Dra Tum Dra

The words Dra Tum Dra could be interpreted in many ways, but a direct translation would mean “a duel between great swordsmen worthy of facing even a dragon.”

And true to its name, the match reached a level that no ordinary spectator could possibly judge with their own eyes.

The referee might as well have been a scarecrow. The second round was so fierce that nothing could be discerned beyond the sheer intensity of it, and it ultimately ended in a draw.

To be precise, it seemed the only possible outcome was a draw because nothing could be clearly determined.

The referee appeared to be a fairly skilled swordsman himself, but he was nowhere near the inhuman level of those two.

Honestly, to properly officiate a match like this, they should have brought in at least a Sword Expert… though that would have been difficult to arrange.

And whether it was fortunate or not, the third round didn’t even require a decision.

One of the two swordsmen had reached a state where he could no longer fight.

I never thought I’d live to see something like this.

“…Damn it. This is the last thing I ever wanted to witness, even if dirt filled my eyes.”

The final third round didn’t even last until the end.

Shortly after it began, Robenin’s sword mercilessly pierced the veteran Count’s shoulder. The moment the long blade tore through flesh and muscle and emerged on the other side, I could have sworn I heard the sickening sound echo in my ears.

Crunch.

At that angle, the bone must have shattered completely.

It was a stroke of immense luck for the Count that the sword stopped after impaling him. If this had been a true life-or-death duel instead of a match watched by tens of thousands, that blade would have severed his right arm entirely.

As if acknowledging that, the Count dropped to one knee and collapsed, bringing the match to its conclusion.

But I couldn’t accept it. I hadn’t come all this way just to see something like this. I certainly hadn’t dragged my precious self here to watch Robenin defy everyone’s expectations and win!

Grinding my teeth, I replayed what I had seen, but my eyes were no better than the referee’s.

The instant the sword pierced through, all movement had frozen, allowing me to witness it. But I had no idea ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what had happened before that moment.

Amid the chaotic clash of sword auras, one suddenly faltered, and then Robenin had won.

It wasn’t even a blink of an eye. Everything was over before I could even close my eyes.

“What the hell was that?! It ended so suddenly!”

Even though I had learned a thing or two from Ash, it only amounted to sensing the flow of energy and grasping the bigger picture.

I hadn’t seen every process with vivid clarity, so there were still parts I couldn’t understand. The fact that I had missed the decisive moment was incredibly frustrating.

Unaccustomed to this choking feeling, I turned to Ash and raked my nails down both cheeks.

As I dug my nails in and tormented my own face, Ash gently caught my hands and pressed them calmly to my sides. He whispered to me as if soothing a child.

“The match was decided in an instant. The Count hesitated.”

“What?”

“An opportunity came to the Count. He could have driven his sword into the young lord’s left eye… but he hesitated. The young lord didn’t miss that opening and counterattacked. That was the end.”

This was the problem with these overly polite matches. The rule was that the one who suffered a fatal wound lost, but you must not kill your opponent—a troublesome restriction.

Accidents happen in battle! Though sometimes they might not be accidents at all!

“Ugh… the Count is such a coward! He should have just killed him!”

I was furious. The perfect chance to get what I wanted without lifting a finger had flown far away. It was good that I still had the opportunity to kill him with my own hands, at least.

“Young Lord Robenin is the eldest son of the prestigious Pedri Ducal House. He is also the most beloved talent in the entire empire… For the Count, he would be an opponent he simply cannot kill. Just because Heidricke tends to be uncooperative with Elan doesn’t mean they want to earn Elan’s outright hostility.”

“So in the end, it’s all political? That’s not fair!”

“Overcoming that is the duty of a swordsman. The Count chose political judgment over his pride as a warrior. It was a rational and realistic decision. But as a swordsman, it was his defeat.”

For Ash—who could live without laws—to shake his head so firmly… The world of swordsmen was clearly far more brutal than I had heard.

Only strength ruled them. The pursuit of power was justice and truth. In that sense, Robenin might be the most sword-like of them all.

“It’s unfortunate, but the result will not change… To defeat Robenin, one must cast everything aside and fight purely as a swordsman. Showing gentlemanly behavior against a beast is no different from suicide.”

“So you’re calling Robenin a beast right now?”

“…Please forget I said that. It was a slip of the tongue.”

“You think so too, don’t you? He’s kind of like that, right?”

“I said forget it…”

I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t immediately accept the outcome. It took a long while after Count Trenpe collapsed onto the arena floor, bleeding from his knee, before the spectators finally seemed to register who had won and who was bleeding.

The silence that suddenly fell over the tens of thousands who had been so noisy was an indescribably eerie feeling. After a long hush, small gasps began to emerge, followed by cheers and cries of despair breaking out everywhere.

Most of it was the gloomy moaning of those who simply could not believe the result unfolding before their eyes.

“Oh my god…”

“…Count!”

“How… how could this happen…”

I felt utterly devastated as well, but cruelly, the fact remained. The one who had mercilessly shattered everyone’s expectations and claimed victory was Robenin.

The remarkable person who could come to another country, stand before its citizens, and drive a sword into the shoulder of their hero.

Robenin’s victory plunged everyone into shock and terror.

With their nation’s hero suffering such a humiliating defeat, the atmosphere instantly shifted from festival to funeral. The mood was so heavy that even those who had cheered for Robenin’s victory now held back their shouts, wary of the crowd.

