“…So I came to you. What do you think I should do?”
Though he wasn’t excited about the idea, Dotta had no one else to turn to.
He’d asked Tsav first, but the ex-assassin had just laughed his head off, then suggested Dotta tell his opponents the same story in the hopes they’d die laughing. Then, without offering any real solutions, he said he was busy and headed off to enjoy the nightlife. Penal heroes were prohibited from going out at night, of course, but Tsav had probably found a way to do so anyway, just like Dotta had.
With Tsav crossed off the list, there was no one else left. Patausche, Venetim, and Norgalle were lost causes when it came to stuff like this. And so, out of sheer desperation, he turned to Rhyno.
Tatsuya was in the corner, walking continuously straight into the wall. The sight really bothered Dotta, despite Rhyno’s assurances that this was typical behavior for him. According to Rhyno, he’d “stop when he gets tired.” But that didn’t make Dotta any less uneasy. He was really grateful he didn’t have to share a room with Tatsuya.
“Yes, it would be difficult for you to win in a fair fight, Comrade Dotta,” said Rhyno cheerfully. “Allow me to explain why, since I did a bit of research on the competition.”
Rhyno picked up a newspaper about the Sword Offering, similar to Tsav’s. Dotta had spoken with Rhyno briefly the previous night, but he was apparently already done with his research. The man was surprisingly helpful when it came to things like this. Dotta was grateful, but there was something unsettling about his level of skill.
“There are four favorites to win,” Rhyno continued. “Out of those, Adelat Fuzer from the Fourth Northern Front Unit has the highest chance of winning. I suppose you could call him a seasoned soldier. He’s described as a man of few words, skilled in the tempestuous swordsmanship of the south.”
The newspaper included an illustrated portrait, depicting a man with long hair and a stern gaze who exuded an aura of intimidating strength. There’s absolutely no way I’m gonna beat this guy, thought Dotta.
“He looks really tough…”
“He is. He came in second place during last year’s competition, so he will likely be a formidable opponent.”
Dotta found Rhyno’s enthusiasm utterly unrelatable. The only thing going through Dotta’s mind was an image of this Adelat guy ripping him to shreds.
“Nevertheless, Heine Bukah Tanze from the Tenth Order of the Holy Knights is receiving almost as much attention. Supposedly, they have almost the same odds of winning. Despite her typically gentle and chatty demeanor, Heine is well known as a master of Eastern swordsmanship, a style renowned for its powerful single strikes. She’s also known as the ‘Cliff Splitter.’” Rhyno’s finger moved over the paper in front of him. “While human women tend to be physically weaker than men, I suspect she makes up for it with some sort of sacred seal. Or perhaps she simply trained so hard that she overcame the gap in physical strength on her own. Though I suppose you don’t need really big muscles to kill someone with a blade.”
Rhyno sounded fascinated, but his description of this Heine woman did nothing but send shivers down Dotta’s spine. Both Adelat and Heine sounded like intimidating foes he’d rather keep his distance from. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would be eager to see them fight. It sounded horrible.
“Next, we have Yubaet Ludmischen. While he’s not as well-regarded as the other two, he is a master of the northern style and renowned for his exceptional defensive skills and precise thrusts.”
“I’m not sure any of that is very helpful… Anyway, who’s the fourth favorite to win?”
“You, Comrade Dotta.”
“Huh?!”
“Well, you beat out Jayce to represent the penal hero unit. People are probably expecting a lot from you. You should see your betting odds.”
Rhyno wasn’t joking. Dotta stared in disbelief at the newspaper. Under the name of the publication, the Livio, was a crudely drawn caricature unmistakably intended to be him. Next to it was a caption that read, “The penal hero’s ace in the hole. The fearsome ‘Hanged Fox’ has exterminated countless demon lords, and there’s nothing he loves more than slaughtering soldiers of the Federated Kingdom. Is there anyone who can stop this bloodthirsty devil?”
“Wh-wh-what…?!” Dotta was at a loss for words. “What is this?! Th-this is awful!”
“It’s impressive, really. Quite an enticing introduction, yes?”
“No! Who wrote this garbage?!”
“Regardless of its quality, this article does list your first opponent. Here.” Rhyno pointed at one of the other competitors. “You’ll be fighting Yubaet Ludmischen.”
“Uh… Isn’t that the guy you just told me about?”
“The third favorite to win, yes. In other words, you’ll need more than just luck to beat him.”
“Then I’m doomed!” Dotta shouted at the ceiling. “I don’t want to get hurt… Hey, maybe he’ll go easy on me if I tell him I’m actually really weak…”
“I highly doubt it. Your infamous reputation precedes you, and this article has introduced you as a vile criminal.”
“What did I do to deserve this?”
“Stealing, perhaps? From what I hear, that tends to make people very unhappy.”
“Guh.”
Dotta racked his brain for an excuse but kept drawing blanks. He couldn’t rationalize his theft, nor did he possess the emotional depth to feel guilt. All he knew was that this whole situation made him incredibly uncomfortable.
“Therefore, you shouldn’t expect your opponent to hold back. Although he specializes in thrusting, he might try to break a bone or two as well. And since penal heroes can be resurrected, he might even try to kill you. A wooden stick can be surprisingly deadly.”
“What am I gonna do?! Wait, maybe I can just withdraw myself from the tournament…”
“I would have loved to take your place, but Comrade Xylo prohibited me from participating.”
At this rate, his only chance was to boldly yell, “I give up!” right at the start of the match and pray his opponent would have mercy on him. But he knew that wasn’t likely. They’d probably hit him at least once or twice, and the referee would let it happen. At this point, Dotta was sure of it.
“At any rate,” said Rhyno, folding up the paper with a gentle smile, “there is no way you will win fighting fair and square. And so I have a proposal. We simply need to make sure your opponent is weaker than you.”
“…What do you mean?”
“We shall pay each of them a little visit tonight.”