Chapter 139: I Never Stop (1)

Minerva El Aegis, the Shield of the East, silently studied the man standing before him. Even before they spoke, he could tell this man was a free spirit.

Unlike the other nobles who styled every strand of hair to perfection, the windswept, loosely dried hairstyle was a clear giveaway. Only the last three buttons were done on his shirt, which was still made of fine fabric, exposing his firm chest through the open shirt. The belt around his waist was loosely tied; one good sprint and it looked like it would slip off entirely. Even his shoes were crushed at the heel and worn like slippers.

But more than anything else, what stood out was that full, carefree grin stretched across his face—it was relaxed and bold, but also charming.

“Are you Mr. Keter El Sefira?”

“If that’s what you want to call me.”

As Keter responded with a frivolous wave of his hand, Minerva, who had risked his life to come to Eslow’s palace, felt the tension drain from him. The man before him looked perfectly fine—even comfortable.

𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

“I am Minerva El Aegis. I’ve come representing Aegis, your sponsor.”

“I hear they call you the Shield of the East. But coming all the way here... You must be quite free these days.”

“I was curious about the person the notoriously stingy Lord Panir of the Royal High Court’s Advisory Committee praised so highly, so I came to see for myself.”

“Grandpa Panir praised me? That can’t be right. He’s more likely to talk crap about me than compliment me. Whatever. Since you’re here, let’s head out.”

Before Minerva could ask where, Keter had already walked past him.

The two of them went into the city without saying a word. They drew every gaze as they walked—commoners and nobles alike stopped in their tracks and stared blankly. After all, who wouldn’t notice the pairing of a fully armored silver knight towering at three meters tall and a roguishly handsome man with a provocative outfit?

Tap tap.

As they walked, Keter suddenly knocked on Minerva’s armor and asked, “Is that a Titan?”

“What is a Titan? This armor is Brynhild, an heirloom of Aegis.”

“Oh, really?”

“And is the weapon on your left arm a cursed weapon?” Minerva asked.

“Yep. It’s called Amaranth. Also, am I your friend? What is with all these questions? ”

“Well, I think we’re about the same age.”

“Your reasoning is illogical. Very few people know my true face, and you are not one of them.”

“I don’t need to see it to know.”

“That is impossible. Brynhild repels all magic, even the ability to see through objects.”

“You sure talk a lot for someone with such a tiny mouth.”

“...”

Minerva fell silent. Keter couldn’t tell whether it was irritation or indifference. Whatever it was, Keter didn’t press further and simply strolled along, lost in thought.

To think I would see a Titan here... Or more accurately, a wearable Titan.

A Titan, also known as Arcane Armored Weaponry, was the pinnacle of arcane engineering. When piloted by a three-star knight, a wearable Titan gave the power of a four-star, and a mountable Titan could push them to the five-star level.

Of course...

That’s a story from twenty years in the future.

Keter didn’t know exactly when or where Titans first emerged, but seeing Minerva’s armor made him think of them immediately.

In the future, Titans were created to counter the ever-increasing incursions from the Demon Capital. Though eventually, their purpose became twisted—they were reduced to nothing more than weapons of war.

Titans... Now those were fun toys.

Even producing a mass-market model of a Titan cost millions of gold, but the performance was unmatched. A three-star knight with a Titan could rival a five-star. However, it didn’t mean the five-star knight could easily beat the Titan owner either, as its defense was also incredible. It took forever for a Swordmaster’s sword energy to cut through a Titan’s armor. In theory, it took five Swordmasters working together to take down a single three-star Titan owner.

As a result, nations in the future would focus more on raising Titan wielders than Swordmasters, as Titans were simply more effective against monsters from the Demon Capital.

The Demon Capital... That’s a fun place too.

The Demon Capital, which was in the center of the continent, wasn’t actually very big. It was about the same area as Eslow’s fief. But everything changed as soon as one stepped inside. It was like being invited into another world—an endless wasteland of black earth and blood-red skies.

