Eat Lots of Meat
The announcer, who had been watching for his cue, climbed onto the sparring ground and bowed his head.
"The Six Kings Duel Tournament has now come to a close."
He cleared his cracked voice with a cough, then pointed a finger toward the sky.
"The martial artist who stood at the pinnacle of these blood-soaked, fiercely contested Master-rank duels is the youngest participant in the entire tournament—Raon Zieghart! Frost-Flower Sword Hero Raon Zieghart takes the chaaaampionship!"
The announcer roared until his throat nearly tore, and the entire arena erupted.
"Wooooaaaaaah!"
"Raon! Raon! Raon!"
"He smashed every last one of the Continental Twelve Stars..."
"Don't forget Mathis and Garona, either."
"Come to think of it, he was the youngest. A kid who just turned twenty flattened every famous Master in the bracket!"
"I just watched something that shouldn't even be possible. I'll never forget this as long as I live."
The spectators bellowed Raon's name so loudly it barely sounded human.
"And the Expert-rank champion is a Zieghart too, isn't she? Rakshasa Sword Marta Zieghart!"
"The ones on the rise are all Zieghart kids."
"You're right. Whirlwind Sword and Azure Moon Sword as well."
"Are all the talented ones just going to Zieghart?"
"I thought it was only the Northern Annihilation King. I was wrong. The generation below him is even sturdier!"
The crowd didn't stop at Raon. They cheered the names of Marta, Runaan, and Burren as well—the ones who had shone so brightly in the Expert-rank bracket.
Raon swept his gaze across the stands, letting the thunderous roar wash over him.
They've changed.
When he had first arrived here, not a single spectator had cheered for Zieghart. In the Expert bracket, Princess Jayna and Prince Grier had been the favorites. In the Master bracket, it had been Borini Kitten, Garona, and Cadis. The people who had actually expected Zieghart to win could have been counted on one hand.
"Zieghart!"
"Zieghart!"
Now, with every duel finished, the only name rolling through the arena was Zieghart's.
Not bad at all.
The thought of having moved all those people who had ignored them—who hadn't even cared enough to look—sent something hot rising through his chest. It was a different feeling from being praised for saving someone.
"Raon. Are you okay?"
Runaan had come up beside him at some point, her brows drooping. Worry before congratulations. That was so like her.
"Never better."
Only moments ago he had been on the verge of death, but one look at Derus Robert's twisted face and the sound of the crowd roaring his name had slashed the pain of his internal and external wounds down to almost nothing. It felt a little like an awakened state—and for now, that was enough.
"Y-you're fine?"
Marta squinted at the wound on his shoulder.
"Yeah. I can hold out until the award ceremony."
He wasn't about to faint in the middle of something this entertaining. The champion received gifts directly from the leaders of the Six Kings at the ceremony. He was not about to miss another chance to mock Derus Robert.
"Lord Raon. We need to begin the award ceremony now. Will you be able to endure it?"
The announcer approached and whispered quietly.
"If it's too much, we could hold the ceremony later, without the audience..."
"No."
Raon shook his head gently.
"It's fine to do it now. I can hardly postpone it when they're calling my name like that."
He smiled faintly, pointing toward the spectators still screaming his name.
"Ah..."
The announcer's eyes tightened slightly.
"Th-thank you!"
Raon had only been telling the truth, not putting on an act, but the man trembled with emotion as he clasped his hands.
"Raon! You really are an infuriating bastard!"
Burren came up with his lips pressed tight and threw his arms around him. He seemed moved as well; he sniffled quietly.
"And where the hell is that guy?"
Marta scowled, scanning the surroundings.
"Two champions came out of our squad and the squad leader's crawled off to hide somewhere!"
"Seriously..."
"Ugh..."
The Light Wind Squad frowned as they searched the area for Rimer.
"I'm rich! I'm actually filthy, filthy rich!"
Just as Raon turned to look with the others, a man's voice—hoarse enough to split—rang out from the right-hand stands.
There he is.
Raon let out a dry laugh. Some things never changed. That man was single-handedly ruining the image of elves everywhere.
"Vice-captain."
Dorian sidled up and gestured.
