■ Martial Arts Tournament Preliminary Round □
Time passed in the blink of an eye.
After experiencing archery and enjoying a few more attractions, we had the village’s famous dragon steak for lunch, and before we knew it, it was already 3 o’clock.
We headed to the arena set up in the center of the village to apply for the preliminary round of the martial arts tournament.
The arena resembled the Colosseum of ancient Rome, and it was so large and spacious that it could accommodate all the demons gathered in the village with seats to spare.
It was called a tribal exchange meeting, but it felt more like attending an autumn sports festival.
People were cheering for their favorite contestants, munching on popcorn in real-time.
We decided to register at the reception desk set up on one side of the arena.
“Welcome. May I have the name of the participant?”
“Ozma Zoroaster.”
The attendant at the reception desk looked startled, but when Ozma put her index finger to her lips, signaling to keep quiet, the attendant quickly sat back down.
Then, clearing their throat, the attendant explained.
“Ozma Zoroaster has been entered into Group D, number 13 for the preliminary round. Best of luck.”
“Hmm.”
Ozma, one of the strongest demons of the current generation, had been participating in the martial arts tournament every year to defeat Gav, and her name seemed quite famous among ordinary demons.
Calmly nodding, Ozma, who was examining the list of tournament participants posted on the wall, suddenly called me.
“Partarth.”
“Yes.”
“Your name is here.”
“…What?”
Wondering if this was some kind of joke, I quickly looked at the participant list she was pointing at.
Following her finger, I saw that my name was indeed written there.
Group B, number 7, Partarth.
“Maybe it’s someone with the same name?”
“Do you think there’s another demon named Partarth besides you?”
To be honest, I had a suspicion.
What Gav had said at the hot springs yesterday.
If that was true, then Gav must have secretly added my name to the tournament list using his authority as the village chief.
Although I was a bit taken aback by being forced to participate without my consent, it was good that I found out now.
“Then I’ll go to the reception desk and have my name removed. It’s not like my participation would mean much anyway.”
At that, Ozma looked surprised and asked.
“You’re going to withdraw from this tournament?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
Ozma shook her head and explained.
“This martial arts tournament is a very significant event. It’s an opportunity for young demons to reasonably showcase their strength in front of many demons from Doom Land. Achieving a high rank in this tournament alone can spread one’s fame throughout the Demon King’s domain. If you, who are relatively unknown, miss this opportunity, you’ll regret it for a long time.”
Listening to her, it didn’t seem like a bad idea to participate.
“Ah, but if I participate, you might not win, Ozma.”
At that, Ozma looked at me with a slightly incredulous expression.
“You seem to think I’ll win easily. Don’t worry. According to this bracket, we won’t face each other until the finals.”
I listened to her and read the explanation next to the bracket.
From each ABCD block, 64 survivors are selected to proceed to the round of 32, followed by the round of 16, quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals.
According to this, if I make it to the semifinals, I’ll face someone from Block A, so I won’t face Ozma from Block D until the finals.
“Then there’s nothing to worry about. See you in the finals.”
“Right. That’s the plan.”
Ozma nodded with a firm expression.
Her gaze was fixed on Block C of the bracket, and I quickly realized why.
The name of Gav, the dark horse of this tournament, was boldly written in Block C.
Even if Ozma steadily defeats her opponents, she will eventually face Gav in the semifinals.
Of course, she would be worried.
I stared at Ozma’s profile for a moment, then chuckled and patted her shoulder.
“Don’t worry too much. You’ve grown significantly stronger after learning magic these past few weeks.”
At that, Ozma asked with a slightly annoyed expression.
“Was it that obvious?”
“You looked like you had lost all your cheer. Like someone who had just encountered a wolf on the road.”
“…I could handle a few wolves if they came at me.”
Ozma glanced at me, then shook her head and said.
“Well, there’s no choice. With my master right beside me, I can’t afford to show weakness.”
“Huh? I’m your master? That’s news to me.”
“But you taught me magic, so you are my master, right?”
Listening to her, it didn’t seem entirely wrong.
Back at the magic tower, I had never taken on a disciple, so I wasn’t even sure if my teachings were helpful to anyone.
Then, Camilla, who had been quietly listening to our conversation, tugged at my sleeve from behind.
Wondering what was going on, I turned my head slightly, and Camilla, with a competitive expression, said to me.
“Can I also call you Master Caldlasth?”
No, let’s not get serious about this suddenly.
[[#]]In the end, I decided to participate in the martial arts tournament under the name Partarth to make a name for myself among the young demons.
After all, I do enjoy fighting quite a bit.
Since I was in Group B, my match was scheduled quite early, so the wait wasn’t long.
As I was warming up lightly in the contestants’ waiting room, I heard my name being called from the arena.
“Contestant Partarth, Group B, number 7! Please come up to the stage!”
‘Let’s go.’
What I had on my hands now were not gauntlets but knuckles.
I had recently acquired a new pair of Stormbringers, which I had sufficiently tamed on the way to Dragon Mountain, so now it was time to tame my second excellent means of communication.
Admiring the grip of the knuckles that fit snugly in my hands, I stepped onto the stage.
My current attire was my usual outfit minus the robe, with a dog-shaped mask on my face.
The referee, confirming that I had stepped onto the stage, turned his head towards the demon from Block A who had also come up.
A bare-chested, muscular man, resembling a Spartan from a movie, was staring at me, wearing only red underwear and a red cape.
His gaze was filled with passion, burning intensely, making him quite an intimidating opponent.
If I hadn’t been wearing a mask, my twisted expression would have been noticed by him.
Soon, the two of us from Block A stood facing each other on the stage.
The referee in the middle looked at us alternately and explained the simple rules.
“There is no time limit. The match is not over until someone dies or declares surrender.”
It was an unlimited rule.
A stage where only pure strength was celebrated, with no rules to speak of.
Truly, a martial arts tournament befitting demons.
After exchanging greetings, we each took up our weapons.
My opponent held a long spear, longer than his own body, while I gripped a pair of knuckles.
In terms of weapon reach, I was at a significant disadvantage.
A quiet anticipation filled the stands overlooking the stage.
They were probably already looking forward to the kind of fight we would show.
Of course, it could turn into a bloody spectacle.
But that goes against my aesthetic.
I believe that showing off in a fight that can be easily won is disrespectful to the opponent.
So, if possible, I’ll end it as cleanly as possible—
Quickly, without making the opponent feel uncomfortable.
“Huup…”
Whoooosh─
As I began the proper breathing technique of the Hapkido vision, the virtual magic circuits within my body started spinning rapidly.
Immediately after, the flag in the referee’s hand rose above his head—
Flap!
As it was brought down, I extended my hands, wrapped in electric currents, forward.
“What!”
Then, like a swift leopard, the passionate man who was about to charge at me was pulled towards me with a surprised expression.
He hastily tried to resist by stabbing his spear into the ground, but once caught in the magnetism spell, he was helpless.
If my hands were the north pole, his body was the south pole.
Unable to escape, the passionate man’s face was drawn towards my fist.
Bang!!
With a sound like a cannon firing, my fist cleanly landed on his face.
“Guhk!”
The straight punch, enhanced by orichalcum knuckles, knocked down the muscular macho in a single blow.
The spectators, who had witnessed an unexpectedly one-sided victory, fell into an eerie silence.
The referee, looking bewildered, alternated his gaze between me and the passionate man before hurriedly raising the flag.
“Group B, Match 4! Victory goes to the mage Partarth!”
It was literally a 3-second cut.
