Chapter 188: Tournament 4
Chapter 188: Tournament 4
Rationally speaking, the Academy was blameless in all of this.
As the continent's sole incubator for Incarnations, it had to maintain perfect neutrality.
The simplest way to describe its stance on Constellations was first-come, first-served.
Flower Atop the Tower had demanded Han Ye-ji's arrest, so they complied.
Now that Han Ye-ji had been arrested, they'd reached out to me—that was their protocol.
They hadn't mistreated her. The fact that she was just sitting there calmly was proof enough.
Honestly, how hard could it be to sit on a bed in a holding cell for ten minutes and wait?
From the other guards' attitudes, they weren't trying to frame her for sexual harassment.
It was more of a "got tangled up with a crazy Constellation, that's rough buddy" kind of vibe.
'But that's the rational way of looking at it.'
Right now, I was a beast.
My bristling tail proved it.
"What is the meaning of this...?"
"Shut up and stay put."
Confused stares flew at me as I stood before the iron bars and pinged the keyhole with my fingers.
A Constellation had manifested, marched into the Academy, and was trying to get himself detained—of course they were bewildered.
This was the kind of thing that got front-page headlines, the kind that brought protesters banging down the chancellor's door.
Hell, the Academy's own military personnel might stage a coup before any protesters even arrived.
I watched the guards' stress-flushed faces drain white.
"H-hold on there!"
"I said shut it!"
A shrill voice barked from behind me. I barked louder.
I could feel the other Constellation's bewilderment at being so thoroughly ignored, but that was exactly what I'd accounted for.
Even when I moved on emotion, I didn't move without a plan.
A delicate face caked in flamboyant ornamentation. A crisp white uniform. A prince—white cotton gloves on his hands and all.
When some little shit like that was screaming "Kyaa! I've been molested!" over a misunderstanding,
shouting him down seemed like the faster, easier route than talking it out.
Sometimes refusing to engage was a more effective form of communication than actual dialogue.
"What manner of insolence is this?!"
"Sh-should I open it?"
One of the guards sidled over, unlocked the cell door, and promptly vanished.
That left just three of us: me, the squawking Constellation, and Han Ye-ji.
They'd arrested her at his request, and now they unlocked the cell right in front of the man himself
and cleared out like the Academy's detention facilities meant nothing to them. Not their problem.
Watching that, I figured my assessment was right—they were determined to preserve unconditional neutrality.
Then again, this was the Academy that had lodged formal protests even when the Tyrant rolled up with a battleship.
People who'd go red in the face at a fleet of space battleships weren't going to cower before some prince.
Which meant this Constellation asshole did have some minimal pretext for detaining Han Ye-ji.
"Let's go."
"W-what?"
Not my problem.
The point was to armor myself in the conviction that my girl couldn't possibly have done anything wrong.
Now that—that was the kind of communication that could drive a person out of their mind.
I threw the cell door open and grabbed Han Ye-ji by the wrist as she stood there awkwardly.
Two faces flushed crimson at my unhesitating move.
The emotions behind each flush were polar opposites.
"Wh-wh— I asked what manner of insolence this was!"
"Your way of talking sucks shit, so shut up, you fucker."
"Sh-sh-shit?!"
The guy looked like an idol trainee but talked like some rich neighborhood's chief Karen.
His porcelain face darkened to a bruise-red, as if he'd never heard vulgar, obscene language in his life.
The way a few words sent him into hysterics confirmed he really was a greenhorn.
I'd met types who'd take a headbutt without flinching and stay ice-cold,
or fire back with a grin while dragging your parents and ancestors into it.
Getting worked up over the word "fucker" told me he'd been coddled all his life.
Coddled, and—true to his Constellation name—tucked away in a tower somewhere to wither,
a pampered little princeling cradled on the continent's Constellation pedestal, never knowing hardship.
Maybe that assessment was tainted by my beast instincts, so take it with a grain of salt.
"Such outrageous disrespect! I was prepared to resolve this through dialogue, for the sake of the benevolence you have shown humanity!"
"No, seriously, your speech pattern is pissing me off—did they not patch that? You've been on this continent a decade, right? They couldn't patch the way you talk?"
Whatever. The man had to believe in something.
I believed in my own abilities.
The continent's sole soul-healer.
The only healer who could mend souls shattered by alien monsters.
I had a monopoly on a market where lives—human and Incarnation alike—hung on the line, so I could afford to throw my weight around.
