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Chapter 2: Let the Losers’ Rounds Begin
The more important one was, the more confidently they walked, putting on a face as if they weren’t evil, as if they had never harmed a person in their life.
Peel back the layers and it was often untrue, though.
Three men walked through the Altoire warehouse district that evening and were greeted by a man in a black suit.
“Invitation, please.”
The man in the middle—the one dressed most formally of the three—silently pulled out a black envelope.
Ŵёb̆ ñ o v.е l Е nū ṁ а̄
“Allow me to confirm... Do excuse me, Master Grieg.”
Grieg Klett was one of the faces of the Vanderouge underworld. Crafty and cunning, business and economics were his forte, and he owned many successful ventures both above and below board. He was a man who had fought his way to his position through smarts rather than physical prowess. By his side today were two men: One was a young but bulky man named Roa who was his right-hand man, bodyguard and most trusted confidant, and the other a man rumored to be ex-military named Oltar.
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“This way.”
After confirming that all three of them were listed on the invite, the black-suit led them to a warehouse as he had been ordered. Inside were several people...
“Hey there. Been a little while, Grieg.”
...with only one man sitting at the table. He closed a book when they entered.
Е́ n̈ û mâ.ĩ d̀
Although this was a warehouse, it looked more like a large living room. Although parts of the crate were visible enough to destroy the illusion, it was fully furnished. It all felt mismatched, but it worked in its own way.
“Thank you for the invitation, Kaffes.”
The man sitting down was Kaffes Jacks, ruler of Altoire’s underworld.
“The pleasure is all mine. Please, sit.”
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The two of them had cooperated and argued over much in the past through their underworld connection, but their relationship wasn’t bad. They were both good with money, so they much preferred to stay on each other’s good sides—there was nothing to be gained by them clashing, whether in work or in private. The only time they would challenge the other was if they knew there was the chance of success. That mutual understanding made it much easier for them to get along.
“The martial arts tournament became a much bigger deal than I was anticipating,” Grieg admitted as he sat down across from Kaffes. His two bodyguards stood behind him, intimidating Kaffes. Not intentionally, but they were both large men in a way that they looked naturally intimidating.
Wе b́ n̈о v́ el̃ Е ṅum.a
That said, they were most definitely on guard—if Kaffes made one wrong move, he would immediately be attacked. But the same could be said for Kaffes’s own men. All the black-suits in the warehouse were just as wary of Grieg and his men.
The air in the room was suffocating; there was an uncomfortable tension in the air that felt as if the smallest thing could set off an explosion, like there were large quantities of gunpowder mixed into the air. The only ones pretending there was nothing amiss were the two seated in the eye of the storm. Both were authority figures in the underworld—what they lacked in physical strength, they more than made up for with incredible levels of nerve and courage.
“I’m as surprised as you are,” Kaffes said. “I’ve marveled at the sheer scale of it more than once these past few days. Apparently, investments were coming in from so many places that it just naturally grew to this size. Never mind a martial arts tournament, this is the first time I’ve even experienced any event this big.”
The topic of discussion was unsurprisingly the ongoing martial arts tournament. That was the whole reason Grieg was in the country to begin with.
“Do you mean to say it was a surprise to the hosts as well?”
“That’s what I’ve heard, but this is a state-run event. You know His Majesty—I can only imagine he’d predicted more than he’s letting on.”
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This tournament was being organized by the state—in other words, the current King of Altoire, Hyurence Altoire, was taking the reins.
“True. Someone like the King of Altoire no doubt has everyone dancing in the palm of his hand right about now.”
In all the political and economic developments of Altoire so far, and now this large-scale event, there was not a single underdeveloped plan in sight. When they spoke of Altoire being a lover of peace, they did not mean it in a derogatory sense. Those who did clearly were of no threat. For those in the know, the Peace-Loving Kingdom was a compliment toward the statesmen who had maintained Altoire’s peace for all these years. Not that there were many countries or lands able to be ruled by the incompetent nowadays what with how easily their citizens could escape in this day and age.
“Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you. There are still a few things I need to do today. I should have some time in a few days, though.”
“All right. Let us take our time while watching the losers’ matches, then.”
Е n ŭm̄_ӓ
After discussing the days ahead in a little more detail, Grieg left the warehouse.
The moment he was in his private room, Grieg smiled. “Heh... This sounds like it’s gonna be fun.”
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They had returned to the luxury hotel they would be staying in for the coming month. Grieg had booked a large family room that cost over a million krams a night, but for him, dropping that amount of money barely tickled. He had brought three more of his men in addition to Roa and Oltar who would also be staying in the same room. Naturally, he had brought more than five people on this excursion, but the rest were undercover, so they would be staying elsewhere.
“Grieg, sir, what are we gonna do now?” Roa asked while he poured some liquor from the bar counter that was part of the room—for the record, that drink was for himself.
“We will continue according to plan. I need you all to observe the losers’ matches and gather as much data about the fighters as possible. I’ll finish up our work.”
“You’re gonna work even while we’re traveling?”
Ẃeb̌ n̈ ov̄еl̆ Ë n̆ù m̂ а̌
“Where else do you think your food and pay’s coming from, huh?”
“Heh heh. Thanks, boss.”
“Tch.” Grieg couldn’t help but click his tongue in annoyance. Roa’s attitude was starting to get a bit too impolite, even for him. “You’re lucky you’re good at your job, kid, or you’d have been fired a hundred times over by now.”
“Ha ha ha!”
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Grieg always looked solely at his men’s true potential. Even if they were a bit difficult to handle, so long as the skill was there, he would put them in positions of power.
Oltar was more than aware that whether good or evil, everything was judged based on profit and efficiency. Greig was the type of person he wished to have in charge of the army. He was a much more respectable man than the incompetents who let soldiers die out of a half-baked sense of obligatory righteousness.
W̌ еb̌nо̄ vеl Еn̂ü_m â
“Oltar, with me.”
Grieg ignored Roa’s continuous laughter and called Oltar over—most likely to discuss something to do with their work. Their boss headed for the room he’d chosen as his own and sat at his desk with Oltar standing opposite.
“I leave you in charge while you’re all out. The priorities haven’t changed.”
The priorities. Oltar had been told about the plan before they’d come to Altoire. Grieg was telling him this to confirm the meeting with Kaffes hadn’t changed anything. They’d gone into the meeting knowing the information gathered there could change their plans.
