The Night Before the Competition - 2

Okafu's movements were unexpected.

Within the same assembly hall, there was someone forming a different plot based on the actions of the Free City of Okafu.

While waiting inside the room for the contact from his one-person radzio, the Fourth Minister, Kaete the Round Table, was deep in thought.

But the fact that they're drawing the attention of Rosclay and his lackeys

isn't a bad thing. Make Rosclay and the Gray-Haired Child fight among themselves, and I'll be the one to create a new main faction. I'll reform this history from the ground up.

He had already decided on a candidate to sponsor—Mestelexil the Box of Desperate Knowledge.

An abnormal and irregular being compared to all the other champions—even compared to Lucnoca the Winter and Alus the Star Runner.

An inexhaustible reproduction of technology from the Beyond. This went far beyond the realm of mere fighting strength. Even when limited to military functions, his power alone could grant a superiority far beyond even that of the New Principality of Lithia's air force.

Mestelexil's presence was likely to advance the hands on this world's clock several hundred years into the future.

Demon King. Cursed True Demon King. As long as I breathe, I won't let things stagnate. New technology, new knowledge… I'll show this world true power, like nothing anyone has ever seen before.

This reformation was fundamentally different from abolition of monarchal rule that Rosclay and Jelky's so-called reformation faction was aiming for. What Kaete wished for was a much bigger, and longer-term, reformation. An unpredictable future of possibilities, rendering the remaining deficiencies and conflicts of the world meaningless.

I, Kaete, will expel all terror from the land.

A short while later, his radzio received a signal.

<Kaete, you snot-nosed brat! Send someone to meet us, dammit! These Aureatian soldiers came and surrounded us!>

Kaete's thoughts were forcefully interrupted. "Gah..."

The old woman behind the voice was none other than Kiyazuna the Axle. The ultimate golem creator who birthed Mestelexil into this world and now, with Izick the Chromatic dead, known as the most terrifying self-proclaimed demon king in the land.

"You've gotten that close already?! Why didn't you contact me first?!"

<Well, Mestelexil said he wanted to hurry and see Aureatia! Here I thought these dim-witted Aureatian imbeciles wouldn't notice us anyway, but now's the time for you do your damn job once!>

"Like hell you weren't getting spotted! Listen now, you absolutely can't lay a hand on anyone until I get there! You kill anyone, and any talk of supporting

Mestelexil goes up in smoke!"

<What a pain in the ass! Better not make us wait long. Eh, Mestelexil?!>

<Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-! It's been, a while, Kaete!>

"I don't care! Behave nice until I get there! Got it?!"

The Fourth Minister, reputed to be the sternest and fiercest civil servant of all, immediately began getting himself ready.

He needed to go and meet her fast, before the woman could get herself wrapped up in anything.

"Swear I'm surrounded by…nothing but pains in my ass…!"

Early morning. Inside an Aureatia spire, Alus the Star Runner opened his eyes and, with a light flap of his wings, climbed up to the window. He had sensed the presence of a visitor.

The white cityscape he looked down on was still asleep. " Who?"

His voice was quiet, barely a whisper that only those with keen hearing would be able to hear, yet there was a reply.

"Psianop. Psianop the Inexhaustible Stagnation."

Alus tilted his head slightly. The presence he had sensed at the base of the tower belonged to a single ooze.

Normally, a race that would never exchange words with a wyvern like Alus.

Oozes feared wyverns.

"Psianop. Who was that again...?"

"Came across each other in the sand labyrinth. I remember." "…Ah. The sand labyrinth. Wasn't really much there…"

Alus finally managed to recall the singular insignificant memory.

The title of labyrinth was nothing more than a designation made by the standards of the minian races. Although it was in the middle of fiery, unforgiving desert sands, for Alus, easily managing to reach it directly without any interference from the terrain or the lycan tribe there, the sand labyrinth wasn't worthy of the moniker.

"I learned about the True Demon King's death through you. Since I've come to visit Aureatia, I thought I should come and say hello, at least."

"…Whatever… I don't care about any greetings from an ooze… I didn't even, remember, either…"

"How about that Toroa the Awful, then?"

