Though Yuri Briol had appeared quite suddenly, Leroy secretly held onto a flicker of hope.
The champion he had put forward was a paladin, hailed as the successor to the Holy Knight. Despite his youth, he had fought countless battles and was famous for never having lost a one-on-one duel.
And today, Yuri Briol was wielding an unfamiliar weapon.
“The blade’s curved, isn’t it?”
“They say he uses some kind of ‘Guilty’ sword, but today he’s brought a scimitar.”
“That sword looks… strange somehow…”
Clad only in training clothes, without even armor, Yuri appeared holding a long, slender curved blade.
If luck was on his side, he might just win.
And even if the outcome was unfavorable, at least they could say he fought well despite losing.
That’s what Leroy thought.
But it was all an illusion.
“One person’s death, incapacitation, or surrender ends the duel immediately. If there are any objections, raise your hand now. None? Very well. Begin!”
The two men standing in the arena moved the instant the signal sounded.
For a moment, their forms blurred.
Then, having passed each other, they reappeared in view.
At first, both stood frozen, backs turned to one another. After a brief pause, Leroy’s champion slumped down.
“Ugh…”
His breastplate was dented.
There had been no drawn-out struggle, but it was a clean finish.
It seemed the duel would end just like that.
Yuri Briol turned his body and said, “Again.”
“What?”
“Try again.”
“Ha…”
Leroy’s champion twitched his lips and rose to his feet.
“Fine.”
The two men faced off once more, glaring at each other as if to reenact the previous exchange.
A leaf drifted on the breeze, fluttering through the air before settling on the arena floor.
In that instant, a flash of steel gleamed.
Their blades crossed again.
“…”
They stopped, having passed each other as before. Silence stretched between them, then this time Yuri’s blade began to tilt slightly.
Just as Leroy’s champion smiled and straightened his back—
His knee buckled.
“No!”
The champion collapsed awkwardly to the ground, lying flat as he stared up in disbelief.
“Why is it me who…?”
Yuri approached with a calm stride, looking down at him with a smirk.
“Again.”
Leroy’s champion grimaced.
“Fine!”
He charged once more—and fell again.
“Again.”
“Damn it!”
The same scene repeated.
“Again.”
“Ugh!”
“Again.”
“Goddamn it…”
“Again.”
“Argh!”
Throughout the duel, Leroy’s champion fell countless times, only to rise again. His entire body was caked in dust, his armor battered and dented in places.
Meanwhile, Yuri Briol remained unscathed.
Not even a bead of sweat marred his calm demeanor, as if he were out for a leisurely stroll.
“Again.”
At Yuri’s command, Leroy’s champion charged once more.
Their blades flashed as they passed each other. This time, both remained still for longer than before.
But the outcome was unchanged.
Leroy’s champion twitched a few times before collapsing face-up on the ground.
“Ugh…”
Humiliated, he covered his eyes with his arm.
“Damn it…”
He muttered, voice trembling.
Then—
“Hey.”
Yuri approached him.
“That last attack was decent. Now I’m curious—what’s your name?”
Leroy’s champion lifted his eyes. Through the haze, Yuri’s face came into focus.
A faint trickle of blood seeped from a wound on Yuri’s cheek.
His sword, which had barely grazed even a strand of hair before, had finally managed to leave a scratch after repeated attempts.
“Ah…”
Yuri smiled faintly and extended his hand.
“What’s your name?”
Leroy’s champion stared blankly at the hand, then chuckled softly and wiped his eyes with his gauntlet before grasping it.
“Bailey.”
“Bailey. I’ll remember that.”
“The honor is mine.”
With Yuri’s help, Bailey rose to his feet.
“Wait…?”
Suddenly, he flinched at the sight of Yuri’s sword.
He had known Yuri was wielding a scimitar today, but its shape was bizarre. The blade was blunt, while the back edge was sharpened to a keen blue gleam.
“A reverse-edged sword?”
“Exactly.”
“I can’t believe I only just realized this…”
Bailey’s face flushed with embarrassment.
They had been sparring all day, yet he had only now noticed the blade’s reversed edge.
Yuri’s speed had been so overwhelming that he hadn’t been able to see it clearly.
“Could it be that the reason you brought this sword…”
“You’re right.”
“As I thought…”
Bailey hung his head.
He had come prepared to kill his opponent, but the man before him had been sparing him, even going so far as to avoid accidentally killing him.
“You never intended to harm me from the start.”
“Of course not. Today, I didn’t come to wield a sword that kills, but one that saves. Isn’t this duel ultimately part of saving the Holy Kingdom?”
“Such profound meaning…”
“Don’t forget today’s duel. What you learned here will protect you on the battlefield someday.”
“I was so ignorant…”
“Now you know.”
“Ugh…”
Throughout the day, Yuri had insisted on ‘again’ every time Bailey attacked. Bailey tried various tactics, but each was countered.
In the process, Bailey grasped the true principles of the sword.
It was like a private lesson.
Shouldering his sword, Yuri smiled as Bailey bowed deeply.
“Your Highness, thank you so much!”
“Of course.”
“But, you know…”
“Hm?”
“That’s a reverse-edged sword.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re doing all this without armor…”
“Hm…?”
Yuri glanced at his shoulder.
Blood was streaming down from where the reverse-edged sword rested.
Despite being reversed, the blade was incredibly sharp.
“Blood! Blood!”
“P-please stop the bleeding.”
“It stings!”
“Priest!”
