Chapter 139 : Chapter 139

Chapter 139: To Someone, It’s Life

The Combat Festival spanned two days.

The first day was for preliminaries, the second for the finals.

Theodore’s arena buzzed with fervor.

Even compared to Conwell’s rank evaluation, held like a pre-coronation festival, it didn’t fall short.

The preliminaries began at dawn.

After bloody battles that lasted late into the night, only two emerged to advance to the finals.

“Cervantes? Hmm, never heard of him.”

Bolero stretched his arms leisurely in the bathtub.

Bubbles and hot water, conjured by a magic tool, enveloped his body softly.

As fatigue melted away, his breaths came low and deep.

“He’s representing Labotas, I hear.”

Declan, sitting across from him, spoke. Water droplets dripped from his soaked body under his robe.

“Labotas… that’s where Brother Bihen is, right?”

“Yeah. They say the mine purification is long done, but he still hasn’t returned. What’s he doing? Father’s waiting so eagerly, does he even know?”

“Well, I’m just as disappointed. I’m in this big tournament, and he doesn’t even show his face.”

Neither of them had much interest in Cervantes.

Declan mentioned Cervantes not out of concern for him but because he hailed from Labotas, where Bihen was staying.

Bolero felt the same.

Having ended every preliminary match with a single blow, he didn’t spare a glance for anything but his own fights.

‘Victory’s mine anyway.’

Only one thing mattered to him.

Declan needed to reach the finals to complete the picture.

‘A thrilling match with Declan, then I claim victory. That’s the only way both winners and losers look glorious.’

That would put Count Theodore in a good mood, softening the atmosphere for the private audience after the win.

‘Theodore branch establishment!’

Bolero’s ambitious eyes gleamed, wet scalp shining along with them.

‘…Hmm.’

He stole a glance at Declan.

Something felt off.

He’d tried to boost Declan’s spirits with made-up encouragement, but frankly, Declan’s talent was below average.

“What’re you staring at now?”

“Nothing, my lord.”

“Anyway, I’m getting up. Starting to feel the nerves.”

“Yes, rest well.”

Declan gave a half-hearted nod and left the bathhouse.

Bolero watched his back, then quietly closed his eyes.

His immediate wish was simple.

He hoped to be placed far from Declan in the bracket.

The next day.

‘Oh!’

Bolero’s eyes widened as he checked the bracket.

He and Declan were placed at opposite ends—exactly the lineup he’d desperately wanted.

“Elzerus! Thank you!”

Bolero shouted loudly.

The two young priests, Krnock and Deli, had to cover their ears.

He didn’t care that people stared.

“P-Priest…!”

“Hahaha! Elzerus is watching over us!”

But.

‘What…?’

Declan was knocked out early.

“Wooow!”

“Who’s this Cervantes guy? He’s incredible!”

“He took him down in the blink of an eye!”

“No one even saw what he did!”

“The miracle of Labotas, indeed!”

The first match of the finals.

The stands erupted.

The VIP section was no different.

The nobles seated in rows were stunned by the swift conclusion.

“Good heavens… To think Labotas had such a skilled fighter. Astounding.”

Count Theodore was among the first to close his mouth.

A warrior before a father, he didn’t take his son’s defeat emotionally.

“What’s this? He wasn’t even on the same level. Right, dear?”

“…”

His wife, of course, felt differently.

She resented her tactless husband.

Her sharp gaze slid sideways.

She could clearly hear the hushed whispers of the Thyssen viscount and his wife next to her.

It almost felt deliberate.

“Oh my, what’s this? Young Lord Declan went down so easily…”

“Ahem, woman! Are you trying to ruin our house? Shut that mouth!”

Even after the match ended, the excitement didn’t subside.

The stands buzzed like a stirred beehive.

Amid the silent, fierce battle of glares in the VIP section…

The center of the arena was cloaked in a calm stillness, detached from the chaos.

“…Unbelievable.”

Declan, sprawled with limbs spread wide, muttered softly.

In a flash, his opponent vanished, then struck his neck from behind.

After a brief gap in memory, he came to.

“Huh.”

It wasn’t even worth feeling wronged about.

Swish.

Cervantes extended a hand.

Declan, still lying down, stared at it briefly before slowly shifting his gaze to the man’s face.

“…That mask.”

His brow furrowed.

“Why does it feel familiar?”

Cervantes shrugged and turned away.

* * *

‘He’s got annoyingly sharp instincts.’

I hurriedly left the arena.

Dodging the excited cheers, I rushed to a secluded spot when a chill ran down my spine.

‘…’

I turned slowly.

‘Bolero?’

He stood with arms crossed, glaring at me.

His face was flushed, his fierce demeanor on full display.

“You.”

He pointed at my forehead with his index finger.

I could hear his teeth grinding from here.

“…You’d better make it to the finals. You’ll pay dearly for ruining my plans.”

I nodded to show I understood and quickly slipped away.

Bolero’s instincts were just as sharp.

“Sir Bihen—”

Another chill.

