Chapter 64
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Race to the Nightmare
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The host picked up from the emperor's words and continued explaining the finals.
"The spectator stands are burning hot over this lineup of entrants packed with upsets! It's an honor to host this dizzying, spine-tingling finals. In these finals, all the entrants can battle freely."
Cheers and applause poured out once more.
The host pressed on in an excited voice.
"The victory condition is to surpass all the other entrants, reach the Nightmare first, and ride it back to the main stand. Keep in mind that the Nightmare can only bear the weight of one person. Is everyone ready to enjoy the match?"
Ecstatic cheers shook the arena as if it might collapse.
In a seat not far from the emperor, Jerome—who was sitting near Duchess Camilla—had been repeating the same thing endlessly for a while now.
"Russell."
"Yes, Father."
"...So, what I'm saying is, in this situation right now, you got eliminated and you're sitting next to me, while Charlotte is out there in that arena."
"You're telling me."
"...So, Russell. Charlotte is there, and you got eliminated."
After joining the family seats due to his own defeat in the tournament, Russell had endured this question repeated more than ten times before finally snapping.
"Ah, just stop it already, Father. You think I wanted to be here? I should've just stayed in the waiting area."
Jerome seemed about to finally calm down and clamp his mouth shut, but the sight of Charlotte and Joseph entering side by side set his lips moving on their own again.
"So, Russell."
"...What."
"That Charlotte over there... she's the Charlotte I know, right...? She didn't get swapped out for some other kid from somewhere, did she?"
Russell let out a deep sigh, as if his father was utterly pathetic.
"Did Father ever even know a Charlotte? Just watch quietly."
"...Yeah, let's do that."
Jerome had finally settled back against his seat when Russell narrowed his eyes at the arena and muttered.
"That Byaki guy really seems to have it out for Charlotte. Hope she’ll be okay."
"...What?"
"Well... nothing major’ll happen."
Russell muttered that while stroking his chin.
He figured luck had played a huge role in Charlotte making it to the finals. He’d been too focused on his own match to watch the others anyway, and with the brackets split, he hadn’t had a chance to see the intervening bouts.
‘Might end up watching Byaki toy with Charlotte for no good reason.’
Russell kept his eyes on the arena, thinking that if Charlotte had to fall to someone, Isaac’s hands were preferable.
Charlotte glanced at Joseph while listening to the host’s prattling.
Joseph stared quietly at her alone, as if he had no idea this was the finals arena they’d both so eagerly awaited—not sparing a glance anywhere else.
Their eyes met, and Charlotte swallowed hard.
She hadn’t decided what to do from this point on.
If she won, she could make her wish to Camilla—that was great. If Joseph won, that was fine too.
Either way, her goal would be achieved.
She had no idea what was going through his calm head, but even if they ended up facing off, she planned to give it her all.
Charlotte gave a small nod to encourage each other, and Joseph lightly dipped and raised his head in kind.
‘How is he so cute and proper?’
With the finals arena’s glowing orbs drifting lazily in the background, she thought Joseph suited the place perfectly.
She preferred this version of him to the exhausted, disheveled mess she’d first laid eyes on.
By then, the host’s announcements were wrapping up, and attendants approached to guide the four entrants to their starting positions.
The four took up positions forming a square in the circular arena, and a whistle promptly blew.
Beep!
Waaaaah—.
Waaaaaaaah—.
The finals kicked off amid deafening roars.
For now, the goal was the towering stone spire at the center, so Charlotte kicked off the ground and dashed toward it. She lightly deployed her footwork technique as she repeatedly climbed the stone bridges, only to suddenly hear a bubbling sound and glance down at the floor.
‘...Wow, this is no joke.’
Illusion or real?
This was a tournament with even a top crown prince contender like Prince Ricardo participating, so probably not actual lava—but staring at it for long still felt disconcertingly realistic.
‘Magic really is something else. Gotta learn how it works someday. They say it takes real brains, though... and thinking’s not my thing at all...’
She closed her eyes and felt for the qi.
Nature had its own distinct energies. Grass had the qi of grass; trees had the qi of trees.
But the churning lava below carried no heat whatsoever.
‘Yup, just a visual trick after all.’
Charlotte opened her eyes again and kept marveling at the floor below when she sensed a presence nearby.
Light footsteps, soft and careful. Heavier than Joseph’s, though—a bit less precise than Isaac’s.
‘Byaki?’
The moment the thought crossed her mind, as expected, Byaki’s voice called out mockingly.
"Scared?"
Charlotte quirked up the corner of her mouth in a smirk and straightened.
"Well, if it isn’t Brother Byaki."
Shing—.
Byaki—with his long platinum hair tied back tight in a single ponytail—drew his sword in lieu of a reply. Clearly, he had nothing more to say.
He wielded the sword left-handed like a southpaw swordsman, with a small wrist-mounted shield strapped to his right.
Charlotte didn’t mind facing a lefty.
‘Kinda bummed I never got to spar Russell directly, but Byaki’s about the same level, so not bad.’
"You first."
At Byaki’s words, Charlotte drew her own sword without hesitation and kicked off lightly.
As effortless as a step on flat ground.
Clang, clang, clang, clang!
Byaki was convinced Charlotte’s run to this point was pure, utter luck.
Being in the same bracket as her was embarrassing enough; he’d been planning to crush her himself at the first opportunity.
Yet now that their blades were actually crossing, something felt off.
Her sword wasn’t brutally fast, but tracking its tip precisely with his eyes was weirdly difficult. It was like trying to slice fluttering flower petals mid-breeze with his blade.
He’d swear he’d parried squarely, yet over half his force just bled away into nothing.
And whenever a red wisp of energy flickered at the tip of Charlotte’s sword before vanishing, a strangely sweet fragrance tickled his nose.
‘...Flower scent? From a sword...? Smelling flowers?’
Byaki denied the thought even as he traded furious blows with Charlotte.
There were stories like that. Reach a certain sword realm, and your aura starts giving off a scent.
‘...What am I even thinking? Ack!’
That momentary distraction was enough—his balance crumbled in an instant on the narrow bridge.
Crackle.
His left toes barely scraped the very edge of the bridge, nearly in midair, and stone dust rained down into the abyss below.
Cold sweat trickled down his spine unbidden.
He knew it was an illusion in his head, but seeing it with his eyes was enough to fool him anyway.
The moment he lurched his body hard the other way to avoid plummeting, Charlotte’s sword slammed his blade aside with force.
Clang! Clatter!
Pathetically easy—Byaki’s sword flew off into the distance, landing on another stone bridge far below.
Waaaaah—.
Byaki bit his lip at the roaring cheers from the stands.
Charlotte beamed and waved.
"You’re not done yet, right? Catch up to the top, and we’ll pick this up then."
Byaki dazedly watched her casually sheathe her sword and dash off. That was when he realized something: even as Charlotte zipped back and forth across the bridges like it was nothing, she never once paid special attention to where her feet landed.
She moved like she was just climbing stairs at home—like she only needed to register where things were and that was that.
‘...I was the scared one.’
Some vital energy drained out of him.
Belated embarrassment flooded in.
He didn’t know the full story, and skill-wise she might even edge him out—but before any of that, he’d lost the mental high ground.
Byaki ground his teeth and leaped across bridges to retrieve his sword.
‘...Next time we meet, no matter what.’
But his initial plan to flatten her nose on sight had completely flipped. The notion that this lowly branch-family bastard was just a lucky fluke? Seeing her sword up close had knocked that right out of him.
Now it felt more like the hunger to best a proper rival. Far more equal footing.