Chapter 104: The Tin Knight and the Martial Arts Tournament (11)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 104: The Tin Knight and the Martial Arts Tournament (11)
It is a common thing for one person to hate another. Perhaps even more common than for one person to love another.
And what is common is in high demand.
And high demand meant it could be turned into money.
In that sense, the man was a merchant.
He was in the business of resolving someone’s hatred for a fee.
People usually called those in his line of work contractors, but the man belonged to a rather peculiar class of them.
Unlike the common run-of-the-mill swords for hire, the man possessed the sophisticated method of cursing.
In the man’s opinion, there were few methods as useful as a curse when it came to harming someone.
Once a few conditions were met, you could target someone no matter where they were. No matter how strong the target was, they were helpless without the exact countermeasure. And above all, it allowed one to attack unilaterally from a safe location.
It had the drawback of requiring a large quantity of sacrifices and catalysts, making the preparation difficult, but that was a problem easily solved by siding with the powerful.
Clueless novice necromancers would go around robbing graves or loitering on battlefields to obtain negative mana, only to meet their end at the hands of city guards or bandits. The man considered such actions utterly foolish.
This was a world where corpses could be acquired in any number, as long as you had money and power.
‘Then again, perhaps it can’t be helped. They probably never had the chance to learn properly in the first place.’
Knowledge, by its very nature, is meant to be shared, discussed, and built upon, eventually forming a great tower.
But for necromancers, the very act of sharing knowledge was a major hurdle.
When several alchemists gathered, it became a laboratory. When several enchanters gathered, it became a workshop. But when several necromancers gathered, they were seen as a band of villains plotting to overthrow the world.
Unlike other schools of magic whose practitioners could reveal their identities without much issue, necromancers lived their lives hiding who they were, which made it difficult for them to even meet one another. You had to know where someone was to even think about meeting them.
The path to becoming a necromancer usually involved an existing one taking in an orphan as a disciple, or someone discovering the books or relics left behind by a necromancer and teaching themselves. In such a situation, knowledge was bound to become fragmented.
The widespread perception of necromancers as ‘evil but weak’ was not without reason, as it was often fueled by these half-baked amateurs who would run rampant only to be quickly suppressed.
Of course, the man didn’t think that was such a bad thing.
Having more competent and powerful necromancers around wouldn’t do him any good.
Not only would it increase competition, but those who took the threat of necromancy seriously might start researching effective countermeasures.
‘And sweet deals like this one would become scarcer.’
With that thought, the man proceeded to finish his curse.
A pure white doll with curly blonde hair and a splendid dress.
Into this medium, which bore a strong resemblance to the target, he inserted the lock of hair he had received from the young man, strengthening the magical link.
Placing the doll on a suspicious-looking altar, the man drew up his mana and channeled it into a bronze skull that was also on the altar.
The bronze skull began to sing with a clatter.
《Let the hunt begin! Let the hunt begin! A hunt of joy and sorrow, of gladness and grief, let it begin!》
“Heh heh, yes, let us begin.”
The man grabbed one of the corpses he had prepared and drove a large iron spike into the top of its foot.
Crack. A sound far too light and empty for piercing human skin echoed through the room.
Instead of blood, something like black smoke flowed from the pierced foot and stained the blonde doll’s legs.
However, the effect wasn’t very strong.
It was little more than a light smudge of soot.
The man clicked his tongue.
“Tsk, as expected, just a lock of hair isn’t very efficient.”
Without hesitation, the man pulled the nail out again. The corpse crumbled into dust with a dry rustle.
Unconcerned, he brought over another corpse and repeated the process of driving the nail into its foot.
Drive the nail in, pull it out, drive it in, pull it out.
After consuming about a dozen corpses, the doll’s legs were finally stained pitch-black.
The bronze skull sang.
《The poor prey now limps, unable to take a single step on its own. Just standing still will make its legs rot away. Oh, how pitiful!》
The man took out a new corpse and this time, drove a nail into its arm.
《The poor prey has lost its arms. The slightest touch will feel like the cut of a blade. It can no longer hold anything. Oh, how wretched!》
Next was the neck.
《The poor prey has lost its throat. Its voice will scatter like foam, and no amount of water will quench its thirst. Oh, how lamentable!》
And the heart.
《The poor prey has lost its heart. The blood in its veins will turn to poison, and an endless fever and chills will never leave its body. Oh, how horrible!》
Amidst the heaping pile of black dust, the man let out a sigh.
The blonde doll on the altar had long since turned completely black.
“Tsk, if only I had more time, I wouldn’t have had to waste so many sacrifices.”
The man had used over fifty corpses. For cursing a single person, it was terribly inefficient.
Moreover, the effect wasn’t instantaneous; it would take another day for it to fully manifest.
It was a magic completely impractical for use in combat, but the man didn't care.
He wasn’t the one who would be crossing swords with the target. His job was simply to ruin her condition; the client would take care of the rest.
It was then, as the man massaged his arms and shoulders, sore from the repeated hammering, that something strange caught his eye.
The doll, which had been pitch-black just a moment ago, turned pure white in a single instant.
