Amunson's sword was faster. Simon took a blow to the shoulder and screamed.
"Urgh!"
Simon quickly retreated, trying to correct his stance. But it seemed he was injured in his right shoulder—his arm hung limp, unable to lift his sword.
Amunson sensed it instinctively.
He must not be given more time.
If the injury occurred during the duel, it wasn't cowardly. Now was the moment to seize victory.
"Die!"
Amunson shouted fiercely and raised his wooden sword with both hands.
And just as he swung down—
"Ha!"
Simon, who had looked as though he might collapse at any moment, suddenly sprang to life and stabbed Amunson in the stomach.
The right arm that had seemed injured was moving as if nothing had happened.
As pain surged from his abdomen, Amunson bent forward and muttered,
"Coward…"
Then he collapsed with a thud.
"…you are…"
Simon had won.
He stylishly swung his wooden sword through the air, then slid it behind his waist as if returning it to a sheath.
"It was a good match, Amunson."
Simon closed his eyes and savored the moment of victory.
It was the secret technique Yuri had taught him—The Art of Feigned Injury.
A dark tactic, meant to deceive the enemy and create the perfect opportunity for a counterattack.
It wasn't as easy as it looked.
The two had to be evenly matched in skill, the attacker's strike had to be absorbed into the performance, and improvisation was essential—on top of requiring excellent acting ability.
Above all, it demanded luck.
With all those elements perfectly aligned, Amunson had been completely fooled. The cost of rashness was death.
Though he wasn't actually dead.
"Uh…"
"What was that…"
Because Simon had performed The Art of Feigned Injury so boldly, the spectators didn't know how to react and stood confused.
"He must've actually been hurt, right?"
Someone said.
This wasn't just a regular duel—how could a knight bearing the name of Briol pull some cheap trick in front of the entire continent?
That naive thought began to sway public opinion in a favorable direction.
"Yeah. He was really hurt but gritted his teeth and pushed through, maybe?"
"He's got grit."
"From the looks of it, you'd never think he was injured. Hahaha…"
Simon said nothing, only looking toward Yuri. Yuri gave him a smile in return.
Simon bowed silently, feeling a deeper sense of awe toward Yuri.
Graham, who had been standing still, announced Simon's victory.
"Victory goes to Briol."
Having closely observed the duel, Graham had roughly guessed the trick. But he held the belief that even sparring should resemble real combat, so he didn't bother overturning the outcome.
Simon won. Amunson lost.
That was all there was to it.
Before anyone could raise an objection, Gonte stood and clapped.
"A regrettable loss. But you fought well, Amunson. You acknowledged defeat like a true knight. It was a splendid match."
Yuri was quick to accept the compliment.
"What does winning or losing matter? What matters is that two outstanding knights met and learned from each other. I was simply lucky. Had Sir Amunson drunk one less glass of wine, Simon would be the one lying flat right now."
"Thank you for the kind words!"
"And thank you as well!"
Yuri and Gonte clapped toward each other and exchanged smiles.
Thus, the wager between the two nations came to an end.
Yoheim would send knights to Briol to receive a new kind of training.
Jared, sensing some hidden ploy, muttered from nearby.
"That kind of trick actually worked…"
Yuri elbowed him in the side, then shouted as he pushed people along.
"Come now, let's continue the banquet! A victor must celebrate. Even the damned orcs who went to the underworld are probably blessing our banquet as they sip boiling water in hell!"
Yuri was pleased to be training new allies to stand against the Empire, and Gonte was satisfied to have a chance to correct the soft spirits of the younger generation.
Everyone else simply enjoyed the spectacle.
It was a victory for everyone—except one.
Left unattended, Amunson lay on the ground, slowly cooling in the cold night air.
***
The banquet was over.
Everyone returned to their lodgings, and the lights of Balshad gradually went out.
Night grew quiet.
Mariloz sat in her bedroom, humming to herself as she brushed her hair.
Suddenly, the brush snagged on a tangle.
"Ow."
She furrowed her brow deeply.
"Ugh, so annoying."
Mariloz pulled out the brush and tossed it onto the bedding.
"What's so annoying?"
"You are."
Ernando was suddenly standing by the window.
Mariloz grumbled,
"Barging into a lady's bedroom like this—what kind of uncouth behavior is that?"
"You knew I was coming."
"I didn't say you could."
"But I warned you."
"I should've cast Dispel."
Before Ernando entered, the mana in the room had flowed unnaturally. It was his way of giving notice.
"The one I actually want to come, never does…"
"Keep dreaming."
"You know who I mean?"
Ernando shot a light glare at her.
"At first, I thought it was a joke. But now I'm genuinely concerned."
"It wasn't a joke to begin with."
"You're still young."
"Oh ho…"
Mariloz narrowed her eyes at Ernando.
"Are you serious?"
"About what?"
"I thought you stuck around out of curiosity. But it seems you've really gotten attached. Is that okay?"
"Even as a third party, I'd react the same."
"Really? Should we call the person in question and ask?"
"Honestly…"
Ernando ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"Enough."
"Oh, so it's 'enough' as in permission?"
"Stop the nonsense. I came here for this."
"What is it?"
Ernando looked around the room, then unfolded a barrier of mana.
Mariloz tilted her head.
It wasn't just soundproof—it was a wall to prevent magical energy from leaking out.
Ernando took a piece of parchment from his coat and placed it on the table by the window.
"Come look."
"Just give it to me."
"Come look."
"Why the trouble?"
"Mariloz."
His face was serious, so she rose from her seat.
"Fine, fine."
"Activate mental defense."
"What?"
