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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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Chapter 43: The Duke of Whitewood
The tournament arena.
As we began stepping onto the stage, murmurs erupted from the VIP section.
“Oh, isn’t that Sharin Sazaris, the Blue Tower Master’s daughter?”
“Whoa, a big shot has appeared.”
“Hmm, but wasn’t she adopted?”
“What does that matter? She was top of her magic class and born with Mirinae! That’s all that counts!”
As expected, the name most frequently mentioned among the VIPs was Sharin.
The gift of Mirinae—the ultimate talent for a mage.
Sharin, born with this rare gift, was so exceptional that being the adopted child of the Tower Master didn’t seem to matter in the least.
Of course...
“...Hmph.”
Sharin herself wasn’t exactly thrilled about the mention of her adoption.
Her piercing gaze was practically drilling holes into the back of my head.
She was likely recalling the promise I’d made when convincing her to join the team.
I’d offered her a way to strike back at her adoptive father, the Tower Master.
She hadn’t pressed me for details at the time, but it was clearly still weighing on her mind.
“But why isn’t Sharin the team leader?”
“Hannon? Never heard of him.”
“But his hair and eye color… they look just like…”
Before I knew it, the VIPs’ attention shifted from Sharin to me.
My hair and eye color were an exact match to those of Iris, who had appeared earlier.
That could only mean one thing—they’d also figured out my lineage.
The Duchy of Robliage.
They now knew I was descended from that prestigious family.
However, my surname wasn’t Robliage but Irey.
This discrepancy seemed to spark curiosity among some of the VIPs.
“Interesting.”
Except for one person.
The woman watching me with bright yellow eyes filled with amusement.
Her snow-white hair, bizarrely curling eyes, and the flowing cape draped over her shoulders revealed a stunning, otherworldly figure.
She laughed as if she were enjoying an entertaining spectacle.
In the Hysirion Empire, there are four dukes in total.
She was the one who ruled over the eastern duchy.
The Duke of Whitewood.
The longest-standing duke since the founding of the Hysirion Empire.
She’s taken an interest in me, just as I expected.
Even from this distance, her presence exuded an overwhelming aura of danger.
My steel-hardened skin quivered instinctively, as if urging me to avert her gaze immediately.
But I couldn’t afford to be intimidated.
Not with what lay ahead.
I turned my back on the Duke of Whitewood’s piercing stare and stepped onto the arena.
The lingering gazes from the crowd disappeared in an instant.
Thanks to the protective magic enveloping the arena.
“Seeing it up close, this magic is even more fascinating,”
Sharin remarked, scanning the barrier with interest.
“Don’t even think about dismantling it.”
“Who do you take me for?”
A troublemaker.
I lifted my head, not knowing what unpredictable move Sharin might pull next.
“Seron.”
“Huh? Uh, what?”
Startled, Seron clutched her axe tightly as she responded.
Unlike me, her attention was focused elsewhere.
There, a middle-aged man who bore an uncanny resemblance to her was smiling brightly, holding a banner that read, “Go, my daughter! You can do it!”
It was obvious—Seron was nervous because her father had come to watch.
“Only we’ll take on the Apostles for the first five rounds.”
The group tournament had a total of ten Apostles.
Naturally, the rounds lasted up to ten as well.
Since the difficulty of the Apostles increased in the later rounds, it was most efficient for Seron and me, the strongest in stamina, to handle the early stages.
I glanced at Seron with a smirk.
“If you’re nervous, say so. I’ll switch you out.”
A vein throbbed on Seron’s forehead.
“Nervous? Me? Never!”
She swung her axe threateningly in response.
“Just watch, Princess Potato. I’ll take them down faster than you!”
Wasting energy already.
“Card, Grantoni—stay ready. Sharin, wait until I call you.”
“Do your best out there.”
“Hehe, this is gonna be fun.”
“I should’ve warmed up more…”
After hearing everyone’s responses, I rolled up my sleeves.
And as I raised my hand to signal readiness—
Boom!
The ground shook as a colossal ox-shaped Apostle emerged.
Round 1: Water Ox Apostle.
Tick!
Simultaneously, the clock measuring the battle time began ticking.
Seron and I lunged toward the Apostle in unison, feet pounding the ground.
Unlike the earlier match with Iris, this Apostle showed no signs of being easy prey.
Its arms swelled to massive proportions as it readied itself for battle.
It swung a fist, massive as my head, straight at me as I closed in.
I tilted my head, narrowly dodging the blow.
The weight of its punch was palpable as it whooshed past me.
Just imagining Iris cutting this thing down with a single slash filled me with renewed awe at her strength.
While I was evading, Seron dove into the Apostle’s chest.
In retaliation, it unleashed a torrent of water from its mouth.
“Argh, ugh!”
Seron hastily split the water blast with her axe, but the spray drenched her completely, leaving her looking like a wet rat.
Her soaked clothes clung to her, revealing her pale skin and the faint outline of the undergarments beneath her shirt.
“MooOOO!”
The Apostle bellowed as it bucked wildly, blowing air through its nostrils.