“Does that mean everything’s going according to your predictions?”
“Yup. Kaffes called us here with the intention of eating us alive.” Grieg let out a short cackle. His expression was truly villainous now. “From Vanderouge there’s me, Frozen Geitz, and Lesten. From Wu Haitong, there’s Keya Kin and Zen Fowah. There are a couple other names we’ve been hearing recently too, but...well, it’s exactly the people you’d think.”
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They were the names of renowned villains with their own hold on the underworlds in the surrounding countries. Every one of them was a leading figure of their respective underworlds and Kaffes had invited all of them. “Would you like to make a bet on the coming martial arts tournament?” he’d said. It sounded like all of them had agreed to join in, including Grieg.
“Then are you saying that there is no ulterior motive?”
“Not from my reading. How did you read him, Oltar?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t read the hearts of those who are genuinely evil, and that includes you.”
“I see. In that case, believe in my judgment.”
Whatever the reality was, if there was no ulterior motive, then whether he believed or didn’t wouldn’t matter.
Е n̆ũm̌ а
“Am I right in saying that the most you’re doing is betting?”
“You are. But that’s why it’s so scary.” Grieg clasped his hands together and leaned back in the chair. “It’s as I said—Kaffes will likely bet with the intention of completely bankrupting us. That’s why he doesn’t need some fancy trick up his sleeve. It’s an illegal bet, but he intends to take us down fair and square. Plus...” Grieg’s wicked smile deepened. “He invited me and me alone days earlier than intended. Why? Because he wants my cooperation. He wants me to help in exchange for taking someone down. There is no reason for me to accept. But if working with him lets us take an eyesore out of the equation, then it benefits me too.”
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This would benefit Grieg—in other words, it would also benefit Vanderouge. This man was a villain, but he was also a successful businessman who was a major player in the Vanderouge economy. He didn’t even mind that the patriotic Oltar was keeping an eye on him; he knew how to toe the line better than anyone. That was why he was even making use of Oltar while he was here. He felt no shame in using the man so freely, whether it was as the trainer of his men, or as a bodyguard that could serve as a trustworthy pawn.
“I’ll let you keep an eye on me, but in exchange, you need to listen to my orders.” That was the deal.
“Kaffes will take all the risk,” Grieg continued. “And a pest will potentially be removed all while I get to remain in safety. All I have to do is give a little push. Even if I fail, there’s no risk to me. This is going to be a very worthwhile stay indeed.”
How fascinating. It caught Oltar by surprise that political ploys were happening even beyond the government and the aristocracy. These villains were living in an underworld society where the law had no power. In that society there was a power struggle and money game not unlike governmental politics. In a lawless space such as this, even violence was an option for achieving one’s goals.
Е̄ n̆ u m̀а̃ . і̌d̃
Several years had passed since Oltar had left the army and began serving this man. Over that time, he had started to realize something about himself: He might be more suited to underworld work. Oltar himself was someone who didn’t hesitate to strike if it meant achieving his goals. Back when he served, there were often things he found difficult to do because there were so many laws and regulations and codes of conduct.
Had it just been simple difficulties, perhaps he could have tolerated it. But so many of his brothers-in-arms and subordinates had died because they’d chosen only the most law-abiding options. If they had died for the sake of the country, then he could’ve accepted their deaths, but...
Oltar had been made painfully aware. When it came to decisions on the ground, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do. What could those operators getting to remain safe and sound with only their maps and documents possibly know? It was clearly much freer working in the underworld where there were no laws or regulations to restrict him.
“Allow me to confirm. My mission is to take the role of commander and use your men to gather information. The priority is the investigation into Kaffes Jacks and those he has called to the country, and then the tournament competitors. Am I right?”
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“You’ve got it. Oh, but leave Roa and Morrie, would you? I’m gonna have them watch the losers’ matches while guarding me.”
By watch, he likely meant analyzing the fighters. He needed to gather information for the betting, most likely using those “MagiPads.”
Е n ù m а̌
“What about Leeno? Are you sure we don’t need to look into her?” Leeno the adventurer was someone that both Grieg and Oltar had a bit of a history with. To those who knew of her ability, it was a given that she was the favorite to win the tournament. With popularity, though, came attention, and that meant it would be impossible for them to approach her. Of course, there were still other methods they could use.
“I no longer care. Oltar, from the moment you were refused entry into the tournament, I have assumed you would not have a chance to interact with her. Given we already got off on such a bad foot, I’ve given up on ever meeting her again.”
“Inexplicable” was the only word Oltar could think of to describe the night they’d met. Someone had managed to raid one of Grieg’s businesses without being witnessed. He had no idea what happened nor did he have any idea who’d actually made their move. The events of that day faded into mystery—they attempted an investigation but came up with nothing.
That was exactly why Grieg’s instincts were setting off alarm bells in his mind. There was someone dangerous backing Leeno. Someone who was as strong as she was, that was for absolute certain. As for who that was, they had no idea. While they remained without that knowledge, it was no longer a good idea for them to approach Leeno. Grieg was not so foolish as to walk a road he could not see, especially not when Roa and Oltar, two people he had absolute confidence in the strength of, had been knocked out by this unknown assailant.
There was a good chance that they wouldn’t get away with just a little slap on the wrist if they were caught again.
“Understood. I will begin the operation, then.”
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“Don’t start any fights, you hear me? The shadows of Altoire will be watching you always.”
“Of course. I’ll be careful.”
“Here we are at the arena. Whether they spend their time training or resting, all of our fighters are putting careful consideration into their condition. Let’s see if we can talk to some of...”
The wolf beastkin standing among several other competitors in the small locker room looked up when he heard footsteps approaching.
“Zeon, you’re up.”
At the sound of his name being called, he moved to the door.
Е̇nũ m̃а̃ .і̊d
On the other side of the locker room’s MagiPad, those who had already advanced to the main matches of the tournament were smiling under the bright sun. It was an entirely different world to the dark, depressing room the losers had all been shoved into.
No matter. Everyone present was letting their bloodthirst simmer. There weren’t many slots available, but there was still a chance to make it to the other side.
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Zeon left the room and headed in the direction the staff were pointing—out into the sun.
“Woooooooo!”
Immediately, he was deafened by the cheering. He’d been able to hear the crowd from the locker room, but being showered with their enthusiasm directly had quite the impact. The walkway through the massive audience to the ring was narrow, the hands reaching out from the audience nearly brushing his shoulders.