"You can't really go up on the platform looking like that. Let's get you a change of clothes first."
"Mm..."
Raon checked himself over. His uniform was in tatters, soaked with Cadis's blood and his own. Calling him a zombie wouldn't have been an exaggeration.
"That's probably for the best."
There would be a little time before the ceremony started. Changing clothes would be fine.
Raon went down with Dorian and entered the waiting room.
"What would you like?"
Dorian reached into his belly pouch and pulled out garment after garment in rapid succession. Formalwear and uniforms of every kind soon covered the table.
"Why is there a dress in there?"
Raon frowned at the gown wedged in among the rest.
"I-I haven't finished organizing this side yet."
Dorian laughed awkwardly and stuffed the dress back into the belly pouch.
"Ask that fellow whether he has any mint-chocolate ice cream."
......
He had a sinking feeling that Dorian actually might, so he didn't ask.
"I'll take this one."
Raon chose the least ostentatious piece among the formalwear—a black suit.
"Thanks for thinking of it."
"Not at all."
Dorian shook his head quickly.
"You and the First Squad Leader both won and put Zieghart's name out there, and I didn't do anything. The least I can do is this."
He smiled awkwardly and started packing the clothes back into the belly pouch.
"That's not true."
Raon peeled off the shredded uniform, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again.
"We did this."
"Sir?"
"It wasn't me. It wasn't Marta. It was all of us, together."
He raised a finger toward the waiting-room ceiling. Even down here, the walls trembled with the crowd chanting Zieghart's name.
"The Light Wind Squad fought with everything we had, and that's why they're calling that name. If it had been me alone, they would only be shouting Raon."
Once he had finished changing, Raon patted Dorian on the shoulder.
"Take pride in it. You and everyone in the Light Wind Squad gave it everything you had."
"...Yes, sir."
Dorian stopped stuffing clothes into the pouch. He looked down at the floor and nodded.
"Let's go."
Raon smirked and stepped out of the waiting room.
"Wooooaaaaaah!"
"Raon!"
"Frost-Flower Sword Hero!"
"White Sword Dragon!"
"White Sword Dragon! We're counting on you from here on out!"
Some of them were calling him White Sword Dragon now, not just Frost-Flower Sword Hero. The White Shadow Flash he had shown at the end must have burned itself into their minds.
Sword Dragon, huh.
Having a dragon attached to your epithet was the highest honor a young martial artist could receive. Even among the Continental Twelve Stars, only two of the top four carried a dragon in their titles.
These names are getting a little too big for me.
Sword Hero, and now Sword Dragon. It felt good—and just a little heavy.
"We will now begin the award ceremony!"
The announcer climbed back onto the sparring ground and raised a hand.
"Expert-rank champion Marta Zieghart, please come up to the platform."
Marta nodded and ascended to where the leaders of the Six Kings waited. Glenn stood at the very front.
"That was splendid fighting spirit. But you will need to learn how to value yourself a little more."
Glenn hung a platinum medal around Marta's neck and patted her shoulder.
"I will keep that in mind."
"You did well."
"Yes, sir!"
Marta bowed deeply and moved aside.
"My thanks for knocking some sense into that boy Grier."
King Lecross shook Marta's hand and held out a sword.
"It won't compare to the blade you shattered, but it is a famed sword in its own right. It should serve you until you find a new one."
"Thank you!"
Marta bent at the waist and received the sword with both hands.
"No scar on the face. That's a relief."
Chamber looked Marta over and beamed.
"Can I just count erasing the wound on your face as my gift?"
"Yes. I don't mind at all."
Marta nodded as if she genuinely didn't.
"Aww, you're adorable!"
Chamber giggled and waved her staff over Marta's palm. A blue light bloomed, and a gray bracelet dropped into her hand.
"The ability's a secret!"
She covered her mouth with a finger and hopped back.
"Thank you."
Marta stared blankly at the bracelet, then bowed her head.
"You're still young, but your spirit as a martial artist is a match for any of our children."
Ogram came to stand before her. Marta was tall for a woman, yet in front of him she looked like a child.
"A high-grade elixir of the Alliance. It will help your body catch up to your spirit."
