59

The opening match was between a knight under Rupert and a knight from another fief.

Klang! (metal clash)

With a sharp metallic sound, the swords collided.

After two or three exchanges, Hamel could already see who would win.

“Not bad.”

“Yeah. At least mid-level.”

In reality, he easily overwhelmed the opposing knight.

The difference showed even in basic technique.

And with the gap in skill, the outcome was inevitable.

As Hamel and Daniel expected, the match ended quickly.

“The victor is Sir Ruwen from Glenval!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, and the winner basked in victory, bowing toward the stands.

After a moment, the announcer on the stage called the next bout.

“Next, the pride of our territory and rising newcomer: Sir Zart Daymore, of the oak shield!”

“Wooooaaaah!”

He must be fairly well-known.

The crowd’s excitement reached as far as Hamel’s seat.

The announcer then introduced the opponent.

“And his opponent… Sir Daniel, a knight from eastern Haidern!”

Murmurs rippled through the audience at that name.

“Daniel? Do you know him?”

“No. I’ve never even heard of Haidern before.”

“Goodness, there’s nothing to see in this match.”

Hamel, listening quietly, looked up at Daniel and asked.

“Did you hear that?”

“They’re making it impossible not to hear.”

Daniel shrugged and rose from his seat.

Ono, who had been watching their exchange, spoke as if worried.

“Reserve your strength. Don’t get excited and waste it.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

Daniel snorted softly and walked into the arena.

He muttered quietly as he did.

“I’ll finish it in less than the blink of an eye.”

“….”

‘He seems excited.’

Hamel swallowed and watched Daniel.

There was power in his stride as he entered the arena.

After all, Daniel was a knight.

They were men who marched into a battlefield where death was certain, all for the sake of honor.

“Begin.”

Lord Edmure’s command rang out.

As Daniel took hold of his sword, someone shouted encouragement from the stands.

“Hey Zart! Teach that eastern gentleman the terror of the North!”

“….”

The knight called Zart nodded toward the stands and gripped his sword.

He looked fairly relaxed.

Daniel then…

Ssshk

Slid his sword back into its sheath.

“…What are you doing?”

Daniel strode toward his opponent and said.

“If I swing this now I don’t think I can control the force.”

Daniel shrugged and drew a secondary dagger.

“How arrogant.”

Seeing that, Zart flew into a rage and swung his sword.

“…Regret your arrogance and die!”

The fast swing aimed precisely for a gap in Daniel’s helm.

But.

Fwoosh

Daniel slid aside, avoiding the blade, and passed by his opponent.

“…?”

The next moment, Zart staggered and collapsed.

Zart tried to push himself up with his sword on the ground but collapsed completely.

“Wh…what happened?”

Even the match referee blinked in surprise.

Blood flowed steadily from a seam in the armor around Zart’s knee.

Daniel brushed the blood from his dagger and told the referee.

“He won’t be able to use his left leg for a while. Do you want me to continue?”

“Ah… no. Well…”

The referee hesitated for a moment, then raised his flag and shouted.

“The victor is Sir Daniel, knight of Haidern!”

“….”

There was no cheer.

From the crowd’s perspective, the match had been decided in the blink of an eye.

They had not expected the outcome to turn out like that at all.

But the knights who had watched the bout were different.

They had seen the overwhelming gap in skill between the two.

“…A monster entered the tournament.”

“Daniel… you say? Have you heard of him?”

“No, but that red helm crest… I’ve seen it somewhere… ah!”

One of the knights sprang up and shouted.

“A red cloak and red crest. Could it be… the Red-Helmed Knight?”

“What? The wandering ranked knight?”

A commotion stirred among the knights.

This was the North, where the sword was worshipped.

Daniel’s reputation had spread here more than elsewhere.

“….”

When Daniel walked back to his seat, the whispers quieted.

Hamel calmly nodded and said.

“Well done.”

“It was nothing.”

When Daniel sat down, the knights’ reactions split exactly in two.

Some were fired up with pride; others sighed in discouragement and rose.

The tournament fell into a brief lull.

After some time, the announcer resumed the matches.

“Next is Edith, the Black Axe from Sturnhelm. His opponent is… oh my, we’re introducing a rather famous person.”

The announcer continued in a surprised tone.

“The talk of the town: the new Saint and the order’s Exorcist priest, Lord Hamel Saint Gilmore!”

“…What?”

“Is that the priest from the rumors?”

The whole arena buzzed as if even the crowd and knights hadn’t known about this.

Daniel, listening quietly, teased.

“Famous people with songs about them do get different reactions.”

“I’ll be back.”

