The Kingdom of Basor, a land where one-third of the territory is composed of deserts, welcomed Helmut at the onset of June, when the hot winds began to blow. It was a journey of about a fortnight, by no means an easy one.
"It's hot."
Helmut felt the heat keenly.
The Demonic Beast Forest maintained a cool climate throughout the year. Sometimes, it was so cold that he had to burrow into Elaga's fur to stay warm. Consequently, Helmut was almost immune to the cold.
But the scorching sun and stifling heat here were a different story, challenging to adapt to.
"Good thing I'm not so frail as to succumb to heatstroke."
Thanks to the Seed of Darkness, Helmut possessed traits somewhere between a demon beast and a human. Stronger than a human, yet more vulnerable than a demon beast, he rarely fell ill, was robust regardless of what he ate, and recovered quickly from injuries.
Yet, even Helmut felt powerless against the merciless heat, more so than his horse, White.
"Good thing I've arrived."
His plan was simple: regardless of the cost, find an inn with cooling magic and rest comfortably. Several times on his journey, he nearly unleashed his wrath on people out of sheer irritation. Doing so would have warranted a bounty on his head even before reaching the tournament. The people of this kingdom had a knack for testing one's patience.
From the moment he entered the Kingdom of Basor, Helmut found himself embroiled in frequent disputes.
"You look like a noble's son, but can you even wield that sword?"
"Dressed up like a lady, you won't fool anyone."
"Shall I scar that pretty face of yours, so you can't fool around anymore?"
People of Basor were large and hearty by nature, accustomed to battling the desert's demon beasts. Most men boasted muscular, burly physiques.
Hence, they looked down on those who appeared delicate and scholarly. Helmut, already resembling a noble's offspring, seemed even more delicate due to his disguise. To them, he was the epitome of disdain.
Furthermore, the inns Helmut frequented were often filled with warriors and mercenaries.
They didn't hesitate to provoke Helmut, seeing only his vulnerable appearance and handsome features as reasons enough!
Ignoring them usually led to the intervention of the inn's large owner or staff.
However, there were times when Helmut couldn't hold back, especially on days when the heat was unbearable, after riding all day to reach a new inn.
Helmut's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Try me if you dare."
"Oh? Can the pretty boy handle a sword?"
"Look at that scabbard, all for show. The kid's playing at swords!"
Without a word, Helmut drew his sword.
With a sharp sound, his opponent blinked, feeling a sudden pain at the earlobe. Hair cut perfectly straight fluttered in the air.
"What?"
"Next time, it'll be your neck."
The atmosphere shifted instantly, becoming more amicable.
"You know how to handle a sword after all!"
"Despite your looks, you're quite skilled."
"Are you a foreigner heading to the capital?"
"Going for the tournament?"
Helmut cut them off sharply.
"Don't bother me. Unless you wish to die."
It was rare for Helmut to openly threaten like this.
His eyes filled with murderous intent. Sometimes, the heat could kill a man.
"Touchy fellow, aren't we?"
The others backed off easily, and Helmut sheathed his sword. Such confrontations were not uncommon.
Fortunately, if he demonstrated his skill, the encounters usually ended quickly. The people of this country, regardless of gender, respected strength and revered formidable swordsmen.
Academy students from Basor were rare because here, swordsmen grew up fighting the desert's demon beasts.
They didn't need the competitive tension or teachings of an academy to hone their swords. Their lives were already filled with real battles.
Helmut's upbringing was similar yet different. Protected by Elaga, he rarely needed to fight demon beasts.
Many strong warriors came from Basor, including Darien. He was one of the most distinguished and legendary.
Leader of the royal knights, the Palma Knights, he was renowned for reclaiming Basor's desert from demon beasts. His greatest feat involved defeating the giant scorpion demon beast, Scorpion, dominating the desert. This victory weakened the demon beasts' forces.
Once threatening the capital, the demon beasts' momentum waned, and the once deadly desert welcomed human activity. Basor rapidly stabilized.
Leading the knights, Darien periodically purged the desert of demon beasts, saving many lives.
During one such expedition, Ethan Cudro, who had been attacked near a village, was saved by Darien, though his wife had already perished. This encounter led Helmut to Basor.
"That statue..."
Walking along the main road, Helmut stopped in his tracks. A majestic statue of a swordsman stood in the square.
It reminded him of someone he knew. Helmut checked the name inscribed below.
—Sword Saint Darien Sifer.
It was a strange feeling. To encounter Darien's statue upon arriving in Basor's capital. Even his betrayers couldn't erase this monument.