“What?”
An absent-minded sound escaped the man’s lips.
It wasn’t just out of dismay that hours of hard work had gone up in smoke in a single moment.
No, while that feeling was there, the bigger problem was how clean the doll was.
“Dispelled by holy magic? No, even so, this is…!”
When explaining it to the young man, he had said that with holy magic, a curse was nothing, but this was a somewhat distorted truth.
If he didn’t instill the perception that ‘the nobles are safe,’ he could lose his life at the hands of his main clientele, the aristocracy.
It was true that holy magic could defeat curses.
But it was a process similar to washing away grease with water.
If you simply poured water on it, the greasy curse wouldn’t be completely washed away, and traces would remain. On the other hand, if you poured water hot enough to melt the grease or blasted it with high pressure, the body and soul stained with the grease would also be wounded.
But to dispel a curse prepared with such effort in the blink of an eye, without leaving a single scratch on the target (the doll)?
“I-I have to hide, no, I have to run!”
The man’s judgment was swift.
He abandoned most of the various materials and catalysts left in his workshop, grabbing only the bronze skull as he hastily prepared to flee.
He was a man who, in his more hot-blooded days, had the experience of failing a job after messing with the wrong nobles and running into a cleric.
However, the clerics he had faced either took a long time to wash away the curse bit by bit, or they used methods that healed it in one go at the cost of leaving scars. This was the first time he had encountered an opponent who could perform such a monstrous feat—dispelling a curse in an instant without inflicting any wounds.
He couldn’t even begin to guess what kind of powerhouse he was dealing with.
‘Dammit, I should have investigated the target more thoroughly! That young brat was rushing me so much…!’
The man desperately tried to calm his pounding heart.
He was a skilled necromancer.
Not just in terms of magical prowess, but also in the art of survival.
‘It’s fine, I’ve done this many times before. The stand-in is already prepared, so faking my death won’t be difficult. I’ll just grab enough money and materials so it doesn’t look suspicious, and then get out of here immediately—’
The man’s frantic thoughts came to a halt.
He felt a gaze upon him.
He instinctively turned his head in the direction of the stare.
“Hiek…!”
He had his feet pierced.
She had her palms pierced.
That child had a large hole in its neck.
That old man had black fluid leaking from his heart.
They were looking at the man.
The sacrifices he had offered were staring at him.
Rattle! Rattle-rattle!
The man quickly tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.
They reached out their hands toward him.
White, pale hands began to grab and twist the man’s body.
The man felt his legs stiffen. An insane itch followed.
He reflexively tried to scratch his leg, but the moment his fingers touched his skin, he felt a terrible pain.
His scream couldn’t escape as sound, and a nauseating dizziness and chill washed over his body.
The skull in the man’s arms rattled, as if in his stead, who could no longer make a sound.
《I’m sorry, Witch! I was wrong, Witch! Please spare me, Witch! I’ll never do it again! I’ll never do it again! Mercy! Please, have mercy!》
The bronze skull shrieked and screeched, then split in two with a sharp crack.
Lying on the floor, the man gasped, unable to even breathe properly.
The vengeful spirits circled him.
Between their heads, he could see a small window.
And outside the window, glaring at him, ah, there, in the window! In the window!
*
“Hey, Adel.”
“Yes, Witch? What is it?”
“What have you been up to? Did I tell you not to cause trouble, or did I not?”
“Pardon?”
“Hah, I was wondering why this tin can was being so quiet, and now it’s this one’s turn.”
[The ‘Tin Knight’ defends Adelaide, saying it’s normal for children to get into trouble!]
[The ‘Tin Knight’ says he will guide Adelaide well so that she matures!]
“You hear that? Hearing something like that from him is a danger sign for any human, you got it? Be careful from now on. And don’t get mixed up with any weirdos.”
“Huh? Oh, what?”
Having said her piece, Dorothea went back into her room.
Normally, Dorothea would have guessed the situation from Adelaide’s expression and reaction, but with dark circles under her eyes, she didn’t have the energy.
It was the sorrow of a necromancer who couldn’t even properly receive Sophia’s holy magic care while using her own magic.
In the end, all that was left was a little lion with a head full of question marks.
And so, a wicked plan was crushed.
As it is, a lesser evil could never defeat a greater one.
*
The day of the final battle.
Adelaide thought to herself.
‘What was that all about in the end?’
Dorothea’s incomprehensible words were one thing, but it was also strange how Sophia had patted her head so often that day.
Lost in thought, she failed to notice the look of utter shock on her opponent’s face—that is, Maximilian’s.
“Contestants, are you ready?”
She snapped back to her senses only after hearing the referee’s words.
Reminding herself not to get lost in idle thoughts before an important fight, Adel opened her mouth.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“…Hmph, ahem! Ready.”
After the referee stepped down from the stage to avoid getting caught in the fight, Maximilian spoke.
His voice was subtly suppressed, so that those around them couldn’t hear.
“Think carefully, girl. I am a man of the Haidern family. Besides simple martial prowess, I have many other sources of power. I find it quite distasteful to have to fight seriously against a girl like you. Therefore, you should also act wisely—”
Adelaide was barely listening to Maximilian’s rambling.
