Chapter 38: The Kingdom of Bers (15)

The fact that the boss deliberately left his war hammer behind and entrusted it to me was his own way of showing resolve.

The reason doesn’t matter.

To the King of Bers, who is surely watching the arena from some hidden place, it must be a delightful sight.

The boss appearing bare-handed is actually advantageous for me, too.

If he fought with that war hammer, which is practically an extension of himself, that grotesque chimera (neither chicken nor snake) would be reduced to pulp in an instant.

A match that ends too quickly is bad for everyone: for the audience who paid expensive ticket prices, for the King of Bers, and for me, who still has to find Jasmine.

“KIEEEEEE—!!”

The howling cockatrice seemed, at first glance, to be pushing the boss back.

No.

Anyone who knows even a little about the boss or about fighting would realize that this is all part of the climax toward victory, a tactic to whip the crowd into an even greater frenzy.

From the corridor where the boss had exited (now blocked by lowered iron bars, allowing only an arm to stretch through and unseen by the spectators), I observed the people.

I never once entertained the thought that the boss could be hurt by that ugly half-baked chimera.

My job was to look for the Black Rose emblem or to locate Jasmine directly.

This colosseum is packed with people.

Whatever the case, it is the perfect situation to gather information.

The commoners in the third-class seats are only here to watch the spectacle, so exclude them.

I have to pay attention from the second-class upward.

The second-class stands are filled with a mix of fairly wealthy families and noble houses.

Like a pyramid: the lowest tier holds the commoners; above them, a wall and divided sections prevent free movement for the middle class; finally, the true nobles sit openly in exclusive special boxes, completely isolated from the clamor outside.

A structure where even secret deals or refined hobbies conducted inside would never leak out.

Whether it is a service provided by the colosseum or not, fully armed soldiers stand guard without gaps in front of the special boxes.

This won’t be easy.

But I can’t just sit and give up.

If I try to check every single person filling the colosseum because of the big rookie’s debut, my eyes will fall out before I find Jasmine.

From what I’ve learned, only a limited number of people are allowed to own beastmen (whom they insultingly call “tail-bearers”).

That makes sense: owning one is like raising another human.

Simply to show off to others or to use within the family for various purposes.

The commoners filling the third-class seats (who can barely afford entry tickets, let alone slaves) are naturally excluded from the search.

For now, I looked up at the middle class proudly holding their heads high.

I wish I could track by scent like the boss or Perdual, but as a human I can’t do that to such an extent.

Pushing mana into sight, smell, hearing, or touch does not infinitely improve their performance.

Not that one… not this guy either… I don’t even see anything resembling a rose, let alone a black one.

As expected, everyone seated in the pathetic middle-class section was a complete miss.

Practically no different from the third-class crowd.

In the end, I looked at the real nobles’ exclusive boxes that I had been postponing.

There are easily more than thirty special boxes.

Something useful must be in there… the problem is that I can’t enter.

If I had definite proof that Jasmine or someone from the Black Rose family was inside, I would knock out the soldiers and force my way in.

But in the current situation, where I don’t even know who is inside, I can’t do that.

Perhaps for security reasons, there are no identifying marks visible from the outside.

Only numbers like “Room XX” are written.

The match will still take… a little longer to end.

People watching the boss fight for the first time wouldn’t know, but I do.

The fact that he is dismantling the cockatrice so slowly and inefficiently is a tactic to buy me time.

It is time to act.

Waiting obediently for the match to end is important, but obtaining any information is more important.

Archduke Greenwood or other rival nobles might make a move after seeing the boss’s strength, but right now that is unlikely.

I believe so.

I hurriedly left the underground waiting area.

No one asked where I was going while wearing armor.

In a colosseum frequented by nobles, having personal guardian knights is not strange at all.

If anyone asks, I just have to prove I’m Prince Garland’s guardian knight. No problem.

I quickly moved to the highest floor of the colosseum, the third-tier area.

“Sir knight? Do you need anything?”

A maid approached and asked.

I laughed heartily and put on a friendly face.

“I’m lost. Um… where is the restroom?”

“It’s—”

After giving a suitable excuse, the maid kindly explained that it was not here, but on the complete opposite side.

After confirming she had returned the way she came, I glanced down at the arena from the corridor.

A horrific screech rang out as the cockatrice’s tail (snake?) was completely torn off.

It was almost time to return to the basement and greet the boss.

Not much time left…

“Ah, there you are. I had a hard time finding you, swordmaster friend from Mosul!”

Chills ran down my spine.

An ice-cold blade touched my neck.

I could feel blood droplets forming along the edge.

“Nice to meet you. I am Cedmos. His Majesty Red Stone’s sword and guardian deity of the Kingdom of Bers. So the owner of that aura I felt in the carriage was you. Now that I see you up close, I’m certain.”

An overwhelming pressure that made breathing impossible.

The crisis of having the first move stolen.

The scent of death that only a demon who kills as naturally as breathing could emit…

“I’ve been dying to meet you, Paramir. Ah, don’t be too scared. I have no intention of fighting in a place with so many people… Unless you insist on responding to my provocation, that is.”

“What do you want?”

I felt it.

