Hell Mode: Volume 3, page 19
The tournament proceeded at a brisk pace, and soon Krena found herself facing a hulking older student who also wielded a greatsword.
This arena had spectator stands along its two main sides. Two-thirds of the stands were made up of five thousand students, with the remaining one-third reserved for special viewing boxes for aristocrats—such as the crown prince—and visiting dignitaries. Those wearing obviously expensive clothing had knights standing protectively at their backs.
Allen sent a Bird E up from his seat in the stand, where it flew high into the sky and trained Hawk Eye on the man in the grandiose chair sitting in the middle of all the aristocrats.
So, that’s the crown prince. I’m glad I got a chance to know what he looks like this early on. I don’t see his supposed ten-year-old daughter.
The crown prince appeared to be in his forties, and he had his hair slicked back like a character from a Western TV show. Allen’s first impression was that if he were an actor, he’d be suitable for playing villains. At the moment, he was watching the match while speaking to someone next to him—likely a retainer or a minister.
The match is almost over. Krena’s opponent lasted longer than I’d expected.
“Krena sure has grown a lot,” said the man with hawk-like eyes sitting next to Allen. “She’s pushing that third-year against the ropes.”
“Yes, my lord,” Allen replied.
Allen was currently sitting in the aristocrat seats next to Cecil and the viscount—with full permission from the Academy, of course. It was just last week that Krena’s participation in the tournament had been decided, but when Allen informed Viscount Granvelle of the news through a Bird F, the man had replied that he would attend and hurried to Academy City with Captain Zenof in tow. Hearing that the crown prince, who had masterminded Cecil’s kidnapping, would be present probably worried him.
“Can you believe it?! Ladies and gentlemen! Krena, who’s only a first-year student, has bested Tribelga to win the tournament!!!”
A magic tool blared the commentator’s words throughout the entire arena. Krena’s opponent, who had been the audience favorite to win, had let go of his weapon and was lying spread-eagle on the ground. There was no room for doubt—she had indeed won. Both the student body and aristocrats stirred with astonishment at this outcome. All in all, the match had brought many things to light: how powerful a Sword Lord truly was, how far a Sword Lord could pull ahead compared to other Talents, and just how important of a factor Talent was.
“We’ll now have a short break. When we come back, Sword Lord Dverg will be having an exhibition match with the tournament champion, Sword Lord Krena!”
Krena and her opponent thanked each other and left the stage accompanied by supportive applause and cheering.
The fact that Krena’s weapon was made of hihiirokane when her opponent’s was mithril probably played a part too. Boy, he sure spammed his skills.
Participants were allowed to use their skills in this tournament. However, Krena had only acquired her hihiirokane sword just the other day, so she had refrained from using any skills out of fear of hurting her opponent. She had yet to gain a firm grasp on exactly how much upgrading her weapon had increased her damage output, but she did know it was significant.
“Allen, I won!” Krena called out as she ran toward the group like she was a child coming back from finishing a race on Sports Day.
“Great job out there, Krena.” Allen managed to get out some praise right before those sitting around him began to start heaping their own onto Krena.
Uh, the crown prince is looking our way.
Through the Bird E above, Allen noticed that the man sitting in the highest seat—the one reserved for royalty—was staring in the direction where Krena was happily conversing with her companions. After a short while, he shifted his gaze.
Once the break was over, Allen and the others turned back to observe the stage where the two Sword Lords now stood facing each other.
“Without further ado, here’s the duel between our tournament champion and Sword Lord Dverg! Will he beat back the champion with his overwhelming swordsmanship once again?!”
When the referee announced the start of the match, Dverg addressed Krena appreciatively. “Well done making it this far so soon after learning how to use your first skill.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“You have good companions. Make sure you treasure them.”
“I will, sir!”
Now finished talking, Dverg raised his gleaming black adamantite greatsword high overhead. He murmured under his breath, “I am he who hunts monsters. I am he who buries demons. I am he who brings ruin to Demonic Deities.”
Krena, who had raised her hihiirokane greatsword in response, tilted her head. “I’m sorry, what did you say, sir?”
Ignoring her question, Dverg’s single remaining eye shot open wide as he shouted, “Come, Sword Lord Krena! Throw everything you have at me!”
“Okay!” Krena charged forward in the blink of an eye with her sword still up in the air. However, when she brought down that terrifying blade, it was parried without effort.
“What was that?! I told you to throw everything at me. Why didn’t you use the skill I taught you?!”
“Oof!”
Dverg’s kick caught Krena squarely in her stomach, driving all the air out of her lungs. She bounced on the ground a few times before finally coming to a stop. Allen and his companions inadvertently leaned forward and called out to her, but she kept her eyes on Dverg even as she lay on the ground. This was not an opponent she could afford to look away from. Eventually, she slowly got to her feet, readjusting her grip on her greatsword. The lingering pain from the kick was interfering with her breathing, but she tried to recover in between shuddering coughs.
“What? You done? Then it’s my turn to attack. Brace yourself, Sword Lord Krena!”
