Chapter 153

There was a huge, luxurious inn in the center of Reinhardt with no less than three floors, yet everyone staying there was a Hubalt Empire official. During the Master Battle, the organizers thought it would be a good idea to provide free lodging to national representatives and their entourages.

The important thing was that all of the occupants wore grim expressions.

Someone slammed the inn’s door open. “Hurry, it’s urgent!”

“What happened?” High Priest Herald tilted his head.

“It’s… the first person to drop out of the Master Battle was announced.”

“Dropped out?”

“Who was it?” Modrian asked with a puzzled expression.

“It was Duke Altsma. Just now, the Swallow Empire that he’d be withdrawing from the Battle because of his poor health. So—”

“What a surprise…” The High Priest sighed deeply. “The proud Duke withdrew just because of his poor health…”

Modrian made a small noise of affirmation.

“It’s surprising that Duke Altsma, but it won’t impact the Swallow Empire greatly. They still have two more contestants.”

“Then… we have to make a decision now.” The High Priest let out a smaller sigh. “Number 21… We’re lucky enough to be last, but Sir Christian is not fit to fight.”

“The Battle is split between morning and afternoon—two battles a day. In other words, the first round will end in less than two weeks, including vacation days. If Sir Christian doesn’t regain consciousness before then, he won’t make it…”

The High Priest’s pensive expression darkened.

“Even if he fights last, he needs time for his health to recover. It will take him months, at least.”

The inn was silent for a while.

“Whoa… This is a big deal. If you withdraw, how are you going to face the Emperor after he put so much hope into you?” The Marquis of Moreland, representing the officials of the Hubalt Emperor, shook his head.

Modrian and Herald grimaced. The unique dual-monarch structure of the Holy Empire entailed. a complex and subtle faction relationship.

Someone slammed their hand against the table.

“What sort of embarrassment is this, at such a critical juncture?” an obese aristocrat raged. “Sir Modiran and High Priest Herald—were the two of you really there at all?!”

“Are you suggesting we lied, Count Ford?” Modrian’s brow furrowed

“This doesn’t make any sense! Are you saying that the God’s Tears shattered like candy, and Sir Christian can’t heal fast enough even with the Saint and High Priest Herald’s help? And what else—his body is full of magic?” Count Ford grumbled. “Yeah, undead have definitely appeared on the continent—but no matter how I think about it, there’s no way you should’ve come back empty-handed?”

“What were we supposed to do?” Modrian scowled.

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? There was someone else there! Sir Christian, the representative of our great Hubalt Empire, student of the Knight of God, Sir Jean Sebastian Chrysler—are you telling us that he was mangled by a fifteen-year-old boy?”

“Count Ford, please don’t raise your voice.” Modrian’s icy eyes narrowed.

“Hooh…” Count Ford trembled under Modrian’s gaze and took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Fine. One thing, however, must be made clear.” His eyes gleamed. “His Majesty the Emperor, unlike His Majesty the Pope, wants to know the truth. However, understanding the truth from your words is impossible. Thus, us nobles will immediately begin our own investigation.”

“No—”

Herald stepped forward, interrupting Modrian.

“High Priest Herald?”

“Count Ford. Could you please elaborate, in detail, your plan for your investigation?”

“It is what it is. We will investigate Joshua Sanders.”

“Well…” The High Priest sighed deeply. “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Our knights will monitor him closely during the Master Battle. If they find anything suspicious… I will kill him if needed, in the name of the Empire.”

Modrian and Herald’s eyes widened.

“The Avalon Empire… are you suggesting you want to start a war?”

“How long have we been watching Avalon?” Modrian asked blankly.

“Heh.” Count Ford snorted. “He must be related to Sir Christian if Sir Christian really is infested with magic. The Holy Father can’t say anything if we just find evidence.” Count Ford glanced at the two men.

The existence of the pope meant that Imperial power in Hubalt was somewhat weak. The priests were not afraid to get involved in mortal politics, and high-ranking priests aspired to more power and privilege than ordinary aristocraft. Count Ford didn’t like that.

How can you be a man of God when you dabble in all kinds of hypocrisy?

There were so many unclear things in the current situation, but he was trying to work through it.

God’s blessings and all that bullshit… Count Ford’s expression hardened.

“Anyways, you both know now. Only when we return to the Empire will we be able to end the internal strife.”

The High Priest pondered for a moment and then nodded. “For now, let’s go with Count Ford’s plan.”

“Hey, Herald?”

Herald shook his head at Modrian.

“Priests and paladins, please cooperate with the investigation as much as possible. I do hope you will do your best to avoid any ‘accidents’.”

Modrian seemed mollified. The High Priest would keep an eye on it.

Obviously, there were a lot of suspicious parts. A matter as sensitive as this could devolve into an international issue.

That old-fashioned codger! Come on! Count Ford was gnashing his teeth inwardly. If I find anything suspicious, I’m not going to wait!

“Then you’ll see!” Count Ford turned to Marquis Moreland. “Leave this to me, Marquis.”

“If that’s what you wish, then please.”

Count Ford was pleased—however, none of them knew that all of this would soon become irrelevant.

Reinhardt’s sky was lit up by unique magical firecrackers. Today was a festival with all the people of the continent—today was the day of the opening match of the Master Battle, a showdown of the strong.

A sea of people—over 10,000 people—watched the stage in the center of the colosseum, eagerly waiting for the first match to begin.

“Here it comes! Your first competitors are entering!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” The audience shouted and screamed, raising a deafening cacophony.

One one side, the crowd was cheering for Joshua—especially the noble women.

“Little Master! Show me that age isn’t everything!”

“Show me that the Empire of Knights isn’t just a name!”

“Joshua Sanders, fight!”

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaaa! So handsome!”

On the other side, the voices of men dominated.

“Jail the Imperial bastards!”

“He’s half your age! Show me a veteran’s dignity!”

“Don’t lose to that stupid bastard!”

“Knight of Steel, fight!”

Babylon grinned at Joshua.

“Did you sleep well? I was so nervous but I slept quite a bit. My mother must’ve been holding my hand.”

When Joshua remained silent after a minute, the moderator spoke up.

“Any accidents that occur during the Master Battle are the sole responsibility of the involved parties. However, you may declare your surrender at any time, and any attacks after surrender will disqualify you from the competition. Be careful.” The moderator then quickly descended from the stage. “Then let’s begin right away!”

Babylon calmly drew his sword.

“Don’t be too nervous, just come at me. But since I’m the oldest, the first—”

“How boring.”

“What?” Babylon watched disbelievingly as Joshua drew Lugia from its subspace.

“You’re more powerful so I thought you might be different… but no. You’re not that different at all—especially since you judge people based on appearance.”

“Oh? Our genius Young Master must have been thinking about my words.” Babylon nodded to himself. “Well then, come in and see—”

“You were going to say you’d conceded the first move, didn’t you?”

“Yeah—”

Babylon suddenly stiffened. A storm of force poured out from the other side of the arena.

“Unless you want to regret it for the rest of your life, I think it’d be better for you to stop thinking and start acting.”