So if he was pinning some bullshit charge on me—specifically on my Incarnation—
he must have at least one card to play, right? That was the sensible assumption.
Even that moron Heart of the Exiled Serpent had one terrifying magical trait going for him.
That untraceable perfect stealth of his was why he'd had the audacity to go around slitting the throats of the Incinerating Tyrant's reserve guard.
"Hah! Such unfathomable insolence. Have you not a shred of honor to your name?"
I pulled Han Ye-ji by the wrist out of the cell. He stepped in front of us, blocking the path.
He turned his wrist delicately, peeled off one white cotton glove, and flung it at my chest.
I'd seen this in some shojo manga a long time ago.
Wasn't it supposed to be thrown at the face?
"Take up your sword, y—"
So I picked it up and threw it right back into his face.
"You insolent brute!"
※
Naturally, this flower boy had a card to play, too.
I mean, it'd be weirder if everyone like Heart of the Exiled Serpent was running around.
"So what exactly is the situation?"
"Well, that is—"
Flower Atop the Tower: a Spirit Mage Constellation of the Western Continent.
When the Demon King's lingering curse rotted the surface world to ruin,
this prince beseeched the earth spirits and built a high tower.
'Becoming a Constellation means his people couldn't overcome their isolation in the end. Extinction.'
Anyway, as an earth spirit mage, this flower-boy prince had become an authority on civil engineering.
Screw concrete and rebar—he could stack rock blessed by spirits like building blocks,
snap a high-rise together in half a day.
Beyond that, he did ground surveys, verified foundation stability,
and supplied magically and alchemically reinforced materials—typical fantasy-worlder stuff.
I was a Nightmare-handling Dream Demon moonlighting as a soul healer, so he probably had his own eclectic side gigs.
His reason for being at the Academy was simple.
The tournament arena construction.
"I wasn't trying to look, I swear...."
"Look at what?"
"At him... taking off his top and summoning spirits."
"Explain the situation."
The more Han Ye-ji told me, the clearer it became why she'd been so awkwardly detained.
The guy had manifested at the Academy to look around, then cleared the area and started a ritual.
Turns out he had a lot on his plate besides the arena—extensions, durability repairs, that sort of thing.
Manifested as he was, his spirit power was running low, so he had no choice but to start the ritual alone—
except the ritual was so primitive it involved stripping off his entire upper body
and pouring ceremonial pigments over the tattoos on his chest and back.
He dressed like he was about to host a masquerade ball in early modern Europe,
but his spirit communion ritual involved tattoos, pigments, and sacrifices. A bit baffling.
"So I heard they're building watchtowers and defensive spires to upgrade the Academy's security while they're at it, what with the tournament arena going up."
"That's the job you mentioned you'd been helping with?"
"Yes. I'm a sniper, so when they put up the tall towers or formation spires, I'd climb up and check sightlines, that sort of thing."
"And while doing that, you saw him?"
"...Yes."
A man who thought nobody was around, summoning spirits in his undershorts.
And Han Ye-ji, up on a tower scanning the surroundings, who caught the whole thing through her scope.
Frankly, it was a stupid situation.
From my perspective, who gave a shit if some guy was wandering around in his boxers?
But by this world's standards, she'd been caught peeping at a half-naked man—a Constellation mid-ritual, no less.
The lack of intent earned her some sympathy from the other guards, so they didn't go after her.
Still, the fact remained: Han Ye-ji had pointed her scope at him and seen something she shouldn't have.
'How the hell do I describe this....'
Because of all that, Han Ye-ji's deeply small-citizen mentality had kicked in.
She acknowledged she'd been wronged, but her guilt loomed larger.
And half that guilt was directed at me, which made it even messier.
She'd become the Dream Demon's Incarnation and gotten herself branded some creep who peeped at naked men—
so Han Ye-ji, who'd been living with me in a half-romantic haze, was saddled with guilt toward me.
'This is complicated. Complicated.'
No. It would have been complicated.
A Constellation who'd stripped to his undershorts in an open Academy lot where anyone might see.
Han Ye-ji, who'd happily taken on extra work and ended up peeping at a naked body while surveying the area.
And me, storming in to cuss out the guy who wanted to talk things through—
a dick-faced gay little shit with a grating speech pattern—before the conversation even started.
Settling this sensibly would have required multiple rounds of discussion.
"So for the duel, you have a proxy?"
"That's right. They'll nominate a champion, I imagine...."
And yet that whole mess got resolved with one knife thrust.
Violence really was the most convenient form of communication.