The next two matches brought only as much excitement as he was willing to put in them.
The champions were sweating even before he faced them, which was no accident. Konrad fired up his Isekai Microwave to make a show of how nervous he had made them.
Thanks to his perfect illusions, he could toy with them in any way he wanted.
Up until it was Count Rolalt's turn, and the old noble pushed his champion aside.
"Enough of this farce, you've been cheating this entire time, kid," he yelled, pointing a finger.
Konrad was already in position to strike the next fighter from behind. Seeing the ruckus about to happen, he was quick to return to his designated place—and he made it in about time.
The count reached inside his collar, and the amulet he revealed seemed all too familiar.
He didn't need to inspect it from up close to know it was an artifact.
And seeing the simple design and the rough etching, he was also willing to bet it was the Church's work. The same as the first magic item he ever saw in the guard captain's neck.
With a little luck, it even had the same features, which meant—
"I didn't cheat," Konrad claimed, dispelling the illusion once he took its place. "I said, any method and technique is fair. I only restricted myself from using offensive spells."
"Those enhancements gave you inhumane strength, and you say that's not offensive?"
The man held the amulet as if he were about to exorcise him.
But even if it could dispel his light magic, it was too late. He had already deactivated them all.
He summoned a fireball instead—a real one this time, with real heat and fire behind it.
"This is what I mean by offensive magic," he grumbled, his voice crackling like the flames. "If I released one of these, you, your champions, and half the town would burn."
He'd let the flames disappear, but the audience was still gasping seconds later.
"I'm not afraid of your sorcery, kid," the count claimed, clutching that amulet like insurance. Konrad was curious how he had gotten his hands on it. "I'll take over for my champion."
The announcement launched another wave of murmurs across the crowd, and Konrad scoffed.
"Didn't you say it's illegal to spill noble blood? How am I to teach you a lesson?" he asked.
"Hold nothing back, Lord Halstadt," Count Rolalt replied. "With this amulet, none of your magic will have any effect on me. Your victory streak will be over, and everyone'll see—"
"Okay, fine, I get it," Konrad yawned, waving him off. "Let's get this over with, then."
It wasn't like he was afraid of a fifty-year-old noble with a big mouth.
He guessed that when he mentioned fighting for Altef Fort, he didn't do it with his bare hands.
As long as the noble had nobody to command, he seemed much weaker than the champion he pushed aside. Illusions or not, Konrad was decent enough with the sword not to fear him.
But the stance the count took up was not half bad.
His blade, a generic arming sword, had no excess ornamentation, but it seemed sharp.
Something that was not made for show but for battle.
Konrad knew better than to underestimate him.
"No magic this time," he said. "Princess Helena, if you would."
"Ready," she responded, her hand high in the air.
And before she could drop it, the count was already in motion.
The amulet glowed in his left palm, but Konrad had no time to figure out what it did.
That arming sword was short but nimble, coming down on him from above.
Raising his hefty blade took too long, and he had to sidestep the attack. Of course, his real body moved at a much more modest pace than the illusions—but he wasn't defenseless.
After the parry, he went for a riposte—and the count stopped it right away.
He stepped on Konrad's foot, twisting his heel, and the unexpected attack made him groan.
For a noble who talked about nothing but honor until now, he wasn't playing nice at all.
But it only made things more interesting.
Whatever Konrad tried, Rolalt Del had the perfect—and underhanded—counter against it.
He tried a horizontal swing? The count kicked up some dirt as he danced away.
A vertical slash? He'd sidestep it to flank him and counterattack.
A stab? The nimble blade got in the way, and the pommel gave his lower lip a bruise.
Tasting his own blood made Konrad realize that he might lose.
Adrenaline flooded his body, and he no longer cared about the crowd or about giving them a good show. For the first time that day, he was finally having fun.
Even as he spat blood, his lips quirked into a grin.
"Count Rolalt Del?" he said. "I'd better remember this name."
In the end, he still dictated the pace of the bout. He left no time for his opponent to attack, nonstop pushing forward—but always short of reaching him.
The amulet caused him no harm, so he decided to ignore it.
He wasn't trying to use tricks or magic anyway—this bout was way too much fun to ruin it with that. Fighting Welf or the princess was different. They were way above his level.
He could only win with certain tactics by a hair's breadth, or he'd lose by a lot.
Here? The count wasn't that strong or crazy fast—yet his skills made him a decent opponent.
One he'd want to fight again at another time. But also one he couldn't lose against now.
"What is it, boy?" the noble taunted him. "You thought I'm too old to put up a good show?"
"I'll admit," he said between two slashes—missing by a mile, "I expected you to be too loud for one. But this is a pleasant surprise. I'd rather rule over lions than zombies or sheep."
Before he could even realize, the count managed to land a few good hits.
He wore his adamantite armor, so they only grazed him at best, but he was bleeding.
Meanwhile, Rolalt was still unharmed, albeit winded.
Their bout went on for a good ten minutes or more—but to him it felt like seconds.
Sure, Kornad was sweating, too. He already had his daily workout before their duel. But he'd train long enough with the blacksmith to continue for hours if he had to.
He wasn't fighting for his life against the odds, like in a dungeon.
This was fun—and it ended in the way he least expected it.
"All right, I yield," the count breathed. His knees buckled, and he had to lean on his sword, the blade stabbed between the cobblestones. "I underestimated you, too, boy. You can fight."
Simple words, no fluff, but they were the greatest praise he could've earned.
The crowd—since they were still there, even if he forgot about them—was dead silent.
Konrad didn't know what to say, huffing as well, wiping his sweat and blood with the back of his hand. Only when the princess announced his victory did the people start to murmur again.
"T-this round belongs to Lord Halstadt as well," she said, her voice shaking.
Her face—again, like a fangirl at a concert.
At least this one he understood. He felt good about this win, too—
But as painful as the reminder was, he still had two more opponents to go.