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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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“Are these guys even alive?”
“Probably.”
“Tch. This makes interrogation difficult.”
Renny nudged the unconscious assassins with her foot, clicking her tongue.
She seemed disappointed that they weren’t in any condition to be questioned. I gathered the still-breathing assassins and began searching them.
If they were members of the Halphas Cult, they would have a distinctive tattoo. I removed the clothing of several assassins and checked their backs.
“Bare skin? Did we catch the wrong people?”
“No. Look closely. Their skin is unusually clean.”
They had been beaten senseless, yet they had no bruises. Renny gasped softly, then nodded in understanding.
I peeled away a piece of artificial skin from an assassin’s back, revealing a tattoo of blue and red flowers, with a raven symbol in the center.
“The Halphas Cult…”
They were members of the Halphas Cult. It had been somewhat ambiguous in the original story.
Knowing their identity was a relief.
A known enemy was easier to deal with than an unknown one. It would have been problematic if another cult had been involved.
“Why are they so obsessed with Karina?”
“If Karina dies, it’s game over. The world ends.”
“Crazy bastards.”
“I agree.”
I didn’t understand their sudden escalation in aggression, but I wouldn’t be able to rest easy until I dealt with the Halphas Cult. They had infiltrated the festival disguised as civilians.
Assassins blending into the crowd were a major headache. I couldn’t strip-search everyone, and the potential backlash would be enormous.
“Johann. Are those…the people who tried to kill me…?”
“Yes.”
Karina’s voice was weak, the realization that she had been targeted by assassins clearly affecting her. Perhaps it had triggered memories of being hunted by the cult.
As the guards and officials cleared the auditorium, a shadow fell over Karina’s expression.
“This is the first time assassins have infiltrated the festival in its history.”
Principal Merlin’s unexpected statement drew everyone’s attention. His usual jovial expression was replaced with a serious one as he addressed us.
“Tomorrow, we’ll tighten security, even calling in off-duty personnel. And we’ll thoroughly investigate that mercenary from the south.”
“Thank you.”
“As principal, I can’t stand idly by while my students are threatened. I’ll personally craft protective artifacts for you. This old man may be rusty, but I can still offer some protection.”
That would be helpful.
“The guards will interrogate these individuals. They’re followers of a dangerous cult, so there’s no need for leniency… And we’ll cancel the campfire. It wouldn’t be appropriate in this atmosphere.”
“What about the martial arts tournament?”
“We’ll proceed with the tournament to confirm your suspicions about that mercenary. If he’s guilty, he won’t show up tomorrow.”
A true assassin wouldn’t risk their life by returning after what had happened.
But if he did return…
“We’ll officially conclude today’s events here. Everyone, please return to your dormitories. We’ll handle the rest.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
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“He’s appeared at the arena.”
At the guard’s report, I turned to Renny, who was leaning against the wall. She turned her gaze towards the arena.
“He’s here…”
Was he an innocent mercenary?
Or a true assassin?
It was difficult to say. He might have come because he was confident he could escape, even if surrounded. Or he might be a fanatic, willing to sacrifice his life to eliminate Karina.
I suspected the latter.
Assuming he was a member of the Halphas Cult.
Regardless, he was at the arena. I needed to prepare for battle.
I checked my equipment one last time.
My mithril shovel had been disguised with paint to look like an ordinary iron shovel.
Rue was attached to my belt, not tucked away in the wheelchair’s pouch.
It wasn’t aesthetically pleasing, but I needed Rue’s help to deal with Stoke, or Stalker, or whatever his name was.
And finally, the new equipment I had crafted, sacrificing sleep to improve its design. I had replaced the grappling hook with poison-tipped needles. It was a bit underhanded, but I wasn’t a knight who fought fair.
I was more of a hunter, using every tool at my disposal to take down my prey.
Besides, my specialty was chaotic brawls.
He wouldn’t run, would he? It would be a disgrace to come this far and then flee.
He wouldn’t run unless he was insane.
“Honored spectators! Despite yesterday’s unfortunate incident, the martial arts tournament will proceed as scheduled! Please focus your attention on the final match!”
Only the final match remained.
I casually observed the two warriors entering the arena, trying to gauge their strength.
One was Theo Grass. The other was the suspicious individual, Stoke.
Stoke clearly had the advantage, but Theo Grass wasn’t a pushover. He was quite skilled, though not on Lewis’s level.
He was simply facing a superior opponent.
“Upholding the pride of the Knight department! Theo Grass! Versus! The mercenary from the south! The unexpected dark horse! Stoke!”
“Wooo!”
Despite yesterday’s events, the crowd roared with excitement, eager for the rare spectacle. In a world with limited entertainment, it was understandable.
“And now! With the thunderous cheers and applause of the audience filling this arena! Let the match be~gin!”