“Zeon! Zeon! Zeon!”
Ēńûm̊ā. ì_d
Many of them were yelling his name, almost as if this were already the main tournament. It was a weekday and yet so many people had come. Did they not have work?
Zeon wasn’t a fan of attention and he usually tried to avoid anything that would gather too much of it. But here, he understood.
He understood his fellow adventurers who wanted to stand out, who wanted everyone’s eyes on them. He understood those who took pride in their achievements, flaunted their power, and showed off to everyone around them. There were many fighters like that in the land of beastkin, but Zeon had never felt that desire...until now, that is.
I see. This is it. This is the feeling they crave.
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“Zeon! Zeon!”
Zeon suddenly heard a young voice from beside him as he walked down the aisle. It was a small boy, maybe about five or six years old. He was desperately reaching out with his tiny arm and tiny hand.
Е ñ ū ḿ а
Zeon silently looked at the reaching hand and then lightly tapped his own against it. He’d always hated being the center of attention. He’d never liked being treated like a show. He’d never enjoyed fighting for the sake of other people’s entertainment. He hadn’t been that enthusiastic about this tournament.
But here, he felt just a little bit more motivation well up inside him. He couldn’t care less about the adults cheering for him, but if even a small child like that boy was willing to cheer for him, then he couldn’t make a fool of himself here.
The losers’ matches were only just beginning.
The public square in the royal capital was always open for the citizens to use as they pleased. They could hold events, open food stalls so long as they had a permit, and even put on performances of any kind. It was what the space was for.
Usually, it was a quiet place to relax, filled with couples talking between themselves, musicians practicing their instruments, and actors rehearsing. But today’s event was far from relaxing—today, it had become one of the arenas for the losers’ matches.
The weapons division was having their matches inside, but since the bare-handed division had far fewer competitors, it was being held in the park instead. It was all set up so that the audience and the ring were as close as possible. In other words, it was a place where spectators could watch a fistfight from up close. They’d even prepared extra lighting so the matches could continue into the night.
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If it started raining, then the bare-handed fights would be moved indoors as well, since rain was the one downside of an outdoor tournament. There were plans to use magic to fend off any rain during the main matches, but that was an expense they didn’t feel was necessary for the losers’ rounds.
“Good job, Zeon!”
Sonicspeed Zeon won his first match easily. He stepped out of the ring and the staff directed him down the winners’ path...and that was where he got caught. Lying in wait was a production crew with camera at the ready. There was also Kikirira Amon, the kid who’d run up to him once before and said he had dog ears.
He’d been caught so off guard that he’d quickly made his escape back then, but during his stay, he’d watched some magivision and finally understood what was going on: The girl had run up to him because she’d wanted to interview him. Zeon realized he’d made the right call in making his escape and he’d been running away from them ever since.
Perhaps it was pointless to bother now. After seeing everyone’s reaction, he’d come to realize this was just the kind of event the martial arts tournament was. He stood out everywhere he walked, became a spectacle to captivate and bring forth the passion of those watching. Altoire was such an urban land that such a festival only made sense.
There was something similar back home. It was both tradition and ritual, but it helped for Zeon to view it as a much wider scale version of that.
Wе̌ b̃ n ӧv́ е l È ǹûmа
“Oh... Thanks.” Zeon stopped and responded to Kikirira’s enthusiastic greeting. He’d never been a big talker, so he hoped they would forgive how curt he sounded.
“Please let me interview you! Oh, don’t worry, it’s not difficult at all. You just need to respond to anything I ask, but of course if you don’t want to answer you don’t have to! Okay? Okay, let’s go!”
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The girl didn’t seem to notice or care about his demeanor as she fired off an explanation at light speed and then planted herself next to Zeon. She was definitely the pushy type.
Kikirira turned to the camera. “Here we have Sonicspeed Zeon, a famous adventurer! With popularity and strength in spades, he was highly regarded as a shoo-in for the main matches by the experts, but he just barely lost in preliminaries and is now here for another chance!”
Only just? As far as Zeon was concerned, he lost by a mile in a really pitiful manner. This girl knew how to pour salt on a wound.
“Congratulations on your first win! You looked like you barely broke a sweat during that, but is that how it felt?!”
We b̊ ñǒ ṽè l Е ṅù m̄â
“Y-Yeah... I... I guess.”
“I see! It appears he did, in fact, win without breaking a sweat!”
He most definitely had. It had been a one-sided match, even with him holding back.
“There are very few openings in the main matches up for grabs. Could you tell us what is motivating you to win?!”
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His motivation... There was undoubtedly a small ember smoking away inside.
“Revenge and a desire to apologize.”
Wеbn̄ ov̄ е̃ ľ Е n ům а
“I se— Huh?! A-A desire to apologize?!”
That didn’t seem to be the response Kikirira had been expecting, enough so that even she looked flustered. But Zeon wasn’t looking at her anymore—he was staring directly at the camera, speaking to someone who was no doubt on the other side. “I didn’t underestimate him. I didn’t let my guard down. I made the best move I possibly could have and that match was the result. And yet, I can’t help but still feel I put on a pitiful display. I don’t believe I could ever apologize enough. As such, I will perform in a way that lets him go all out next time. I want to have a real match against him.”
That preliminary battle had ended with Zeon practically inflicting the finishing blow on himself. He didn’t think that his opponent had done nothing—that moment of defense was his opponent’s real strength. Zeon had been outclassed by a defense of perfect muscles. However, to onlookers, it had looked self-inflicted. And even if his opponent had the perfect defense, there was no way to deny that Zeon had lost, just like that. There was no way his opponent had gotten out all of his energy in that fight either.
“That is all I desire from the main tournament rounds.”
Zeon had originally only participated in the tournament because of his connections to the adventurer’s guild. He’d had absolutely no desire to join and he’d even thought he wouldn’t care if he was eliminated in the prelims. He didn’t care how strong the fighters were; Zeon’s real opponents were monsters. He wasn’t trained in fighting against people.
And yet, the reason he had signed up for the losers’ matches was because he wanted to fight that man again. It wasn’t to make up for his defeat or to show off his skills. It most definitely wasn’t for the guildmaster who had been grumbling away incoherently in disbelief that he had been knocked out of the tournament so early.
