The murmurs spread through the crowd; however, there are two individuals whose testimonies could confirm my words.
"He's telling the truth," Reinhard and Crusch affirm simultaneously.
Astonishment seizes everyone, even Julius looks at me in surprise. The sages demand explanations, eager to understand the extent of my knowledge about the situation.
It's time to reveal something.
"As you know, news about the cult members had already spread. On the day of the attack, we were warned by someone, but without enough time, dozens of cultists launched their assaults."
I lower my head with regret.
"They massacred all the villages in their path, but thanks to my people, we managed to stand our ground and annihilate all the cultists," I smile with determination as I stand up. "The candidate for the throne, Emilia, and I personally fought against the archbishop. Because he had a means to avoid death, we had to employ a different method."
Just as I'm about to continue, one of the sages interrupts me.
"You're saying that it was villagers against hundreds of cultists, people with no experience in cavalry, and that you yourself never practiced swordsmanship."
I nod sincerely.
"That's true. Just a few months ago, I started practicing magic."
Crusch looks at me in astonishment, realizing that my words are genuine.
"If you wish to verify this, you may journey to Irlam. Despite the three days that have passed since the assault, we still possess all the weapons and robes of the cultists as evidence of our actions. Furthermore, if you desire to witness the bodies, I can also present them.
One of the sages rises with an air of irritation, while the knights regard me with restrained fury. The tension in the chamber is palpable.
"We have assembled our own army in a mere month and a little more since its inception. We were able to vanquish an archbishop and hundreds of cult members, an accomplishment the empire had not achieved. Yet we, simple villagers, have accomplished it," my words resonate in the silence, and amazement seizes everyone.
Crusch and Reinhard nod, lending support to my claims, further fueling the incredulity among those present.
"Moreover, we are diligently investigating the motives behind the assault, searching for leaks of information and other possibilities. When we have the evidence, I will fulfill my duty as a citizen of Lugunica and present them to the world," with these words, their countenances fade; they know I have sown the seed of unease among the higher echelons.
My bomb has been planted, and now they also know what lies beneath the attack.
If necessary, I would even enter into a soul contract to substantiate my words.
"We will continue to grow and progress. If anyone shows interest in Irlam, in the steam engine, or in any project we undertake, do not hesitate to contact us. In Irlam, we uphold the word of the candidate Emilia, whom I hold in profound reverence from the depths of my soul."
"He is speaking the truth; every word he uttered is absolutely accurate," Crusch adds, whose integrity is beyond question.
"What Marco has stated is entirely accurate," concludes Reinhard, known for his sincerity and honor.
The reason why Crusch couldn't lie is evident in Reinhard's very existence, and I know he would not resort to deceit for personal gain. Fortunately, I am spared the need for a soul contract.
Now, not only have we cleared our name, but Emilia has showcased her mettle. We have identified potential allies and, perhaps, also our adversaries.
All eyes remain fixed on me, even Priscilla has cast a brief glance in my direction. Now that everyone is aware of our capabilities, the true competition begins. The battle for industry supremacy commences with this declaration.
"You may return to your position," orders Gildark, to which I nod and comply, returning to my place with my head held high.
As I arrive, an ominous silence surrounds me. Reinhard appears on the verge of saying something but opts for silence. I, on the other hand, remain undisturbed, content for having achieved my objective.
"Then, we shall conclude the ceremony with the oath to the dragonstone," Gildark announces with a powerful voice.
The echo of his voice dissipates into the air, and one by one, each candidate touches the dragonstone and utters their oath.
At that moment, a deep resonance is triggered, seeming to emanate from the very depths of the earth, as if the spirit of the stone itself is responding to their promises.
Everyone understands the solemnity of the moment; each of the five has been chosen by the dragon.
Finally, the candidates are summoned by the sages, and the rest of us disperse. In the company of my soldiers, I head toward a spacious corridor that opens onto a balcony with a majestic and grand view stretching before my eyes.
