How to Live as a Genius Knight in a Fantasy World

25.

Having filled all proficiency levels for the skill and gained an additional feather, Rohan closed the status window without proceeding to synthesis.

With skills not scarce enough to use N-grade skills as materials and proficiency levels of R-grade skills being filled, he had no intention of wasting feathers carelessly.

“Soon there will come a time when feathers will be in short supply.”

Even after filling skill proficiency levels, if he couldn’t synthesize due to a lack of feathers, the thought of how frustrating it would be was dreadful.

As Rohan waited for the tournament to take place two days later, swinging his weapon,

The Viscount was facing a magician whom he could call a long-time friend.

“Ezal, long time no see.”

“Lloyd. Has it been a year? Seems like the capital has treated you well, you haven’t aged a bit.”

“Not aging, but not standing well these days either. Feeling the weight of my years.”

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“Wasn’t that always the case?”

“What nonsense! I used to be so agile! Why come here at this hour to say such things?”

“Of course not. Well, I did plan to tease you a bit, but that’s not why I’m here.”

After his response, the Viscount took out a white bead from his pocket and placed it on the table.

“What’s this?”

“I have no idea either. I found it on my way to Arden, encountered some trolls, and these things came out of their bodies.”

“This? It’s not a mana stone though…”

“Right. Doesn’t seem to be an item with accumulated mana. I fought four of them, and each had one of these beads.”

“What? You encountered four trolls? Must have been quite a battle?”

“No, luckily I had two knights with me, so the damage wasn’t significant. Some casualties, but…”

“You went through all this trouble bringing your daughter along. Anyway, it’s strange. My expertise isn’t in demonology, but from what I see, items coming out of a troll’s belly are definitely not common. It looks more like something touched by human hands…”

“Indeed. I also think so. Our knights mentioned it was an unfamiliar item. Even a veteran knight who had killed trolls multiple times. And the fact that trolls were gathered was odd. It’s not common for four of them to gather without any offspring.”

“Hmm…”

After swallowing his saliva, Lloyd made a decision.

“Let’s leave it for now. We’ll examine it with the researchers and then come to a conclusion. However, since there’s no trace of mana, it might take a while. Generally, mages aren’t very interested in such items.”

“Alright. But still, keep an eye on it. It’s bothering me no matter how I think about it.”

After discussing all matters, Viscount Ezal chatted briefly with Lloyd before tidying up and getting up from his seat.

As Viscount Ezal stepped out of the tower, he soon stopped in his tracks.

‘Should I inform the temple as well?’

It was a dilemma.

If using demons to scheme something, most likely, it would be related to demons and dark magic, but informing the temple, the very institution that could be considered their antithesis, was not an easy decision.

A world where multiple gods existed, revealing themselves through miracles.

There were as many sects following these gods as there were gods, each dedicated to expanding their teachings through the abilities of the deity they worshipped.

Punishing evil to elevate the name of the sect was also a way of spreading the name of the god and expanding the teachings.

Therefore, even informing about the existence of evil required being cautious of various sects.

Moreover, after informing, there was another issue; the sects were relentless when it came to matters related to evil.

Though it was undoubtedly a just action, from the perspective of someone who had to work with them, there were nothing but drawbacks.

Of course, with sincere cooperation, there was a reward, but if they didn’t cooperate properly, not only were there no benefits, but there were also disadvantages. So, there was no choice but to hesitate in making a decision.

Furthermore, the location where the incident occurred was the Talun Mountains.

It was a place not directly related to Viscount Ezal’s territory.

Even if one were to consider it as damage, it would only weaken the domain of a noble from the same faction, and there would be a temporary interruption in trade from the capital.

But still, Viscount Ezal hesitated because he belonged to a generation that had experienced the invasion of a demon army during his youth.

It was a time so miserable that he could understand the temple’s hypersensitivity.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Viscount Ezal’s decision was to put it on hold.

Lloyd was a competent magician, and he had researchers from the tower with him.

Having taken on the job, a brief delay wouldn’t pose a significant issue.

The Earl of Isel, who had momentarily paused, continued his steps towards the lodging.

“Really big.”

Chris, who had come to the stadium following Rohan and Argent, widened his eyes in awe.

Thanks to the reward he received for holding back his hand while throwing the net at the troll, he had indulged in eating and playing for days, causing him to look slightly chubby compared to his usual self, almost childlike.

