Upon hearing Don Quixote's words, Nearl stared directly at him, as though verifying if what he'd said was truly not a joke.
Yet even so, a faint trace of disbelief still lingered in her eyes.
Moreover, according to Nearl's understanding of Don Quixote, it was unlikely he was joking. He was never one for such things.
"So… just what exactly happened?"
Nearl asked quietly, furrowing her brows.
Just as Nearl expected, Don Quixote seemed to brighten a bit at this. He immediately launched into a vivid retelling of his heroic exploits during the preliminary match.
Listening carefully to Don Quixote's enthusiastic explanation, Nearl gradually understood the situation. The scenario from the earlier interview vividly resurfaced before her eyes.
Basically, during Don Quixote's preliminary match, the arena had been a forest-like environment… The organizers intended participants to leap and maneuver through this challenging terrain, thereby creating better spectacle.
But Don Quixote, fired up mid-battle, didn't care about any of that.
After confirming to himself that he'd "held back enough," Don Quixote made a new decision: it was time to unleash his true power for a dramatic reversal!
But clearly, Don Quixote had seriously misjudged both the durability of his opponents and the strength of the arena itself.
And thus, the scene slowly evolved into its present state.
Don Quixote and Nearl stared blankly at each other. For a moment, Nearl didn't even know what to say…
"So… what are you planning to do next?"
Nearl finally asked aloud, half curious and half resigned.
"Ah… If I'm really disqualified, then there's no helping it, I suppose."
Don Quixote shrugged after some thought, giving her a helpless smile:
"If it really comes to that, the path ahead will depend entirely on you, Nearl. After all, you still have your tournament qualification intact, don't you?"
"Good luck, I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines."
Listening to Don Quixote's somewhat irresponsible words, Nearl momentarily felt numb.
In the end, Nearl simply sighed softly once more, as always.
"Just… exactly how much damage did you cause anyway?"
Don Quixote stopped walking at Nearl's question, an expression of deep thought crossing his face. Then he uncertainly held two fingers apart in a vague gesture:
"Maybe… about this much?"
"Just… enough so there isn't a single flat spot left in the entire arena?"
...
At the same moment, inside the Chamber of Commerce, X crossed one leg over the other, fingers clasped, calmly watching the representatives from the Knight Tournament's organizing committee.
He'd been hastily summoned here for an emergency meeting. Since Lobotomy Corporation had invested slightly in the Knight Tournament, X had inevitably been dragged into this debate.
This was an urgent meeting. Right now, the representatives before him were heatedly arguing over the fate of a certain participant…
"He destroyed the entire arena. Isn't this far too excessive…?"
"I suggest disqualification. His actions so far justify such a judgment…"
"But think of the profit! If he's truly that strong, then the viewership he'd draw, the profits he'd generate… that could be astronomical."
"But what about afterward? If we keep his qualification intact, given his immense strength, how much effort will it cost us just to keep him under control? Can any of you handle that?"
There was no doubt—the person being discussed was Don Quixote.
Amid their noisy debate, X leaned back impatiently, letting out a slow, deep breath. After a moment, he calmly spoke up:
"Listen… this endless arguing won't resolve anything. If none of you object, how about you let me handle this matter?"
Sitting upright again, X glanced around at the gradually quieting group.
"As the representative of Lobotomy Corporation, we'll cover all repair costs for the arena, as well as any miscellaneous expenses. Consider this a free gesture of goodwill on behalf of this unknown knight."
He rested his chin on his hand, golden eyes sweeping across the seated representatives:
"If that's the case, his debts are cleared, yes? Therefore, there shouldn't be any reason left to disqualify him."
Everyone here was shrewd. The representatives fell silent, carefully weighing the hidden meaning in X's words.
Honestly, the implications were obvious… put plainly, that competitive knight was now under Lobotomy Corporation's protection.
But why?
The Chamber representatives pondered silently. Soon enough, they arrived at a plausible conclusion: Perhaps Lobotomy Corporation was seeking a competitive knight as their "brand representative."
After all, though Lobotomy was one of the tournament's investors, they hadn't yet sponsored a competitor for publicity purposes… Thus, perhaps they were seizing this chance to earn favor and secure a promotional figure—it wasn't impossible.
Not to mention, that knight calling himself the "La Mancha Knight" was indeed astonishingly powerful.
"Are you certain of your arrangement?"
After a brief hesitation, one of the representatives cautiously questioned X. X merely glanced at him and replied:
"Lobotomy Corporation doesn't gamble on uncertainty."
"…I understand. In that case, I support Lobotomy Corporation's proposal."
Following this remark, scattered voices of support echoed around the room. Ultimately, by majority vote, Lobotomy Corporation managed to restore Don Quixote's tournament qualification.
...
The day after the preliminaries ended, Nearl and Don Quixote temporarily settled in a small inn near Kazimierz's outskirts.
In the afternoon, Nearl stood in the courtyard, quietly adjusting her state of mind, carefully polishing her armor. Every now and then, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, as though realigning her mindset.
The preliminary advancement results would soon be announced. The Knight Tournament was about to enter the elimination stage.
Don Quixote had already left to check the results. Nearl, meanwhile, prepared herself for tomorrow's matches. From her perspective, advancement was already certain.
But Don Quixote's situation… was always more worrying.
Thinking this, Nearl sighed softly once more. She stood up, spotting Don Quixote's figure approaching from afar, accompanied by his joyful voice that reached her first:
"Good news! My dear squire Nearl, both of us have advanced!"
"I haven't been disqualified after all!"