Someday, I hope that Irlam shall attain such grandeur.
"Did you hear it?" I inquire of my soldiers.
As an addition, I activated the communicator and shared Emilia's speech with everyone, ensuring that my men in Irlam also hear it.
"It was a magnificent oration, undoubtedly possessing the qualities of a ruler," Lucas acknowledges with a approving smile.
"Her interruption was striking, as if the mountain's cold had seeped in here," Lessed adds with a smile.
Thus far, only the army has been privy to the discourse; soon, Emilia will reiterate it in Irlam for all, without exception. In doing so, everyone will better comprehend their circumstances and empathize with her, as she has been aiding them and even saving their lives.
Beatrice holds my hand as we gaze upon the landscape, and I can discern that her unease does not stem from her intervention.
Rather, her disquietude arises from the belief that she has tarnished my reputation. I will have to console her and bestow upon her many books to uplift her spirits.
In the corridor, several nobles and knights' parade, casting disdainful glances in our direction or simply ignoring us. However, our purpose and loyalty remain steadfast, and that is what truly matters.
One of the nobles' halts, and although I did not recognize him at first glance, his appearance is unremarkable.
His ordinary features do not stand out among the crowd, but something about him catches my attention. It is not his countenance, but rather his eyes. His iris lacks the typical depth of a human iris; instead, it resembles a feline iris.
"I apologize for the attitude of these erudite nobles," the man says with a slight inclination before extending his hand to me. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance! My name is Lancaster; it is an honor to meet you, Mr. Marco."
Upon hearing his voice, I instantly recognize him.
"Lancaster... One of the earliest supporters of Emilia," I think to myself as we shake hands.
"The pleasure is mine," I respond sincerely. "Seeing individuals like you among the nobles' greatly reassures me."
At that moment, Lancaster retrieves a letter from his pocket. He seems in a hurry to address another matter.
"What could it be?" I wonder, intrigued.
"I work and own a property where we cultivate various crops," Lancaster explains. "I heard that you've created a wheat processor with your steam engine, and I'm interested in acquiring some to enhance our production."
I smile at the man's insight. The steam engine has limitless applications, and I'm confident we can find the right mechanism to meet any agricultural need.
"Of course," I respond enthusiastically. "We can establish a contract, either for a share of your production or simply for money.
Currently, Irlam is in rapid growth, so we will soon need an abundance of food. Our crops are falling short, making food an urgent priority.
Most people primarily approach me for mining-related matters, but undoubtedly, food supply is essential for the sustainable development of any community."
"I understand your situation," he responds with gravity. "In that case, how about if..."
But before he can finish his sentence, a group of noble men approaches us with menacing glances. They make gestures, and some knights follow them stealthily from behind.
"They took their time," I think, annoyed, as I watch them quickly approaching.
"Don't make fools of yourselves any longer!" Lancaster exclaims with a firm and authoritative voice. "This person is a business partner of one of the candidates for the Dragon Throne. It is outrageous that you would attempt to disrupt our conversation so discourteously."
The nobles appear surprised by this sudden and significant revelation.
Lancaster tries to stand between them and me, but it's futile to reason with people of such limited intelligence. I knew this would happen sooner or later. It's just another cliché in life.
"Make fools of ourselves?" one of the nobles responds sarcastically. "We were made fools of by those people. Besides, he claims to have vanquished an archbishop, but he does not seem to be a powerful individual. The only thing dangerous about him is his arrogant spirit."
Beatrice tightens her grip on my hand, and I gently stroke her palm with my finger to indicate that she shouldn't act hastily.
My name has been cleared in front of these despicable individuals, but there will always be people willing to sow discord.
"It seems I've wounded your pride," I lean slightly toward them with a mocking smile. "It's a true shame to lose such illustrious allies as yourselves."
The nobles are taken aback by my insolent response, and upon seeing the small smile on Lancaster's face, their looks transform into deep and irrational hatred.
