Episode 48: The Jousting Tournament (1)
The next day dawned, marking the start of the much-anticipated jousting tournament.
From the crack of dawn, Damian made his way to the waiting area set up behind the tournament grounds.
Knights who had arrived early were already busy preparing for the competition.
“Master Damian, are you sure this armor will suffice?”
Victor, his squire, asked hesitantly, holding out a leather armor.
The armor Damian had brought was minimal, barely covering his torso.
It left his shoulders and arms exposed, making it seem like even a glancing blow could cause injury.
“This will do just fine,” Damian replied nonchalantly as he donned the armor.
The tournament participants were all junior knights or of lower rank.
With their level of skill, they wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on Damian.
In that case, a lightweight leather armor was preferable to cumbersome metal armor.
“Still, wouldn’t chainmail have been a better choice…?”
Victor’s face was etched with worry when suddenly—
Boom— Boom—
A shirtless soldier began beating a large drum set up at one side of the arena.
The knights’ attention shifted to the tournament grounds.
Count Copperhead was making his way to the center of the arena.
“Ahem, thank you all for gathering here today. I am Chester Copperhead,” he announced, beginning the opening ceremony.
“Today, we have gathered the bravest knights of the West. The winner will gain fame not only here but across other regions as well.”
Tournaments of this scale were rare, drawing interest from neighboring areas as well.
As the Count said, the victor would indeed gain significant renown.
“Of course, it’s not just fame at stake. We’ve prepared a prize worthy of the winner.”
With a gesture, the Count summoned several servants carrying a cloth-covered item.
When the cloth was removed, a crystal the size of a child’s fist was revealed.
Unusually, a small flame flickered continuously within the crystal.
“What is that? Is it a magical artifact?”
“It doesn’t seem so. If it were, there’d be a magic circle inscribed on it.”
The nobles gazed at the crystal with a mix of curiosity and confusion.
At another gesture from the Count, a servant brought forth a large silver tray.
On the tray, a bright red flame blazed.
Grasping the crystal, the Count plunged his hand into the fire.
“Ahhh!”
“What on earth is that!”
The nobles gasped in shock, as did the knights in the waiting area.
Yet the Count showed no sign of pain.
“This is a treasure collected by my grandfather. As you can see, it protects its owner from flames. It also has the effect of maintaining body temperature.”
The nobles began to murmur excitedly.
Artifacts that offered protection like this crystal were incredibly valuable.
Typically, only mid-level magicians of the fifth rank or higher could create such items, and even then, they were limited in use.
But this crystal seemed to have no such limitations and even offered the additional benefit of temperature regulation.
It was no ordinary item.
“I don’t know its origins. Even the magicians I consulted were baffled.”
Though its origins were unclear, it was of little consequence given its extraordinary properties.
“The winner will receive this as their prize,” the Count declared, lifting the crystal high. The nobles erupted in cheers.
The knights in the waiting area, too, looked at the crystal with renewed determination.
‘What is this?’
Amidst the excitement, Damian alone was taken aback.
‘Why is a Spirit’s Heart here?’
A spirit.
A mystical being born with the power of nature.
Though their intelligence was akin to that of a child, their power was formidable.
Even the weakest spirit was considered to possess the strength of a low-class warrior.
‘They’ve put up something incredibly rare as a prize.’
Unlike the Count, Damian knew exactly what the item was.
A Spirit’s Heart.
A rare concentration of power that occasionally formed when a high-level spirit perished.
High-level spirits were said to possess exceptional intelligence and wield power comparable to high-class warriors.
‘The rumors I heard in my past life were true.’
It was a moment of revelation.
According to what Damian knew, the tournament winner had used the prize to ascend to high-class status.
If one could absorb the heart, they would gain immense magical power and the strength of a spirit.
‘The power of a spirit…’
Damian recalled the elves he had fought in his past life.
When he had been tasked by Dorgo to bring down the empire, the elves had come to stop him.
All of them had contracts with spirits, and among them was an elf who had a pact with a Spirit King.
‘They were formidable foes. It felt like battling nature itself.’
Damian had fought against dozens of spirit summoners for over three months.
He had claimed victory by tearing apart the Spirit King.
‘To think they’d offer such a treasure as a prize… they truly don’t know what they have.’
Humans had little understanding of spirits.
Thus, no magician had recognized the crystal as a Spirit’s Heart.
Damian, however, could identify it thanks to the knowledge he had gained from Dorgo and his battles with the elves.
‘I hadn’t expected much from the prize, but… this is tempting.’
Absorbing the Spirit’s Heart could significantly shorten the time needed to regain his former power.
‘But where is that rascal Abel?’
Damian scanned the stands. He soon spotted Abel sitting among the nobles.
Abel was gazing enviously at something.
‘What is he looking at… Ah.’
Olivia Copperhead was seated in the VIP section, surrounded by other nobles.
It seemed Abel wanted to approach her but was daunted by the crowd of nobles.
‘What a hopeless fool.’
Damian clicked his tongue inwardly.
It was frustrating, but not entirely unexpected. Abel was hopeless when it came to matters like this.
“Victor, come with me.”
“Yes! …Yes?”
Damian pushed through the knights and stepped into the tournament grounds.
“Sir, the tournament hasn’t started yet.”
“I know.”
Ignoring Victor’s protests, Damian approached the Count seated in the VIP section.
“Good morning, Your Excellency.”