Kind of like Liqueur in the sense that once you’re in, there’s no getting out.

However, the Demon Capital did have exits. They weren’t fixed, so escape wasn’t guaranteed, but at least there was a chance.

Still, nations regularly sent expeditions into the Demon Capital, as it was overflowing with unimaginable treasure. Artifacts, cursed weapons, and various ancient relics were believed to originate from there.

Of course, it was dangerous and difficult to find them. As such, most expeditions focused on harvesting mana stones: highly condensed mana crystals essential for magic tools and a dream resource for mages. Mana stones existed on the surface, but their purity was low—good enough for level one or two magic tools at best. To craft anything above level three, mana stones from the Demon Capital were essential. And it wasn’t just magical items—precious metals like gold and diamonds were plentiful too.

In short, the Demon Capital was dangerous, but the rewards were worth the risk.

“Minerva. How many years has it been since the Kingdom’s Greatest Swordsman entered the Demon Capital?”

Keter, who didn’t know every detail, asked Minerva about it. The Kingdom’s Greatest Swordsman’s condition was a hot topic amongst commoners, and there was no way a high noble like Minerva wouldn’t know.

“This will be the eighth year.”

In the Lillian Kingdom, the Kingdom’s Greatest Swordsman became the leader for the expedition into the Demon Capital. If they didn’t return within ten years, they were presumed dead and a new swordsman was chosen.

Keter nodded, already knowing this much.

“So if they don’t return in the next two years, they will appoint a new person.”

“Are you interested in the title?”

“Maybe. Sounds like you are, though.”

“Yes. If a tournament is held to decide the next swordsman, I will absolutely enter.”

“Do you want the Demon Capital’s treasures?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Hm, I get the feeling that’s not your only reason. But sure, let’s go with that.”

Arriving at the coliseum, Keter rolled his neck from side to side. Titans, the Demon Capital... they had nothing to do with today.

No point clinging to something I’m not planning to eat.

The Sword of the South Tournament was where Sefira’s rebirth would be announced. That was more than enough fun, more than enough meaning.

“Alright. Let’s get started.”

* * *

Even though there were still five days left until the tournament, the area around the stadium was already packed. It was because the subjects of the kingdom were crowding the ticket booths to buy seats.

There were two ticket booths in total: one for commoners, and one for nobles. The commoner-only ticket booth had just five windows, so the line was absurdly long, and the staff were unfriendly.

“Hey! I said I want seats for four people next to each other! Why did you split us up?”

“Because I felt like it. Move along.”

“Ugh! This is just disgusting and petty.”

In contrast, the nobles' ticket booth had ten windows and offered polite service. However, there weren’t any nobles standing in line; it was always a butler or servant who came to buy the tickets on their behalf.

Keter and Minerva walked toward the center of the ticket booth area, which was the “registration desk.” There was obviously no one, as registration had ended a long time ago.

Even so, there was still a worker present, but he was lying down and napping. All he was doing was leeching off taxes, doing nothing.

Tap, tap.

Keter knocked on the glass window of the booth. But the worker kept snoring, refusing to wake up.

Crack!!

Keter shattered the glass and grabbed the worker by the collar, yanking him to his feet.

“Wake up. You’ve got a customer.”

“Gack! Wh-what the?!”

He thrashed about in shock. The surrounding crowd naturally turned to look.

“Isn’t that the Shield of the East?”

“Who is the young man next to him?”

The commoners recognized Minerva, but not Keter.

Minerva, holding Keter’s wrist, calmly said, “Please, stay calm. The subjects are watching.”

“If I got any more calm, I would be a corpse.”

Letting go, Keter dusted off his hands.

He straightened his posture. He was incompetent, but he was quick. He mistakenly assumed Keter was a high noble.

“Th-this is the registration counter, sir. The ticket booths are that way.”

“I know. I’m here to register.”

“Excuse me? But that’s not... Registration for the Sword of the South Tournament ended a long time ago.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Uh...”

