The Battle Begins
The cheers were so deafening that even the announcer’s voice, amplified by magic, was barely audible. Before I knew it, I was on my feet.
“Jeanie, you’re blocking the people behind you.”
“Ah, right.”
I stretched my neck as far as it would go, but for a little while I managed to keep my butt glued to the seat. That only lasted until the announcer introduced the star of the day, at which point I shot upright again.
—First challenger!
The entire arena shook with the roar of the crowd. I stood among the spectators, soaking in every bit of that heat, and stared fixedly at the entrance the announcer was pointing toward.
—Is there anyone who doesn’t know him? The valiant warrior who came all the way from the Empire! The youngest Sword Master alive! Elan’s prodigious genius, Robenin Pedri!
All waiting eventually comes to an end. And only then did I realize just how long I had been waiting for him.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Robenin as he walked out into the sea of gazes.
It felt almost impossible.
He moved as if he existed in a silent world all by himself.
With those alien steps and a gaze that seemed to look at no one, he simply walked onto the arena floor, stopped, and finished the whole thing with the same bored indifference as if it were a tiresome chore.
Just as I had expected, he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the sea of green cheering squad. Far from feeling pressured, he was leaving every last one of us in the dust.
At least I could tell for sure. His face said that nothing mattered to him except himself.
—And now, our pride! Our brave spear and shield. The guardian of this land. The strongest swordsman on the continent! Everyone, please welcome him with thunderous applause. Heidricke’s shining blade—Count Dra Trennpe!
I had been standing there in a daze when Ash gently tugged me back down.
“Jeanie, you should sit.”
Only then did I notice the people behind me grumbling. Ash was like the angel perched on my right shoulder, always whispering the proper thing. Rai was probably the devil on my left.
I forced down the itch crawling under my skin and calmly took my seat. The match hadn’t even started yet, but my cheeks were already burning with excitement.
Still, it wasn’t nearly as hot as the crowd screaming Count Trennpe’s name like they’d lost their minds.
The arena instantly filled with fervor. The nonstop cheers for the Count’s entrance made my ears ring.
The Count was an old man well past sixty, but thanks to a lifetime of training, he looked no older than forty. His face was harsh.
Famous for his eccentric temper and fierce patriotism, he was known as a strict soldier with the ferocity of a tiger and a cruel disposition.
Yet he was also one of those rare nobles who never laid a hand on commoners.
Maybe that was where his popularity—strong enough to make my skin prickle—came from.
The moment the two swordsmen who were today’s main attraction stepped onto the arena and shook hands, the noise died down a little. That brief instant demanded solemnity.
“Robenin…!”
Naturally, my attention was fixed far more on Robenin than on Count Trennpe.
I must have been staring too hard, because either my eyesight had improved or my concentration had sharpened—his expressionless face suddenly came into crystal-clear view.
He was still annoyingly handsome.
Even when I was furious with him, that face had the power to make my anger melt a little. It was the kind of natural beauty that proved he really did come from an exceptional bloodline. He should’ve been satisfied with being a swordsmanship genius. Why did he have to be a face genius too? So unfair.
“Ugh, so annoying!”
“You hate him that much just from seeing him appear?”
“I hate him, I hate him, I really hate him—but he’s so stupidly good-looking that I have to admit it, and that makes me even angrier!”
“……Jeanie.”
There were different types of handsome men.
Some were so strikingly attractive you couldn’t help but look. Others were the opposite. Robenin fell into the infuriating category: the more you looked at him out of irritation, the more impossibly handsome he became, making it impossible to look away.
Those golden eyes that all members of Elan’s imperial family possessed were similar to Ash’s, yet they were perpetually emotionless and gave off no light. That created a perfect, untouchable wall around him.
And what about that red hair he clearly only bothered to grow out because cutting it was too much trouble?
Even from a distance, that peculiar blood-colored hair had a terrifying quality that no dye could ever imitate. If this weren’t such a public event, fewer people would dare stare at him.
Because it was dangerous. Robenin was armed with an unpleasant kind of silence and stood like a blade. He reeked of the kind of murderous aura that made you not want to get involved with him at all.
They say the line between fan and anti is as thin as a sheet of paper.
My sharp eyes caught the large scar crossing his temple. It hadn’t been there before. So that was the injury he’d suffered? He looked far too fine for my liking, which only pissed me off more.
Normally, if someone wasn’t hurt, you’d feel relieved. But the moment Robenin was involved, even the tiny grain of human kindness I possessed vanished.
“It seems the rumors of his injury were true.”
“What? He looks perfectly fine to me.”
“His steps are heavier than usual.”
“……Where?”
The two swordsmen were slowly circling the arena floor, familiarizing their bodies with the space.
It was about three times larger than a normal arena, but the out-of-bounds rules were the same. You weren’t allowed to kill your opponent, and the standard rule was that the one who sustained injuries severe enough to prevent them from moving lost.
“He’s favoring his right side slightly. His balance is a little off.”
At Ash’s words, I studied Robenin’s gait again, but if I could spot the difference just by looking, I’d be a Sword Master instead of a Spirit Master.
To my eyes, his steps looked perfectly balanced and flawless.