"Then look at it."
The mood was ominous.
Only then did Mariloz glance sideways at the parchment on the table.
...
And she stepped back.
Her pupils trembled.
"What in the world is that…"
She looked to Ernando, but he only shook his head.
Mariloz wrapped herself in a mental defense spell and carefully approached.
Her breathing grew heavy the closer she got.
The edges of her vision darkened.
Amid the rippling black energy, the worn parchment atop the table floated faintly.
She chanted again.
A white light enveloped her, pushing back the formless darkness.
Standing before the table, she stared at the parchment.
It was covered in strange, unknown characters.
Suddenly, a whisper rose behind her. At first, she thought it was Ernando.
But it drew closer and closer.
Now the voice brushed against her neck.
She was paralyzed, unable to move.
It crept up along her neckline, and whispered directly into her ear.
...
Mariloz's mind began to blur.
The letters on the parchment squirmed. They slithered like worms, entangling into one another, then formed the shape of a living tower.
A black tower, reaching up to the heavens.
With a blood-red world as its backdrop, it grew, little by little.
An eye opened in its center.
The whispering grew louder.
The sound swelled until it rattled her head.
She didn't want to hear it anymore, but she couldn't move—she was rooted to the spot.
Mariloz exhaled the breath she'd been holding and shouted,
"Aegis!"
A bright light burst from her body.
The eerie whispering, the illusions clouding her vision—both faded at once. Only the eye on the tower remained, staring her down to the end, before it too vanished.
Mariloz wrapped layers of mana around the parchment to seal it. Even then, the sinister aura tried to seep out.
"Seal, seal, seal, seal!"
She shouted irritably, layering more mana over the parchment.
Panting, Mariloz turned to Ernando.
"What, is this?"
Her face was flushed. Sweat dripped from her neck.
"Ugh, I just bathed…"
She wiped her forehead and neck with a handkerchief as she continued,
"It's a good thing it was me. If it were anyone else, their mind would've been corrupted. What the hell is this?"
"I don't know either."
"You don't know? Where did you get it?"
"From Okua's corpse."
Ernando, arms crossed, approached the table.
"It was left there."
The parchment, now layered in Mariloz's mana, looked like nothing more than an old antique scrawled in an incomprehensible language.
"I told you, he turned into a lump of flesh."
"Yes."
"After I pierced it with Longinus…"
"You used Longinus? Without lifting the restriction?"
"I linked together all the mages of the Allied Army to use it. They were all skilled mages."
"And?"
"I was curious how it managed to pull off something like that, so I went to check. There was still a faint trace of demonic energy. Because of Longinus, it had temporarily lost its strength."
"And yet it still ended up like this after being struck by Longinus…"
"I sealed it the moment I saw it."
"If someone else had found it, a lot of people would've gone insane."
Mariloz lifted the parchment and flipped it up and down.
"A fragment of a black magic tome?"
"Most likely."
Ernando stared at Mariloz and asked,
"Well?"
"What?"
"Can you interpret it?"
She immediately tossed the parchment back onto the table.
"Nope."
"Mariloz, this is important."
Ernando picked it up again and held it out to her.
"Look here."
He pointed to the torn edge of the parchment.
"As you said, this is just a part. It might not end with a single sheet."
"Are you saying someone gave this to Okua?"
"I hope not, but it's very possible."
"Maybe he just picked it up by chance somewhere on the plains?"
"He used black magic. He knew how to handle this. It's too dangerous to chalk up to coincidence."
"Phew…"
Mariloz let out a deep sigh.
"Fine. I'll give it a try, though I've never seen these characters before…"
"When will the Transcendent Interpretation Method be completed?"
"You can't just finish it because you feel like it."
"But you can probably interpret parts of it, right?"
"That's true, but this case is different. It's dangerous even if left alone—do you really think a method like that can apply directly?"
"Fair point."
"Anyway, give it here. I'll try."
Mariloz placed her hand on the parchment.
"But, you know…"
"Hm?"
"If someone did give it to him, the timing is awfully suspicious, isn't it?"
Ernando didn't answer.
Leaning on the table, Mariloz smiled faintly.
"If our prince hadn't pulled off something insane, and if an Outsider hadn't joined us by chance, the Allied Army might've ended up as living sacrifices, don't you think?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Right when the Orc King acquired that object, a huge number of troops conveniently walked right into his jaws."
She opened the window.
The cold night breeze flowed in.
Looking out over the dark landscape of Balshad, Mariloz continued,
"Don't you have any guesses who might've given it to him?"
"Enough."
Ernando closed the window again, his expression stiff.
"Don't say any more. That line of thought is dangerous."
"Why?"
"This is where we stop."
Ernando stepped away from Mariloz.
"My only request is that you interpret this as best you can. Don't do anything beyond that. Stop there and let me know."
"Alright."
"Then I'll be off."
Just as Ernando began gathering his mana again—
Knock, knock, knock.
Both turned their heads at once.
Someone was knocking at the door.
The person knocked again politely.
Knock, knock, knock.
Ernando looked at Mariloz. She shrugged and mouthed, "No idea."
The person outside the door didn't knock again, remaining quiet.
Mariloz murmured softly,
"Did they leave…?"
Ernando, who had been still, suddenly extended a hand.
"No, it's the opposite."
He opened the door with mana.
And standing right there, was an unexpected visitor.
Ernando sighed.
"At least knock three times, will you?"
Yuri, who had been preparing a kick, scratched the back of his head and lowered his foot.
"This is a little awkward."
[T/L: Read more chapters on Ko-fi page "RevengerScans" : https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]