Night had fallen, cloaking everything in darkness.

"Mmph, mmph!"

There were men gagged and bound, their hands and feet tied tightly, loaded onto a cart like cargo.

Had anyone seen the sight, they would have been startled.

This was because, even at a glance, they exuded an aura that was anything but ordinary.

Every single one of them was skilled enough to have made it to the main tournament of the swordsmanship competition hosted by the Second Prince.

"Hey!"

"..."

"Hey, Schmidt. Catch!"

"..."

"That's right. Fill it up from the inside. Stack 'em up neatly."

I stared blankly at the two men who were lifting and carrying the men, who were wriggling like caterpillars with their limbs bound, as if they were sacks of luggage.

Dofang was tossing them, and Schmidt was catching them and shoving them into a dark warehouse.

"...Brother Dofang."

"Oh, little brother, you're here?"

I had come because Dofang had given me the address and told me to come here.

What in the world was going on in the middle of the night?

It was only a few days ago that he had said, "Hahaha, little brother, you just focus on your condition. We'll take care of things and be back. Hahahaha!" before dragging Schmidt away.

The main tournament was tomorrow.

But when on earth did they manage to kidnap all these guys without anyone noticing?

"Mmph, mmph!"

Among them was Flanco, the one with the white band around his head.

Dofang untied the white band from his head and tossed it to me.

"Here, catch, Mr. Flanco."

I caught the man's white band, bewildered, and said.

"Hey, Brother Dofang! What is all this?"

I had expected him to kidnap Flanco.

What I hadn't anticipated, however, was that he would kidnap more than just Flanco.

"Just a second, little brother. Just need to get this last one in. Ugh! Last one, Schmidt. Treat him comfortably, hahahaha!"

Schmidt grinned from the darkness and took the man Dofang had tossed, throwing him into the back of the warehouse like a piece of luggage.

"So? Who are all these guys? Weren't you just supposed to grab that Flanco guy?"

Dofang casually slung an arm around my shoulders and said.

"Hey now, little brother. Even if it's the main tournament, there are still sixteen contestants. When were you going to find the time to beat them all down?"

"Then?"

"I only brought the ones you're supposed to fight. Flanco is in Group 8, right?"

"I don't know. I was just planning to go out when they called my name."

"Flanco was in Group 8, so you're in Group 8."

"Then why did you ask?"

"We had some time left over on the way back from grabbing Flanco, so Schmidt and I went and nabbed all the guys from Groups 5, 6, 7, and 8."

"What?"

Dofang winked one eye.

"What do you think, good job, right?"

The Heavenly Demon laughed heartily.

[How refreshing.]

"You crazy..."

Dofang pointed at Schmidt, who was emerging from the darkness of the warehouse.

"It was Schmidt's idea. That guy, he's got a fiery side to him, unlike how he looks. A true Sherwood."

I looked where he was pointing and saw Schmidt emerging from the darkness with a grin.

He was making a V-sign with his fingers.

It was as if he were saying, 'I did good, right?'

Dofang patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry, little brother. Like I said, I only brought the guys you're scheduled to fight. It would've been too obvious if we touched the guys from Groups 1, 2, 3, and 4, so we left them alone."

"It's already extremely obvious, you blockheads."

What kind of idiot would see that 7 out of 16 contestants have disappeared and just think, 'Oh, I guess that's how it is~' and move on?

"Little brother. Don't you worry. Just trust in the phantom thief Dofang."

"No, Brother Dofang. Even setting that aside. I need to warm up too. What am I supposed to do if you capture them all like this?"

Dofang raised his index finger as if he had a plan.

"Ah, you don't need to worry about that. The guys here are all mediocre. There's a pretty decent guy in Group 2. He'll definitely make it to the finals, so you can warm up by beating the crap out of him."

"...Sigh."

What a bunch of crazy bastards.

A smile crept onto my lips on its own.

"You've got to admit, those Sherwood guys are out of their minds."

"You mean this?"

For a moment, the three of us—Dofang, Schmidt, and I—shared a sinister laugh under the faint moonlight.

The Heavenly Demon chuckled.

[They say green is just another shade of the same color. Birds of a feather flock together.]

Was it just my imagination, or did the Heavenly Demon's words sound like a compliment?

[It's your imagination.]

I see.

"So, where are we?"

"Ah, here?"

Creeak—

Dofang closed the warehouse door and said nonchalantly.

"Welcome to my temporary residence, little brother. A bit shabby, isn't it?"

"...Temporary residence?"

"It's such a humble place, I couldn't just bring guests here rashly. Ah, little brother Schmidt. If you touch that carelessly—"

CRACK!

