Chapter 58: Sword Tournament (5)

 

At Rihanna’s resolute reply, Isaac let out a quiet laugh.

 

Honestly, there had been times when he disliked her, even resented her.

 

But seeing her now, bracing herself like this, he didn’t feel so bad about it.

 

In other words, it gave him a certain satisfaction—knowing that once upon a time, he’d shared a passionate love with someone who wasn’t all that terrible.

 

“Why…why are you laughing?”

 

Rihanna glanced at Isaac and asked.

 

He shook his head, then brought up the topic they had been discussing earlier.

 

“And Rihanna, I’m going to participate in the Sword Tournament.”

 

It was just past midday now.

 

In about five or six hours, the Sword Tournament would begin.

 

Sword Tournament wasn’t held in the manor, but rather on the mountain behind it.

 

There was a plain there that served as an outdoor sparring arena.

 

In truth, it hadn’t originally been a plain—it used to be a dense forest.

 

When Arandel was young, he had swung his sword around and smashed every tree in the surrounding area, creating that clearing.

 

So ever since Arandel became head of the family, the Sword Tournament was always held in that spot.

 

“That’s dangerous,” Rihanna warned.

 

“I know,” Isaac replied.

 

“Lohengrin is serious this time. He said he’s determined to leave you half—uhm, I mean, he’s determined to hurt you somehow.”

 

Rihanna stumbled over the exact words Lohengrin had used, quickly cutting herself off.

 

“And the person you’ll be fighting is your mother. It’s not wise to push yourself.”

 

“...”

 

“And well, you could say I came back to Helmut specifically for this.”

 

“Isaac…”

 

“There’s a rare moment when Jonathan and I actually agree on something.”

 

All of a sudden, Isaac was smiling comfortably.

 

It was reminiscent of the mood they’d shared when chatting on the ferry in the past.

 

“That moment is when we talk about how strong Helmut is.”

 

“…”

 

“Helmut is strong partly because of their natural physique, but also because they gave up everything but the sword.”

 

It was hard to deny.

 

Especially Arandel Helmut, who always seemed indifferent to anything not related to the sword.

 

“I want to show them…”

 

Among the things they’d cast aside—

 

“That it wasn’t something to let go of so easily.”

 

No one was more attached to Helmut than Isaac.

 

His gaze drifted downward, toward the lush lilac blooming in front of the two of them.

 

“Look at how it’s still green and thriving among the roses, even though the season’s passed.”

 

It was almost—

 

“Like looking at me, don’t you think?”

 

A bright smile naturally spread across his face.

 

Sword Tournament—an event meant to showcase the glory of Helmut—was like a garden where only roses were supposed to bloom.

 

Yet, ironically enough, what stood out most was that single burst of purple lilac.

 

Realizing this, Rihanna decided to step back.

 

“Alright. You’re confident, right?”

 

“You remember that saying? ‘If you already know you’ll win before you even draw your sword, why bother drawing it at all?’”

 

“…”

 

He spoke as if he had some plan, but that last comment only proved he didn’t.

 

“Isaac, I’m asking just in case…”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Have you ever managed to break through Sharen’s Red Aura?”

 

“…”

 

Isaac rubbed a finger along his temple and mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

 

“Ah, is it…pollen allergies?”

 

* * *

 

Helmut Estate’s Rear Mountain.

 

Countless people had gathered on the expansive plain.

 

The sight of Helmut knights, standing like a wall and controlling the crowd, resembled a towering red structure.

 

That was how orderly and disciplined they were in managing the masses.

 

Meanwhile, the nobles were seated in a separate area, watching with interest.

 

Today was the semifinal round.

 

The matchups were:

 

Isaac, the live-in son-in-law, versus Lohengrin, the eldest son of Helmut.

 

Armin, the second son of Helmut, versus Heyrad.

 

Heyrad was the princess’s escort knight—a talent she’d raised personally since childhood, so they said.

 

But in the end, this was Helmut.

 

Most people predicted the eldest son and the second son would meet in the final round.