There was a commotion, but in any case, the duel ended with Yuri Briol’s victory.
Leroy’s side was in a festive mood, while Leroy himself wore a completely sour expression.
“This can’t be…”
“To lose by such a margin!”
“Bailey, you useless bastard…”
Though it might have looked like a beautiful duel at a glance, it was in truth a crushing defeat. Not only that, but Bailey seemed to have even received a favor from his opponent.
Watching Bailey bow repeatedly in gratitude to Yuri Briol, Leroy closed his eyes.
It was a total defeat.
His journey toward the throne had ended so bitterly.
As he clenched his fists, trembling, Luther approached first.
“Leroy.”
“Luther…”
“You lost, but you fought well.”
“Yeah.”
Leroy’s grip tightened. Hearing those words from the victor was maddening.
Luther continued.
“Don’t be too discouraged. You lost to me.”
“No, I lost to Yuri Briol.”
“Same difference.”
“Same difference?”
“I’m friends with Yuri.”
“…”
“You know close friends, right? The kind who step in when someone messes with you, and sneak up in the dead of night to stab your enemies with a knife.”
Understanding the veiled threat in Luther’s words, Leroy sighed deeply.
“Yeah.”
Since he had lost the champion duel, there was no turning back. He decided to accept the outcome cleanly and avoid future trouble.
“Alright, Luther. I’ll give up my claim to the throne and support you.”
“Good choice.”
Luther patted Leroy’s shoulder.
“Brother, let’s make this work.”
Leroy was a shrewd opportunist who would likely become an ally if he gained the upper hand in succession. Luther knew this well.
As if reading Luther’s mind, Leroy said,
“If anyone tries to get in your way, I’ll block them for you. But you owe me, got it?”
“Don’t worry.”
“We’re allies now.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Luther wasn’t particularly interested in the throne or royal power, so he didn’t worry about what lay ahead. If Leroy tried any tricks, that dark-haired madman with the sword would handle it.
They both laughed heartily, each lost in their own thoughts.
“By the way, is your friend okay? He’s still bleeding from his shoulder.”
“Leave him be.”
Kory picked up a discarded newspaper from the ground.
It reported that Sybilla had died, and a man named Luther had become the new king of the Holy Kingdom.
“Ah…”
Reading that Sybilla was dead, Kory let out a heavy sigh.
While he had been away, much had happened across the continent. He wanted to return to Yuri quickly and help him.
But reality wasn’t going the way he wished.
“Hey, orc.”
Kory turned his head to see members of the circus troupe standing nearby.
“An orc reading a newspaper? You showing off because you can read?”
“I’m not an orc. I’m Kory. And I’m not showing off—I was just reading a discarded newspaper.”
“Oh, so you talk back too.”
Despite his appearance, Kory was eloquent and knowledgeable in many fields. He even told stories about the famed Yuri Briol.
Of course, no one believed all of it, but the facts didn’t matter. The mere fact that a small, ugly half-orc could tell interesting stories drew people’s attention.
That’s why Kory was popular whenever the troupe performed.
This, however, sparked jealousy among the other acrobats who twisted their bodies in performances.
“Should we shut that big mouth of yours for good?”
Several troupe members rolled up their sleeves and approached. Cory stumbled backward, glancing over his shoulder, but a wall blocked his escape—there was nowhere to run.
Eventually, he was thrown to the ground and pummeled mercilessly.
“You filthy orc!”
“Disgusting bastard!”
“You should’ve never come here!”
A torrent of baseless hatred rained down on Cory. Blood trickled from his wounds as he curled up, but the kicks didn’t stop. If anything, the blows grew even more vicious.
“Should we rip out his tongue?”
At those words, Cory shook his head desperately.
“No, please… don’t—”
“What’s ‘don’t’ mean?”
One of them grabbed Cory by the hair.
“You ugly freak…”
“Where’s the pincers?”
“Make him mute—now that’d be a laugh. The customers would love it.”
Sold into slavery by the circus troupe, living at the bottom rung of life, they were consumed by bitterness and showed no hesitation in tormenting someone else.
Then, suddenly—
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The circus master stood there, whip in hand.
“I told you not to cause trouble.”
At his arrival, everyone froze in fear.
“S-sorry!”
The master cracked his whip. Flesh split open on the troupe members’ skin. Terrified, they dropped to the ground.
“Cory.”
“Yes…”
But then, the whip lashed out at Cory as well.
He screamed in pain.
“I—I only took the hits. I didn’t do anything…”
“That’s the problem.”
The master’s cold gaze bore down on him.
“They say even a worm writhes when stepped on. But don’t you dare move. No one steps on a dead worm. It only dirties their shoes.”
With that, the master gave him a chilling look and turned away.
Tears welled up in Cory’s eyes.
It didn’t take long for him to realize the promise he’d been given—that if he worked hard, he could escape the circus slave life—was a lie.
The circus contracts were arbitrary. The more money you earned, the deeper your debt grew. Interest rates were manipulated at will, binding you for life.
This was the human world.
No different from the orcs.
Cory’s dream of living alongside humans, accepted and free, slowly stained and faded.
“Damn it…”
That’s how he learned to curse.
Spitting out the blood clotted in his mouth, Cory forced himself to stand. Meeting the hateful glares of the other troupe members, he staggered away from the scene.
The circus quarters were no better than a livestock pen.
If only he could use magic, he would have burned it all to the ground.
Now, all that remained was a burning desire—to break the chains that bound him.