Rohan and Argent, seeing Chris like that, couldn’t help but chuckle without saying a word.

“He’s got quite the resilient mentality.”

It was fascinating how he maintained a bright demeanor even after narrowly escaping death multiple times.

Rohan and Argent displayed their prowess as players upon entry, while Chris, having paid separately as a spectator, went into the stadium.

The contrast in numbers at both entrances was dramatic.

Despite the early hour, the line at the spectator entrance was long and bustling, but the entrance designated for players was so spacious that just a push would let one through.

After exchanging greetings with Chris and entering the stadium, Rohan looked around.

The stands, empty during the exam, were rapidly filling up with spectators and vendors.

On the other hand, the inside of the stadium was eerily empty, with significantly fewer people than on exam day.

The stadium’s interior, once jam-packed during registration due to the multitude of people, now seemed to have fewer successful candidates than expected.

Not everyone had arrived yet, but currently, there seemed to be barely over two hundred people at most.

“Is this all there is…?”

“That’s because the exam wasn’t a walk in the park.”

Argent responded to Rohan’s muttering.

Indeed, wielding a polearm was no easy feat.

Of course, reaching the level of a knight by using axes or maces wasn’t impossible, but in the context of mercenary subjects, it was uncommon to use such heavy weaponry.

Due to their weight, they could easily hamper agility, and it was inconvenient to carry them compared to swords.

While the destructive power stemming from their weight was incomparable to that of swords, in combat between individuals, victory wasn’t solely determined by that destructive force, hence the preference for swords in general.

“Well, that’s not to say there aren’t people wielding axes or maces.”

Perhaps among them, there were those who capitalized on the advantages of such polearms.

And most likely, those individuals wouldn’t pass the preliminaries and would be eliminated.

The fact that a sword could match the impact of an axe meant that the physical conditioning was on a different level.

As there was still some time before the competition began, Rohan sat in the waiting room under the stands to inspect his weapon.

The sword he acquired as the Earl of Isel’s disciple.

Having sharpened and oiled it yesterday, it radiated a sharp gleam as bright as when he first received it.

Engaging in light banter with Argent, they whiled away the time until the match was about to start, when the booming voice of the announcer outside the stadium caught their attention.

“Huh?”

Rohan’s slightly surprised voice was heard upon hearing the announcer.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

Rohan was taken aback because the announcer’s voice felt as if it was spoken directly into a microphone.

It was much louder and resonant than usual, akin to a karaoke microphone.

‘Their technology is different.’

While unthinkable in Isel, it seemed that the overwhelming advancement in this capital might not be something achieved through magic.

The scientific technology here was too outdated to create a modern microphone, leaving magic as the only viable option.

As Rohan briefly sensed the scent of modern culture, the host captivated the audience with a ceaseless wagging of his tongue.

Rohan, too, listened closely to the host’s voice echoing through the waiting room.

In truth, driven impulsively by Argen’s persuasion to participate, Rohan had little knowledge despite entering the competition.

All Rohan knew was that the competition would span two days and that the prizes were quite generous.

The rules were simple.

Subdue your opponent without killing them.

Attacking a defeated opponent was strictly forbidden, but there seemed to be no repercussions for getting injured or killed during the fight.

Though one might think that the one who fought with real weapons would end up dying each time they lost, it was said that it was rare for someone to meet their end unexpectedly, as the judges, being knights in their own right, prevented such occurrences.

The match would end before such a situation arose.

“I wish we could finish it all in one day.”

Argen mumbled, chin in hand.

It seemed he wasn’t fond of dividing the preliminaries and the main competition over two days.

But in Rohan’s opinion, it wasn’t done to prolong the tournament needlessly.

It was likely an unavoidable choice due to the large number of participants.

There were four stages inside the arena alone.

It was evident that they aimed to conduct the preliminaries swiftly.

After the explanation of the matches, attendants clad in armor entered the waiting room and led the participants away.

Observing them targeting specific participants, it seemed they had arranged the matchups in advance.

The cheers of the audience, seemingly indicating the start of the matches, reached the waiting room, but aside from the competing players, no one could leave the room and had to sit quietly, waiting for their turn.

“Ugh, what a waste of time.”

With no skills to practice quietly like meditation, Rohan had no choice but to pass the time chatting with Argen.