 

“Wh-What do we do? I—I’m so nervous, Isaac-nim!”

 

In the middle of the crowd sat Isaac, quiet and composed.

 

Next to him, Jonathan was freaking out, practically in a tizzy.

 

Each participant was assigned one of Helmut’s knights as an attendant, and Jonathan had been assigned to Isaac. Normally, someone of Jonathan’s rank wouldn’t qualify for this duty, but given the bond between the two, special permission was granted.

 

“You’re not the one fighting, so why are you shaking so much?!”

 

Sharen snapped, clearly annoyed.

 

All day, Sharen had been at Galenia’s side, but once the Sword Tournament began, she came over to Isaac to offer advice.

 

“Isaac, look here.”

 

“Hm?”

 

Pushing Jonathan aside, Sharen stood in front of Isaac and waved a white towel.

 

“If you really think you’re about to die, call my name. Then I’ll throw in this towel immediately.”

 

“…If you throw that in, does everything just end?”

 

“It might, right? In war, raising a white flag is a sign of surrender. Ah! If I wave it around like this, would that do it?”

 

“Hoo… Just get out of here.”

 

For reference, the Sword Tournament only ends when one side is knocked unconscious or is completely unable to continue fighting.

 

It’s a rather brute-force method, and that’s partly why so few choose to compete.

 

Helmut folks are naturally resilient, so they recover quickly from injuries—worst-case scenario, they use a ‘Rose Elixir’ or something. But ordinary people don’t have Helmut’s monstrous regenerative power or tough bodies. One wrong move, and entering this competition could mean the end of a knight’s career.

 

“But why are you dressed like that? You should be wearing armor, and yet you show up in a coat?”

 

Seeing Isaac’s new black coat, Sharen smacked her forehead.

 

“Lohengrin is going to be furious when he sees that. He’ll think you’re insulting him.”

 

“It’s a strategic choice,” Isaac answered with a sigh.

 

“Wearing armor won’t matter if I get hit even once—plus, it’d keep me from dodging.”

 

“But that—”

 

Sharen was about to say something but then tilted her head in confusion and mumbled:

 

“You’re… a genius, aren’t you?”

 

“……”

 

“But what is up with that design? You just picked it up at some cheap market stall, didn’t you? See, this is why Isaac is hopeless. It looks—”

 

“Rihanna gave it to me.”

 

“…Unnie did?”

 

“Yeah. She said it was crafted from a beast I once hunted. She meant to give it to me ages ago but didn’t get the chance until now.”

 

“……”

 

“I heard the hide even withstood her own Red Aura, so she figured it could hold up somewhat against Lohengrin’s Red Aura as well.”

 

“Huh. Unnie got more sense than I thought.”

 

Under normal circumstances, Isaac would’ve laughed at how quickly Sharen changed her tune, but he couldn’t do that today.

 

Whether it was about Milli or Galenia—whatever the topic—none of it was news that Sharen would welcome.

 

So Isaac simply closed his eyes quietly.

 

Before long, Lohengrin stepped onto the plain—the makeshift “stage.”

 

At that moment, the crowd erupted with cheers for the leading candidate to become the next head of the Helmut family.

 

Unlike other martial tournaments, the Sword Tournament had no formal announcer or host.

 

If you were ready, you walked out and fought.

 

A very “Helmut-style,” straightforward and brute-force approach.

 

“G-Good luck, Isaac! Remember, if you call my name, I’ll toss the towel right away!”

 

“Isaac-nim, you’ve already bested Bricalla! You can do this!”

 

With the support of Sharen and Jonathan, Isaac stepped forward.

 

This rough, unrefined plain was their stage.

 

Seated at the far side were Arandel, Galenia, and the other members of the Helmut family.

 

Among them was Rihanna, hands clasped tightly together in silent prayer, eyes fixed on Isaac.

 

“How laughable,”

 

Lohengrin said with a faint smile as Isaac approached.

 

“Not like we’re putting on a show for anyone, and yet so many people gather…”

 

“……”

 

“It used to be an everyday thing for us.”

