Chapter 56: Are You Going to Run Away By Dying? (1)

The Sword of the South Tournament was a competition to determine the strongest knight in the southern region. It attracted not only the nobles with power and influence in the south, but also hundreds of others who joined for social or entertainment purposes. The participant with the highest score across three types of matches would be awarded the title of the Sword of the South and receive three major benefits.

First, if the winner wasn’t already a high noble, they would be granted that rank. Second, they would earn the right to challenge for the title of the Kingdom’s Greatest Swordsman. Third, they would gain the opportunity to meet Eslow, the Lord of the South and a Weaponmaster.

For most nobles, the primary goal of competing was to attain the rank of high noble. On top of that, the prize money was huge—one million gold for first place, five hundred thousand for second, and even one hundred thousand for third place.

Not only that, this tournament was also the largest festival in the Lillian Kingdom. Tens of thousands of people traveled from other regions to watch, and hundreds of nobles from other territories also attended. In short, it was no exaggeration to say that the entire kingdom watched this event.

Participants who ranked within the top five were able to instantly gain fame and glory. However, what the audience truly craved was something else entirely: a bloodbath. The tournament’s rules mirrored those of a gladiator arena—blood splattering everywhere, flesh tearing, and screams filling the air. The participants just happened to be nobles.

What spectators really sought was violence; people wanted an outlet to vicariously release their repressed brutality. They cheered and went crazy over nobles failing disgracefully, begging for their life, and seeing the favored candidate collapsing in defeat and despair.

In my past life, all of Sefira’s knights suffered a crushing defeat in the Sword of the South Tournament. It was during the preliminary round, no less.

The fact that Sefira, a high noble and master family, was eliminated in the preliminaries was not just something to be mocked and insulted for; it was much worse than that. Even neutral nobles turned their backs on Sefira, and the commoners who supported them became disappointed in the knights’ disgraceful and helpless defeats.

The honor and prestige of Sefira, which Besil had painstakingly maintained, were shattered overnight. The Sword of the South Tournament became a critical incident that even led to internal discord within Sefira.

Keter planned to overturn this future. He intended to turn the execution ground for Sefira into a stage to showcase their potential and use it as a stepping stone to soar higher. The additional benefits and rewards of winning, not to mention the thrill, was a bonus. However, winning or whatever else was not the priority right now. He had to be able to participate to do anything, so he needed to take care of that first.

"As Lord Keter mentioned, there technically is a way."

Keter didn’t have to go looking around for the information, as Gasilius had what he was looking for. Since Keter was interested and Besil didn't seem to mind, Gasilius continued.

"Although registration as part of the family has already closed, participation as an independent is still possible up until just before the tournament."

Besil shook his head when Gasilius mentioned independent participation.

“Sir Gasilius, the conditions for that are too demanding. No one has ever succeeded at that.”

Gasilius smiled faintly as he looked at Keter.

“Lord Keter seems eager to hear what these conditions are.”

“You know me better than my own father. From now on, Sir Gasilius, you are my uncle,” Keter replied.

“Lord Keter, there are three conditions to participate independently,” Gasilius explained.

There were three conditions Gasilius laid out. First, one had to be acknowledged as a proxy by a high noble not participating in the tournament; second, one had to secure a letter of recommendation from a previous Sword of the South; and third, one had to acquire either a three-star knight’s identification badge or a mercenary recognition tag that was Diamond-class or higher.

There was a reason why no one was ever able to meet these conditions in the long history of the tournament. The rule for independent participation was, in essence, designed to allow free knights or mercenaries without affiliations to compete.

However, how could an independent participant possibly gain the backing of a high noble and be acknowledged as their proxy, or secure a letter of recommendation from a previous Sword of the South? Even getting a chance to meet these people would be a significant challenge and hardship in itself.

Even if they did meet, high nobles wouldn’t be so lenient as to sponsor a mere three-star knight or Diamond-class mercenary. As such, independent participation had long become a hollow symbol.

The conditions for participating were nearly impossible to fulfill, but Keter was smiling.

“You’re thinking of trying.”

This time, Besil could see what Keter was thinking—Keter was determined to take on those three impossible conditions. Besil didn’t bother to say he would fail or that it would be a waste of time. Failure wasn’t something to be ashamed of, and attempting something was a sign of growth. It was something he always emphasized to both his children and his vassals.

“Isn’t the real thrill in achieving what everyone else says is impossible?”

Keter didn’t want to reveal any information about the future to Besil, so he gave him a simple reason. It wasn’t a lie since it was also true.

“A thrill...”

Besil could relate to Keter as he had also once been engrossed in that kind of thrill. However, he wasn’t naive enough to believe that it was the entire truth.

Even if his words and actions seem shallow, he’s not the type to act without reason. There must be something he can’t tell me yet.