A whisper nearby.

Who was it this time?

‘Joseph.’

His face was beaming.

He waved excitedly, bouncing in his seat like he couldn’t contain himself, looking like he owned the world.

Thumbs up.

I gave a quick thumbs-up and turned away.

When someone’s that happy, it’s only human to respond in kind.

The finals came quickly.

It was me, advancing by default, against Bolero, who’d knocked out two opponents in one blow each.

Crack, crack.

“You little rat. How should I crush you, huh?”

I answered by silently taking my stance.

One thing was clear.

‘If he grabs me, it’s over.’

Unless the skill gap is overwhelming, in unarmed combat, size often decides half the fight.

The bigger fighter starts with a weapon in hand, so to speak.

Especially against someone like Bolero.

That’s why I don’t particularly like martial arts—because of this unfairness.

“Raaargh!”

…Here he comes!

“Straight!”

The wind hit my cheek first. I’d seen this move plenty, and he even announced it, yet I barely dodged.

Whoosh!

His back was right in front of me.

‘Going straight in now…’

It would be like sticking my head into a lion’s mouth.

I widened the distance.

“Heh, not a complete novice, are you?”

He turned, his eyes glinting fiercely. No wonder his opponents wet themselves.

“Let’s see how long you keep that mouth shut, friend.”

His fists came like a storm.

A graze would be fatal—that’s what they mean by moves like these.

Just watching made my breath catch.

“That mask! I’ll smash it to pieces!”

Suddenly, my vision darkened.

Bolero had blocked my sight with his massive palm.

Then, his other fist shot toward my side.

They say a true beast hunts even small prey with full force.

Seeing him resort to grappling despite his size, Bolero must be desperate.

‘Dodging’s impossible. Too late.’

It’s the same with swordsmanship.

Countering an opponent’s move isn’t just about blocking or dodging—there are plenty of other ways.

‘What I can do now…’

I lightly deflected the tip of Bolero’s fist aimed at my side, like parting flowing water.

The breath wasn’t over yet.

I drove my other hand into Bolero’s face.

Bam!

“Ooooh!”

The stands’ sudden roar shook the entire arena.

I nearly shouted at myself.

“Not bad,” Bolero grunted.

He’d raised his shoulder to protect his jaw.

I pulled back before he could grab me.

Bolero rotated his neck once.

“I’m glad I joined this festival.”

I agreed.

‘Come to think of it…’

In my past life, I never properly faced Bolero.

If I had a sword, the outcome would be obvious.

“Not bad at all.”

“…What’d you say?”

This time, I moved first.

Let’s end this.

‘Ghost Eye.’

No need for guilt against an opponent like him.

I was already at a disadvantage.

Bolero’s reacting trajectory materialized as a red line, outpacing my perception.

Kampringen can be used in unarmed combat even without a sword.

Now, I just needed to extend my hand.

Snap!

I coiled my arm around Bolero’s.

When throwing, it’s not upper body strength but leg power.

Boom!

The impact shook my vision.

My fist, aimed at Bolero’s face, stopped dead at his nose.

“Hah, hah…!”

“It’s over.”

Hierarchy established.

* * *

That evening, after the finals, at Theodore’s mansion.

“Oh, my goodness…”

Count Theodore, sitting across from me, gasped.

His pupils shook sharply.

“To think Cervantes was you, Bihen Benkou…”

He stammered with dry lips, disbelief on his face.

“…Ha! Hahaha! Wahahaha!”

His laughter bordered on maniacal.

After laughing heartily, he wiped tears from his eyes.

“What a fascinating life I lead.”

“Please keep it a secret.”

“Spilling it wouldn’t gain me anything, so I will. But is there a reason it must be secret?”

I touched the masquerade mask of Cervantes between my knees.

I’d secretly taken it from Declan.

“No reason to reveal it either. It might hurt some people.”

“Most people your age would be itching to boast their prowess. You’re a curious one, the more I see.”

“Not interested in that. I’ll take the praise, though.”

Count Theodore grinned.

He seemed reluctant to keep such an amusing secret to himself.

“Oh, my greetings are late.”

He suddenly sobered and bowed.

It was so abrupt I flinched.

“Thank you. Your dedication and effort for Labotas will never be forgotten.”

“…I didn’t do it for thanks.”

We both fell silent for a moment.

The silence wasn’t awkward.

Enough emotions had passed between us.

“Good. Now, let’s hear the champion’s request.”

I raised my head and took a breath.

There was something to confirm first.

“As an outsider, I must ask. In your view, will the bond between Theodore and the four sibling territories endure?”

Count Theodore tilted his head. It was a bit of an odd question, even to me.

After a moment’s thought, he spoke slowly.

“Did you see something in Labotas that might fracture the alliance?”

“Nothing like that.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing to say, but… of course. At least neither I nor Declan will be the ones to break this balance. Why ask?”

That’s enough. It means the bond will hold for the next generation.

“I’d like the Solari branch to be established in Labotas, not Theodore.”

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