The familiar, over-the-top announcement was met with deafening cheers. In contrast, the arena itself was eerily silent.
The two contestants probably couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of their own hearts.
They were focused on each other, waiting for an opening. I stared at Stoke, trying to assess his skills.
He looked relaxed and confident. Theo Grass, on the other hand, was visibly nervous.
They stood motionless, like statues, their gazes locked.
A suffocating tension filled the arena, silencing the crowd. In the almost unnervingly quiet arena, the first to move was the clear underdog, Theo Grass.
“Theo Grass makes the first move! A powerful overhead strike! Stoke looks unfazed!”
He swung his sword downwards with all his might. It was an overly large movement, fueled by nerves, but Stoke easily blocked the attack, as if humoring him.
“Stoke blocks the attack effortlessly! Theo Grass! What will he do next?!”
Sparks flew as their swords clashed.
The first attack was a clear failure.
But he couldn’t stop attacking.
“Theo Grass! Unwilling to cede the initiative, he follows up with a swift thrust!”
Theo Grass lunged forward, his sword aimed at Stoke’s heart. A desperate attack, knowing it would likely be blocked.
“Ah! Theo Grass’s sword slips! Stoke deflects the attack with ease! His stance is faltering! Theo is in danger, grave danger!”
As expected, Stoke effortlessly deflected the thrust. He twisted his body, using the momentum of the deflected blade to disrupt Theo Grass’s balance.
A precarious situation.
Theo Grass’s response was a quick roll, narrowly avoiding Stoke’s counterattack.
“Theo Grass! A quick recovery! He follows up with another thrust! Aiming for the legs this time!”
…Theo Grass was being toyed with.
But he didn’t give up. He fought with all his might.
…He wasn’t bad.
With proper training, he could be quite useful.
The match was nearing its end. The fight had gone out of Theo Grass.
Stoke, on the other hand, continued to parry his attacks with a relaxed expression, as if playing with a child.
Showmanship, or a deliberate display of power?
I wasn’t sure yet.
This was beyond toying with him. It was humiliation.
“And Stoke’s counterattack brings Theo Grass to his knees! The winner is Stoke! Stoke! Let’s give a warm welcome to our champion!”
“Wooo!”
“Stoke! Stoke! Stoke!”
The crowd was ecstatic. I watched Stoke sheathe his weapon and casually wave to the cheering spectators, then stretched.
I wondered how strong he was.
While I couldn’t accurately gauge his power, I didn’t intend to lose.
I looked at the announcer, who was waiting for the cheers to subside.
He expertly built suspense, then, holding a magically amplified megaphone, declared,
“But! That’s not all! Sir Quartz, the Saintess’s knight escort, has graciously agreed to face the champion in a special exhibition match! In thirty minutes! The match will begin in thirty minutes!”
“Sir Quartz?”
“Didn’t he just fight?”
“They’re giving him a break.”
“Who is Sir Quartz, anyway?”
I stepped forward, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd. As I emerged from the shadows of the VIP section into the sunlight, all eyes turned to me.
They were probably wondering who I was. I scanned the audience, my gaze finally meeting Stoke’s.
His eyes were devoid of emotion.
Assassin, or not?
I would find out in thirty minutes.
“Whether he’s an assassin or not, win.”
“I believe in you, Johann.”
“Thank you.”
The others would be watching. I had to put on a good show.
I checked my equipment again, waiting for the thirty minutes to pass.
And then…
“The moment you’ve all been waiting for! The exhibition match between the champion and the knight escort! But I’m sure many of you aren’t familiar with Sir Quartz! So before we begin, allow me to introduce him…”
Why?
Why was he looking at me while holding a piece of paper?
Just get on with it.
I need to fight.
The announcer, regaining his composure, began reading from the paper.
“Haha! What an impressive individual! A truly remarkable resume! First! A third-rank mage registered with the Mages’ Guild, and a second-rank explorer with the Explorers’ Guild! A master craftsman with the Civil Engineering Guild, the Builders’ Guild, and the Blacksmiths’ Guild! And…”
Was he going to read everything?
“What a long list of accomplishments…”
“He’s achieved so much, yet he’s not famous?”
“Is it even possible for one person to acquire so many qualifications?”
“It takes years to master a single craft. He’s exaggerating.”
I ignored the bewildered stares of the audience and focused on the announcer, who, seemingly tired of reading the lengthy list, skipped ahead.
“…An individual with a truly astounding number of accomplishments! This promises to be an exciting match!”
…Stoke showed no reaction. I had expected at least a look of surprise.
“Now! Without further ado, let the match begin!”
Let’s do this.
I opened my mouth.
“Oh, great Apostle of Ruin. Have you come to fulfill your duty?”
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