That name elicited a reaction from Alus, though it was little more than a slight raise of his head.

"There's rumors that the enchanted sword monster you were supposed to have killed has come to Aureatia. He might be planning to get his revenge on his killer in the Sixways Exhibition. I wanted to hear what your thoughts were on it."

"...They're a fake," Alus quietly, yet firmly, declared. "...If they want to get revenge, they should come by right now to cut me down… Why aren't they…? They can't because...unlike the real Toroa, they're weak…"

"Could be because they're strong," Psianop replied matter-of-factly.

"May be thinking that a fight to the death between you two would destroy this whole town with it."

"…I wonder if the same would happen, if you and I fought, each other."

Alus looked down at the small ooze below him. He didn't have any interest in fighting against powerful opponents, but this Psianop was clearly strong. He understood that much.

Psianop opened up the book he was carrying with his pseudopod. "Hard to say. Want to find out right now?"

"..."

The ooze's emotions were impossible to read, even more so than expressionless Alus's own. Even after opening his book, it was impossible to judge if his eyes really were pointed down at the pages.

"......... Sounds like a pain."

"Hmph. Too bad. My business here is concluded."

Psianop decided to take his leave and return, from what Alus could tell. "There's one thing I'd like to ask before I go," Psianop said as he made his

departure.

"You knew that the Demon King was dead, didn't you? Why were you able to say that so confidently?"

"..."

"Or maybe you're…"

…actually the hero after all?

The survivor of the First Party left the final part of his inquiry unsaid.

Aureatia old town. Following the Particle Storm incident, Toroa the Awful's path led him to find shelter in a worker's slum in this section of the city, voluntarily helping out with cargo transport and other physical labor.

As he didn't have official citizenship, there were no guarantees he would be able to stay in Aureatia for long. To make things worse, his exceptional bodily physique and extremely dangerous adornments made the people of the city needlessly fearful of him.

"Oh! If it isn't Toroa the Awful! Been a minute, huh?" "..."

Hearing the voice cut in, Toroa looked somewhat disgruntled as he stopped in his tracks.

The person who brazenly called out to the monster from horror stories outwardly appeared like an aristocrat's child who had accidently wandered into the old town, but he was unmistakably one of Aureatia's Twenty-Nine Officials. The youngest of them all, the Twenty-Second General, Mizial the Iron-Piercing Plumeshade.

"…Mizial? Don't you have government business to attend to?"

"At this point, the military officers're all bored to tears. The talk of war with Okafu and the Old Kingdoms went up in a puff a smoke and all, too. So I thought, hey, why don't I go see Toroa!"

"Am I some rare flower or something to you?"

Mizial cheekily went around Toroa's cart and examined his cargo.

"What's it today, then? Transporting cargo? While you still have all those enchanted swords on your back?"

"Just carrying medicine. I've got enough for the clinic the next block over, so I'm about to go and hand them out there."

The horse wagon loaded with medicinal bottles was undoubtably not something one of the minian races could pull themselves, but Toroa's physical stamina, able to haul this all over the enormous city of Aureatia without a single drop of sweat, was something beyond normal expectations.

"…So let me make myself clear. I don't have time to chitchat."

Mizial invited Toroa to participate in the Sixways Exhibition the very day he first came across him and was rejected. However, since he continued to come

visit Toroa whenever it struck his fancy, Toroa had begun to doubt that this young boy in front of him really was one of Aureatia's highest-level bureaucrats.

"Awww. You can rest for a little bit, righ—?"

"Are you Toroa the Awful?" a voice cut in and interrupted their conversation. A dangerous group had appeared, spreading widely across the road to block it off. A large force, equipped with crossbows, short swords, and hammers, and

with two carriages in tow.

Mizial questioned them, making no effort to hide his displeasure. "...Who're you people?"

"I'm Toroa the Awful."

Toroa stepped forward before Mizial could say another word. He was preparing to respond immediately, just in case his wagon or Mizial were put at risk of being harmed.

"You all have some business with me?"