One of the knights' strides toward me and positions himself in front of my defiant figure, gazing upon me with disdain. However, I do not retreat a single inch; I fear no knight, at least as long as they are not someone like Julius or of his rank.
"You don't understand, no one believes you could have achieved that," the man seizes my jacket, and my soldiers point their weapons at them all. "What are you going to do with pitiful sticks? They are mere villagers who don't know their place."
The man is taller than I am, and his condescending look attempts to unsettle me. But I know how to stand my ground.
"It's time to show them the truth, to make them see that we are capable of more," I think to bolster my resolve.
With firm determination, I place my hand on his shoulder and in an instant, I employ vita. A subtle wave courses through the surroundings, and the man falls to his knees, taken aback by my magic.
"Thank you for showing respect to a hero," I utter calmly, concealing my emotions behind a warm smile. "The great training of the knights is evident."
Internally, incomprehension and frustration overwhelm me. People often let themselves be swayed by prejudices and close themselves off to new possibilities, unable to see beyond their self-imposed limitations.
A second knight attempts to draw his weapon, but his action is halted by Julius, who seizes the man's wrist and rebukes him severely.
"That's enough!" Julius proclaims with authority. "You should be ashamed of tarnishing the name of the Imperial Knights with your disrespectful actions."
Julius stands as a protective shield, defending me against those who seek to belittle my achievements and worth. His silent support gives me the strength to remain resolute.
Tempers momentarily subside, and I, aware of my potent magic and the trust they have placed in me, deactivate my spell.
Lancaster, visibly concerned, gazes at me, but I return a serene smile and place my hand on his shoulder, comforting him with an affectionate gesture.
"I hope he, at the very least, can comprehend the significance of truth and justice," I reflect hopefully in my heart.
"Calm down; it would be better to converse at another time. If you wish to visit Irlam, you will be welcomed with open arms," I offer kindly, conveying that a warm reception awaits him in my home.
In the absence of compelling arguments, the nobles refrain from comment and fall into silence. However, one of them, unable to contain his pride, defiantly shouts, "Let him fight! To prove his worth, he must fight."
Julius, undisturbed, observes the scene with gravity, knowing that the tension will not dissipate until some resolution is reached.
"Though tempers may flare, and the battle be one of words and convictions, I am prepared to face this challenge," I think resolutely.
The moment to demonstrate my worth has arrived, and I will not rest until every heart present here comprehends the truth that shines in my soul.
"The power of knowledge and trust are my weapons, but I shall not be weak in this conflict," I promise myself as my heart prepares to confront the storm of disbelief and disdain.
"I will not give up, for I know who I am and what I have achieved. And in this struggle, I am willing to face whatever is necessary to protect the honor of Irlam and those who believe in me."
"None of the ordinary knights could even glimpse the grandeur of facing an archbishop," I declare firmly, maintaining my composure in the face of the growing irritation among those present. "The level of an archbishop is beyond what any of you can imagine; comparing them to mere ordinary knights would be preposterous."
Tension permeates the atmosphere; my soldiers share my annoyance, while the nobles, incapable of grasping the magnitude of our achievements, feel irked.
"This is the opportunity to show them what we are capable of, and I will not squander it," I promise to myself.
Then, a knight steps forward, defiant, and points a finger at me as if he wants to publicly humiliate me.
"I challenge you to a duel!" he exclaims arrogantly. "If you are as powerful as you claim, you should have no problem."
A confident smile graces my face, for the long-awaited opportunity has presented itself.
Julius observes the situation with an unruffled expression, but I return a look that is self-assured and resolute.
"Here and now, the first to touch the other wins," I propose, confident in my abilities and certain that victory is on my side.
The man becomes even more self-assured and suggests a location for the duel: the coliseum, where official battles take place.
"Very well, but since you have insulted me, I have the right to express it. It shall be a genuine combat, with our authentic weaponry.