"...it breaks. Hahaha! It breaks spectacularly."

As they say, it's darkest under the lamp.

To think he had set up his temporary residence not just anywhere, but in District 2, right under the noses of the nobles he had robbed.

I couldn't tell if he was crazy or just had a lot of nerve.

Maybe both.

Well... whatever.

"I'm looking forward to tomorrow."

Thanks to my family, it looked like I was going to make it to the finals without a single fight.

* * *

"Brax of Minota! Come forth!"

"..."

"Brax of Minota! Is he not here?"

"..."

"I will count to ten. If he does not appear by then, he will be disqualified. 10, 9, 8..."

But as the count continued, there was no sign of Brax of Minota appearing.

Of course not. The man was probably tied up and stuffed in Dofang's warehouse.

"3, 2, 1. As Brax of Minota has not appeared, he is disqualified. The winner is Flanco Fatima!"

I bit my lip mournfully and muttered just loud enough to be heard.

"I had intended to show my true skills this time. Keuk! What a shame."

"..."

The reaction from the arena was ice-cold.

And for good reason. Half of the day's matches had ended without a proper fight.

[Haaam...]

The Heavenly Demon yawned, bored.

Murmur, murmur.*l

The nobles of all stripes who had come to watch were whispering amongst themselves under their luxurious canopies.

Our chubby Second Prince, sitting in the most extravagant seat over there, also looked quite displeased.

But what could be done? This is how things turned out.

Did anyone tell them not to show up?

Integrity is part of a fair fight, I tell you.

The early bird gets the worm, so how could a lazy latecomer possibly get the sweet fruit?

Not a chance.

I watched the chubby Second Prince, wondering what he ate to get so plump, then looked at the knight standing in attendance behind him.

I spread my ki sense to feel his ki signature, and the result...

"Hmm."

It was a little less than I expected.

As the knight of the Maia Kingdom's Second Prince, he seemed to be projecting his aura boldly, without hiding anything, in order to uphold his master's dignity.

If the royal knights I had seen in Blake were like dark, murky ponds whose depths were unseen, he was a completely transparent pond.

But even that wasn't very deep.

Did this mean the level of the Maia Kingdom's knights was lower than that of the Blake Kingdom?

That couldn't be right.

The Maia Kingdom, where magical beasts roamed, was a world of survival of the fittest, where the strong survived.

Compared to the Maia Kingdom, the Blake Kingdom was enjoying an era of unparalleled peace.

The Blake Kingdom was wary of invasions from neighboring countries, but this place had to kill the magical beasts rampaging within its own borders.

Come to think of it, I had heard somewhere that the true knights of the Maia Kingdom were all in the north.

If that was the case, then here, in Milgard, the capital of the Maia Kingdom...

It occurred to me that the knights who had settled down in this place, a warm greenhouse protected by a triple wall, might not be very knightly knights.

They were probably just good-for-nothings who were skilled at sucking up to the nobles or royalty, and had thus secured positions by their side.

In reality, how many fights would there be in this city, surrounded by three thick walls?

They probably just played politics, and occasionally drew their swords in public to make threats or strike a pose.

Seeing as the bosses of District 3 still held sway over the back alleys, it seemed they weren't doing a good job of maintaining public order either.

...Or were they taking bribes?

In any case, my conclusion was that the knights worthy of the name were, as rumored, either guarding the northern wall in the north, or at the very least, not in the capital.

They were probably busy protecting their territories from magical beasts, or running around like Fluffy, beating down magical beasts that harmed people.

With those thoughts, I met the eyes of the so-called master of the Jet-Black Sword for a moment before stepping down from the arena.

As I descended, the white band tied around my head like Flanco's fluttered in the air.

Dofang, Schmidt, and Linda, dressed like nobles in clothes they had stolen from who-knows-where, greeted me warmly.

"Amazing, demon! They all ran away because they were scared of the demon, right?"

Linda, who didn't know the situation, made her own guess, and I nodded with a confident expression.

"That's me."

Linda was purely impressed.

"Woooow! So this is what it means to win without fighting!"

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me.

The Heavenly Demon clicked his tongue.

[Do you really want to tease that innocent child so much?]

"It's fun."

[That it is. Tease her more.]

"Confirmed."

Schmidt was dozing off, seemingly bored by the matches.

Dofang grinned and said to me.

"Little brother. Did you conserve some energy?"

"Unintentionally."

"You're about to fight soon, so you should warm up."

As he said that, Dofang gestured with his eyes toward a man climbing onto the stage.

His name was Begion, and he was enormous.

Not only was he huge, but he was also nimble, making him look quite tricky to deal with.

