Early afternoon that same day...
With the lunch rush over, the duel city’s sightseeing district had somewhat calmed down, and Café Argent was no exception. As the shop cleared out, the only customers remaining were the ones kicking back for a slow afternoon.
After a look over the store, Elias called out to the kitchen. “Frevo. I’m going out for a breath of fresh air. Can you take care of things?”
“Aye sir. We can clean up after ourselves, don’t worry about it.” The young demon man Frevo popped his head out from the kitchen depths. “Ah, that’s right, boss. We got word from Fram, she’s got stuff to do today, so she can’t work dinner hours.”
“I see. Then my condolences to Athena, but she’s going to have to work two days in a row.”
“No, it seems Athena’s gonna tag along with her business. She told us not to put her on any shifts for a while.”
“...Her too?” Elias frowned. “...Well, so be it. I’m sure she’s just sulking about what happened yesterday. She presumably doesn’t want to see my face.”
“Ah, right, they were really pissed when you beat up that mix-blood kid. You think he’s really gonna give up on being a duelist from that?”
“That’s not our problem. Rather, if he’s a mix-blood, giving up quick is to his own benefit.” A curt response, and Elias was out the back door.
He let a salty wind from the nearby coast envelop him as he leaned his back against the husk of a great tree.
“If he gives up now...he’ll save himself from more than he knows.”
He stared at his hand, the figure of an old friend vivid in his mind. A duelist great enough to earn Elias’s respect. A mix-blood friend who had fought and studied with him in the duel city.
But her final moments were too short, too pathetic, too anticlimactic. The form of a friend crawling on the ground after losing a duel. She neither shed tears nor showed any irritation at her loss. Simply powerless, a feeble smile on her face like she had gone completely hollow.
The sight of that friend would never leave his head. They had walked the same path so long, he could feel her deep despair and helplessness. That was why—Elias granted her final wish.
“—Yo! You look like you’re in a rut!!”
Elias slowly lifted his face to a rather thoughtless voice. The one there...a detestably cheerful Velt.
“And what ’ave we here! I guess it takes more than ten years to change a member of the Beast Tribe!!”
“...The same could be said for you. You’re supposed to be a human, but you don’t look the slightest bit different.”
“You’re turned immortal the moment you become an Administrator! While they were at it, I’d have loved to have been frozen at my younger heyday!”
“You’re already a monster. I can’t believe you had a heyday.”
“I was amazing in my golden age! They used to call me a hero, you know!”
“I know. But there is a saying that goes, only old men tell old tales.”
A few more loveless words, and Elias finally posed the question. “So what does an Administrator want with me?”
“Right, that’s the thing! I’ve got a job for you—”
“I refuse.”
“I knew you’d say that!!”
“I can’t stand someone who’s always laughing like a fool.”
“What’s wrong with that! A human’s living life best when he’s laughing!”
“I’m a beastman. And...there’s no guarantee everyone can laugh.”
Yes, there was no guarantee that everyone could laugh. Velt understood who he was referring to, and so he uneventfully abandoned his peevish smile.
“...You really haven’t changed a bit in ten years.”
“I doubt I’m going to change until I beat you, Administrator.”
“I see. In that case—you’re not worthy to face me.” Velt declared right to his face, “Ten years ago, you were strong. But...right now, you’re so weak, I don’t even feel you would be worth the effort.”
The moment he finished his cheap provocation, the leaf wafting right in front of his face split clean down the middle.
“—Would you like to put that theory to the test?”
He drew his curved blade and let it soar in a bee-line straight for Velt’s neck. A movement of ungodly speed, unleashed by the Beast Tribe’s superior physical capabilities. His Tribe Skill called Release imparted his fluid draw with unparalleled strength.
Through no more than pure strength and technique, Elias had butchered many a duelist. However, Velt simply pinched the blade between his fingers as he continued his small talk.
“Whoa, you’re pretty fast. If I was anyone other than me—the strongest, of course—it would be hard to even follow that sword with my eyes. In skill alone, it would be an insult to compare you to the other duelists.”
“Yeah. I’ve done my share of training, these past years...all to defeat you.”