If one of his sons, like Hissop or Myle, hid their true intentions, Besil would have gently urged them to talk to him. But he didn’t want to do that with Keter. It wasn’t favoritism; Keter had asked him to trust, so he was choosing to trust him.

“Lord Besil, it is time for you to prepare.”

At Gasilious’s reminder, Besil broke away from his thoughts.

“Keter, time always seems to fly when I talk with you.”

Besil stood up.

Keter followed, asking casually, “Where are you headed at this hour?”

“I have dinner plans with your great uncle,” Besil replied.

Publicly, it was said that Panir was just staying at the house temporarily, but Keter knew that he was under suspicion of being a traitor and was confined to his living quarters. From this, Keter could sense that something was going to happen. From what he remembered from his past life, Panir was ultimately labeled as a traitor and stripped of his title. Keter wasn’t sure if that was going to happen right now, as he hadn’t been particularly interested in it at the time.

Keter glanced out the window. The sun had long set, and the night sky blanketed the world like a shroud. It was the perfect hour for something sinister to occur.

“Please pass along my regards to Grandpa Panir.”

“...I will,” Besil replied, looking conflicted.

Keter returned to his quarters, while Besil headed towards Panir’s residence.

Meanwhile, Jacques was resolved not to let Keter slip away this time.

“Lord Keter, I must ask where you intend to go at this late hour,” Jacques said firmly.

“Just for a walk,” Keter replied.

“A walk at night is terribly dangerous, not to mention it’s past the curfew.”

“I’m more dangerous than anything out there.”

“That may be true, but... ah! Regardless, you must not leave your room tonight. Tomorrow, you must have breakfast with your family!” he declared.

Jacques closed the door behind him and stood in front of it.

“No matter what happens, I will guard this door. And don’t even think of escaping through the windows—they’ve all been locked!”

Jacques clasped his hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, holding back his tears.

If I don’t do this, Lord Keter will continue to drift apart from his family forever. He may resent me, but if it means he can find his place within the Sefira family...

Jacques believed this was his chance. Solidifying Keter’s position now in light of his recent achievements would compel both Besil and the other siblings to acknowledge him.

But knowing Lord Keter’s personality, he’ll surely find a way to escape.

Luke had gone to the closed training quarters because he had a lot on his mind. Judging that mere soldiers wouldn’t be enough to stop Keter, Jacques had received the help of two holy knights for additional protection.

After thirty minutes had passed...

Why is it so quiet?

Jacques felt uneasy because it was so silent. It wasn’t like Keter to remain so quiet for this long.

“Could he have escaped through the window?”

As he had locked the windows from the outside, it would be impossible to leave without breaking them and making a sound.

“My lord!” Jacques shouted as he rushed into the room, unable to bear the silence any longer. “What... He’s gone?”

The room was empty. The window was intact, but Keter had vanished without a trace.

“Search the room for Lord Keter!” Jacques shouted urgently.

The two knights rushed in and began combing through the room.

“The bathroom!”

There was nothing.

“The wardrobe!”

Jacques and the two knights looked around the entire room, but there was no sign of Keter or his escape.

“Could he have used this?!”

Jacques ran to the vent in the wardrobe.

Seeing that, one of the knights stared at Jacques and said, “Butler Jacques, there is no way Lord Keter could have gone through there...”

Like the knight pointed out, it seemed impossible for Keter to have left through the vent. It was so narrow that Jacques could barely fit his face into it.

“You’re saying that because you don’t know Lord Keter!”

Clang!

Jacques opened the vent and stuck his face inside.

“My lord! Are you there?! Huh?”

Jacques, who was about to pull his face out, was surprised. It was easy to get in, but he was now stuck.

“M-my head is stuck. Help me!” Jacques shouted.

“

Sigh...

”

The knights approached Jacques, who was stuck in the small vent.

“They’re having fun.”

Keter, who was hiding behind the door, smiled. The knights hadn’t thought of looking between the door and the wall because it was barely big enough for a child. However, that’s where Keter was. Like a cat, he slipped through the narrow gap and left the room.

* * *

Besil arrived at Panir’s residence.

“The patriarch is here, Elder Panir,” said Suvide, the head butler.

To that, Panir irritatedly grumbled, “So what do you want me to do? Should I run over and bow down?”

“You always say that a noble must maintain their dignity, even in death. Why are you being so unreasonable now?”

“It’s all because of Besil. He’s getting under my skin and making me angry, so how am I supposed to stay calm?”

“Elder Panir, Lord Besil is not merely your nephew; he is the head of this house. As an elder, you should be setting an example of loyalty. The patriarch has even come to you to make amends, and yet you refuse to cooperate? Are you serious?”

“Ugh...”

Elder Panir, who was quite a large man, was hunched over and grumbling. He resembled an angry bear.

