“Disappointing, Reysir. I expected you to be a generous person who would forgive Karbaldr’s past mistakes and accept him as a friend. But all you did was bow your head and become his attendant.”
Even though today was the first time Reysir and Nidhr had ever met, Nidhr acted like he was talking to a close acquaintance.
Not only that, but he even put on a one-man show, freely expecting things and then showing disappointment.
Since it was their first meeting, it was only natural that Nidhr’s conclusions would be a complete mess, given how little he actually knew about Reysir.
‘The Original Protagonist serving as my attendant? How could anyone possibly make such a ridiculous mistake?’
Even just last chapter, Reysir had been mocking me and smirking. There’s no way he’d act like that.
He only sees me as ‘someone who’s bad at socializing and easily taken advantage of.’ That’s why, even though I’m wary of Nidhr, he assumes I can’t push him away because he’s being friendly.
Maybe he thinks it’s his duty to step in personally.
‘But if you didn’t know the circumstances—like how Tridric handled people who approached my Possession Body—then it wouldn’t be unreasonable to misunderstand that Reysir is doing the same.’
But even if there’s a reason, an unpleasant misunderstanding doesn’t magically become a pleasant one. I watched Reysir carefully, expecting his expression to sour and for him to snap in anger. To my surprise, what I saw instead was a perfectly calm face.
“Think whatever you want. However you judge me, it won’t affect me in the slightest.”
At the beginning of my possession, I’d seen Reysir shouting at the top of his lungs plenty of times.
So I thought it was just that Reysir, at this stage, was still young, full of hot blood, and a bit short-tempered.
Was it just that he’d built up so much resentment toward my Possessed Body that he was especially emotional?
Or did he simply decide this wasn’t a situation where he should lose his temper, and so he’s keeping his composure? Or maybe, as Reysir says, Nidhr’s opinion really doesn’t matter to him at all, so he doesn’t feel anything.
Maybe, after finally escaping all the bullying, he’s able to maintain his composure now that his emotions have settled.
“That’s an answer I quite like.”
As soon as I stopped unconsciously activating my Mental Acceleration skill, Nidhr’s voice reached my ears. What he said wasn’t much—especially compared to his earlier comments about being an attendant.
But this time, a clear furrow appeared on Reysir’s brow.
“And who exactly are you to look down on others and judge them like that?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing to say this myself, but… I’m different from everyone else. I’m special. Once this tournament is over, everyone will know.”
This is strange.
To me, Nidhr is someone to avoid—basically a total stranger—so why am I the one feeling embarrassed by his lines?
And isn’t this character supposed to be the same age as my Possessed Body? Why is he still suffering such a severe case of eighth-grader syndrome?
“…So you go around looking down on people just because you’re a little stronger than them?”
“It’s not just ‘a little’.”
When it comes to swordsmanship talent, he can’t even reach Vigdis’s toes. Compared to Reysir’s current strength, he’s not even close.
He’s just a frog in a well, puffed up with self-satisfaction.
‘This childish character goes around committing serial murders, receives artificial awakening experiments, and then becomes a monster as a side effect…
He judges people by his own standards, and tries to keep only those he wants, like collecting trophies—utterly ridiculous.
But he’s just suffering from a late and especially bad case of eighth-grader syndrome.
Maybe Senna, the author, gave him too cruel a fate.’
‘But what can you do? He’s a character whose very setting is that he turns into a serial killer just because he feels some inferiority complex.’
Remembering that sent a chill down my spine.
Just because he’s mentally young doesn’t mean I should pity him.
This is a villain whose very humanity is rotten.
“We’ll see soon enough whether it’s just ‘a little’ or not, won’t we?”
With that, Reysir straightened his posture and stared forward.
Nidhr clicked his tongue, looking at him like he was a fool.
If I had to guess, both of them were probably thinking, ‘Once this tournament is over, he’ll never say something like that again.’
Either way, not long after their conversation ended, the first match of the day began.
Since Liolikin’s match against Nidhr was the fourth, the first time any of us spoke up was in the middle of the third match.
“Ka, Karvald Austri, sir. I, I’ll be up soon…”
“I know.”
“Th-then, could you give me some, um, words of encouragement…?”
Wouldn’t it be better if he saved that courage for the stage?
That thought crossed my mind, but I didn’t say it out loud.
Unlike Reysir, who compromises and lets things go, Liolikin doesn’t consider it real encouragement or praise unless it’s a line he’s satisfied with.
“I’m expecting good things from you. Do your best.”
“Y-yes, sir…! I’ll do my best!”
Thankfully, he gave the okay right away.
I suspect that the word ‘expecting’ was especially effective.
I felt a strange sense of satisfaction, and then immediately wondered why this made me happy at all.
As I tried to collect myself, I heard a voice from behind.
“Just asking, but you don’t actually think Liolikin could beat me, do you?”
There was a trace of a sneer in Nidhr’s voice.
It had taken some effort to come up with a word of encouragement that wouldn’t conflict with the Possession Body’s personality, but it must have sounded absolutely ridiculous to his ears.