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It was to apologize for his shameful conduct as an opponent and, quite simply, as a loser’s revenge. These were the two things pushing him forward.
“I will make it to the next round.”
With that, Zeon walked off.
What he didn’t mention was that just a small part of his motivation was for those who were cheering him on. With such a festive air surrounding this tournament, that sort of goal fit him just fine too.
“Zeon’s really strong, huh?”
“He is.”
Е n̊ üm а
When Reliared dropped by my room to walk to class the next morning, we sat for a little while to catch a bit of yesterday’s losers’ matches. Given our jobs, it was important for us to stay in the know. We didn’t need to know everything, but making sure to watch even a little bit made all the difference.
“He looks like he’ll make it back to the next round.”
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“Do you think?” I wasn’t sure if Zeon was strong or his opponent was too weak. At the very least, their difference in strength was so stark that it was easily discernible even to an amateur’s eye.
The losers’ rounds started in the evening and went into the night. Then the recording was broadcast the next day. They must have gone at light speed to get it edited in time if we were able to catch a broadcast before school. The work was tough whether you were on the ground or not.
“Interesting...”
After the match, the recording switched to show the interview between Kikirira and Sonicspeed Zeon. Zeon was a wolf beastkin known for his authentic skill—I’d heard he was well-known among those who were familiar with the adventuring scene. I had thought that he was at least more notable than the regular rabble back when I’d met him before the preliminaries. I’d even considered that he may be able to defeat one of my students, depending on who he was matched up against. I could have easily beat him while doing my homework, but I still had my eye on him.
Е̇n ü m а.іd̊
That said, I wasn’t all that surprised that he had lost in the prelims either. We’d interacted a little when I had been going around with Rikelvita getting sketches done, but at that time, I had felt absolutely no passion from him. I realized then that he hadn’t particularly wanted to participate in the tournament.
If he’d won, anyway, then I could have accepted that too; not having your heart in it didn’t mean you weren’t strong—I would fall under that umbrella. But he definitely wasn’t strong enough to win by a huge margin, and there were plenty of other skilled fighters who could easily compete with him. If he was paired up with someone of equal strength, then the result would be decided before the fight even began.
Someone not obsessed with winning could not possibly win. Losing was the natural outcome.
That was the impression I’d had at the time, but...
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“I will make it to the next round.”
The look on Zeon’s face as he declared those words was different. The eyes of the beastkin as he announced his firm resolve through the MagiPad were not the eyes of an apathetic warrior, but of a true martial artist. If he could maintain that attitude, then he may very well make it to the next round.
Е n̂ ǔ m̊ а̊
“I would very much like to see popular strong fighters make it to the main matches,” I said.
Zeon’s preliminary defeat had been quite the talk of the town when it happened. Conversely, Gandolph’s popularity had shot through the roof after being the victor. Well, perhaps more his notoriety than his popularity. People were still theorizing about what had happened in that match. Zeon had been the one to attack and yet he had been the one to lose—it was natural for the average viewer to think it made no sense.
That said, I had personally predicted the outcome. Gandolph was tough; he’d learned to use his chi defensively in a way that hardened his muscles. Up against that, a half-hearted attack would do nothing. Rather, you could end up injuring yourself instead. It was like hitting a rock, after all.
Zeon had kicked a rock straight on without even holding back. That was why his leg had broken.
“Oh no, I didn’t notice the time. We better go or we’ll be late. I really don’t want to, though...”
“Neither do I.” I would much rather laze around and watch the rest of the matches. I was exhausted from the consecutive days of recording. I wanted to just zone out while spectating. Sure, the competitors were so weak that I could be at the peak of drowsiness and still mow them all down, but fights between people of similar skill levels were still fun to watch. Those were the kinds of matchups where martial artists truly shined. Oh, and it was a given that there would be blood too.
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Ughhh, I wanna relax. I wanna doze off while watching the matches.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t do that, so we reluctantly stood up. It was time for school. It was time for another day of fighting off the urge to sleep while we studied.
“Nia, Relia.”
When we turned to look at the classroom doorway, Josecotte Coiz was standing there. Oh my, another senior student had come calling.
“Look! It’s Josecotte!”
“Oh, um, yes...”
W е b n̈_ӧ v̄ е́ l Е ñ u̇ m̊ а̌
Our classmates excitedly swarmed her. I was getting a real sense of déjà vu.
Just like Kikirira, Josecotte had also been appearing on magivision a lot recently, so both girls were becoming quite well-known throughout the school. Josecotte’s most notable appearance so far was probably Leeno’s tournament participation announcement a year ago. At the time when everyone had been wondering who Leeno was, Josecotte had been the one to interview her. Her name and face had spread far and wide after that. Josecotte’s increasing popularity was also beginning to put the junior production crew itself on the map.
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“Is something wrong?”
Josecotte looked unsure of how to handle the children as we walked over, turning to us while also trying to calm them down. “Uh, our director said he’d like to have a short meeting about the recording...”
She means Wagnes, right?
“At lunch? We don’t have time after school.”
Еń ŭ m а. id̈
Reliared was right—our time after school was filled with recordings, so we had no time to fit in a meeting. The junior crew were likely in the same boat.
“Of course it’s at lunch. Could you come to our room? We’ll prepare food for you.”
We have to go all the way over there? I can’t say I’m a fan of the thought... Is it an issue to hold it in the cafeteria? Well, I suppose they would hold it there if they could.
Not a lot I could do, really.
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“All right. We’ll see you at lunch, then.”
This was also part of our job, after all.
Е n̆ ū m̌.а̄
I spent the next classes still trying to fend off sleep and eventually, it was lunchtime. Reliared and I rushed toward the junior production crew’s office—well, more like clubroom—far away from the main school building. Despite how we referred to them, they were a club on paper, so “clubroom” was the most suitable term for where they resided. It did sound like they were paying club fees as well.
“It’s been quite a while since I was last here,” Reliared remarked.
“Same for myself.”
When was the last time I was here?
Some of the seniors met us outside and led us to the room and we sat down at the table. Apparently, not everyone was here yet—a lot of the members were busy doing maintenance checks on their gear. They all looked quite exhausted, no doubt because of their recent harsh schedule. Unfortunately for them, the road ahead would be long.
“Sorry we’re late.”
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The students gradually filtered in with Wagnes arriving last. He must’ve been busy with various tasks for the recording.
“Ah, Young Master Neal!”
