Responding to the call, Helmut stepped onto the stage and raised an eyebrow. There was something that caught his eye across the stage. He turned his head in that direction.
'Mihail.'
True to his promise, it seemed he really came to support him. Not necessarily just for that reason. After all, Helmut only found out he belonged to the first group upon arriving here. Mihail must have thought to support Helmut while watching the tournament.
Mihail was seated near the stage, under a tent-like shade. Dressed in white, with blond hair and pale skin, Mihail stood out among the crowd like a white dove among crows.
Though Mihail often felt under the weather, it seemed he recovered quickly after resting for a day, appearing healthier than initially thought. This morning, he looked fine.
He lightly waved at Helmut. It was noble and characteristic of him not to fuss over acknowledging Helmut now that he had taken the stage.
Soon, Helmut's opponent stepped onto the stage. A familiar face. The opponent recognized him first.
"I'm Jackal. Saw you a few days ago. Lucky, lucky."
'Today's my lucky day.'
Helmut inwardly agreed. He remembered that name. It was the man who had picked a fight with him when he was registering for the tournament.
Normally, Helmut wouldn't remember someone so weak, but it was different for someone he owed a payback.
"If you shout surrender or one is deemed unable to continue, the match ends. There's no time limit. Begin as soon as the bell rings."
"It's hot."
Helmut muttered. He considered prolonging the pain but decided it was too troublesome.
"Let's finish this quickly."
"What did you just mumble, you brat!"
Jackal scowled. It seemed he was all ears. It's wasteful even to spend time on such riffraff.
Ding! The bell sounded, short and heavy. Helmut moved like a flash of light, his sword cutting through the air as if facing no resistance. Shhk. A chilling sound followed.
The match ended in an instant.
A moment of silence, then.
"Wowwww!"
A roar erupted from the stands.
"Ah!"
Jackal, eyes wide open, clutched his now empty forearm. It was unbelievable. His sword arm was severed, spraying blood as it rolled on the ground. All it took was one strike!
'What just happened?'
Not only Jackal, but nobody understood how the fight ended so suddenly. The sight of blood excited the crowd, chanting Helmut's assumed name, Hyde, in frenzy.
Hyde! Hyde! Hyde!
Amid the roaring cheers, Helmut alone remained composed on stage.
The young man with golden hair and blue eyes, whose delicate appearance was misleading in Basor, shocked everyone with his reversal. The audience celebrated the emergence of a new strong contender for making this tournament exciting.
"That was impressive."
Mihail murmured leisurely.
"I did well stopping you that day, Robert."
"…That young man, Hyde, to possess such skill…"
Mihail's guard, Robert, commented in a low voice. While he wasn't the only guard, facing such a skilled opponent would have made it hard to ensure Mihail's safety in a conflict. They almost endangered their charge.
"My judgment is reliable, isn't it?"
Robert understood the meaning behind Mihail's gaze. It was the look of wanting something. And Mihail had a peculiar talent for acquiring what he desired.
"He's an enigma."
"We'll have to slowly figure him out. There's plenty of time, after all."
Mihail smiled brightly, his intentions inscrutable.
The day's preliminaries ended cleanly, at least by Helmut's standards. His two matches were against roughly equal opponents.
Both ended with a single blow.
However, the condition of the second opponent was better. Although not in good shape, as a tournament participant, he would likely receive treatment.
'I have no matches tomorrow.'
His competitors had quickly diminished since he fought twice today.
After a day's break following the group matches, they would fight twice more in five days.
There wasn't much to ponder. He just needed to fight as told and knock them down.
'Were the students from Greta Academy's swordsmanship department of a higher level than I thought?'
Helmut wondered. The two he fought today seemed to have skills similar to the average second-year students at the academy.
Helmut re-evaluated his schoolmates. Of course, there might be differences in experience, but purely in terms of skill, they were comparable to the participants of Basor's tournament.
'Many of them come from swordsmanship families, after all.'
That made sense. Greta Academy was a prestigious institution that required passing rigorous exams for admission.
Many students had been training since childhood, coming from families of swordsmen. With solid fundamentals, they were naturally on par with the somewhat less refined tournament participants.
Helmut noticed a few academy-age boys among today's participants, though they looked older than him.
If they were second-year students, they were still young, making it unlikely for them to travel this far to Basor for a tournament. Instead, they would focus more on their training.
'It's good I haven't run into anyone I know.'
Having faced his peers daily, it would be difficult for anyone to recognize Helmut in disguise unless they had exceptional observational skills.
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Returning to the lodging, Helmut encountered Mihail, who had returned earlier.
Despite the shade, the heat from the ground was intense. Mihail's face was flushed, looking as though he might fall ill again the next day. He spoke softly.