‘Should I clear up the misunderstanding…?’
That thought flashed through my mind for a moment, but I stayed quiet.
Explaining in detail about the conditions I set for Liolikin would be too pathetic.
If Nidhr learned in advance that the goal wasn’t to win, but just to knock him down, he’d be on guard. Liolikin would never achieve his objective then.
Either way, once this match ends, Nidhr will realize that Liolikin’s goal wasn’t to win.
So there’s no need to worry about attracting the attention of a future serial killer.
Probably.
What bothers me more right now are the readers.
I’m worried they might get frustrated with how timid I am around Nidhr.
I understand, since I was a reader before I was a writer, but having to be aware of a serial killer’s existence through the lens of a modern sensibility is just too scary.
‘He’s a finalist and much stronger than me, after all…’
Making excuses for myself in my mind, I realized the third match had already ended.
Yor and Reysir both offered words of encouragement to Liolikin as he took off his coat and stood up.
“Meow meow~”
“Liolikin. If you just do what we practiced yesterday, you’ll get a good result.”
Instead of telling him to ‘defeat’ his opponent, Reysir went with ‘good result’—probably thinking there was no need to let Nidhr know about the specific objective.
Nidhr glanced over at me, Reysir, and Liolikin as if looking at something insignificant.
He smirked, shook his head, and headed to the stage first.
“Do, do your best. I, I’ll definitely…!”
With a more determined expression than ever, Liolikin grabbed his gear and spoke.
He strode to the stage with a grim, resolute air.
For someone so embarrassingly timid, his walk looked almost confident today.
Compared to me—shrinking away from the villain and the original story, busy taking steps backward—he looked even more impressive.
So I found myself unconsciously following Liolikin’s back with my eyes.
“I really hope Liolikin completes his objective. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Karvald Austri, did you just say ‘Yeah, I do’?”
“…!”
The sly, cunning protagonist of someone else’s novel used a moment of my distraction to try and coax out my true feelings.
I’m ashamed of myself for falling for such an obvious trap.
“Wow…! I thought you might unconsciously agree if I probed a little, but I didn’t expect you to answer like that…”
“J-just shut up…!”
“Don’t worry, the announcer is talking right now, and it’s so noisy that no one will have overheard us.”
Hearing the person who set the trap act like he was consoling me was especially annoying.
To think I ever felt even a little regret at the idea of him dropping out.
“Isn’t your gaze suddenly a little too frosty?”
“Hmph!”
I turned my head sharply, making it clear I didn’t want to continue the conversation.
Just then, Liolikin and Nidhr’s match began, so Reysir didn’t bring up my tone again and fell silent.
And so, we watched the match in silence, wishing for Liolikin to achieve his goal.
Liolikin activated his [Armor of Protection] skill as soon as the match started and stared intently at Nidhr.
It was as if he already knew that a clumsy rush would only leave him open to a counterattack.
‘Is that his usual cautiousness as a coward? Or is he following Reysir’s advice?’
I was a little curious, but not enough to ask someone about it.
And with Nidhr immediately launching an attack, now was hardly the time.
As befits someone destined to be the runner-up, Nidhr was far more skilled than Liolikin’s first-round opponent.
He struck at Liolikin’s shield with an Aether-imbued sword, trying to rattle him, then suddenly aimed a blow at the exposed ankle joint beneath the shield.
He leaned as if moving right, causing Liolikin to rotate in response—only to regain his balance and immediately take up a flanking position.
Then he swung his sword again, and for a moment I thought the match was over.
If Liolikin hadn’t deflected the attack with the pauldron of his [Armor of Protection], he would have been finished.
‘If only…’
The little question from earlier was nothing, so I left it alone.
But now, a new question arose—one I couldn’t help but ask.
“Reacting so quickly to attacks at the joints, and using the pauldron to defend… Is it just me, or does Liolikin seem surprisingly adept at using that Aether armor skill? Did you teach him?”
“I wouldn’t say I taught him. Liolikin just picked it up naturally during our sparring, trying to avoid getting hit.”
So Reysir did make Liolikin use [Armor of Protection] during practice.
Since Vigdis and I never saw it, it must have been during their evening practice sessions on weekdays.
“To use an ability well, you need to practice. The rules only ban using Aether directly as an attack, so Liolikin’s defensive Aether skill is allowed. That’s why I told him to use it as much as he wanted.”
I did the same—using buffs and Mental Acceleration skills during sparring—so it’s not really an issue.
But it struck me again how much interest Reysir took in Liolikin’s development.
For someone who never practiced sparring before, Liolikin must have gotten hit a lot to develop such good reactions.
“For such a short preparation period, he’s grown remarkably.”
“Tell him that yourself when Liolikin comes back later.”
“…Hmph.”
I snorted, trying to cut off the conversation, but it wasn’t a bad idea.
Even if Liolikin loses without knocking out Nidhr,
I could mention his growth and effort, and say I’ll give him one more chance.