Chapter 58
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Charlotte vs. Lancelot
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The third match of Group 3 will now commence. The participants are Lancelot Setia and Charlotte Setia.
The announcer read out the remaining names on the bracket. Thanks to magic, his voice transformed into a resounding boom that echoed through the entire arena, reaching every corner.
Magic truly is wondrous.
Charlotte had been listening in a daze when she suddenly sprang to her feet.
"It's my turn now."
She tapped the scabbard hanging at her waist.
Though hastily acquired, it was her first sword of her own, and she really liked it. The plum blossom decoration—something unseen here—was especially nice.
With this at her side, she felt secure.
Waaaaah—
Unexpected cheers rained down.
"Lady Charlotte! Show us what you've got!"
"We're rooting for you!"
Strangely enough, an unusual number of people were chanting Charlotte's name.
But she knew those cheers weren't truly meant for her.
It was a common thing.
When a strong fighter faced a weak one, people instinctively rooted for the underdog.
Even those who had only ever pitied her before now found themselves cheering because the talentless Charlotte had made it this far.
But that was all.
Just think of the people who've supported and believed in me all along. Cheers swayed by crowd psychology are neither a gain nor a loss to me.
"Heading out now?"
Prince Joseph looked at her, his dark eyes brimming with trust.
Charlotte nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
"Come back safe."
"Yeah."
She nodded quietly and ruffled his soft hair. The pleasant texture melted away even the lingering tension she had felt.
Feeling good, she turned and walked toward the arena.
Jerome couldn't just sit back and relax like the others on Shadow Blade Day.
For one, places like arenas where crowds gathered were far riskier than they seemed. He had to deploy not only his own knight order but also mercenaries from other orders to tighten security.
Moreover, with so many spectators packed in one place, all sorts of major and minor incidents were bound to happen.
Most could be smoothed over with the Setia House's authority, so after seeing the children off, Jerome had been rushing from place to place.
He didn't re-enter the arena until after the preliminaries had ended.
Camilla noticed him wiping sweat as he slid into the seat beside her, but she didn't tear her serious gaze away from the arena.
Few people could hold her attention like that.
Isaac Setia—her nephew, the eldest son of Room, the brother Jerome had once been uniquely acknowledged by her for his talent and character as a potential heir.
Jerome tried not to show the bitterness on his face as he uttered the predetermined response.
"Has Isaac's turn come already?"
He muttered as he turned to look where Camilla's crimson eyes stared without a flicker.
But what entered Jerome's view wasn't anyone he had expected—it was the only girl in the Setia House with pink hair.
"...Charlotte?"
Only after hearing his dazed mutter did Camilla speak.
"Jerome."
"Yes? Yes, House Lord."
"That child doesn't know the meaning of tension. Even full-grown adults instinctively shrink or get excited before a crowd this size."
"...Are you talking about my daughter?"
"Yes, Charlotte."
Charlotte.
Jerome couldn't even recall how long it had been since Camilla last uttered that name.
At first, he just thought it was too unexpected, but then he gazed at his daughter, who was calmly surveying the vast arena.
Her pink hair tied high in a single ponytail, wearing a short-sleeved red martial robe—she looked quite cute, fitting for a nine-year-old. The flower-patterned scabbard and sword at her waist even resembled toys.
She had recently turned strangely well-behaved, enough to confuse people, but she was still just a child, after all.
He had already heard the news while working: somehow, she had passed the preliminaries.
He had thought she would drop out even before the side branch children, so making it through was impressive enough.
He was incredibly proud and figured it was all thanks to his own generosity in allowing her to train with Joseph.
But that was it...
Why is Mother acting like that...? It's only natural for her to get eliminated in the prelims, but she survived, so...?
Jerome scratched his forehead and muttered on.
"She's clueless as always. Still, making it this far means she got lucky in the prelims. It'll be a good experience. She's matched against Lancelot, so she'll lose as expected, but she'll take something away from it."
Camilla, who had been staring fixedly at the arena, let out a deep sigh and shook her head at his words.
Jerome knew that gesture all too well.
It was what she did when she thought someone's words were utter nonsense.
"...Did I say something wrong?"
Camilla clicked her tongue softly.
"You're quite skilled with the sword, aren't you."
"...That sounds like you're saying I lack something."
"Now I see why you never noticed your daughter growing so well."
"Pardon?"
"You have no eyes."
"...What do you mean by that?"
Jerome looked puzzled, but Camilla seemed to have nothing more to say.
She lightly interlaced her fingers, rested her chin softly atop them, and fixed her gaze on the arena.
She predicted the exact opposite of Jerome.
She didn't know what would happen next, but right here and now, that composure couldn't possibly lose.
...To think Charlotte was such a child.
Camilla's eyes pierced through every step and gesture Charlotte made, as if seeing right through her.
Jerome hadn't noticed.
Which meant she had to observe exactly what had changed Charlotte—and how.
The current Charlotte was worth holding the House Lord's attention for a long while.
Thud.
The shield stamped the ground.
Beneath platinum hair near silver, green eyes glared steadily at Charlotte.
Those eyes, sparkling in the sunlight, held none of the subtle contempt and disdain that always surfaced whenever he faced her.
Instead, they burned with hostility and a vicious will to win.
A bit surprised, Charlotte looked at Lancelot standing before her.
His presence was different.
His aura was different.
His sharpness was different.
...His skill probably is too.
Charlotte slowly curved the corners of her lips into a long arc of a smile.
This is fun.
She thought this was one of the fun parts of martial arts.
In the martial world, countless martial artists madly pursued nothing but strength. Yet, out of them all, how many truly possessed that 'desperation'?
Looking back now, the reason her past self, Dohwa, had progressed faster than others might have been that.
They said there were dozens or hundreds of walls from the weakest to transcendent experts. Overcoming or scaling those walls wasn't just about investing time.
It was about how desperately one focused, even in a short burst of time. How far one went to perfect a single technique. How badly one burned to surpass a rival.
The moment that desperation took hold, a person transformed in an instant, becoming someone entirely different. That was the thrill of martial arts.
Just like Lancelot right now.
...Looks like I was the catalyst.
Did collapsing before me in the carriage wound his pride?
Or what?
Whatever it was, fine by her.
She had always felt it was a shame that Lancelot, despite his talent, focused more on tearing others down than on his own efforts.
In the story, he ended up used as worthless cannon fodder on the battlefield once Isaac became head and met his end.
So it was good that he was now putting in effort, whatever the trigger.
Flutter!
The referee announced the start of the 1:1 match between Charlotte Setia and Lancelot Setia.
Until then, he had kept silent, his focused eyes fixed solely on Charlotte. Now, for the first time, he opened his mouth.
"You said it. That I already know you're better than me, so why bother challenging you... because you're a girl?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I did."
"No, wait. I thought about it, and that wasn't it."
"...Huh?"
"Just... looking at those pitiful lives beneath me made it comforting to know someone was below me. Even better if they were from the superior direct line."
Watching Lancelot bare something from the depths of his heart, Charlotte nodded seriously in response.
He watched her head bob up and down before lowering his gaze.
"Yeah, I just wanted to say it wasn't that. That's all."
That was the end of the conversation.
Not expecting a reply from her, he immediately drew his sword with eyes burning in fierce concentration.