"Hyde, you were truly magnificent today. It was worth supporting you."
"…Your way of speaking."
Helmut wanted to point out how ticklish it sounded. Yet, he seemed to be getting used to it, even finding it slightly pleasant. Perhaps it was a contrast effect.
In Basor, where everyone looked down on him, Mihail was the only person who had treated him with respect from the start.
'This is how he wins people over.'
Even if Helmut didn't fall for it completely, he couldn't help but soften his guard. Most people would be easily swayed.
'Asuka is a dog, Alea a cat, this guy is…'
Helmut found the answer. A fox. It made sense for a merchant to act this way.
"Does your family run a trading company or something?"
"No."
"…Then never mind."
"Hyde must be curious about me now. We've become closer, haven't we?"
A shiver ran down his spine. Facing that smiling face, his fist clenched.
A novel type of challenge, testing his patience in a different sense. A mistake could easily break this fragile man.
A new dilemma, as if facing a multiple-choice question with only one correct answer.
"I look forward to the day you advance to the finals. Sorry, but I don't feel well enough to dine together."
Mihail knew exactly when to withdraw. He indeed looked unwell.
"Eat as much as you like."
Helmut felt oddly conditioned to food. Perhaps he couldn't handle Mihail because of this. The lavish inn provided food on par with the Kudrow residence.
"Alright."
Mihail entered his room, and Helmut quietly enjoyed his meal. The matches ended so swiftly he hardly expended any energy.
He was probably the only competitor today without any physical toll. He finished in one strike without revealing anything.
'There's something I need to check.'
After eating, Helmut returned to his room.
Mihail was sound asleep, breathing softly. He slept deeply, without disturbing movements.
Whether by instruction or not, Helmut rarely encountered Mihail's attendants.
The only inconvenience of sharing a room was losing his personal space, except for the outdoor training ground.
Helmut glanced at the sleeping Mihail before sitting on the sofa on his side. He promptly pulled out the documents from the mercenary guild.
'I should familiarize myself with this today.'
Three thick volumes of documents required as much focus as studying for an exam.
He had postponed looking into them, preparing for the preliminaries. Given the level of competition, Helmut's advancement to the main tournament seemed certain.
The documents briefly mentioned the investigated individual's personality, status, authority, family relationships, tendencies, and political connections.
Helmut's eyes stopped at a particular point while reading.
'Palma Knights' Commander.'
Palma, once commanded by Darien, was Basor's highest-ranking knightly order. The commander's name caught his eye.
Darien didn't know how many had conspired to banish him to Parehe Forest, nor their reasons.
He only suspected they were annoyed by the influence of Basor's swordsaint. Given his stubborn nature, Darien likely ignored the surrounding currents until betrayed.
Driving Darien into Parehe Forest was a deadly trap. Even for him, nearly at the pinnacle of swordsmanship, the strong poison blurred his mind. His Vis was suppressed by divine magic, and without allies, he fell into a desert trap.
Vis and mental strength interact. Thus, with a clouded mind, he couldn't properly wield his Vis. Three high priests were deployed to subdue him, each a match for a grand mage.
Darien trusted the only person he accused of betrayal. That trust led to his downfall.
The one Darien named as a traitor.
'Lutus Cicero.'
He was the deputy commander of the Palma Knights at the time.
'Darien disappeared, and he became the commander of the Palma Knights.'
Skill played a part, but backdoor dealings were likely. Thus, those who benefited from Darien's disappearance were probable traitors.
Sharing deep secrets to bury the past strengthens relationships. Likely, other traitors remained close to the current commander of the Palma Knights.
'It would be too revealing to ask Talon to investigate details from 20 years ago.'
That would expose too much. Casually gathering information seemed better.
Basor respects the strong. Many power brokers approach the main tournament qualifiers. Some are even recruited by knightly orders.
However, the problem was Helmut had never done such work. He was extremely poor at engaging people warmly.
For Helmut to become as amiable as Mihail was harder than reaching Darien's level.
'Even if I identify the traitors, I can't act immediately.'
The commander of the Palma Knights would be a formidable opponent, possibly even beyond Talon. It's not guaranteed others could be easily dealt with.
'But there are always those around them.'
Helmut's eyes grew cold.
Humans are not solitary creatures. They have families or people they cherish. Even if the commander of the Palma Knights and his beneficiaries are not directly guilty, they cannot escape the cycle of revenge for being associated.
Revenge is about crushing the opponent thoroughly. Mercy is not an option.
According to Talon's investigation, the commander had a family: a wife, son, daughter, and even grandchildren. The weak cannot be spared from the cycle of revenge just because of circumstances.
'…But I should investigate. I'll decide later.'
The day he would face Darien's great-grandson in the tournament was eagerly anticipated.