The worker fumbled for an answer. He knew he would probably be punched if he said he wasn't doing anything.

“He doesn’t even know why he’s here. You’re supposed to be here in case there are independent participants, right? Isn’t that it?”

“In-independent participants?”

He looked utterly clueless. The subjects also began whispering among themselves, wondering what that was. It was natural, as only a select few nobles even knew of that clause. It wasn’t surprising that the general public didn’t know.

“...Please wait a moment. I will check the regulations.”

“I’ll give you one minute.”

The worker didn’t ask what would happen after a minute. Instead, he swiftly opened the dusty bookshelf.

“F-found it.”

The book was coated in dust, but the worker flipped it open and read aloud, “...An independent participant is a special rule allowing free knights or mercenaries with no official affiliation to join the tournament, provided they register one day before the competition. However, three conditions must be met.”

Gradually, a crowd gathered around Keter and Minerva. The noisy ticket area fell silent.

“First, they must be sponsored by a high noble family that is not already participating in the tournament. Second, they must submit a recommendation letter from a former Sword of the South. Third, they must possess either a three-star knight insignia or a mercenary recognition tag Diamond-class or higher. Is... is this even possible?”

Even the worker was shocked by what he had just read. The subjects watching had similar reactions.

“The third one’s one thing, but the first two? Isn’t that way too difficult?”

“Difficult? It’s impossible! What noble would sponsor a nobody with no affiliation?”

“And getting a letter from a former Sword of the South? That’s the real challenge. Even high nobles would struggle.”

Even the elderly shook their heads.

“I’ve never heard of anyone entering the Sword of the South Tournament as an independent participant.”

They might not have heard of the clause before, but they all instantly understood just how absurdly difficult the requirements were. Yet Keter had confidently declared his intent to register as one.

Doubting what he was hearing, he asked again, “C-could I have your name, sir?”

“Keter.”

“Mr. Keter... You really intend to enter the Sword of the South Tournament as an independent participant?”

“Yep.”

“Then... are you saying you meet all three conditions?”

Keter pointed at Minerva.

“This is the high noble who is sponsoring me.”

“I am Minerva El Aegis. Representing Aegis, I can vouch for Keter.”

“Here are the other two. Take a look.”

Before the worker could speak, Keter took out a diamond-plated mercenary recognition tag and a crumpled piece of parchment.

“...!”

Minerva was in disbelief. Though he had accompanied Keter here, he had never imagined he would actually register independently. He had assumed it was impossible.

Zerphi Luban, the former Sword of the South, has been on the northern front fighting monsters from the Demon Capital for a year now. There’s no way he could have gotten a letter from him.

Minerva thought that fulfilling the second condition would be impossible. The reason why Minerva came for Aegis instead of a servant was because he wanted to see what scheme the Sefira family might be up to by requesting their sponsorship.

However...

He actually got it? He really met Zerphi Luban to enter this tournament independently? When... and how did no one hear about this?’

Then again, it could still be fake—a forged document. The subjects had the same suspicion. Those who knew the Sword of the South’s whereabouts were already preparing to call Keter a fraud.

The worker first examined the recognition tag.

“This is a genuine mercenary recognition tag. Mr. Keter, to verify it’s yours, please place a drop of blood on it.”

“Ugh, such a hassle.”

Keter nicked his finger with his nail and smeared blood on the tag. It vibrated softly in response—proof that Keter was indeed its rightful owner.

Gulp.

Swallowing noises were heard all around. But now came the recommendation letter.

If it were fake, Keter would be branded a fool and a con artist in front of thousands, and Besil, the patriarch of Sefira, would be disgraced for failing to control his bastard son. Then, Aegis would be mocked for poor judgment.

But if it were real? If Keter had truly obtained a recommendation from the Sword of the South and became the first independent participant in tournament history...

Then just entering would be an achievement on its own, regardless of how he performs.

With everyone holding their breath, the worker slowly opened the recommendation letter.