Occasionally, attendants would come in and escort two or four participants out.

Despite conducting four matches simultaneously, the frequency of attendants entering wasn’t particularly fast.

Having a small clock in the waiting room provided some comfort, allowing them to keep track of time.

After nearly two hours of idle chatter with Argen, and with their conversation now paused, an attendant finally called Rohan’s name.

Having waited for so long, any hint of tension had dissipated, allowing Rohan to walk out with his weapon without a trace of nervousness.

As he followed the attendant through the door, another participant who came out alongside him lightly tapped his shoulder.

When Rohan turned his head, the person smirked, saying, “Hey, rookie. If you don’t want to die, surrender quickly. Got it?”

Though the words were harsh, Rohan simply smiled back.

His face may have looked tough, but there was no hint of arrogance about him.

He was not a novice warrior who would be intimidated by the opponent’s menacing expression, trying to press him.

Even as he stepped onto the arena, there was no applause from the audience.

Initially excited spectators had lost interest after watching similar-level matches for nearly two hours.

The fact that the decisive moments were unfolding right next to them in the adjacent arena also contributed to the audience’s apathy.

Of course, Rohan paid no mind.

He didn’t even think he would garner any attention in the preliminaries.

His opponent, who seemed to be trying to pressure Rohan, had an even more grim expression, but Rohan was not an inexperienced fighter who would be daunted by his opponent’s demeanor.

As the judgment signaled the beginning of the match, Rohan lunged forward and leaped off the ground.

The opponent, taken aback by the unexpected speed, instinctively raised their sword.

It was a swift response that even Rohan would find hard to call slow.

The only issue was that due to the sudden defensive posture, they couldn’t move their lower body.

Rohan, who possessed strength beyond that of an ordinary adult male, swung his sword heavily, carrying his weight with it.

There was an unstoppable force that couldn’t be countered without firmly anchoring the lower body.

The clash of swords revealed the opponent’s sword aimed back at its owner after being pushed back by Rohan.

Clang!

The tip of the sword hit the helmet, creating a noise, and blood trickled down the opponent’s cheek.

Though the wound was shallow, the opponent, unable to completely dissipate the impact of the sword hitting their head, staggered heavily.

The match ended there.

Rohan’s sword was aimed at the unbalanced opponent’s neck.

“I… surrender.”

The opponent’s clear acknowledgment of the evident gap in skill with Rohan was apparent.

In just two rounds, Rohan had won three times, securing a spot in the main event.

The content of the matches felt so monotonous that it was almost boring.

On the other hand, Argen had surprisingly fought fiercely in every match.

Starting from the first match, facing an opponent with a similar build to Argen was no easy feat.

At first glance, it was clear that both shared a natural strength, leading to a visible sense of bewilderment between them.

And the match itself was equally unpredictable.

With just a glance, they could gauge each other’s strength, causing both to size each other up for a while despite their imposing stature.

What decided the match was Argen’s well-timed strike.

As the opponent also possessed formidable strength, attempting a belated counterattack was futile, unable to reverse the momentum.

Thus, Argen, who won the first round, faced a warrior wielding a shield as the next opponent, unleashing a relentless and hefty assault unlike the first opponent.

Frustrated by the ironclad defense, Argen’s retaliation was sharp enough to impress even Rohan.

The sight of Argen skillfully exploiting the unprotected areas of the opponent’s armor demonstrated what a seasoned warrior was capable of.

However, Argen was also an experienced veteran.

Skillfully handling the opponent’s attacks, just as Argen did, was no easy feat, and overcoming the opponent’s strength and stamina derived from their massive physique proved challenging enough that the opponent eventually had to admit defeat, losing their sword in the process.

The third opponent entered with a spear, a skilled spearman capable of striking the vulnerable points of the armor.

Argen, seemingly more cautious than usual in the face of the sharp attacks, was on high alert.

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But at the moment when Argen’s heavy sword struck the spear, the opponent was pushed back by the force, staggering greatly, allowing Argen to close in deeply.

No matter how great a spearman, once the distance was compromised, they were no longer a formidable presence.

In an instant, Argen’s sword was aimed at the opponent’s neck, and the opponent simply surrendered.

Thus, Argen succeeded in advancing to the main event, but unlike Rohan, he had acquired quite a few injuries.