This kind of keen observation was something only swordsmen could do. Since the things we trained were fundamentally different, even our dynamic vision was on completely different levels.
As proof, Ash was calmly watching the distant arena without squinting the way I was.
“Ash, who do you think will win?”
“I hope it ends without either of them getting hurt. I know that’s unlikely, though.”
“Then I’ll change the question. What are the odds that Robenin wins?”
“You’re being mean. You already know I have no choice but to cheer for the young lord……”
“Ah! I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while… Are you two close? You and Robenin, I mean.”
Ash seemed to briefly scan our surroundings at my question.
But everyone was too loud and too focused on the arena to pay any attention to the quiet whispers of a couple sitting in the stands.
Normally my looks would have drawn eyes, but since I was wearing a hood to hide Rai, we were just two very ordinary people.
When I cleared my throat a few times with a pointed “Hmm?” to demand an answer, Ash reluctantly leaned toward me.
He brought his lips so close to my ear that they almost brushed it and whispered.
“We have a relationship similar to friends.”
“If you’re friends, then you’re friends. What do you mean ‘similar’?”
“I can’t tell how the young lord sees it. No one can…… not with what’s inside that head of his.”
I understood immediately. By now the entire continent knew that Robenin was a free soul even the Emperor couldn’t control.
I knew that because if Robenin were the kind of person who listened to his superiors even a little, he wouldn’t be standing over there drawing his sword like that.
There was no way the high nobles of Elan would have allowed a fight like this—one that could only bring them loss. I was quite the troublemaker myself, but even I wasn’t on his level.
“Still, someone with your level of skill should be able to tell, right? You’re both swordsmen, so you should have a sense of who’s stronger. Can’t you just tell me that Count Trennpe is overwhelmingly stronger?”
As far as I could tell, both the Count and Robenin were stronger than average.
If they were weaker than me, I’d have some idea, but both of them had long since surpassed the stage where I could read them.
I’d realized during my travels that the ones who flaunted their strength were always the half-baked ones.
The real monsters completely hid their power, making them impossible to gauge. They were like beasts holding their breath right before the hunt.
“If we’re talking purely about strength…… I’d say they’re evenly matched.”
“No way! Robenin lost to him before, didn’t he?”
“Victory and defeat aren’t always decided by raw power. Environment, composure, experience—those things matter too. The previous fight between them didn’t have this kind of atmosphere. If anything, Count Trennpe might be the one at a psychological disadvantage right now.”
That was a scary thing to hear.
“……Why? This duel was suggested by the Count himself. He must have been confident he’d win.”
“That’s what the rumors say. But the Count I know is not the kind of person who enjoys being the center of attention like this.”
“Don’t tell me…… that means……”
“Yes. I can only guess that the situation grew far larger than he intended.”
That wasn’t welcome news at all. I felt my brows furrow deeply.
“The ones who orchestrated this noisy spectacle and inflated the stakes were surely other nobles. The Count is different from the young lord. He’s the kind of man who would do anything for his country. Even if he doesn’t want to, even if it torments him, even if it requires his own sacrifice—he will endure it if it makes things better.”
“……So Robenin doesn’t care about the country.”
“Can’t you tell just by looking at what he’s doing right now? He doesn’t value anyone’s honor. He doesn’t even care about his own fame. That’s why he’s so carefree.”
“Damn it……”
Suddenly the countless spectators surrounding us, this green wave, began to feel oppressive.
Earlier I had simply marveled at how popular the Count was, but after hearing Ash’s words, I finally understood what kind of mental pressure the Count must be enduring.
Robenin losing a second time after already being defeated once, and the Count—who carried the honor of the nation on his shoulders—losing, were two completely different things.
I quietly dropped the flag I had been waving onto the ground.
“The young lord is a person who can’t even be properly described as peculiar. For example, I have never once seen him feel shame. He doesn’t know what embarrassment is…… so when he lost to the Count, I’m sure he was delighted.”
“……He probably was. Because it meant he could fight him again. He only likes strong people. Once he beats someone, he loses interest.”
“You know him well.”
Because I’ve experienced it. He couldn’t even remember my name. I glared at the arena again with a sour expression.
The two swordsmen standing face-to-face in the center of the arena lightly clashed the tips of their blades and exchanged a silent bow. From somewhere, a long blast of a war horn rang out, signaling the start of the fight.
The horn circled the stadium and sounded exactly nine times. That was the countdown.
Three. Two. One. Begin!
What other thought could I possibly have? I clasped my hands together and prayed desperately for Count Trennpe’s victory.
There are a lot of green flags, but please don’t let it get to you! Even I find this situation burdensome, but…… but…….
Damn it. This is exactly why I’m so jealous of a complete monster like Robenin right now.
Now that I thought about it, this was a battle between a Count who absolutely could not afford to lose and a crazy bastard who was thrilled at the prospect of getting to fight again if he lost.
And this insane bastard with his perfect bloodline would keep challenging him endlessly until he won. Eventually, the Count would have no choice but to lose.
There’s no helping it, Count!
Just pretend it’s an accident and kill Robenin! That’s all you have to do! You can do it!
This was the first time I had prayed for something so desperately since I was kidnapped by that dragon.