Or not.
Reliared was the happiest I’d seen her in a while as she excitedly called out Neal’s name. I was happy for her.
Yes, Wagnes had brought my brother to the meeting. Three others as well. They looked like they were a mix of elementary and middle school students—there was even a girl with them. Neal was both the smallest and likely the youngest. Add in Char Gaul, who had been working on various things behind the scenes, and that made five—suddenly, it clicked what I was looking at.
They must be the Wingroad team.
Еnû mа̀
“These five will be the Wingroad pilots we mentioned before. Thought it would be good to bring them all here so you could meet them.”
My assumption was correct, it seemed. They would be the team performing the formation flight before the professional team.
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“Let’s get the meeting started, shall we? Please, eat your lunch while you listen.”
We all ate the sandwiches that someone must have ordered from the cafeteria as we listened to Wagnes speak. Apparently, they would begin recording the formation flight rehearsals starting today. They’d already acquired the skiffs they needed and a place they could practice, and Cedony—who had provided everything to them to begin with—had even supplied them with a professional engineer. Actually, talking about them like a simple provider seemed inaccurate. They were practically sponsoring the team by this point. We’re really becoming indebted to them.
“We’d like you two to join in whenever you can,” he said to us. “Just now and again is fine. We’ve already gotten permission from Miss Hilde, so...”
So even Hildetaura had accepted this, had she?
Ẁ e̊ b̃n оṽ е̊ l̄ Е n̂ ü mа́
“Why?” Reliared asked directly. I was indeed curious myself.
“You already have two interviewers right there, don’t you?” I pointed out, nodding at Kikirira and Josecotte nearby. Right now, those girls were the faces of the junior crew. They certainly weren’t the unfamiliar faces they once were, so there was no reason not to use them.
“I hate to put it like this, but it’s the difference in popularity. If we ask the question of who would attract a greater viewership, you two definitely have more pull. Right now, people are almost too passionate about the martial arts tournament. Sure, what we would be showing would technically be related to it, but they’re likely to change the channel to watch something else. We might end up with no one watching it at all. But we have to at least try and grab people’s attention.”
Ah, so it’s to attract viewership. Honestly, it wasn’t that we were more popular, we’d just put in more hours. We were familiar faces to the magivision audience because we’d been in the industry for longer. If you asked me, their popularity was actually rising at an unnatural pace... But now wasn’t the time to think about that.
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“I understand. If that’s the case, I don’t mind helping,” I said. It was more personal for me given I outright had a relative participating to hype up the tournament. I naturally wanted to support him.
Though I wasn’t actually sure if it was necessary. The stars of the Wingroad performance would be the team here—in other words, my brother. Apparently, Wagnes and his crew weren’t aware of the popularity of Neal Liston, the successor of the Liston family.
Еn ú m̀å
Neal had only occasionally appeared on magivision, so it wasn’t always immediately obvious, but his popularity was incredible. He’d been gaining more and more passionate fans ever since his first appearance. The moment someone became his fan, they never stopped. It was very likely that he had even bigger spenders in his base than us girls.
And now, someone like him had decided to fully enter the magivision industry. I was even starting to fear his future a little. Just what would happen if Neal’s popularity continued rising endlessly? It wouldn’t be far-fetched to think it could inspire an incident we’d never imagined.
With that thought in mind, it became difficult for me to criticize Lynette for wanting to instruct Neal in matters of chi, however half-baked her teachings. Neal needed to be able to protect himself should anything happen to him.
“Of course, I’ll join too! At least...I want to, but I’m so busy...”
Reliared had no reason to refuse, except for the problem of her schedule. She only had one body; it would have been impossible for her to participate in two recordings at the same time.
I’d have to ask for adjustments to be made to my schedule myself. I doubted they’d refuse once I told them it had to do with Neal. Bendelio was the manager for the Liston production crew right now. He was a crafty one—he would definitely cooperate, I was sure of it.
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And if he didn’t cooperate, then I’d just find a way to fit it in myself. I’d do it by force if I had to.
Altoire’s martial arts tournament had become an event of international scale. We now had the chance to debut Neal Liston, the next head of the Liston family, on this grand stage. It was impossible for Bendelio to refuse.
“Of course it’s fine.”
And to no one’s surprise, Bendelio naturally accepted my request to make space for my brother’s recording with no hesitation.
I’d gone to the royal broadcasting station with Reliared again today after school. We split up at the reception and went to our respective production crews’ staff rooms. They’d managed to acquire a space to serve as a provisional broadcasting station while away from home where they could do postproduction work and hold meetings.
The Liston, Silver, and Altoire production crews were all working together right now, so it was useful to have a place where we were all gathered so we could easily hold joint meetings.
E n̈u m а̇
I was pretty sure the format would change as we went. Generally speaking, recordings belonged to the station who took it to begin with, so any highly confidential recordings being leaked would be a nightmare. Under normal circumstances, outsiders should be kept as far away as possible.
But this time, all the recordings of the tournament were being shared between the stations. We didn’t need to fear any recordings being leaked to a competitor here, whether they were recordings we wanted to keep secret, or that we had decided to scrap, or that were dangerous to show, so everyone was able to station themselves here.
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“I’d heard a little about the student formation flight from Mirko. I guess this means they’re starting for real now.”
Oh, you knew? That makes things easier. I could see the faces of all the busy nearby staff drop the moment they heard our conversation. In fact, I could hear them screaming inside, begging for no more work added on top of their current pile. But I’m sorry. It’s for my brother—I can’t let this chance pass by.
“Have you heard anything about the details of the program itself?” Bendelio asked.
“Yes. They want to make something similar to the Dreaming of Wingroad special that they broadcast a while back.”
W̆ èb n̂ôvе̌ l Е̃ ńŭ m̀а̌
“Ahh, the diary format? That was pretty interesting.”
Dreaming of Wingroad had been created by recording bits and pieces each day and then joining it all together into one. This recording would be of Neal’s team practicing. If they recorded it all at once, ninety percent of it would be of skiffs just flying around. There likely wouldn’t be much time to have interviews with the team either—this was mainly to follow their practice. Basically, they intended to simply splice together all of the exciting parts.
“Does that mean we don’t have to particularly do anything?”
“Yes. The junior production crew will be doing the recording. They just want me there as an extra. It should be enough for me alone to go.”
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“Got it. I’ll make some space in your schedule, then.”