"We're the Sun's Conifer. We've been entrusted with bein' a sorta neighborhood guard force 'round here. That's why we can't ignore a request from our model citizens, see… Talkin' about you roaming Aureatia all day with all those nasty weapons of yers—and scaring the people. On top of trying to pass yerself off as Toroa the Awful, too, eh?"

"..."

Everything he said was true. Even while residing in Aureatia, Toroa didn't remove his hands from any of his enchanted swords, even for a single moment. Offering protection was, currently, Toroa's calling.

"Not only that, but apparently, you're not a citizen, either, huh? Well, looking like that, you bet I'd believe it. That's why we're gonna step in for those dimwits on the Aureatia Council and drive this dangerous character outta our city."

"As long as the council gives their permission…"

With his hands still in his pockets, Mizial scowled at the armed group.

"Even noncitizens are allowed to reside here for over three small months. Fourth Class, Article II, 'Emergency Evacuation of Sick and Wounded in Wartime.' Toroa's working hard and hasn't built up any criminal history here in Aureatia. You lot don't have the authority to forcibly evict him from the city."

"Quiet, brat. Listen, we're talking to that bum right now. This ain't a problem of laws or approvals. We've received actual demands from the citizens about him. Now, I bet all of us here wanna settle things peacefully. Understand?"

The tobacco-smoking man smiled wide. The weapons of the Sun's Conifer

were clearly pointed not only toward Toroa himself but also at the clinic situated behind him.

"...If I leave here, that'll be the end of this."

Throughout his life up until that point, there had been quite a few ruffians who saw Toroa's towering form and tried picking fights with him. He had no plans to abandon Alus the Star Runner's trail, but he could do the same after the Sixways Exhibition event was over, and the wyvern had left Aureatia. He had already thought that if there came a time when his presence invited unnecessary trouble, he'd meekly take his leave. However.

"You think that alone'll settle all this? Hand over the enchanted swords. All of 'em."

"…What did you say?"

"A real dense bastard, aren't we? I'm saying if you give up all those enchanted swords of yers, we'll let you head home unscathed… Don't think I don't know. You may be using a fake name, but those enchanted swords are the real deal, aren't they?"

...Where did he get that information?

Toroa inwardly went on his guard. Anyone who believed that he was Toroa the Awful, back from the dead, wouldn't try challenging him in a fight in the first place. On the other hand, anyone who determined he was an impostor taking Toroa's name would likely think there was no chance that the enchanted swords he carried were genuine.

The Sun's Conifer were different from all the ruffians who had picked fights with Toroa before.

"Listen! You're talking to the Twenty-Fourth General here! Me!" Now appearing to be ignored, Mizial loudly asserted himself.

"Y'know, causing all this fuss right in front of me like this? Knock it off. It makes me feel like I'm being looked down on."

"'Cause we are looking down on you, Mizial the Iron-Piercing Plumeshade. There's a hero above us, see. You Twenty-Nine bums… You're bringing 'em all here to Aureatia, tellin' them to enjoy themselves, aren't ya? Huh?"

Stealing the enchanted swords for their own hero candidacy… So there's someone backing their show of force here.

He had realized for a while that he was currently surrounded. What Toroa was most anxious about right now was the medicinal bottles in his wagon breaking and causing damage to the city and citizens.

Wicked Sword Selfesk. Divine Blade Ketelk. Mushain the enchanted wind

sword…shouldn't be a problem.

Immediately afterward, an arrow whizzed right by his face. Raising it with the barest of movements, he deflected it with the hilt of an enchanted sword—a sword composed of a hilt with nothing else. The arrow flew up on top of a roof without hitting any of the medicinal bottles.

"Oh no! I didn't mean to shoot that! Sorry!"

The boorish group member who fired his bow shouted without the slightest hint of guilt. The tobacco-smoking man grinned as if everything was turning out as planned.

"Whoa, whoa, now! We can't go getting violent here, c'mon! Toroa the Awful… Why don't ya hand over those enchanted swords, and we can wrap things up, eh? You'd be in rough shape, right? If, say, this whole part of town caught fi— Hgnh—!"