A murmur sweeps through the assembly, astonished by the audacity of my proposition.
"I have conducted research on the battles here in Lugunica and am acquainted with the regulations," I contemplate as the challenge is embraced.
"I am but a humble villager, my sole possession being the staff upon my back. Yet, beneath my apparent serenity, my heart pulsates with excitement and apprehension.
I am aware that this encounter will determine far more than my prowess in combat; it will serve as a testament to our valor and a direct confrontation with the blindness of those who refuse to acknowledge our might and worth.
'In this duel, I shall fight not solely for myself but for all who place their faith in us, a demonstration of power within my grasp,' I muse as my thoughts intermingle with impatience to fulfill my objectives.
My provocation proves effective as the knight hurls his glove directly at my chest. I smile with a measure of delight, for such challenges are commonplace in the tales of my realm.
However, I sense an internal stirring, as if an unknown force yearns to erupt from the depths of my being.
'This endeavor only holds significance if it is undertaken with someone of genuine strength, ' I reflect as I accept the glove and return a defiant gaze to the knight.
"It is a duel, then!" he proclaims with a certain air of superiority, departing from his entourage and leaving us in solitude.
Julius grasps my shoulder with a mildly concerned countenance, albeit attempting to conceal it.
"As a knight, I apologize for the conduct of my comrades, but there's no need for you to risk yourself."
However, I know I cannot turn back; the opportunity to showcase Irlam's strength is far too valuable to squander.
"If you feel unwell, there's something you can do for me," I reply with determination, making it clear that I've already made my decision.
After my conversation with Julius, I lead my soldiers to the coliseum. Unlike them, I do not feel fear or uncertainty but unshakable confidence.
The soldiers around me, instead of showing concern or surprise, eagerly anticipate the thrashing the arrogant knight will receive.
"Normally, doing this would go against my ideals," I contemplate as I enter the coliseum and observe the dressing rooms filled with various weapons.
Beatrice looks at me impatiently as I attach the bayonet to my rifle.
"Displaying firepower wasn't part of my plans," I admit to myself, but I know it's necessary. If I don't do it now, the nobles might plot to tarnish our reputation, leveraging their power and position.
"Delaying is the greatest mistake," I conclude as I prepare for the duel, determined to prove that Irlam is a force not to be underestimated.
"I understand your reasons for fighting, but I see it as unnecessary, I suppose," Beatrice expresses with her sweet voice while I gently stroke her head to comfort her.
"They are the ones who sought me out, and even that man dared to insult you by pointing," I reply, unwavering.
In this world, status is everything.
"In any case, he won't be able to do much; he's just an ordinary knight," I think confidently, knowing that my skill far surpasses his. I could easily dispatch him, but this fight is merely a warm-up.
After about twenty minutes, I receive a call on my metía, a device that vibrates like a phone when receiving messages. Upon opening it, I'm greeted by Emilia's surprised face.
"A fight? I'm heading to the coliseum. Did you get into a fight?" Her tone conveys annoyance and astonishment, which doesn't surprise me, as I had told her we should remain calm.
"I'll explain when it's over. How did everything go?" I inquire, feeling the desire to embrace her and assure her that everything is under control.
Emilia continues to walk while consulting her own metía, and I catch a glimpse of the halo of her characteristic green hair, suggesting that Crusch is by her side.
"We need to talk about something very, very important," she insists, her gaze filled with concern. "I think I understand the reason for the fight, but you'll still have to give me an explanation."
I nod solemnly and close the metía. Emilia's attitude has changed since the selection, and I can understand her unease.
Without giving it further thought, I advance with Beatrice toward the entrance of the arena. It's a vast open space covered in dirt, where the sunlight splendidly illuminates every corner.
In just a few minutes, the coliseum is filled with nobles, knights, and servants, all eager to witness the showdown.
"Marco!" exclaims Emilia, drawing my attention in her direction. By her side are Crusch and Felt. The latter looks at me with a mischievous smile, as if she eagerly anticipates the combat.