I alone would suffice for this. It did mean I was increasing my own workload, but this was one recording I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t not be part of my brother’s real debut. Reliared said she’d also come along to help if she could get permission. I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though. Everyone was horrendously busy right now.
Е ń uṁа̂ .іd
“Here we have our team of young pilots who will be performing a Wingroad formation flight at the opening ceremony of the martial arts tournament.”
First, I introduced the team at the edge of the warehouse district. Apparently, this land was owned by Cedony Trading.
“Neeaaaaal!”
“Young Master Neal!”
“Gwaaaaaaaaaaaah! I can’t believe I’m seeing the Liston prince in person!”
Deafening us were the shrill voices of the crowd gathering just outside. Since the recording was happening after school, there were plenty of students here to watch. I could hear some deeper voices in the crowd as well. Why are there men screaming just as loud? I didn’t get it, but regardless, it was clear that almost all of them were here for Neal.
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We’d told them twice now that we needed them to lower their voices since we’d be starting our recording, but it appeared to have been no use. It might have been in part because the junior crew was filled with students only, weakening their authority, so we decided to leave them to their shouting. It wasn’t as if we could just force them off the premises either. This was the one broadcast we didn’t want to create a controversy around, so we chose to tolerate them.
The crew decided to continue with the recording, voices being caught in it be damned.
“The team is made up only of students and marks the first Wingroad team in Altoire. The leader of the team is Neal Liston...”
I went on to introduce each member of the team.
Wingroad was still an unknown sport in Altoire. It had started to become more known since it took off in the neighboring Vanderouge, but by showing it off at the opening ceremony, it would finally get the chance to spread all throughout the country.
The team was made up of two elementary students—Neal and a boy one year his senior—and three middle school students, one of which was the girl. Although Neal was the youngest of the five, he was of higher aristocratic status and had been the one to both come up with the idea and gather all of the members, so he was very quickly designated as their leader. He was the one that had made all the preparations too. The only ones with competition skiff experience were Neal and Char, so that had likely factored into the choice as well.
Е nûm̂ ă. і̇d
“Could each of you tell me what made you want to participate?”
After receiving a simple statement from each of them, my work for the junior crew was over for the day. The rest was recording their rehearsals—I didn’t need to be there for that.
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“Cut! Thank you so much!”
The moment Wagnes signaled for the recording to stop, the five students breathed a sigh of relief. While the camera had been rolling, their faces had looked serious and mature, but now, they were back to looking their age.
“Gods, that was nerve-racking.”
“So that’s what it’s like to be recorded.”
Е́ n̂_ùm̈а. і d̆
They made various similar comments to each other—this was likely the first experience for most of them.
“How was that, Nia?” Wagnes asked.
“Not bad, I think.” I was a little worried about the noise from the crowd, but everything else seemed fine. The five of them responded well to the questions, so it seemed perfectly passable as an introductory recording. Regardless, how fun or interesting the program was would completely hinge on what came after.
What would they record? How would they string it together? How would they present it? That was where it was the director’s turn to really show his stuff.
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“I’ll take my leave here, then.”
I was a little abrupt, but I had things to do. Next was the recording of the fighters receiving their formalwear. The plan was to record those meatheads trying the clothes on and interview them. They were definitely going to try and show off. Their muscles specifically.
Е̌_n̄ um̃ а́ . ї d̄
“Heading out already?” Wagnes asked. “You’re so busy.”
“Aren’t you just as busy?” The second the junior production crew were done here, they’d have to immediately pack up and go to the losers’ matches—it wasn’t long until those started.
“True, we don’t have much leeway. At least we were able to extend our curfew.”
They’d need to, what with the losers’ matches running into the night.
“Do you understand what I meant now?”
Wagnes blinked. “Huh?”
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“That you need lasting motivation, not a burst of it. Relax, and prepare your mind to be in for the long haul. These busy days will continue.”
“Ha ha... That’s true. I’d better do as you say.”
This time, what I said seemed to resonate. Stay too tense and you’ll collapse before you’re even halfway. I need to be careful too.
“I’m heading off now, Neal.”
“Good luck with your recording.”
I’ll do my best.
Ѐ nù m̈ä
Right now, our recordings centered around three different events: the interviews with the competitors, the losers’ matches, and Wingroad. The turnaround on most of the programs was quick, being broadcast only a day after the recording itself. The only exception was the Wingroad program, which would be edited after a few days of recording, but that balanced itself out by having a growing in-person audience for the training sessions. Since the rehearsals were held after school, a lot of students went to watch.
Neal’s popularity was really something else. Or, no, it wasn’t just him, was it? While they weren’t at my brother’s level, all of the members of the team were good-looking. Char was quite attractive, and the sole girl of the team was very handsome; she seemed like she would be popular with both girls and boys. Honestly, they were all so attractive I was starting to wonder if they had been picked for their looks. They all seemed like they would garner a following.
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I turned to Wagnes and asked, “Is that all you need me for today?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure...” The director crossed his arms as he thought to himself.
The recording for this show was happening gradually over each day. Today, we gave a light introduction to Wingroad skiffs. And by that, I meant a really light introduction—there was no point giving in-depth explanations to people with no interest in them, so we just covered the basics.
For this, the camera crew decided to record the skiffs while the Wingroad team were off at a meeting. This was when I realized that competition skiffs were surprisingly small. Well, maybe not the whole skiff, but the saddle itself was tiny. Apparently, the more lightweight and narrow the skiff, the faster it went or something.
Enů m̈а
The humiliation I had felt upon being too small to ride a skiff suddenly came to mind. Could I ride one of this size...? No, it might still be a little bit too big for me. My arms and legs were probably still too short. Why should I care, though? I could just run. I’d still make it to my destination at the same time if not faster.
“I feel like I want you to say something more, but what do you think, Nia?”
Ah, do you think what we have is too bland? If so, I agreed with him. All I’d done was give a boring explanation of what the skiffs were. It was like I was reading from an instruction manual. I couldn’t imagine it would be that fun to watch.
“But I don’t think I need to say anything pretentious here either.” The stars of this program were the team and Wingroad itself—I didn’t need to make myself any more prominent. Just recording the skiffs seemed perfectly fine for what they were trying to achieve.
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“You’ve got a point... I do agree, but you know, you’ve come all this way. It feels like a waste to not do anything else.”
I’d rather you didn’t expect me to do anything else.
