact that, even with his shield gone and in a disadvantageous situation, he swiftly recovered his posture and swung his sword at Keldric.

Keldric did not dodge. He had no shield, and no room to evade in the first place.

'Can't dodge it!'

So Keldric, trusting only in his armor's protection, charged headlong toward Sir Rupert.

THWACK!

The blunt, heavy sword slammed into Keldric's side.

Keldric clenched his teeth at the dull, throbbing pain he felt for the first time.

His armor was not torn, but the sharp pain rising meant a dark bruise was certainly forming.

But if he gave flesh, he only needed to take bone.

"W-wait—."

CRASH!

Before Sir Rupert could stop him, Keldric's mace—with a touch of restraint applied—smashed into Sir Rupert's chest.

Sir Rupert's body floated into the air and only stopped after tumbling three or four times across the ground. The plate armor over his breast was hideously crumpled.

"Whoooaa—!!"

Amid the shower of cheers growing even louder from the stands, Keldric alone stood tall among the fallen knights, exuding a murderous presence.

The other knights who had finished their fights long before stared blankly at that Keldric. One knight murmured in a low voice.

"Th-the Undefeated Knight (不敗 騎士)..."

A knight who, no matter what hardship befell him, would never lose.

It was the moment a new epithet for Keldric was born.