Crusch maintains a solemn expression, while Felix appears to whisper something in her ear. It seems that this bout has generated great anticipation, and we must face it with determination.
Beatrice releases my hand and glides toward Emilia, following the tournament's rules.
Reinhard gazes at me with concern, but I know there's nothing I can do to alter this situation. My eyes fixate on the figure I expected to encounter.
Unexpectedly, Anastasia enters, accompanied by Julius, who nods in approval, to which I respond with a nod of my own. But what surprises me the most is Gildark's entrance, followed by three of the council's sages.
"The elders who insulted Emilia the most," I think bitterly.
This gathering is nothing more than a circus where they desire to see me massacred, just as in that ancient novel. The stadium resonates with a cacophony of voices and confusing noises, making it challenging to comprehend the words.
"Silence!" shouts one of the knights from the platform, descending immediately. "We will commence the battle between the Imperial Knight, Kus Sidmuth!" The crowd cheers for Kus, who proudly displays lightweight armor, strategically protecting his chest, shins, and forearms.
With overflowing confidence, Kus appears pleased before the audience, his eyes roaming the adoring crowd.
He positions himself a few meager meters away from me.
"And, on the other side, the challenged party, Marco Luz."
An overwhelming silence descends upon the coliseum, broken only by one person's insult, followed by a shower of offenses. However, amid all those taunts, a singular cry surprises me.
"Kick his ass!" Felt exclaims at the top of her lungs, displaying an unexpected and valuable show of support.
I raise my thumb in a gesture of gratitude, assuring her that everything will be fine. However, my confidence seems to perturb my opponent.
"You should surrender," he taunts with disdain. "I don't know how you managed to have Reinhard and the other candidate vouch for you, but your deception will be exposed today."
The man's expression could only be described as that of a madman, with a deep desire that erases all traces of reason. I gaze into his eyes, but he doesn't appear to be looking at me; his glances wander erratically.
It's strange.
I remain silent, assuming my position, my finger on the trigger, and my gaze unwaveringly fixed on my opponent.
"That's not how you handle a spear!" the spectators shout and laugh, but it doesn't concern me in the least. My goal is to eliminate this man as quickly as possible.
The knight acting as the judge regards me with some concern, but I gesture confidently to him. With a sigh, he declares:
"Begin!"
It's showtime.
Kus flashes me a smile and charges toward me. Typically, in spear combat, there's a specific range of attack that is lethal and another that is futile. His steps are swift, quickly closing the distance between us.
It will be dangerous if he manages to enter the range of my spear.
While true, this is no spear.
BANG!
A deafening blast reverberates throughout the arena, capturing everyone's attention. In a matter of moments, his advance is overshadowed, and he falls to the ground, bewildered by what has transpired.
A bullet is swifter and smaller than any projectile, and not everyone possesses the ability to perceive or deflect it, as Wilhelm, Julius, or Reinhard might.
It's a power possessed by only a select few.
The coliseum falls into an overwhelming silence as the knight lies on the ground. Blood spurts from his right leg in alarming quantities, and he begins to gasp for breath as he attempts to rise.
"Ahg!" Kus retreats rapidly, but his white pants are stained red, evidence that I have struck an artery.
Dangerous.
Emotions in the crowd become tumultuous; some shout, others watch the scene in silence, and a few seem thrilled by the spilled blood.
But within me, I feel a strange mixture of satisfaction and regret.
This is what I wanted, yes, but somehow, I know it's not right.
Even though it allows us to claim the victory on our own terms, it will bring us into the view of all our enemies.
My mind and heart are engulfed in a storm as I strive to maintain composure and move forward with this confrontation.
The coliseum has metamorphosed into a battlefield, where gazes and emotions violently collide.
The atmosphere is fraught with palpable tension, and everything seems to be in a state of pause, awaiting what might happen next.