‘He’s wearing a proper helmet this time. His armor is also thicker than when we fought in the street. In a situation like this, umm…’
The Tin Knight hadn’t given Adelaide much advice during this tournament.
He offered counsel during their daily life or training, but he never gave her instructions on how to act or fight during a match.
The reason was that figuring out a strategy on her own was also a form of experience.
So, she thought.
I’m outmatched in strength.
He has more mana, too.
I’m faster, but considering his defense, surprise attacks or aiming for vitals is meaningless.
‘This is difficult.’
Adel racked her brain.
A battle where the Tin Knight didn’t give her the answer was incredibly difficult.
In the first place, Adel wasn’t particularly skilled in tactics or strategy.
So, she thought in the simplest terms possible.
‘If I hit the same spot many times, won’t it eventually hurt?’
“Begin the match!”
Fwoosh!
The moment the signal was given, Adelaide’s body shot forward like an arrow.
Maximilian’s expression was momentarily bewildered, but he soon grit his teeth and drew up his sword energy.
“So you insist on choosing punishment!”
The imperial court swordsmanship revealed itself once more.
A sword of authority—precise, dignified, and allowing not even the smallest opening.
Perhaps because he was no longer on unstable footing, his sword strikes were even more thorough, blanketing Adel like a net.
But Adel dodged even that.
And her counterattack struck Maximilian’s helmet.
Clang!
The full-power blow produced only a light metallic sound as it was futilely deflected.
A sigh escaped from the audience at the sight, but Adel herself paid it no mind.
‘He flinched, even if just a little. Whether it was because of the sound or the impact, it means he is being affected.’
Dodge and strike, dodge and strike, dodge and strike.
It seemed like a simple, repetitive task, but its difficulty was anything but trivial.
Her opponent was superior to Adel in many aspects—attack power, defense, physique, and swordsmanship.
Whatever his personality, the skill Maximilian possessed was not to be underestimated.
With each narrow evasion and counterattack, small cuts accumulated on Adel’s body.
But that was all.
She had fought this opponent before.
She had experienced this swordsmanship before.
It was a little stronger, a little more precise, and a little faster than before, but facing something for the first time and facing something you’ve already experienced were on completely different levels of difficulty.
If she had to fight Maximilian without any prior knowledge, she might have lost, but that was a possibility that had already passed.
The price for giving the little lion experience points was terrifying.
Clang! Clang! Clang-clang-clang-clang!
Stable evasion enabled powerful attacks.
Ironically, or perhaps inevitably.
It resembled the Tin Knight’s own fighting style of creating attack opportunities through superior defensive techniques.
“You, you wench…!”
Maximilian ground his teeth in anger at being unilaterally beaten, but no matter how hard he tried, his sword could not reach Adel.
Neither the abundant mana cultivated with elixirs nor the swordsmanship learned from a good teacher was of any help to him now.
And the equipment that had sustained him until the end was also slowly reaching its limit.
No matter how high-quality Maximilian’s helmet was, it was impossible for it to endure the heavy blows of a two-handed sword—blows imbued with sword energy, no less—and remain unscathed.
Scratches multiplied on the helmet’s surface, and the shock-absorbing magic gradually lost its function.
From the successive impacts and noise, Maximilian felt the world spin before his eyes.
Staggering from dizziness, he desperately swung his sword.
“I am, I am Her Majesty the Empress’s, I am His Highness the Crown Prince’s…!”
The pride that had made him believe he was a chosen one began to crumble.
The disgraceful displays he had repeated time and again in this city crushed his self-esteem.
This can’t be happening. Wasn’t this tournament supposed to be just another ornament to brighten my glorious journey? he tried to deny reality.
In Maximilian’s eyes, Adel’s reflection appeared.
The image of a small warrior, covered in blood and wounds, yet continuing the fight with an unwavering gaze.
Maximilian realized.
It was a realization that came not from reason, but from the realm of instinct.
He was merely a commoner who had deluded himself into thinking he was destined to be a hero, while the girl before him was the ‘real deal.’
“Youuuuuu!!”
In the final moment, casting aside all his arrogance, prejudice, and bloated ego, Maximilian swung his sword with the sole conviction that he could not lose.
Even if his motive was jealousy, the first strike he had ever put his entire being into was sharper than anything before, and it carved a large gash in Adel’s shoulder.
And the blow that came back in response once again slammed into his helmet.
The helmet, already at its limit, somehow managed to protect its user, but the clasp connecting the armor and helmet did not.
The dented helmet flew into the air, exposing his defenseless head.
Adel readjusted her grip on the hilt.
Though some might point their fingers and call it a frustrating and foolish act, she acted according to the righteousness and immaturity within her own heart.
Thwack!
The flat of the two-handed sword came down on the crown of Maximilian’s head.
The body of the villain, who had for the first time in his life become aware of his own limits and contradictions, slowly collapsed.
Amidst the referee’s declaration of victory and the cheers of the crowd, Adel smiled and muttered.
“Hehe, whack-a-mole. I did it, too.”