Though people had gathered from across the continent, over eighty percent of the stands had bet on the Count’s victory, and half of the entire audience were citizens of Heidricke. Even those who had bet on Robenin couldn’t openly rejoice, fearing they might be beaten to death.

After all, to collect a massive windfall, one first had to stay alive.

In that gloomy atmosphere, the Count could not rise. Even after the sword was pulled from his shoulder, he remained on his knees, his limp arm dangling uselessly as he kept his head bowed.

He wouldn’t have lost consciousness from an injury like that, so it seemed he simply couldn’t lift his head out of shame. When you have no face left to show, pretending to be dead is the best option.

“How pitiful… Count… I was rooting for you.”

Who could possibly be happy?! Even if I openly ground my teeth and growled, it wasn’t enough to vent my anger.

Ugh, just thinking about doing a good deed in front of others gave me goosebumps.

I busily rubbed my forearms. Meanwhile, the Count was half-carried away by people dressed in white. Robenin wasn’t completely unscathed, but he stood firmly on his own two feet without difficulty.

The fact that all four of his limbs were perfectly intact was what disappointed me most of all.

The announcer flapped his gaudy cloak dramatically in an attempt to salvage the awkward atmosphere, but the mood was far too heavy to be soothed by something like that.

“Ash? I thought wounds from sword aura couldn’t be healed even with holy power, right? They only regenerate on their own. Did I remember wrong?”

Sword aura was one of the most powerful weapons humanity possessed.

Because it destroyed from the very essence, it could cut through spirits, magic, and even a dragon’s hide. The wounds it left behind supposedly could not be healed by holy power.

“…It’s probably a white lie to calm the public.”

“Aha? But that’ll be exposed pretty quickly.”

“There are many people who don’t know much about sword aura… And above all, if the citizens learned that Count Trenpe—the sword of this nation—had suffered a permanent injury, it wouldn’t be good. So they probably want to cover it up for now.”

Once politics gets involved, everything becomes boring. I definitely shouldn’t get into politics. It’s one of the things that suits me least.

That performance was obviously prepared in anticipation of the Count’s victory as a celebratory event.

The announcer himself seemed aware of that fact, because he continued speaking awkwardly. Then someone came running up and whispered in his ear. He began to stutter even more severely.

Oh dear, things have gone completely sideways. I’d bet Rai’s tail that the Marquis had come to watch today but stormed home in anger the moment Robenin won.

I was confident enough to bet Rai’s entire body on it, but then Rai would sulk. And no matter what happened, Rai was still mine.

Sometimes I wanted to beat him to death, but even if I killed him, it would be by my own hand.

“Tonight the Heidricke nobles are probably going to kick their blankets all night and cry themselves to sleep.”

“There will certainly be some backlash.”

“You think so too, right? Anyway, our business here is done, so shall we go?”

“…That would be improper, Jeanie. The event isn’t over yet.”

“I’ve never been proper. Let’s go.”

Our business was finished—what was the point of staying? If Robenin had lost, maybe I’d stay, but since he won, there was no reason to remain.

I linked my arm with Ash’s and gently pestered him to leave. If pleading didn’t work, I planned to just go by myself.

It was only today that I learned the announcer truly had the world’s hardest job.

Robenin had suddenly tried to leave, and the announcer was desperately trying to stop him with his whole body. The sight was so pitiful that even someone as cold-hearted as me felt sorry for him.

“Ugh, what a rude brat. The event isn’t over yet—you can’t just leave!”

“…”

“What?! He’s the main character and I’m just a spectator!”

When I do it, it’s romance. When others do it, it’s adultery! Because I love myself, I could forgive anything I did.

But I hated Robenin even when he was just breathing. There was no way I wanted to listen to that obnoxious bastard’s victory speech.

Since he had won, staying would only mean having to listen to that. I couldn’t let poor little me witness any more disgusting sights.

“Let’s go. Ash, okay?”

“I said I don’t want to hear it. Okay?”

“When someone speaks to you, you should answer, you bastard.”

I unconsciously muttered the announcer’s desired words in his place.

Robenin was far better at ignoring people than answering them, and remembering how I had been treated by him before made my blood boil.

I bared my teeth like a beast while still looking at Ash, and I felt him flinch.

“…Jeanie, it seems you dislike everything the young lord does.”

“That’s right. I hate it whether he gives a speech or not.”

Even if he rejoiced in his victory, it would make me angry. And if he acted this indifferent, it would still fill me with rage all the same.

Even after defeating one of the five strongest swordsmen on the continent, the boy simply stood there with an annoyed, bothered expression, as if it were nothing.

Seeing that, I couldn’t help but pity the Count. I kept feeling a strange sense of kinship with him.

Robenin flicked the Count’s blood off his sword with a sharp shake, then smoothly sheathed the blade. During the motion, the announcer jumped in fright and retreated a good distance.

Realizing it hadn’t been a threat toward him, the announcer approached Robenin again, but his legs were shaking so badly that I could see it even from this far away. If anyone deserved a prize, it was that professional announcer, not Robenin.

Don’t sigh into the microphone!

You just insulted every single one of the tens of thousands sitting here! Robenin didn’t have the slightest interest in being the protagonist.