Nevertheless, the sole focus of my attention is on Kus, lying wounded, suffering the consequences of his provocation.
If I want to protect Emilia and those who matter to me, if I want to pursue my ambitions, I must forge ahead and confront the repercussions of my actions.
"What have you done!?" Kus glares at me with hatred, pressing his wounded leg.
"I simply used my weapon." I approach him calmly, observing as he assumes a defensive posture. Yet, as he moves a few paces away, he believes he's out of my reach.
"You're a cheater!" the desperate man exclaims as he sees me drawing near.
Bang!
The bullet pierces through Kus's weapon, forcing him to release it and grasp his injured hand. His hand shatters from the impact, with several fingers being severed, leaving only a trail of blood.
"Ahg!" Kus despairs and, in an instant, he screams, "El dona!"
Spikes of stone emerge from the ground, hurtling toward me. Swiftly, they extend and force me to retreat using my magic.
The man gasps for breath, his gaze filled with deep-seated hatred.
It's astonishing how low the prowess of an ordinary knight can be.
Yet, could there be deeper motivations fueling his intense resentment? Knights are known for their fierceness with the sword, but the crux of the matter stems from wielding an unfamiliar weapon.
Nonetheless, I harbor no reluctance in engaging in a formidable conflict using my own magical prowess.
Disregarding his frantic endeavors, I shift my gaze towards the audience, and with a voice suffused with mana, I exclaim resolutely:
"Behold the might we command in Irlam! Each of my soldiers possesses this capacity! With these implements, we have subdued cultists without reliance on swords."
A sepulchral hush descends upon the venue as whispers persist. It appears that many present do not entirely apprehend the unfolding events, yet a select few do.
"Our supremacy remains incontrovertible! Thus, the time has come to draw this to a close."
Instantaneously, I harness my spiritual magic. The influence of gravity wanes upon me, and at the most unexpected moment, I cry out with unwavering vigor:
"Fura!"
A tempestuous gust propels me with astonishing speed towards Kus, ensnaring the knight off guard. In the blink of an eye, I stand face-to-face with him, delivering a dexterous blow to his countenance. He attempts to parry the strike with his arm, but it fails to deter me.
Swiftly, he thrusts his leg forward in an attempt to repel me.
With agility, I seize his left leg, unbalancing him. In that opportune instant, I seize the moment and drive my fist into his nose, witnessing a gush of blood upon impact.
While I may not be a maestro of fencing, in the realm of close combat, I exhibit unwavering relentlessness. Kus descends to the ground and promptly erects a stone barrier between us. From one side of the divide, he lunges at me with a gaze laden with malevolence.
"Perish!" he shout as he lunges to stab me.
At this range, my rifle lacks potency, and his wounds are conspicuous. Had he acted with such determination from the outset, he might have been a more formidable adversary.
But now it's too late.
I grasp his hand firmly, halting his advance. He gazes at me, his face blanched, and he wheezes with difficulty. Despite teetering on the brink of collapse, he refuses to admit defeat.
"At the very least, accept your surrender," I whisper before delivering another blow to his countenance. With ease, I employ murak to lift him and display him before all present.
The onlookers' expressions shift from surprise to trepidation. Kus's blood trickles as he struggles to catch his breath.
If this situation persists, he might meet his demise.
I gather momentum and, with the power of wind magic, send him flying across the arena. He crawls until he collides with the wall where the candidates are stationed, left drained and battered.
The coliseum is immersed in a tense silence as everyone witnesses the outcome of the fierce battle. Victory is mine, yet I feel no jubilation at this moment; it was far too facile. Violence and spilled blood are not causes for celebration.
The specter of the conflict lingers, serving as a reminder that strength isn't the sole solution in this tumultuous world.
But sometimes, it is necessary.
I gaze at the knight presiding as the judge, and a profound silence pervades the chamber as I await his verdict. Eternally long seconds pass before he finally responds.
"The winner is Marco Luz!" proclaims the judge.