Hamel rose as if unconcerned and headed to the arena.

The knight already waiting in the ring hefted a battle axe as tall as himself on his shoulder and asked.

“Greetings, the lord. Rumor says you killed a lion larger than a castle. Is that true?”

“No. If you mean the man-faced lion, it wasn’t that big.”

Of course it flew and spat poison, but he had no desire to elaborate.

The opponent snorted and gripped his axe.

“Rumors are always exaggerated, it seems. I’m curious about the unique ability the Exorcist priests supposedly use—show me a move.”

Hamel calmly drew his sword and answered.

“I won’t use any unique abilities. This is a swordsmanship contest.”

“You will regret that. I won’t go easy on you just because you’re the lord.”

“That’s fine.”

Hamel assumed his stance.

“Begin!”

Lord Edmure’s voice echoed.

Edith swung his massive axe the instant the match began.

Hamel deftly sidestepped the attack.

He quickly slashed at his opponent’s shoulder.

It looked easy, but redirecting a heavier weapon using only technique, without any aura, required exquisite skill.

The counter-swing of his sword had a speed worthy of being called a swift blade.

“…Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

Hamel composed himself and held his stance.

Though he had cut the shoulder, the opponent’s armor was sturdy.

Only a small wound showed, so Hamel kept swinging his sword.

Dodge the giant axe and cut with the sword.

A simple counter, but it worked again.

He had struck the armor at its weakest point under the arm.

Again, the wound was shallow.

The opposing knight forced a smile, hiding his bruised pride.

“Your skill is excellent. But my armor was crafted by Sturnhelm’s greatest smith.”

“I’ve heard rumors, but…”

The armor’s solidity was almost like a fortress.

He had heard rumors about the famous smith in Sturnhelm.

They said his armor could not be pierced by any sword, and his blades could even cleave stone.

People joked about what would happen if his sword struck his own armor.

Seeing it in person, the tales didn’t seem exaggerated.

Despite aiming for seams and gaps, only faint cuts appeared.

The opponent seemed to accept Hamel’s skill and no longer tried to outdo him with technique.

“I concede your swordsmanship, but isn’t equipment also a knight’s virtue?”

He openly ignored defense and gripped his axe.

He seemed willing to take one or two of Hamel’s strikes.

“….”

Hamel merely pointed his sword calmly, as always.

Before long, silence settled over the arena.

The spectators felt it too.

That this next exchange would decide the match.

And they all expected Hamel to lose.

He was clearly more skilled, but it seemed he couldn’t land a decisive hit.

Pat

Edith, the black-axe, charged first.

He raised his massive axe and charged like a rhinoceros, shouting.

“Wooooooah!”

Hamel, watching him, took a slow step forward in response.

One step.

And another.

Hamel accelerated and ran like the wind.

As the two combatants crossed paths, everyone watching held their breath.

The next moment.

Contrary to expectations, there was no clang of steel on steel.

They simply passed by one another.

Thud thud

Edith had moved several paces past Hamel.

He let the axe he’d never fully swung drop limply to the ground.

At the same time, red blood gushed down the gauntlet on his hand.

“…I lost.”

Edith bowed his head deeply and admitted defeat.

The match was decided.

Again, there was no roar of cheers from the crowd.

Those who had been blinking in confusion at first could now see it.

The intangible bluish mist-like aura clinging to Hamel’s sword.

“…Damn.”

One of the knights slowly rose and muttered.

He doubted his own eyes.

A blue aura rising from the sword wielded by a supposed priest.

It meant only one thing.

It was the aura symbolizing a ranked (high-grade) knight.

“Waaaaaaah!”

The raucous shouting filled the arena.

The silence lasted only briefly before thunderous applause and cheers broke out.

“Hamel! Hamel! Hamel! Hamel!”

Hamel returned to his seat amid the chants of his name.

Daniel, who had been sitting and waiting, asked in a dazed voice.

“…When on earth did you learn aura?”

“Not long ago.”

Hamel slowly shook his head and sat down.

Seeing Daniel’s look asking for more explanation, Hamel continued.

“I became aware of it precisely after the fight at the Magic Tower.”

After completing talisman Form Two, Hamel could feel mana more clearly than before.

Then he learned about verbal magic from Lena and grasped how to use mana.

He realized aura after defeating the old woman in the hut.

Hamel said calmly, as if it were nothing.

“It’s still incomplete. I can only manifest it with the sword for a very short time. It’s probably due to a lack of talent.”

“…?”

Daniel and Ono looked at each other in astonishment upon hearing this.

It took them a long moment to realize he wasn’t joking or deceiving them.