Thud!
I leapt onto its head, grasping it firmly.
Seeing it snort like that somehow ticked me off.
The Apostle flinched, its clear, innocent eyes glancing up at me through my fingers.
‘Magic Engraving: Flame.’
Whoosh!
The moment my engraving activated, intense flames flared up from my fingertips.
Crunch!
With the combined power of heat and my grip, I crushed its head.
The Apostle collapsed, lifeless, ceasing its struggles.
Catching my breath, I glanced at Seron.
She was coughing, spitting out water she had swallowed.
“Ugh, why does it taste salty?”
“Probably milk. Anyway, dry off. I’m not into peeking at your underwear.”
Seron suddenly checked herself and flinched.
She shrank back as if trying to cover herself and shouted,
"Ahhh! This isn’t underwear, it’s a shirt! What are you thinking?!"
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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"I’m not thinking anything."
"...That makes me mad in its own way!"
As they exchanged trivial banter, the second Apostle began to reveal itself.
Its torso was human, but below the waist, it was a spider—a spider Apostle.
There was no time to waste arguing with Seron.
Realizing this, she pouted and gripped her axe tightly.
"Let’s keep going."
Seron and I dashed forward again.
* * *
Meanwhile, outside, where Hannon’s team’s match was taking place,
the audience in the VIP section showed signs of boredom.
"When is Sharin going to step in?"
"Seems like everyone except those two has been holding back since earlier."
Perhaps it was because Iris’s earlier battle left such a strong impression.
Even though Hannon and Seron were clearly subjugating Apostles faster than the average third-year students, the crowd’s reaction was indifferent.
They couldn’t help but subconsciously compare them to Iris.
Hannon and Seron fought well.
Unlike Iris, who finished off the Apostles in a single blow, they managed to defeat the second Apostle within a reasonably short time.
From the third Apostle onward, Card and Grantoni began to take a more active role.
Card’s magic was shadow magic.
The shadows that grew beneath him launched precise and fatal attacks during Hannon and Seron’s battles.
Grantoni’s necromancy also offered excellent support.
Not only did he create footholds for Hannon and Seron to leap from anywhere, but he also immobilized the Apostles.
Their teamwork was impeccable.
In particular, Hannon’s commands were perfectly suited to each Apostle as they appeared.
It was as if he had a complete understanding of the Apostles beforehand.
Granted, thanks to the third years and Iris’s team earlier, all the Apostles had already been revealed.
Even so, Hannon’s methods of countering the Apostles were optimized.
"Hmm?"
"That boy..."
Among the VIPs, some began to notice this and gave Hannon a curious look.
Hannon’s knowledge of and composure against the Apostles were far beyond what one would expect from a second-year in their first semester.
"So dull."
"I was hoping to see Sharin Sazaris’s magic."
However, others remained oblivious.
Hannon’s strategies, while highly efficient, offered little spectacle for untrained eyes.
This lack of excitement came mainly from those who lacked the skill to have ever ventured into a Demon’s Dungeon themselves.
In any elite group, there are always those who have earned their positions through talent and those who owe their status to fortunate circumstances.
The VIP section was beginning to split into these two camps.
Among them, one person from the former camp squinted her eyes like a sly fox.
"Ho, hoho, what an interesting boy."
She was the Duchess of Whitewood, the oldest duke in the empire and a living witness to its history.
She was now watching the match with far greater interest than during Iris’s time.
A golden gleam flashed briefly through her eyes.
"Duchess, does the vigor of youth amuse you so much?"
A one-eyed attendant standing behind her, wearing an eyepatch, asked.
Hearing his voice, the duchess tapped her long fingers against her chin.
"The vigor of youth is always a joy to behold. Like flames burning brightly, it’s hard to look away."
"You seem to be enjoying yourself more than usual, though."
The attendant’s observation was accurate.
The duchess was unusually cheerful today.
The reason was simple.
It was all because of one boy who had caught her eye.
"Steel empress..."
She muttered to herself, her gaze sharpening.
Having lived since the days of the Hysirion Dynasty, the duchess had seen her fair share of mysteries.
Though rare, such anomalies existed.
And sometimes, among them, truly extraordinary ones would appear.
Just like now.
"Heh, heh-heh-heh."
Watching Hannon ignite his flames, the duchess couldn’t suppress her laughter.
What kind of madman would carve magical inscriptions directly onto their own body?
And not just any inscriptions, but the now-abandoned magic runes once considered a relic of the past.
‘Magic runes and mysteries have a peculiar synergy.’
As someone who had lived for centuries and possessed vast knowledge, the duchess chuckled softly.
‘I wonder if he did it knowingly or out of ignorance.’
Either way, it had been a long time since something so entertaining had appeared.
She had come expecting to observe the famed Third Princess’s growth, only to discover an unexpected new amusement.
The duchess idly swung her long leg under her seat.
‘Now then.’
How much will you prove your worth?
As someone who had yet to pledge her allegiance to either the First Prince or the Third Princess, she let out a chilling laugh at the thought of her newfound interest.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Clara]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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