 

There were many days when Lohengrin had beaten Isaac to a pulp under the guise of sparring, and this was no different. It might have seemed dull to do the same again, but this time there was meaning to it—so perhaps that changed how Lohengrin felt.

 

“After today, you won’t be able to live a normal life anymore.”

 

Lohengrin raised his massive greatsword high into the air.

 

Isaac couldn’t wield that gargantuan blade with both hands if he tried, yet Lohengrin hefted it effortlessly with one hand. The crowd marveled and cheered in awe.

 

“And it’s the perfect justification.”

 

“……”

 

“Any fool who bears the name Helmut should at least pretend to carry a greatsword.”

 

Isaac had two swords at his waist—thin, curved blades. One was White Snow, forged of Frostsilver. The other was a practice blade that Antonio had crafted, chosen because it seemed the most serviceable of the bunch.

 

“No matter how cruelly I crush you, I can say it was to preserve the honor of Helmut.”

 

He hadn’t picked up a Helmut greatsword.

 

Just that alone made it look as though he was scorning the family, stirring jeers and questions about his qualifications among the audience.

 

Arandel, however, sat with her chin resting on one hand, showing little reaction.

 

“You kill one measly beast and now you’re acting cocky—!”

 

Lohengrin’s greatsword sliced dramatically through the air.

 

At the same time, an enormous wave of Red energy lit up the crimson sky. The pressure from his aura was so intense that it scattered in all directions.

 

No signal was given to start.

 

Lohengrin’s greatsword came crashing down.

 

Although the blade itself was still some distance away, his Red Aura formed a massive sword-shaped slash, aiming straight for Isaac’s head.

 

“……!”

 

Isaac ducked low and sprang sideways in a desperate dodge.

 

Right now, his only method to pierce through that Red Aura was the Dagger-Union technique—the same blow that had cut through Bricalla’s lightning strike. Trusting in that single sword strike, Isaac moved swiftly on his feet.

 

“Helmut is—!”

 

Lohengrin shouted, veins visible in his eyes, as he tracked Isaac’s movement.

 

The massive greatsword that had been thrust straight downshifted its trajectory, now sweeping sideways in pursuit of Isaac.

 

“To stand against the one who fights!”

 

‘There’s no dodging that!’

 

Isaac immediately reached for the Sword at his waist. Not the sword White Snow, but the other Sword. He attempted a counterstrike through his quick-draw technique.

 

Kaaaang!

 

“……!”

 

It wasn’t even Lohengrin’s real greatsword that clashed with Isaac’s blade—just the Red Aura it emitted—yet the Sword shattered into pieces on impact.

 

“H-Huh?! Wh-What do we do?! Without that sword—!”

 

Jonathan’s panicked voice reached Isaac, but he had no time to dwell on it.

 

He’d sacrificed one Sword to momentarily halt Lohengrin’s attack; that was all it accomplished.

 

Although he’d lost a blade sooner than he’d expected, Isaac did not let anxiety take over.

 

It was a throwaway weapon from the start.

 

The real blade was White Snow alone. He had to save it for the best possible moment—

 

“Ugh, you piece of trash.”

 

Seeing Isaac still not drawing his main sword, Lohengrin smirked in contempt.

 

“What kind of fool pins all his hopes on some flimsy blade no one’s ever heard of?”

 

“…….”

 

“Caldias must’ve lost his mind—using Frostsilver to craft such a miserable weapon.”

 

Isaac remained silent. Every second Lohengrin spent mocking him was a chance for Isaac to steady his breathing.

 

But a certain madness glistened in Lohengrin’s eyes, an air of utter scorn.

 

“A sword that supposedly slew a beast? Are you really banking on a single strike that’ll all but shatter your arm again?”

 

“…….”

 

“Disgusting.”

 

Lohengrin despised Isaac, but he did not take his opponent in the Sword Tournament lightly. That was his stance on this sacred duel—and part of the respect he bore for his father.