He held out a wooden case containing the elixir, a broad, easy smile on his face.
"Thank you."
Marta bowed to Ogram, then approached Derus last of all.
"It was a magnificent match."
He smiled without a wrinkle and handed her a book.
"This is the Wave-Rending Step. It should let you use that formidable swordsmanship of yours more efficiently."
"Thank you!"
Marta bowed once more to all five of them, then lowered her head to the spectators as well.
"Wooooaaaaaah!"
"Marta! Marta!"
"Rakshasa Sword! Rakshasa Sword!"
The crowd applauded her—and a vein stood out on her forehead with a sharp twitch.
"I told you not to call me the Rakshasa Sword, you sons of bitches!"
Marta clutched the rewards the leaders had given her and ground her teeth.
"Ahahahaha!"
"She really is a rakshasa!"
"Let's go back to Rakshasa Woman! A sword can't hold that much viciousness!"
"Rakshasa Woman! Rakshasa Woman!"
"Rakshasa Sword! Rakshasa Sword!"
The spectators cackled, openly teasing her. Sword or woman—it no longer mattered. The image of a rakshasa had stuck to Marta for good.
"You rotten bastards!"
Marta's eyes blazed as she launched herself toward the stands.
"Hey! Stop her!"
"Marta!"
"Squad Leader!"
The Light Wind Squad below moved fast. They managed to drag her back out with a gag stuffed in her mouth.
"A-ah, please forgive the brief disruption."
The announcer wiped the cold sweat running down his forehead and let out a long breath.
"Next, Master-rank champion Raon Zieghart. Please come up to the platform!"
"Yeaaaaaaaah!"
Raon climbed onto the platform with a roar that seemed to reach the sky.
"Ahem."
Glenn's face had returned to its usual expressionless mask. He cleared his throat once and hung a platinum medal around Raon's neck.
"A superb counter that erases the enemy's offensive itself. It is not yet complete, however. You would not have been able to erase the secret art of a peak Master-rank swordsman."
"Yes, sir."
Perhaps because others were present, he spoke about the sword rather than offering praise. Honestly, this was more comfortable. A smile tugged at Raon's mouth.
"It is a swordsmanship that will grow stronger the more techniques you witness and the more experience you accumulate. Refine it well."
"Thank you."
Raon bowed to Glenn and moved aside.
"I feel as though my eyes have been opened for the first time in a long while. That was a splendid duel."
Satisfaction radiated from King Lecross's broad smile.
"You already have a sword, so something else would suit you better."
He held out a pair of gloves engraved with three swords. Even just taking them in hand, Raon could feel they were no ordinary items. There was something special about them.
"May your name be heard in still higher places."
"Thank you."
King Lecross had shown him goodwill from the very first time they met. Raon offered his thanks with genuine feeling, then came to stand before Chamber.
"Wanna come with me?"
Chamber crooked a finger, smiling.
"Chamber..."
"That lunatic!"
King Lecross and Ogram, standing to either side of her, both scowled.
"I'm kidding... no, actually, I really am tempted."
"Pardon?"
"Ever thought about learning magic? I'll teach you myself. Become my disciple."
"I have my hands full with the sword alone."
Talent for magic or not, it didn't matter. He intended to see this through with the sword and nothing else. Besides, one bizarre mage named Merlin was already more than enough.
"I don't know about that. I think you'd do just fine."
Chamber muttered, You could pull it off, as her gaze raked over him. A gleam of desire flickered in her eyes.
"Chamber."
"Ehh, fine, I get it."
At Glenn's low voice, Chamber nodded and extended her staff.
"Next time I see you, you'd better be even more handsome."
Glittering light spilled from her staff and became a blue ring.
An artifact, then.
Like the bracelet she had given Marta, this ring was almost certainly an artifact of Balkar. A kingdom of artifact-crafting on par with the Yonan family would not hand out anything ordinary.
"The ability's a secret for you too!"
"Thank you."
Raon bowed and came to stand before Ogram.
"When I first saw you, you were so scrawny I didn't like you one bit. But your spirit is the real deal. You, boy, are a true martial artist acknowledged by this Ogram."