Ӗ n ú m ȧ. ї d̄
“Director, you shouldn’t ask too much of her.”
“Yeah, Wagnes. The fact she’s here at all with her busy schedule is already a lot.”
See? Even your staff are calling you out now. But it was hard for me to judge him for it. Going by my feelings alone, I was on Wagnes’s side. What I did today wasn’t anything that couldn’t have been done by someone else. I didn’t even need to be present—voiceovers could be recorded afterward. There was no point in me being here. I understood why the director was so caught up on that.
What else could we do...? Ah, I know.
“How about we record something else, then?”
“Huh?”
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“I’m not sure if you’ll be able to use it, but I do think I can spin an interesting tale.”
“What? Here? Now?”
“Yes. We can get permission from the boy himself after, so let’s just record it for now.”
“O-Okay then.”
The camera was turned on and we began recording once again.
“Take a look over here.” I slowly walked forward, gesturing to one of the skiffs. “At a small shop in Altoire, Char Gaul had a fateful meeting with this competition skiff. The boy himself doesn’t even know how the skiff ended up in Altoire in the first place. He has since spent many long months and years gradually repairing it. While it may look like the rest of the skiffs from the outside, it is entirely different inside. If you hear one of the skiffs sounding different from the rest when they perform, what you are hearing is this skiff here.”
W̄ е.b ñ о v̄el Е ṅ ǔmа
I continued, “A professional Wingroad team from Vanderouge will be arriving in Altoire in the coming days—perhaps they will have the answers to the mystery behind this skiff. Just what sort of eventful path has this ship followed to arrive here? I am looking forward to discovering the truth together with all of you.”
That should about do it. Wagnes gave the signal and the camera stopped rolling.
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“I forgot all about that, actually,” Wagnes admitted. The story of Char’s skiff had been told on Dreaming of Wingroad, so the junior production crew were already familiar with it. Naturally, so were the viewers of the program.
“Perhaps there is some interesting drama behind it all,” I suggested. To be honest, I was fairly sure that the skiff was just something someone had smuggled into the country in the hopes of getting good money for it. But if that turned out to be the answer, then that was fine. At the end of the day, there was a mystery behind the skiff and that mystery may be revealed in the future. That alone was good enough to pique people’s curiosity. The actual answer itself wasn’t all that important.
“True. Maybe it’ll become a big story we can cover.”
Though on the other hand, depending on the results, it may end up something to be shelved, such as if the way it was procured was dangerous or a Vanderouge official had been the one to smuggle it. One wrong move and it could become an international scandal.
Е n ǔ mа̀.
“Perhaps this will turn out to be tied to some dramatic incident,” I added.
Wagnes laughed at that. “Hey, at least it would be a massive scoop if it did.”
Wagnes and his staff were most likely all thinking the same thing: The skiff was probably smuggled. That was why they were able to laugh like it was nothing—they were certain it wasn’t some huge mystery.
But it turned out that the truth behind this skiff was a much larger secret than anyone could’ve anticipated...
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Sorry, that was a lie. The truth was really quite simple.
Just as the recording for the Wingroad program had reached the one-week mark, the losers’ matches hit their halfway point. Unlike the preliminaries, they were going at a much steadier pace. Since they were being held directly in the capital, it was possible for there to be greater numbers of spectators; each day was alive with excitement.
Е ǹu̇ m̃ä . ї d
“It’s been a long time, Miss Liston.”
Around the time that the stronger fighters in the losers’ bracket were starting to make a name for themselves and generating a good amount of buzz, a surprising guest came to talk to me while I was getting ready at the Cedony warehouse for another quick recording.
“Oh, Mr. Dallon. It’s nice to see you again.”
It was Dallon of Cedony Trading. He was a very gentlemanly older man. I was pretty sure he was one of the executives of the company, but I wasn’t sure where exactly in the ladder he was. We hadn’t talked enough for me to confirm. Usually, I would think it prudent to confirm his position, but I could leave it for another time—there was no telling when we’d meet again, anyway.
Dallon had brought two young men with him, both looking like they were in their twenties. Because the two of them were attractive themselves, they caught the eyes of the crowd that had gathered to cheer on my brother. They were no doubt thinking to themselves, Who are they? I want to cheer them on. I want to become their fan.
“These are two of the Wingroad competitors from Vanderouge.”
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“Oh, the pros!”
They did say they would be coming soon! But...hang on. Was this sport secretly a modeling gig? No, no, maybe it was just a coincidence. There was no way everyone was choosing pilots based on their appearance.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nia Liston.”
“Emue Elan.”
“Name’s Kai. Nice to meet you.”
Oh, no, I was mistaken. Kai wasn’t a young man. That was the voice of a woman. She wasn’t so masculine I would outright say that she was a princely type, but... Hmmm, yeah, she did look like a woman the more I observed her. This type of person always reminded me of Lucida from the Ice Rose Theater Company. I haven’t seen her for a while now. Wonder how she’s doing.
Wе̂ bň оv ѐ ĺ Ё n̂ ǔ mа
“Neal! Come here for a moment please!” I called my brother away from doing checks on his skiff and introduced him to the two professionals from Vanderouge.
“Welcome! My name is Neal Liston! I’m the captain of this team!”
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Whoa, he’s suddenly so excited. It was like he was meeting his role models for the first time.
Apparently, Emue and Kai had come to Altoire now, ahead of the rest of their team, so they could coach the student team. I did think it was a little early for them to be here—the opening ceremony wouldn’t be for another three weeks. They said that the rest of their team would be arriving a week before.
I hadn’t even considered that the student team would need someone to train them, but it made sense. For the past week, they’d been trying to get by with the manuals they’d received.
Neal glanced at me after that quick explanation. “You might have heard that we will be recorded during our training. Is that all right?”
Ё n̈úḿа̀
“Don’t worry, we’ve heard,” Emue reassured the worried Neal with a smile. “We came here for the chance to make a name for ourselves and Wingroad, after all. We’d like to use this chance to spread the word. We’d rather you record as much as possible, honestly.”
In other words, this arrangement was of mutual benefit.
“Glad to hear it. In that case, let me introduce my team.”
Their first meeting was amicable at least. They’d probably be fine.
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I turned back to the man dispatched by Cedony. “Mr. Dallon, I must thank you for all the support that Cedony Trading has shown the team thus far.”