Begion strode onto the arena stage with a stoic face, and without even glancing at his opponent who came up from the other side, he glared at me.

Screee—

He even drew his sword and pointed it at me.

He seemed to have quite a few complaints.

"Hey, where are you looking? Can't you see me?"

His opponent, angered by Begion's dismissive behavior, turned red in the face.

Soon, the match began with the referee's shout, and the nameless opponent charged at Begion, thoroughly enraged.

Even then, Begion didn't spare his opponent a glance.

"You arrogant-!"

KAGANG!

The sound of clashing steel was heard, and in the next moment, the two men had their backs to each other.

"Keo... heok!"

The opponent who had charged in anger collapsed with a pained groan, while Begion, still not taking his eyes off me, let his sword hang down.

"Winner! Begion of Yukata!"

The nobles watching sent a smattering of applause for his surprising martial skill.

Do nobles applaud elegantly too?

It was a truly lackluster applause.

Whatever.

Begion raised the sword he had let hang and pointed it directly at me.

"You, coward. You who knows no honor. Come up here."

At the unexpected performance, people's attention turned to me.

I looked at the referee, and the referee gave a slight nod.

I immediately got up from my seat and walked toward the arena.

"Go get 'em, demon!"

"Hey, hey Schmidt. The main event is starting now."

I left Linda's cheers and the sound of Dofang waking the dozing Schmidt behind me and stepped onto the stage.

Begion glared at me and said.

"You used dirty tricks in a sacred competition."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb. It's disgusting. Did you poison their food?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know anything about it. Maybe they all went off to have diarrhea together in solidarity."

I shrugged my shoulders and maintained my ignorance.

Begion's eyes grew cold.

"Flanco of the white headband."

"What, punk."

"I didn't see you as that kind of person. I'm disappointed. This will bring shame upon the honor of the Fatima family. What were you thinking? You foolish man. Do you think His Highness is unaware of your vile scheme?"

"You talk a lot."

I looked at Begion, who was earnestly denouncing my faults.

He was certainly a different breed.

If Flanco had participated in the tournament as planned, that guy would have been the winner.

Begion pulled his lips into a cold sneer.

"Whatever you did, if you came this far like that, your skills are obvious. Did you think you could become His Highness's knight just by reaching the finals? His Highness has surely seen through your base actions. A damp, dark dungeon awaits you after this match."

As he went on, I let out a small yawn.

"However, before that, I will carry out your sentence myself. As payment for ruining the sacred competition opened by His Highness, I will take your honor, along with one of your arms. Do not think of holding a sword with that filthy hand ever again."

"Do as you please."

It was Flanco's honor that would fall, not mine.

Begion raised his sword and took his stance.

It was a clean stance. Knightly.

A solid aura, with no easily discernible openings, emanated from him as he took his stance.

"Are you ready?"

But... compared to that grim reaper-like, heavy knight I had seen in the southern region, he was endlessly light.

I responded lightly to his provocation.

"I, Flanco Fatima, will defeat you, staking my one and only name."

Originally, I had planned to warm up by moderately beating up my opponent in the finals, but seeing the state of the guy striking a pose behind the chubby Second Prince, I felt there was no need.

He didn't even reach the level of the First Prince's knights I had fought in the final battle, let alone the royal knights of Blake.

For a prince's direct knight of a nation to be only this much.

What a disgrace to Maia.

"Begin!"

At the referee's signal, Begion charged with a fearsome momentum.

It was enough to create the illusion of a bear charging on all fours.

I didn't draw my sword.

I didn't feel the need.

I simply extended one hand, fingers straight, and pointed at the chest of the man charging like a bear.

I activated the Snow Branch Blue Flame Art, and hung a ball of flame art and ice art on each fingertip.

Pure white cold energy on my index finger, and deep blue flame on my middle finger.

When combined, a tiny sphere of light was created. It was the size of a fingernail. How cute.

But seeing it flash madly between white and blue, it wasn't entirely cute.

"You!"

Begion closed the distance in an instant and swung his sword at me.

I flicked the miniaturized Heaven-Reversing Light toward his chest.

"Bang."

Simultaneously, I instantly spread the White Snow Cold Curtain from my fingertips throughout my entire body to absorb the impact.

BOOM!

A small explosion occurred, and the huge body flew through the air and landed in the spectator seats.

CRACK!

A commotion arose as one side of the spectator seats was smashed.

Ignoring the commotion, I kept my outstretched fingers aimed directly at the master of the Jet-Black Sword, who was striking a pose behind the Second Prince.

"You. Come out."

Seeing his wide-open eyes and slightly parted mouth, I felt a small happiness.

Is this what they call a small but certain happiness?

(End of Chapter)