The Narsil Selection
Samson’s expression grew unusually serious, as though he had seized the perfect moment to change the subject. He lowered his voice slightly and began speaking with care to me and this emoticon… no, to the woman named Shamyuel.
“Listen carefully, both of you. This comes from a fairly reliable source… It appears Her Majesty the Demon King will soon be hosting the Narsil Selection.”
“The Narsil Selection?”
“What is that?”
Shamyuel tilted her head in the same puzzled manner as I did. Samson stared at us for a moment with a blank look before replying, visibly taken aback.
“Ah… no… you truly don’t know? I can understand the hero not knowing, but even you, Shamyuel?”
“I do not know. I have never heard of it. What exactly is that thing, it is?”
“Umm…”
Samson’s face tightened with mild frustration at Shamyuel’s response. He let out a small sigh and continued in a calm, measured tone.
“Haa… Well, if you don’t know, it can’t be helped. To put it simply, Narsil is the title given to the strongest warrior in our Demon Kingdom. To choose who earns it, we demons have held a grand tournament every five years, pitting warriors against one another to test their true strength.”
“A tournament… So something like a duel competition? Similar to the gladiatorial matches humans hold in their arenas?”
“It’s comparable, but the nature is somewhat different. Unlike the human version, the Narsil Selection isn’t purely for entertainment. It also exists to identify talented individuals across the Demon Kingdom, regardless of their status.”
In other words, the Narsil Selection functioned much like the military examinations of the old Joseon dynasty. Naturally, since it involved fierce combat between skilled warriors, it wasn’t without its share of spectacle. Yet the fact that it judged people through direct competition and offered concrete rewards—fame, wealth, and high office—provided powerful motivation.
After answering my question, Samson drained the cup in his hand in one swift gulp and kept speaking.
“The tournament has been suspended because of the war with the allied races, but now that the fighting is over, it seems they’ve decided to hold it again soon. Given how long the hiatus has been this time, the scale will likely be the largest in history.”
Samson’s voice carried clear excitement. I, however, felt far less enthusiasm than he did and responded with a rather indifferent shrug.
“It does sound interesting… but from my position, it would be nothing more than a spectacle, wouldn’t it? After all, I’m human. I wouldn’t be allowed to participate.”
“The same applies to me. Though I have only served for three years, I am still a legion commander. There is no way someone in my position would be permitted to enter a selection for new talent, it is.”
Of course, watching as a spectator wouldn’t be bad, but that was all it would amount to. I couldn’t understand why Samson was bringing the matter up so earnestly.
Yet as if he had anticipated our reactions, Samson smiled naturally and slowly shook his head.
“That isn’t the case. Those like myself who have already been chosen as Narsil in the past are naturally barred from competing. But anyone else—regardless of race or station—may participate so long as they are a citizen of the Demon Kingdom.”
“Is that really true?”
“Hmm… If that is the truth, then the story changes, it is.”
According to Samson, anyone without a prior championship could enter the Narsil Selection. My interest instantly sharpened.
The Narsil Selection tournament offered the chance to seize immense wealth, fame, and power in a single stroke. Yet those grand prizes were not what I truly wanted.
‘…Perhaps… if I win this tournament, the way the world sees me might change considerably.’
Though someone as bold as Samson paid it little mind, the prejudice against me for being human still earned me unpleasant glances from many demons. Even today, several had shown clear displeasure at the sight of me. Most importantly, because of my situation, the Demon King—despite our relationship—could not meet me freely without worrying about prying eyes.
‘If I were selected as Narsil at a time like this… perhaps the demons’ attitude toward me would soften, even if only a little. Of course the prejudice might not vanish completely, but still…’
Given how deeply demons revered strength, the effect could be considerable. My achievements in the recent war had been remarkable, and quite a few demons now viewed me positively because of them. Yet the majority still struggled to accept me. To those who had not fought beside me, my feats sounded like mere hearsay. To demons unaware of the full story, I likely seemed like a sudden, unearned parachute appointee.
In that sense, the Narsil Selection—where the eyes of nearly every demon would be focused—represented the perfect opportunity to wash away my negative image.
“In that case, I would like to participate. I may not look it, but I am a warrior who reveres strength. I cannot miss the chance to prove myself as a fighter.”
“Haha, I knew you would say that! I’ll be looking forward to your performance.”
“I wish to participate as well. Though I am a legion commander, I spent the last war guarding the rear and enduring only tedious battles. It has been a long time since I fought strong opponents to my heart’s content, it is.”
With her face set in a (●w●) shape while chewing vigorously on meat, Shamyuel declared her intention. Though her expression alone bordered on comical, a faint but unmistakable fighting spirit radiated from her body. It made her confidence in her own ability unmistakably clear. Watching her, I realized that regardless of her peculiar face, she was every bit a formidable legion commander.
‘In terms of pure combat strength, she’s at least on Elisa’s level or higher… Well, I’ll have to fight her to know for sure.’
I did not believe I would lose, but she was certainly not an opponent to underestimate. Keeping that thought about the emoticon-faced woman firmly in mind, I emptied the glass in front of me.
After parting from Ilios, Elisa walked alone through the rear gardens of the Demon King’s Castle. With both Rebekah and Amelda sent away, she wore a grave expression as she contemplated what lay ahead.
‘There is no longer any doubt that Mama and the hero share that kind of relationship… In which case, the choice I must make now is…’
Ilios was the mother who had loved her more than anyone else in the world. Though Elisa had lost her father at a young age, her mother’s devoted affection had allowed her to grow up bathed in love. As a daughter, Elisa had always loved and respected her mother with all her heart, and that feeling remained unchanged even now.
Yet separate from that mother-daughter bond, Elisa had no intention of yielding her own love—even if the rival was her own mother. These were the first genuine feelings she had ever felt for a man. She could never choose to abandon the sweet, heart-fluttering emotion.
‘I won’t let go. No matter that it’s Mama, do you think I’ll simply give up on the hero like this? I will never allow that sweet, tender touch to be taken from me. I will definitely… definitely claim the hero’s heart for myself.’
Elisa began to burn with a fighting spirit toward Ilios that she had never once felt before, nor even imagined she might feel. Nevertheless, she understood all too well that this battle would not be easy.
From the circumstances, Ilios and the hero already appeared to have crossed a certain line. They might not have gone all the way to sharing a bed, but the marks on the nape of the neck and the lingering scent made it clear they had engaged in considerable intimate contact.
Ilios was already far ahead from the starting line. Even more troubling, when viewed coldly, Elisa fell short of her mother in nearly every respect. While the positions of the Four Heavenly Kings of the Royal Guard and a legion commander were nominally equal, the world regarded the legion commander higher because of the authority to command a vast army.
Beyond status, Ilios also held superior personal martial prowess. As a woman, her fully mature beauty far outshone Elisa’s childish appearance. Even her charm as a female was on another level.
‘At least our chest sizes aren’t that different, but in the face of Mama’s rich allure, I’m inevitably overshadowed… Damn it… What on earth should I do? How can I possibly defeat Mama?’
The more she considered the fight, the more disadvantages surfaced, plunging Elisa into deeper gloom. Then, a single thought suddenly flashed through her mind, offering the faintest thread of hope.
‘That’s right… They did say the Narsil Selection Tournament would be held soon, didn’t they? If I make good use of that, perhaps…’