“I will make sure to tell the master. We must thank you in return for all the lucrative opportunities you have supplied us.”
Еn̊ u̇ ḿа̀
The billion-kram project and the martial arts tournament must have resulted in large gains for Cedony. By latching on early, they’d gained an unmatched level of authority. So long as they didn’t make any big mistakes, their ventures would be huge successes.
Besides, you really have been a big help to us. Keep earning as much money as you can.
Oh, and about the mystery of Char’s skiff, the professionals were able to solve it at a glance.
“Huh? Isn’t this that early model that accidentally fell into the sea?”
“Hey, you’re right. The way this is shaped here was only on the first model. I guess it somehow drifted all the way to Altoire.”
And that was it. This was the reality of small mysteries. At least it was better than it being smuggled goods.
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After that, the first broadcast of the formation flight program was shown on magivision. It was the first program in which Neal was the main focus. The junior crew took a week’s footage and turned it into a single episode explaining what Wingroad was. The important part was to inform people that a sport like this existed, so it didn’t go too in-depth just yet.
The program introduced the five students who would be flying at the opening ceremony and explained that they would be performing a formation flight before the professionals. It showed them practicing, having meetings, and doing maintenance on their skiffs.
There were days that practice was canceled because of rain and so the scene showed each student going off to do their own thing, whether reading the manual or making changes to their skiff. The first episode ended with Emue and Kai arriving from Vanderouge to act as their coaches.
Okay, not bad. It felt like a nice and relaxing program in contrast to all the violent replays of the matches that had been taking over magivision the past few weeks. It might have been missing a bit of excitement, but this was how magivision programs usually were. The tournament was a very intense exception to this.
A week had passed since preliminaries had finished and that left three weeks until the main tournament. The losers’ matches were already halfway done. Depending on the number of people who had signed up, I could’ve seen it taking them the whole three weeks to get through everyone, but at this rate, they’d be done in one more week. In that case, there would be two weeks left until the main tournament once the losers’ rounds were done. That empty time slot would be filled with reruns of old matches, and interviews and events featuring those competing in the next round in order to give the audience a chance to see who they would be cheering for.
It was likely that those of us involved with recordings would only be busy until the losers’ matches were over. The fighters themselves would be given permission to do as they wished for the last free week before the tournament resumed. It would be free time in the truest sense of the word: no recordings, no events, no control from the government. They could spend that time on training or on leisure. They could even choose to work or leave Altoire for a short spell. Of course, they’d be forfeiting their place in the tournament if they didn’t return in time.
Ŵе b̄n̈ о̄ v̆ е̇l̊ Е ňu m.a
After that, well, the tournament would begin once again. I’d have liked to hype up the tournament as much as possible until then, but I had little reason to worry. Altoire was a melting pot of feverish excitement right now. It might get even more passionate over the next few weeks, but I couldn’t see it cooling down, not unless there was a huge incident. Whether we did anything more or not, the crowds would get hyped up and form their own expectations. All we had to do was keep an eye out for anyone that wanted to try and put a damper on things.
“Did you see?! Nia, Nia, did you see?! You did, didn’t you?!”
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I didn’t even need her to explain what she was talking about for me to immediately know... I knew, but...
“Are you not a bit early?”
I had been sleeping. Very soundly. Until she came barging in. It was so early that I was sure there were still plenty of other students sleeping too. Reliared had come flying into my room at the crack of dawn.
Ugh, I completely forgot to lock the door.
Е̄ñ ûm a .іd̈
I guess it was less that I forgot and more that I wasn’t used to doing it. That was usually Lynokis’s job. Besides, I was always ready for potential attacks, whether in broad daylight or at night. If the doors or windows were locked, the assailant would just forcefully break in. The attacks themselves wouldn’t be a big deal, but the cleanup and repairs that came after would be such a pain. That must’ve been how I lived my previous life too. That was why I didn’t particularly have a habit of locking my doors, but this was the first time it had worked against me.
“You saw, right?! You totally saw, didn’t you?!”
“I did, I did. That’s enough already. Calm down.” It was first thing in the morning and the girl was already grabbing me and shaking me. After getting her to stop, I sighed and got out of bed.
Nowadays, Reliared was always so exhausted from her recordings that she went straight to bed when she made it back to the dorms, so she came to my room in the morning now instead of evening. I didn’t mind that, but... This is unfortunate. I really wanted to sleep a little more. I’m still tired. But I couldn’t bring myself to let down a child looking at me with such excitement in her eyes. It was like how you couldn’t resist a crying baby.
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“You’re talking about the Wingroad program, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah! Young Master Neal was there! And he was shown the whole time! And it was, like, kinda really good!”
E̊ṅum а̌
Reliared was usually well-spoken when it came to her reviews, but it seemed this time, she’d completely lost all her vocabulary in her excitement. She’d probably been in this state since last night, unable to sleep, but getting more worked up the longer she lay awake. It became morning before she knew it, so she’d come to my room the second she was ready—all to talk about that program.
“Yes, they did put it together nicely.” I had been to the recording location every day and Neal was my brother, so I didn’t feel anything on Reliared’s level. But given the girl hadn’t been able to go to the shoot no matter how much she wanted to, the episode must have been emotional for her to watch. She’d almost been in tears as she’d told me that she’d been unable to clear a space in her schedule to join me. Hildetaura had apparently said that she would attend too, but it seemed she was too busy herself. I couldn’t blame either of them—even I was having to force the free time to make it.
“There should be two or three more episodes,” I told her. There were still three weeks until the main matches, so they would likely be recording every day until then. I hadn’t been told what their intended pace for the broadcasts was, but given yesterday’s episode had been a compilation of the week’s recordings, weekly releases were likely their intention.
“Right?! They said episode one, didn’t they?! If there’s an episode one, that means there’s an episode two, right?! Young Master Neal will get to appear again, won’t he?!”
Yes, he will.
Disregarding Reliared and all of Neal’s other fans, I really did want my brother to succeed. I’d seen in person how hard he and his team had been working each day. I’d seen all the unrefined efforts they’d put in that couldn’t be shown on the MagiPad.
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And so, the second episode of the Wingroad program was broadcast, the losers’ matches came to an end, and we only had two weeks left until the tournament.
We were finally entering the last sprint.
Konten Bab Belum Tersedia
Bab ini belum memiliki konten teks atau sedang dalam proses penyuntingan.