He clapped Raon on the back with a hearty hand, then held out a wooden case.
"An elixir. It will restore that wrecked body of yours, and strengthen your mana circuits and aura core besides."
"Thank you."
"I've got something else to give you as well. We'll see each other later."
"Yes, sir."
Ogram glanced at Glenn and snorted a laugh. Raon had no idea what that was about, so he simply bowed and came to stand before Derus last of all.
"That..."
"I apologize! Even if it was not my intent, I severed Swordsman Cadis's arm! I have nothing I can say for it!"
Raon deliberately cut Derus off and bowed at the waist, deep.
This bastard hates being interrupted more than anything.
No matter the situation, Derus loathed having his words cut short. Raon had sliced across them on purpose, just to stoke his anger one more time.
"...It's quite all right."
Derus's voice was gentle, but his lips trembled faintly. The rage he had buried was surging back up.
"Swordsman Raon as well..."
"Even so, cutting off a martial artist's arm is not something that can simply be overlooked, is it? I will accept any punishment!"
Raon cut him off again and lowered his head.
"Wow..."
"He'll take any punishment..."
"Now that is a real martial artist."
"Right. Cadis was the one who put killing intent out first..."
"That's impressive. I think I understand now why Zieghart is called the overlord of the North."
Even in the middle of the award ceremony, the spectators were so moved by Raon's apology that they broke into applause.
Let's see...
Raon lifted his head again. Derus's smile had settled into something so forced it felt artificial. Anyone else would have taken it for a kindly expression. It was nothing of the sort. That was the face of a man whose fury had risen all the way to his throat.
Of course it has.
His plans had been exposed, his son's arm had been cut off, and given the circumstances he could neither pick a fight nor demand compensation. He couldn't say it out loud, but he probably wanted to wring Raon's neck right then and there.
That's enough for today.
Raon bit the inside of his cheek to keep the laughter from bursting out. He wanted to needle him further, but he preferred to save that for later.
"It truly is all right. This was a duel. That child will accept it as well."
Derus shook his head and passed him a booklet.
"Swordsman Raon's dagger work appeared to lack a proper system. This dagger art should be of help."
The name Flying Spirit Dagger Art was written on the booklet.
"Thank you."
Raon bowed to Derus and stepped back. He bent at the waist once more to the leaders of the Six Kings, then turned and came to stand at the front of the platform.
"Wooooaaaaaah!"
"Raon! Raon! Raon!"
"Frost-Flower Sword Hero! Frost-Flower Sword Hero!"
"White Sword Dragon! White Sword Dragon!"
The roar that went up was even greater than it had been for Marta. It felt as though the sparring ground itself were shaking from the force of their voices alone.
"Thank you."
Raon felt his heart hammering as he offered his gratitude to the crowd. He thanked them for cheering him on all this way—and when he tried to straighten up, no strength would enter his body.
He couldn't so much as twitch a finger. His body tipped forward just as it was.
Of all places...
The energy he had gained from mocking Derus seemed to have run out completely. The ground rushed closer as he fell.
Just as his eyes were about to close, he felt someone catch him.
Ah...
This sensation...
A warmth he seemed to have felt a very long time ago wrapped around him, and Raon's eyes fell shut.
Raon frowned up at a stark white ceiling.
I passed out?
He had no memory of anything after greeting the spectators. The last image was the ground rushing up to meet him.
Passing out even after getting this strong. Pathetic.
He let out a short laugh and pushed himself up.
Or maybe it was only natural.
White Shadow Flash was a sword art that consumed lightning force and aura to an extreme degree. Using a technique that was exhausting even once—repeatedly, and with severe internal injuries—made losing consciousness unsurprising.
Wrath.
He was about to ask how much time had passed when the infirmary door opened.
"Looks like you're all right now?"
Rimer came in first, smiling brightly and waving.
"You're asking a kid who just woke up if he's all right?"
Sheryl kicked Rimer in the rear.
"Vice-captain. How is your insides? Are you well?"
Roen smiled gently as he checked Raon over from head to toe.
"Ah. I'm fine."