For the first time ever, Dverg took the initiative. His initial step forward created a shock wave that sent cracks all across the stone surface of the stage. Krena, who had yet to fully recover, activated a skill to fend him off, but he used his own skills in turn.
Roughly ten minutes later, Krena was on the ground covered with cuts and gashes all over; meanwhile, Dverg peered down at her, almost completely unhurt. The medic team hurried onto the stage to carry off the girl who was bleeding from head to toe. The audience had fallen completely silent at the one-sided beating they had just witnessed.
Allen and his companions hurried to the infirmary and found Krena being tended to by a few healers. Allen pushed through them and immediately used a Frond of Life to bring her back to full health, astonishing the members of the medical team.
Krena opened her eyes. When she met Allen’s gaze, she mumbled regretfully, “I lost, Allen...”
He looked right into her eyes and simply called her name. “Krena.”
“Yeah?”
“Dverg bested you in stats, skills, and equipment, right?”
“Mm-hm, he did.”
Dverg had been superior on all fronts. The difference had been unsurmountable. It did not take a genius to be able to tell that Dverg had never even gotten serious in the match just now.
“In other words...one day, you’ll get at least as strong as that, right?”
Krena’s eyes widened in comprehension. “I see...” she murmured, the fire quickly returning to her eyes. “You’re right. I can!”
No further explanation was needed. If she did not have enough strength at this very moment, she simply had to build herself up. This was exactly what she had been doing all along; nothing had changed. Now, though, she knew just how incredible a Sword Lord could become.
“Let’s work hard so that you can beat him after next year’s Martial Arts Tournament.”
“Sure!”
Thus the curtains closed on the Martial Arts Tournament, with Krena having learned how powerful Sword Lord Dverg was and setting a goal for herself—to defeat him the following year.
Chapter 11: Invitation from the Crown Prince
The Martial Arts Tournament had ended with Krena taking home the championship but losing to Sword Lord Dverg. Now, she had made it her goal to fight him again next year and win.
In all likelihood, having the tournament champion duel Dverg was a measure to prevent said champion from getting overconfident. After graduation, these students would be headed for the battlefield. Previous winners that were too full of themselves acting without orders on the front lines would not only put themselves but possibly their entire troop in danger, even potentially causing their deaths.
After the tournament, a ceremony was to be held in one of the academy’s halls. The top sixteen participants were all invited, as were the various foreign dignitaries and aristocrats, including Viscount Granvelle. Naturally, Allen had not been invited, but he had slipped a Bird G into Krena’s pocket so he could tell what was going on as if he were there in person.
Krena did not receive a trophy, medal, or monetary reward—however, the crown prince did give a speech congratulating her on behalf of everyone present. He finished off his toast with, “You fought well indeed, young woman. Continue wielding your sword for the sake of our country.”
“Yes, Your Highness!” Krena replied in a loud voice that reverberated throughout the venue. Allen could not see the prince’s face, but judging by the stir that ran through the surrounding guests, he was taken aback by quite a bit.
By the time the ceremony ended, the moon had already climbed high into the sky. Allen walked Krena back to the base, where they found Viscount Granvelle waiting for them in the multipurpose room they usually ate their meals in. He was there for his secondary reason for coming to Academy City. Before him sat Keel and Nina; Cecil and Dogora were present as well.
“Hmm. I do discern Viscount Carnel’s features on your face,” the viscount mused aloud.
“Y-Yes, sir,” Keel replied, somewhat nervous. He was well aware that he was facing the man who had caused the House Granvelle Affair. As the next head of House Carnel, the boy was doing his best to put on a brave face.
The man sighed. “You don’t have to be on your guard, you know. I only came by today to bring this.”
One of the knights standing behind the viscount approached Keel and placed a piece of parchment on the table, spreading it out.
“What is this, sir?”
“A contract. With His Majesty’s signature.”
Keel, Cecil, and Dogora all repeated the word “contract” softly under their breaths. Krena alone nodded and went, “I see, I see,” indicating that she had no idea what was going on.
The contract specified the conditions related to Keel restoring House Carnel. First, the boy had to carry out his duty under the command of either the Kingdom of Ratash or the Five Continent Alliance. Second, notable military achievements could potentially shorten the five-year service period. Just as the viscount said, the parchment carried the king’s name and the royal seal.
“In other words, His Majesty is officially promising to restore House Carnel?” Keel asked hesitantly.
The viscount nodded. “That’s right.”
Up until now, the deal had been nothing more than the word of a royal envoy. However, after two months of maneuvering in the royal court, Viscount Granvelle had obtained official confirmation from the king in the form of a physical contract. The royal family only issued contracts for extremely important matters and when dealing with major nobles or other nations. In short, it did so very rarely. Normally, minor matters between nobles were settled by one of the ministers. And yet this time, the king had written one up for Keel alone.
“Why...did you go to such lengths for me?” Keel asked, sounding mystified. He could not understand this special treatment in light of what his father, Viscount Carnel, had done. Moreover, according to Rifol, the crown prince already had his eye on the viscount, and not in a good way.