His jaw broke. The fragments of his tobacco, chomped down and torn apart, fluttered into the air.

A throwing projectile, resembling a balancing weight, hit him from below. Mizial the Iron-Piercing Plumeshade. The Twenty-Second General had slipped into the middle of the group in a low, beast-like posture and had already finished his attack.

"It's your fault for ignoring me, really. Right?"

Faster than the ones around him could come to grips with the sudden, violent attack, the next weights had already left Mizial's fingertips, and there came two more sounds of them slicing through the air. The rogues to his right and left had their shoulders, and their hips, broken simultaneously.

"If you hadn't ignored me like that, this wouldn't have happened, now, would it?"

Although the Sun's Conifer had their weapons readied against Toroa, they hadn't predicted the sudden attack. Just how many of their members knew that Aureatia's Twenty-Second General Mizial happened to be a military officer who loved rushing headlong into battle more than anything else?

"You little…"

"What the hell are you doing?!"

He had plunged straight into the middle of the armed gang. A number of fists and kicks flew Mizial's way. Forgetting their original mission there, the rogues reflexively started raising their weapons against the boy.

"Wicked Sword Selfesk."

A storm of wedge-shaped metal fragments swooped in from the flank and

deflected all the threatening weapons away.

It may have appeared to them as a sword with nothing but a hilt. Dispersing the length of the blade into numerous wedge shapes and manipulating them with magnetic force, it was the enchanted sword known as the Wicked Sword Selfesk.

"Ah-ha-ha."

Seeing the power of an enchanted sword for the first time right in front of him, Mizial laughed.

Immediately afterward, when he sprang back to his feet with a jolt, he straddled the tobacco-smoking man, unconscious from breaking his jaw, and slammed his elbow into his face four times. There wasn't a single ounce of hesitation in any of his movements.

"Still want to fight?"

"Hngh, augh!"

"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha. C'mon now, what's 'augh' supposed to tell me? How about the rest of you?"

His face stained with blood spatter, Mizial looked out across the rest of the Sun's Conifer. He'd broken the tobacco man's jaw right at the start. There wouldn't be any more orders from their group's central figure.

"..."

"You bastards are pretty dense, huh… I'm saying I'm fine with letting you go, without you suffering any more injuries. For the time being, I'll write this off as a simple brawl. Decide for yourselves; go ahead… What'll it be?"

Sitting up, and coming from fingers on both hands, there was a sound of something slicing through the air. It was a unique weapon that seemed to be two weights connected together with a string.

"W-we're outta here. C'mon."

"Dammit… Snot-nosed little brat, if we had our boss here…"

The rogues vanished one right after another and quietly returned once more to the old town street.

"Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Smeared with blood spatter and his own nose's blood, Mizial stretched out his arms and legs and went to lie down.

"Hoo boy, it's been a long time since I've gotten to do that!" "…Mizial."

Toroa crouched down beside him. Thanks to the boy, he was able to get the situation under control without having to use any more of his enchanted swords than necessary. Nor was there any damage to the town. Yet even still…

"You were too reckless."

"Ha-ha, why do you say that?"

Mizial wiped his bloody nose with the sleeve of his luxurious coat, but another stream immediately flowed down.

"…Doesn't that make you mad? Telling you to…hand over your enchanted swords like that. They're the enchanted swords of, the living horror story… himself… Toroa the Awful, right?"

"..."

He was one of Aureatia's Twenty-Nine Officials. He was trying to sponsor Toroa the Awful's entry into the Sixways Exhibition.

That may have then meant that the enchanted swords Toroa kept safe would end up being used by someone else.

"Mizial. I know now isn't the best time, but… Is there any way for me to get citizenship, too? I want it fast."

"Ha-ha."

Mizial was able to understand the meaning behind Toroa's words. "This? This is just a street brawl… Don't have to feel you owe me." "You may be right."

Killing Alus the Star Runner. Reclaiming Hillensingen the enchanted light sword. Until that time came, his life wasn't his to live. He needed to fight as a god of death revived from hell.

That was why he never thought about anything like it before. "…But that sounds like more fun."