Raon was smiling faintly when Glenn entered behind the three of them. He came to the bedside and let a sharp light gather in his eyes.
Am I about to get scolded?
Collapsing at the critical moment of greeting the crowd and stepping down from the platform... he might well be in for a lecture.
"A martial artist," Glenn began, and his gaze narrowed,
"must know himself better than he knows anyone else. What he can do. How long he can endure. How far he can go. To always look inward—that is the true bearing of a martial artist."
A chill ran through his voice.
"Today you surpassed your limits. Your body and your brain overloaded, then gave out, and you lost consciousness. If no one had been there, you would have died as you were."
"I'm sorry."
A scolding, as expected. But nothing Glenn had said was wrong, so Raon lowered his head.
"The family's name and its prestige are well and good. But think of yourself first."
Glenn stepped closer and took hold of his shoulder. His touch was warm—and strangely, it was trembling, just slightly.
"Still, today you..."
He paused, just briefly. From the way the words had begun, it seemed he meant to finish with praise—you've done well.
Glenn never once spoke empty words, so hearing his praise always felt good.
"E-eat lots of meat."
"......"
The infirmary sank into silence at a line no one had seen coming.
"Uh..."
Raon's jaw slid to one side.
What did I just hear?
He was so dumbfounded his mouth fell open.
"Ahem. I'll be going."
Glenn turned on his heel at once and walked out of the infirmary.
"F-Family Head."
"Young master Raon. We shall see you later."
Sheryl and Roen glanced his way once, then followed Glenn out.
"Tch!"
Rimer made a show of spitting on the floor and twisted his face into a scowl.
"That old fossil!"
He shouted and chased after the three of them.
"What was that...?"
Because he was weak? Eat meat and get stronger?
He couldn't make sense of it. His head felt blank.
"You dense fool."
Wrath snorted and drifted up into the air.
"Because you are pathetically weak! He means eat meat and build your strength!"
Wrath seized him by the shoulders. An irrepressible smile had spread across his mouth.
"There will be a banquet tonight, so you will attend no matter what! If you eat only what This King tells you to, even you could become as sturdy as a Demon King!"
Uh...
Was that actually right?
"Ugghhh!"
Rimer let out a long, theatrical sigh.
"Eat lots of meat! It's so pathetic I can't stand it!"
He ground his teeth, glaring at Glenn's back ahead of him.
"Is it that hard to tell your grandson, 'You did well. I love you'?"
Glenn had been trying to add not only you've done well but I love you as well, and his language had short-circuited.
It was so absurd Rimer couldn't even laugh.
"If you'd just shut your eyes and say it once, everything from here on would go smoothly!"
Glenn did not look back, even as the scolding poured over him. His back was hunching, little by little.
"It's so frustrating I could burst!"
Having seized the momentum, Rimer's voice only grew louder.
"Aren't you going to hug your grandson? Aren't you going to apologize to your daughter? Are you just going to sit there until they bury you in the ground?"
"Mm..."
"The same man who couldn't even breathe and came charging out when Raon fell off the platform, and now he's this embarrassed? Even old man Bollak from the house behind us wouldn't be this bad!"
"......"
Glenn's steps came to a dead halt.
"There is a problem."
His voice dropped low.
"What did you mess up this time? Want me to fix it for you? I don't even want to think about what would've happened if I weren't around."
Glenn turned his head, slowly. A gaze as cold as a sheet of ice wrapped around Rimer.
"Eh?"
"I am the family head, and you are a retainer. So why am I the one being scolded?"
"Huh? No, that's..."
Rimer's cheek twitched. He had only just realized he had said far too much.
"I-I was doing it for the Family Head..."
"Hold him."
"Yes!"
The moment he tried to back away, Sheryl and Roen seized him by both arms.
Crackle—!
Crimson sparks began to bloom from Glenn's fingertips.
"Heh heh..."
"I understand where you're coming from, but you pushed it way too far."
"Wait, wait!"
Rimer thrashed, even pouring aura into it.
"Not now! I still have betting tickets I haven't cashed—"
The rest of the sentence never made it out. A colossal bolt of lightning came crashing down along Glenn's fingertips.
KRA-KOOOOOM!