“Oh, Sir Damian. A good morning to you.”
“Thanks to the excellent accommodations you provided, I had a restful night.”
The Count seemed pleased with Damian’s response.
“But what brings you here? Is there something you wish to say?”
“Before the tournament begins, there’s a concern I’d like to address.”
“A concern?”
The Count asked, his eyes widening.
“Jousting can be quite rough, and sometimes brutal.”
Damian glanced at Lady Olivia seated beside the Count.
“I’m worried that someone as delicate as Lady Olivia might not fully enjoy the tournament.”
Damian continued, feigning concern.
“Perhaps it would be beneficial to have someone explain the events to her. My brother Abel, who has trained under me, is well-versed in swordsmanship and jousting.”
Damian gestured towards Abel in the stands. Abel looked back at him, surprised.
“While I appreciate your concern, Olivia is not so delicate as to be frightened by a joust. She even enjoys hunting as a hobby…”
“That’s a wonderful idea! Let’s do as Sir Damian suggests.”
Olivia Copperhead interjected quickly. The Count turned to her, surprised.
“Olivia?”
“It would be nice to have someone explain things to me rather than watching alone.”
Damian looked at Lady Olivia with a hint of surprise.
‘She’s a sharp one.’
He hadn’t expected her to support Abel so readily.
Even more pleasing was Lady Olivia’s proactive stance. It seemed she had feelings for Abel.
“Hmm… if Olivia insists, I suppose there’s no choice. Abel, come forward.”
Just then, a shout erupted from the waiting area.
“Your Excellency! This decision is too hasty!”
A large knight strode onto the field.
“My squire has trained under me for a long time. He is no less capable than Abel!”
After making his case, the knight shot a challenging look at Damian.
“Your Excellency! My squire is also exceptionally talented and skilled!”
“Your Excellency, my squire…”
Other knights rushed out, voicing their objections.
‘They’re all desperate.’
Most of the knights participating in the tournament were there to court Lady Olivia.
Having their squire by her side during the tournament would allow them to leave a favorable impression by praising their master.
They were reluctant to let Damian have this opportunity.
“Hmm, what should we do about this?”
The Count stroked his chin, looking troubled.
Even as a Count, he couldn’t make a decision with so many knights protesting.
“Your Excellency, there’s no need to worry.”
Damian spoke up again, drawing the Count’s attention.
“Why not select the most capable squire to sit beside Lady Olivia?”
“Ha, the best, you say? How do you plan to choose?”
“Yeah, are you suggesting we have the squires fight it out?”
Several knights shouted at Demian.
Demian shrugged and replied, “The squire of the finest knight should naturally be the best, don’t you think?”
“So, are you proposing a duel among us right now?”
“Not with the jousting tournament coming up. Instead of a duel, let’s test our skills in another way.”
Demian turned to the count. “Your Excellency, since the lady enjoys hunting, why not seat the squire with the best archery skills next to her?”
Demian’s suggestion sparked a strong reaction from some of the knights.
“What nonsense! How can you determine a knight’s worth with something like that?”
“I agree. There must be a fairer way!”
Not all the knights were opposed.
“An archery contest sounds good to me.”
“I’d love to show off the skills that earned me the title of sharpshooter in the Octavia Forest.”
But it was Lady Olivia’s words that sealed the deal.
“I like the idea. I’ve been curious about how the others shoot.”
With Olivia’s support, the opposition lost its momentum.
“Who will go first, then?”
“I’ll go first.”
Demian stepped forward and addressed Victor. “What are you waiting for? Go fetch a bow.”
“Yes, sir!”
Victor quickly ran off and returned with a bow and arrows from a soldier.
“Here you go!”
“Good job.”
“But, sir, do you even know how to shoot a bow?”
“No.”
Victor’s face went blank at Demian’s response.
“Then why did you suggest this?”
“Because I’m confident.”
Demian nocked an arrow.
As he had just mentioned, Demian didn’t know how to shoot a bow. But he had all the knowledge he needed.
“Let’s see… how did that guy do it?”
Demian recalled a master archer he had once faced, a half-elf known as the Bow Phantom. Among the masters Demian had encountered, the Bow Phantom was one of the most formidable. His arrows, shot from incredible distances, were as powerful as high-level magic.
After a grueling week-long battle, Demian had finally defeated him, absorbing all his skills and techniques in the process.
“Soldiers, bring the training targets.”
“No need. There’s a target right there.”
Demian pointed his arrow skyward. A bird was flitting across the sky.
“Sir Demian, surely you don’t mean to hit a flying bird…”
Demian released the arrow, but it sailed far past the bird.
“Haha! All that talk, and you missed by a mile.”
“Looks like Sir Demian isn’t much of an archer.”
A few knights laughed loudly, but Demian remained unfazed.
“Now I understand how it flies.”
The first arrow was just to gauge the trajectory. With that single shot, Demian had completely grasped the bow’s characteristics.
“Your Excellency, I’ll hit that bird’s left eye.”
Demian nocked a second arrow and released it without even aiming.
In the blink of an eye, the arrow pierced the bird’s face, and it plummeted to the ground. A soldier rushed over to retrieve it.
“He hit the left eye!”
The soldier’s shout left the entire contest ground in stunned silence.
Demian handed the bow to the knights and asked, “Next?”
The knights could only stare at Demian, speechless, none willing to take the bow.
Thus, without any further objections, the seat next to Lady Olivia was reserved for Abel.