If I turned around or drew my sword, we would suffer irreparable damage.

I was aiming at Cedmos; Cedmos was aiming his sword at me.

Strictly speaking, I had not drawn a sword against him.

The blade at my waist remained sheathed.

I was aiming an artificial aura formed with my bare hand at Cedmos’s heart.

We had set up a deadly negotiation table where we threatened each other’s lives, sword to throat and aura to heart.

“What every swordmaster wants.”

“I don’t know what swordmasters want, Sir Cedmos…”

“Oh, you do. You can’t not know…I want a fight. Not one-sided hunting of filthy vermin. A fight with an equal. But your current level… seems a little lacking. I don’t want a victory as easy as drinking water. Jasmine, was it? You seem far weaker than what that wench said. I’ll give you seven days. Build your strength until you can fight me properly. If you disappoint me or try to run… The life of that tail-bearer you cherish so much, Jasmine, and the child in her belly, will end.”

I did not answer.

Instead, still facing away, I nodded.

He withdrew the sword aimed at my neck.

I withdrew the aura aimed at his heart.

Heh, heh heh. Hahaha…!

Satisfied laughter filled the corridor for a long while before he vanished in an instant, faster than perception.

“Haa…!”

The moment the blade left my neck, I collapsed on the spot, gasping for air.

WAAAAAAA—!!

Surabar stood atop crimson blood and sticky bodily fluids.

He had torn the dead cockatrice’s comb apart with his bare hands.

Amid the roaring cheers for the new gladiator’s victory, the sound of me retching was buried and vanished.

***

Time seemed to have stopped.

Caught off guard by the unexpected ambush, Garland froze.

Annabella, looking at the frozen Garland, stood and called the maid waiting behind her.

“Leave us. I have private words with His Highness.”

“Yes, Princess.”

The maid left.

With a click of the closing door, only silence filled the room.

Garland could not grasp what this situation was or what he should do.

Annabella knew why Garland had come to the Kingdom of Bers and had suddenly revealed that “secret” to him.

Even though the maid had been present, she had not been close enough to hear.

She had whispered it right into his ear, taking advantage of the moment the King of Bers was absent.

Judging only by this, Annabella did not want Garland’s true purpose to be exposed to others.

Does she want something? What is it? What could a princess of an allied nation, whom I’ve met for the first time, possibly want from me… Think, Garland, think!

While he agonized, Garland’s eyes widened in confusion as Annabella grabbed his hand and led him.

What on earth…?

With weak strength she struggled and pulled him toward the inner wall, into yet another room prepared inside the VIP box.

Annabella even gave an awkward wink, desperately signaling him to please come this way.

Without realizing it, Garland followed her into the room-within-a-room.

Creak… The door closed, completely blocking the noisy sounds of the colosseum.

“P-Princess! To do this so suddenly—!”

“I-It’s f-fine! Th-this is a wink… Ahh…! Y-Your Highness, th-this is my f-first time…!”

No, what on earth is she saying?

Garland watched in shock as she dragged him toward the bed, making strange noises, deliberately rustling her skirt and creating sounds as if undressing.

…Is she insane beneath that beautiful exterior?

That thought lasted only a moment.

When Annabella drew a dagger hidden in her skirt, Garland froze in horror.

“…P-Princess?!”

“N-No…! Th-this is, I mean…!”

No.

The blade in Annabella’s hand was not aimed at Garland’s throat or chest.

The beautiful princess of Bers, harboring a fragment of madness, began tearing her own dress with the dagger.

Leaving only transparent silk undergarments that revealed almost all her skin, Annabella grabbed Garland’s hand and leapt onto the bed together.

Please. Trust me.

Annabella looked at Garland with pleading eyes.

In those obsidian-inlaid pupils, Garland could not bring himself to refuse.

The dimly lit inner room, like a red-light district, was already cramped, forcing Garland to pull his waist back.

It did not seem like she intended to rush things between a man and a woman, yet the sight of Annabella right before his eyes was intensely stimulating.

To be perfectly honest, Annabella was more beautiful than any woman Garland had ever seen in his life.

“C-Come… under the b-blanket… p-please…”

“…Very well.”

Following her intent, Garland slipped under the covers with her.

In the darkness where even faint light could not enter, the young prince felt her bare skin and breathed in the warmth so close.

Is she really intending to do that…?

What was the dagger for, and why did she tear her own clothes…?

“Annabella, Princess. To do something so sudden on the very first day we—”

“Th-th-th-that’s n-not… n-no… H-Hiee… I-I’m so e-embarrassed…! N-Nix, Niiiii—!”

“…Nix who? Princess, what on earth are you—”

Garland could not finish his sentence.

“—Garland Hamilton, son of Tolland Hamilton.

Child who serves Elon.

The one before you now is not the princess of Bers.”

Shadow. Darkness. Night. Veil.

A light that had crouched in the bottomless abyss.

Garland realized he stood among stars that danced, shining in the deepest hour before dawn.

The formal suit he had worn vanished; clouds enveloped him.

Hwaaa…

As the dark clouds parted, enormous silver eyes looked upon him from the darkness.

“Fear not.”

Annabella said.

No—the one who had entered Annabella’s body.