 

He knew all about how Isaac defeated Bricalla in the North, what Isaac’s sword was made of, and what Isaac aimed to do.

 

“Everything you’re plotting is in the palm of my hand.”

 

He hefted the greatsword onto his shoulder, anger glinting in his eyes.

 

“A witless child—you’re no knight, no swordsman. You can’t even think of properly crossing blades. All you’re doing is gambling on some lucky single blow?”

 

“…….”

 

“Killing one half-dead beast made you think you’d accomplished something? That’s the height of ignorance—a peasant’s mindset.”

 

Now, energy flared from Lohengrin’s entire body, his Red Aura blazing with contempt. The malevolent aura seemed ready to engulf Isaac at any moment.

 

“How dare you think a single strike is enough to beat Helmut! It’s so insulting that—!”

 

“Even if you kneel today! Even if you crawl on the ground! Even if you bark like a dog! Nothing will quell my anger—!”

 

Whoosh!

 

All of a sudden—

 

Something shot between the two fighters.

 

Thunk!

 

A sword embedded itself in the ground with a solid thud.

 

It was a Sword Isaac had never seen before.

 

Surprised, Isaac whipped his head in the direction the blade had come from. Through the crowd, he saw Silverna waving enthusiastically, beaming.

 

“I couldn’t compete because I was busy making this!”

 

“Silverna…!”

 

“Good luck!!”

 

“……?”

 

Isaac wasn’t sure what she was shouting, but he calmly pulled the blade from the earth.

 

It was hot to the touch, thrumming as if it were alive, radiating so much mana that the sword itself couldn’t contain it. Sparks of electricity crackled and scattered, almost as though it recognized Isaac.

 

This was fashioned from the remnants of Bricalla that Rihanna had left behind—

 

the second Sword Isaac had commissioned.

 

Grip.

 

Even though it felt like it was burning his palm, a smile played at the corners of Isaac’s lips.

 

[A sword that’s too light isn’t good either, you fool!]

 

Only after forging the blade did Antonio probably grasp Isaac’s intent for making it as light as possible.

 

[What kind of sword are you even envisioning with this design? It’s not a Helmut greatsword, nor a standard two-handed blade. It looks like you’re wielding it one-handed, yet you’re not using a shield either…]

 

Silverna, after reading the manual Isaac was writing, had tilted her head, not quite understanding.

 

[Trying to cram Helmut technique into your design is making the sword feel kind of rough.]

 

[Forget Helmut. Just wield your own sword. Isaac is talented enough for that!]

 

Through Sharen, Rihanna had advised him not to be obsessed with Helmut’s style.

 

Hoo.

 

Now, he could finally answer all their questions.

 

He silently drew White Snow.

 

The Dagger-Union technique required the blade to remain sheathed until the moment of execution.

 

Until now, he’d never actually drawn it—but there was no need to hold back any longer.

 

Now he held a sword in each hand—two blades, both lightweight yet sturdy, at last supporting Isaac as a proper swordsman.

 

What he’d written in his theoretical manuals, believing it would come true someday, was finally taking shape in reality.

 

A new wind stirred, changing the tide.

 

Feeling a sudden warmth, Isaac found himself wishing Milli were here to see this. She was, after all, the warmth in his life.

 

“That’s all you’ve got?”

 

Meanwhile, Lohengrin’s teeth ground together in rage.

 

“Two swords? Like that’ll change a thing?!”

 

“…….”

 

“How far are you going to mock the name Helmut?!”

 

But Lohengrin’s roar did not reach Isaac, who was busy tracing the sword techniques in his mind.

 

He had admired Helmut through Rihanna.

 

He’d been guided by a great mentor.

 

He’d completed his idea with inspiration from Arandel Helmut’s will.

 

As dusk fell, the rays of the setting sun caught his black hair.

 

Crimson light dyed his hair a ruddy hue, reflecting—

 

Helmut.

 

Isaac truly stood there as “Isaac of Helmut.”

 

– – – The End of The Chapter – – –

 

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