“Nobles uphold their contracts. Nobles also take responsibility for their actions. This is me doing what needs to be done as the head of House Granvelle.” The viscount continued, saying that he did not regret taking down House Carnel in the slightest. However, even though he had done it for the sake of his daughter, he did feel a certain degree responsible for cornering a neighboring territory of so many centuries to the point of ruin. What he did for Keel was the result of him seriously considering what was demanded of his station.
“Next, take another look at the contract. It is also signed by Count Hamilton and myself.”
“I’m sorry?”
Sure enough, there were two more signatures on the parchment. Below them was more text.
“M-My lord, this is...”
“Restoring a house that’s been completely dismantled is a huge undertaking. Count Hamilton’s and my signatures there compel us to assist you with the process. House Hamilton will become House Carnel’s parent family again, and both of our Houses will aid you as much as possible.”
The viscount continued, saying that, although it was not explicitly written in the contract, Nina and the servants would be given a place to live at the Hamilton mansion while Keel was away on duty.
“Thank you very much, sir.”
The words of gratitude flowed naturally from Keel’s mouth. He could feel the hatred and resentment that he had felt toward House Granvelle melting away in his heart. Without hesitation, he picked up a pen and signed the contract right then and there as Nina looked on. His dream of reestablishing his family name had just taken a massive step toward becoming realized.
When Keel had finished signing, the viscount added, “However, there is something you have to keep in mind.”
Unsurprisingly, the king was not in the best of health. He was fast approaching seventy years old, which was considered very old in this world. Consequently, he was often bedridden as of late and increasingly leaving his royal duties to his nephew, the crown prince, instead.
The restoration of House Carnel was to begin five years after Keel’s graduation. That said, there was a reasonable chance that the crown prince would have ascended to the throne by then. Although the contract would remain in effect if he had, there was no guarantee it would still be carried out.
Even so, Keel did not look worried. “It does not matter. I will become a noble again, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure of that.” He then asked the viscount to hold on to the contract for safekeeping, just in case the crown prince came looking for it to destroy it after he became king.
Seeing that the conversation was over, Allen ducked into the next room to bring over a small box. “Sir, please accept this as thanks from our entire party.”
The viscount was overcome by this gesture of gratitude from the group of children his daughter’s age. “Thank you. I will open it now, then,” he said, pulling back the lid of the box. “Hm? A ring?”
“Yes, sir,” Allen replied. “This is an Anti-Poison Ring we obtained from a dungeon.”
The entire party had agreed together to give the viscount this drop from the Rank A dungeon. However, after the viscount pulled out an actual contract signed by the king, Allen now believed that it was an insufficient token of appreciation.
“Are you all sure about this? I would rather Cecil wear it, though.”
There were monsters with poisonous attacks in the dungeons. The viscount was about to turn down the gift out of his consideration for his daughter.
“Don’t worry, father. We take potions every day that protect us from all status effects.”
Although Cecil called them “potions” so her father would understand, she was actually referring to Grass C’s Awakened Ability, Potherb, which completely removed debuffs from all party members within a radius of fifty meters as well as granted protection from them for the next twenty-four hours. Allen used one every morning at breakfast, affecting even Nina and the servants, who were not adventurers. As it turned out, the conditions for who was considered a party member was much looser than he had first thought.
Deeply moved, Viscount Granvelle gazed at the ring before looking up. “Cecil, you’ve found some very good friends.”
It had been thirty years since the viscount had first joined noble society, and in that time he had navigated countless plots and intrigues that filled the world of nobility. He now realized it had been a long time since the word “friend” last left his lips.
After conversing a while more, the viscount came to a start. “It appears I’ve stayed for quite some time,” he said, standing up. “Zenof, we’re heading back.”
“Please stay the night with us, sir.” Allen insisted.
He was about to add that they had plenty of rooms when a commotion sounded outside the front door. He headed over, puzzled at what it could be, and found two men standing outside. One was holding an illumination magic tool that revealed the royal crest on the carriage they had arrived in.
“May I ask what is your business at this late hour, good sirs?” Allen asked.
One of the men sniffed irritably. “Viscount Granvelle is here, yes? We’re looking for him.”
“Viscount Granvelle, sir?”
“That’s right.”
The men had rather overbearing attitudes despite calling so late. Allen recognized what they were wearing—their clothing matched the outfit that the man who had accompanied Viscount Carnel to Granvelle mansion wore.
“The hour is late, so the viscount has already retired to his room. May I ask who I should tell him is visiting?”
“We’re royal envoys. Tell him we’re here on business from the crown prince.”
“Very well, sir. Allow me to show you to the drawing room.”
Allen opened the door all the way and led the two visitors, not to the usual multipurpose room but to a smaller drawing room furnished only with a pair of loveseats facing each other. He then returned to the multipurpose room to inform the viscount about the envoys’ arrival. The viscount headed over to the other room with Allen and Zenof in tow. Once everyone was gathered, the envoys revealed that the crown prince had heard Viscount Granvelle was in Academy City and that he wanted to have dinner together the next day.