They eliminated Darien but preserved his symbolism. Remembering him solely as a great swordsman and a symbol of Basor.
Convenient, indeed. Helmut wondered what Darien would have said.
Would he have preferred this to having his honor tarnished?
'I should have brought his ashes.'
He lacked the means and knowledge of human funeral rites at the time.
But Darien's sword and techniques now resided with Helmut. Perhaps that was enough to honor his return.
Decades had passed since Darien was cast into the Demonic Beast Forest. Few would recognize him now, yet caution was necessary.
His sword, now encased in a new scabbard, would be hard to identify.
'I must win this tournament.'
For Darien. Helmut resolved. But he hoped the tournament would end quickly. Basor was unbearably hot. He longed to escape to a cooler land.
Waving his hand around his face, Helmut thought,
'There must be shops selling magic items in the capital. I can't stand this heat. Maybe I'll buy something there.'
In such a hot climate, clothing maintaining coolness was available. That would make his stay comfortable.
The tournament had the city bustling. Not just participants but also their families, friends, and spectators filled the streets.
The scorching summer hosted Basor's most fervent festival, the tournament.
Finding no cheap inns available, Helmut finally settled for an expensive one after much searching.
A cool room with running water, luxurious furniture, and a carpeted, cozy interior. It even had a spacious practice area, suitable for a high noble.
Helmut realized attire influenced treatment. If he had dressed shabbily, the inn might not have welcomed him. Thankfully, his cloak was luxurious, and his horse was of fine breed. He paid half the inn fee upfront.
'If I don't win the tournament prize, it'll be troublesome.'
Helmut was grateful for the substantial sum from Talon. Basor used a universal currency. The inn charged an exorbitant 2,000 marks per day. Even for a high season and upscale inn, it was a rip-off.
But the inn didn't bargain. They had plenty of guests anyway.
Helmut willingly paid. Staying in such luxury, even if it meant a potential loss of around 100,000 marks, was worth experiencing.
After securing his accommodation, Helmut immediately sought out a well-known shop affiliated with the Mage's Association. It was a large magic shop, found only in major cities.
Upon entering and inquiring about cooling clothing, a staff member approached.
"It seems your cloak already has magical features."
Helmut glanced at his attire.
"Ah, spatial expansion magic."
"Then it's probably a product of the Mage's Association. We can add functionality for you easily. How about it? We'll also recharge the depleted magic."
"How long will it take?"
"Three hours. You can return after your errands, and we'll have it ready."
Indeed, the capital's shop was efficient. Helmut decided to apply for the tournament in the meantime.
'The deadline is tomorrow.'
He hadn't taken any commissions but planned his trip with plenty of time due to the unbearable heat.
After registering for the tournament, he could rest until the preliminaries three days later. With the opponents announced on the day, there was nothing special to prepare. Just arrive on time.
The tournament, a renowned event in Basor, offered a grand prize of 2 million marks, attracting even first-class mercenaries. Many knights from Basor also participated, bypassing the preliminaries.
'I'll be wealthy if I win.'
Suddenly, Helmut felt a surge of greed. He had always had desires; he just hadn't known the joy of acquiring things before.
At the tournament registration, Helmut filled out the forms. The clerk, after taking the 1,000-mark deposit, scrutinized the details.
"Is Mr. Hyde correct?"
"Yes."
A randomly chosen pseudonym. He slightly altered his personal information. Unless he was a wanted criminal, they wouldn't verify, so he was told to write as he pleased.
"Those affiliated with a knight's order or classified as first-class mercenaries can bypass the preliminary round. If you have proof, please submit it."
Laughter erupted around him as the clerk mentioned this.
"Look at that, asking if the kid has any proof. As if he could be anything but a pampered noble!"
People in Basor were rough, and the country's social mobility was relatively free compared to others. Hence, they didn't particularly respect foreign nobility, especially if alone and young.
The clerk, slightly embarrassed, hurriedly completed the rest of the form.
'16 years old, from the Empire, a mercenary, a swordsman.'
"Registration complete. Here's your confirmation. Please return here by 10 a.m. three days from now."
As Helmut stood to leave, mocking comments followed.
"Don't bother coming. You'll just lose in the first round and waste your money."
Helmut turned to the speaker. With registration done, there was no need to tolerate further taunts.
Others, also here for tournament registration, gathered around. They openly ridiculed Helmut.
"Look at those blue eyes, ready to cry at a touch!"
"And that shiny hair. Looks like a doll for girls to play with."
Helmut's response was curt.
"Don't worry about me. Unless you wish to die."
His eyes were cold, a stark contrast to the desert heat.