Elias was definitely far stronger than he once was. He had piled up battles with countless duelists until he was finally feared as an Adamant Rank. His technique was great enough for even fellow Adamants to keep him at arm’s length. And yet Velt Helrick’s take on the man didn’t change.
“You still don’t get it. Over the course of ten years, all you’ve done is win duels, it’s as if you don’t understand what it really means to fight. You’ve been standing still the whole time.”
As an Administrator, one who had reached the very summit of battle, his attitude remained firm. He would look straight at Elias and call him weak.
“...If that’s what you think, I simply have to last to the end of the Roulette and prove otherwise.”
“Don’t think it’ll be that easy. There’s an interesting one taking part this year.”
“...Oh really? A duelist great enough for you to endorse them?”
At the first glimpse of interest from Elias, Velt flashed his teeth in a laugh. “Don’t act like you don’t know him too. It’s Yuri Eniastar.”
“...Reilly’s apprentice?”
Elias’s thoughts went to the sight of Yuri after he had been thoroughly overwhelmed and crushed the other day. His expression quite blatantly took an unpleasant turn.
“That boy is a mix-blood. Did you know that when you placed your expectations?”
“It’s not expectation, it’s conviction.” He spoke to deny each of Elias’s words. “You won’t be able to win against Yuri Eniastar.”
A stark contrast to Velt’s jolly confidence, Elias openly grimaced. “I’m going to lose to a mix-blood? You’re asking for quite a lot.”
“You’ll know if I’m crazy or not if you take up my little favor,” he prefaced, before explaining the details Elias had so rudely cut off before. “One week from now, I’m going to kick off the Babel Roulette. I thought I’d have you and the brat duke it out in front of Babel Tower as the opening act.”
“...Are you serious?”
“’Course I’m serious. It only happens once a decade, so shouldn’t we start off with a bang?”
“Have you...forgotten what happened last time...!?”
The shades of rage surfaced in Elias’s turquoise eyes. He recalled a scene of spectators jeering at Reilly and vilifying her to no end. To Elias, the scene was nothing but pure evil, the embodiment of everything wrong with the world. He detested those pedestrians who arbitrarily spat rash remarks, not knowing the first thing about how Reilly felt, or how much effort she put in as she faced the Administrator.
That was precisely why Elias couldn’t stand without questioning the Human Tribe Administrator.
“Why...do you back the boy to such a degree? A mix-blood duelist has no future. As the Human Tribe Administrator, you should know that better than any—”
“A mix-blood is the only one who can’t fight? That’s no fun at all.” With those words, he formed a smile just as innocent as the boy’s. “When the duel city’s creed is ‘Let’s All Enjoy our Fights,’ the mix-bloods are the only ones left out of the group. It hit me hard with Reilly...and I knew I had to do something about it.”
In a rare display, Velt bashfully scratched at his cheek. “I may be an idiot, but I’m still their Administrator.”
Surely, there was no deception in his words. As the one who ruled the Human Tribe, and as a duelist who loved battle, Velt had acted to extend a hand to the mix-bloods. Now that he understood the man’s sincerity, Elias closed his eyes and let out a slight sigh.
“...I might find some entertainment in destroying your delusions before the Roulette begins.”
“So you’re givin’ me the okay, did I hear that right!?”
“I don’t mind. It will just be another win for me.”
“Well look who’s talkin’! Just to let you know, the boy’s currently doing some secret training!”
“Then it’s not a secret anymore.”
“He’s already got two people helping out, so it wasn’t much of a secret to begin with!!” With a hearty laugh, Velt turned his back to Elias. “Glad to hear you’re up for it... One week, okay? Give it a good show, Elias.” Leaving those words behind, he dismissively flapped his hand and made his way off.
After watching his broad back shrink into the distance, Elias lowered his eyes to his own hands. “A mix-blood is going to beat me...?”
He shook his head, shaking away stirred-up memories. Feeling irritated at Velt, the one who irksomely roused them, Elias slowly got back on his feet. It was only then that he suddenly paused to think over what he’d been told.
Two people were helping Yuri train. Two familiar faces crossed his mind.
“...It couldn’t be.”
He left that thought in a corner of his mind before returning to the shop.