Chapter 4:
Noel Stollen
AT LAST, the day of the Seven Star Cup finals had arrived.
Caius watched from a VIP lounge on the top floor of the colosseum, surrounded by his bodyguards. With him was Simon Gregory, leader of the former Society of Assassins; Alma from Wild Tempest; Mace, clan master of Kahn; and Wiseman, clan master of Cave of the Universe.
Noel had stationed Alma there as security, while Mace and Wiseman—who weren’t competing—had volunteered to do the same. Although Mace and Wiseman had exceptional battle experience, both had been deemed unsuitable for the position of commander in the coming fight against the Valiant.
The truth of the matter was that the clan masters’ leadership skills had been called into question. Mace’s clan was made up of purely blood relatives, whereas Wiseman hailed from another nation entirely. Many believed that Mace would put his family first, while Wiseman’s foreign heritage brought issues of trust. The two men were aware of their ineligibility, so they passed on fighting for an unattainable position and instead chose to give younger clan members a chance to gain valuable battle experience.
It was for this reason that Supreme Dragon’s clan master, Victor Krauser, had also decided not to compete. In his stead was the clan’s vice-master, Zeke, and its number three, Sharon. Victor was in the VIP lounge opposite Caius, acting as security for the emperor and other members of the imperial family with the rest of Supreme Dragon.
Caius and the emperor occupied separate rooms was, at least officially, to protect from the imperial line being rendered extinct in a single terrorist attack. However respected and exceptional the Seekers were, if the empire lost its rulers, an invasion by neighboring nations was imminent.
In truth, this was merely a pretext for Caius to distance himself from the rest of his family, whom he hated. He made sure to spend some time with everyone during the preliminaries to keep up appearances, but he had detested every second of it. Somewhere in his heart, Caius even hoped that all of them—who had forgotten the honor of ruling and were now puppets for bureaucracy—would die in a terrorist attack.
“Ah, looks like the tournament brackets are being announced.”
Mace’s voice roused Caius from his bleak ruminations. The opening ceremony had come to its conclusion, and the tournament staff were readying a spatial projector. The final matchups had already been decided via lottery, but they hadn’t been publicly announced. Everybody waited with bated breath to see who would be facing off against whom. The anticipation grew as an image was projected into the air that could be seen from any angle within the colosseum—it was the full tournament brackets.
The crowd cheered. Caius’s eyes went wide as he looked over the matchups.
“Well now, this is a surprise…” Wiseman said, intrigued.
Mace rubbed his jaw and nodded in agreement. “To think my own vice-master is going up against that bratty kid in the first round…”
Kahn’s vice-master was Mace’s eldest son, Charles Kahn. He was a prodigy among Seekers and a regalia vice-master at only twenty years of age. Charles had a gentle, handsome face, and though he had inherited his father’s white hair, the two looked nothing alike. Physical differences aside, he had all of Mace’s strengths as a Seeker.
Charles was an A-Rank Lancer, a Terminator. He wielded a long, thin halberd as if it were an extension of his own body, and he’d been active in battle since the age of just ten. This had made him into a powerful figure among Seekers, and one with twenty-some lord-level beasts under his belt.
No matter the battlefield, Charles’s pure-white armor remained entirely untarnished, as if he were a killing doll—the very reason he was known as the Pristine Massacre.
Talent, strength, experience—in all areas, Charles outmatched Noel. It was a horrible matchup in every way. Even if Noel was to somehow put up a good fight, Charles would not fall to any ordinary Talker.
Caius felt a cold drop of sweat run down his cheek. He had put his faith in Noel and cooperated with the young man. His reputation would be ruined if the Talker faced defeat in the first match of the finals. No matter how successful the event was, it was essential that Noel prove his worth here and now.
“All that talk just to be wiped out in the first match…” Wiseman muttered with a derisive chuckle. “If I were him I would likely kill myself of embarrassment.”
Mace chortled. “I told Charles he should come out at full strength, no matter the opponent. He will not let pride get the better of him. I feel bad for the Talker brat, but that match will end in seconds.”
The two regalia clan masters had already assumed Noel’s defeat. Caius wanted to believe in the Talker—he had supported him this far, after all—but doubt and uncertainty took root in his heart.
“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” whispered Alma beside him, so quietly only he could hear. “Noel will win.”
“What?”
“He is much stronger than you think.”
“So I can put my trust in him?”
Caius asked the question with lingering suspicion, but Alma answered only with the hint of a smile. She did not appear to be lying. In any case, now that he had come this far, Caius had no choice but to believe that Noel would emerge victorious. He sat up straight in his chair and laid eyes on the ring below.
“Show me that the power you used to defeat Johann was no mere lie,” he murmured.
In the ring below, the fight between Noel and Charles was about to begin.
“Noel’s mana density check, clear.”
One of the tournament staff had used a small measuring device to check my mana levels, proving that I hadn’t used any buffs prior to the start of the match. The Seven Star Cup rules permitted only two registered skills per competitor, so using any other skill during or before the match was grounds for immediate disqualification. In short, the device helped weed out cheating.
“Here, equip this.”
I was given an armband—my link to the Megalith. As long as I had the band equipped, it would absorb any damage I received in the ring. But if that damage surpassed permissible limits, I would be rendered immobile. This piece of special equipment was the key to the tournament.
After I put on the armband, I looked over at my opponent, Charles Kahn. He still hadn’t finished his mana density check, so one of the female tournament staff was chasing him around.
“Stop moving! Stay still!”
Charles ignored the shouts, choosing instead to strike a variety of poses for the crowd. His halberd swung all over the place as he did, making the mana check practically impossible. For whatever reason, Charles’s cornerman was tossing rose petals in the air around him, making the mana checker even angrier.
“Cool your head, my lovely friend!” said Charles with a laugh. “I would stand still for you if I could, but my fans simply will not allow it! Isn’t that right, everyone?”
The colosseum roared with support as Charles blew them a kiss. The women in the crowd were especially passionate, and Charles responded with exaggerated gestures.
“Oh, the tragedy!” he cried. “My path is blocked by an angel! But fear not! For I will overcome the trial set before me!”
Charles once again burst into laughter, much to the frustration of the mana checker.
“I don’t care!” the annoyed staffer snapped. “Just stop moving! You’ll get disqualified, you know?!”
As I vacantly watched their exchange, my own cornerman came to my side: Leon.
“Guy’s not taking you seriously, is he?” Leon asked. “We can’t take him lightly, though.”
“I know. He’s laying it on thick, but he hasn’t let his guard down since he saw me. He is Kahn’s vice-master, after all.”
“We have to assume he’s already prepared a countermeasure to you-know-what.”