Suvide stared at Panir, who was turned away from him and thinking, with an unsettling gaze. When Panir finally turned around, Suvide’s gaze returned to their usual calm demeanor.

“You’re right, Suvide. Words alone won’t uphold a noble’s dignity. Where is the patriarch?”

“He is waiting in the dining hall. We should hurry.”

“Wait, I can’t appear before the patriarch looking like this. Give me a moment.”

Since no one else was in Panir’s residence, he took a moment to check his appearance in the mirror, adjusting his face and clothes. He looked quite unrefined as his servants usually helped him get ready. Still, he looked quite presentable in his own eyes.

Upon arriving at the dining hall, Panir and Suvide found Besil standing and waiting for them.

"You came, Uncle."

“...Apologies for keeping you waiting, my lord.”

"I just arrived myself. Please, have a seat."

As Besil took his seat first, Panir sat across from him. The dinner was composed entirely of light, easily digestible dishes.

“I heard you’ve been skipping all your meals. Let’s discuss things after we eat...” Besil said.

“If you’ve come here out of pity, I won’t eat.”

“How could I ever pity you, Uncle? I’m simply concerned.”

“If you’re worried I might act recklessly because I feel cornered as a so-called traitor, you need not be.”

“I have never called you a traitor, Uncle.”

“But you’ve thought it, haven’t you?”

“Are you saying even thoughts should be considered a crime?”

“...”

Their words were sharp, but unlike last time, neither of them was getting agitated.

“I made a mistake last time. I judged you solely based on the circumstances without even explaining what had happened. For that, I apologize.”

Despite having declared he wouldn’t touch anything, Panir couldn’t help but take a long drink of water.

“...I will also apologize for letting my temper get the best of me and not explaining myself.”

The heavy tension in the room began to lighten slightly as they exchanged apologies.

“Uncle, earlier today, knights from the Bydent family intruded upon Sefira's territory.”

“The Bydent family... Those petty fools now dare to approach Sefira so openly. And here I am, wasting time...”

“There’s no need to worry. Whatever they intended to do, we’ve apprehended all of them, thanks to Keter.”

“...!”

At the mention of Keter’s name, Panir’s face flushed with anger once more. Keter was the one responsible for turning the family upside down and silencing the very niece he cherished like a daughter. And now, to hear that this same Keter had captured knights from Bydent... Panir could not believe it.

“This is absurd. You’re telling me Keter captured the Bydent knights? And you expect me to believe that, my lord? Why are you saying something like that?!”

Panir was visibly agitated again, but Besil maintained a calm tone.

“Just yesterday, I called for Keter and instructed him that if he wished to be part of Sefira, he should accept a mission. Keter chose what seemed like a trivial task—retrieving a soldier on unauthorized leave. I was disappointed, thinking he’d taken the easy way out. But in the process, Keter encountered the knights from Bydent, and he fought them. What I’m saying is that Keter stopped Bydent’s trespassing and schemes, both of which none of us knew about.”

“I cannot believe this. If what you say is true, then we must consider whether Keter is a spy for Bydent. How else could he be the one to uncover intruders that even the patriarch was unaware of? And as soon as he arrives at the village for his mission? Are you claiming that this bastard is more capable than you, and more capable than anyone else in Sefira?”

“It does not matter whether it was skill or just sheer luck. Keter is my son and a member of Sefira. He protected this family, and yet you react with anger?”

“He is not part of our family!”

“And why do you believe that decision falls to you, Uncle?”

“Why do you always disregard my words? That seat should have been mine by right. Did you stop me from leaving and give me this seat just to belittle me?”

Besil picked up on something from Panir’s outburst—a clue to his motivations if he were indeed a traitor.

“Uncle, I have never dismissed your opinions. I have always listened to them. But they were not in line with the direction I aimed, and so I could not follow them.”

“How is that any different from ignoring me?”

“It is different! As the head of this house—”

Besil’s voice rose slightly in frustration, but before the tension could escalate further, Suvide intervened tactfully.

“Lord Besil, while other dishes may still retain their flavor when cold, the soup loses all its appeal. Might I suggest you both try it while it’s warm?”

Grateful for his timely interruption, Besil glanced at Suvide, then turned back to Panir.

“As Suvide says, Uncle, why don’t we each have a spoonful of the soup? I’ll join you.”

Besil picked up his spoon, and Panir reluctantly did the same, dipping it into the soup.

Meanwhile, Gasilius, who had accompanied Besil, sensed something was off—an intangible feeling of unease. Yet, considering the setting, he refrained from acting impulsively and instead kept a vigilant eye on his surroundings. If he, a five-star and master-rank knight, decided to keep a watchful eye, there was no chance that anyone could even attempt to do something.

However, Gasilius didn’t know that it was darkest under the lamp. Suvide, who was standing right beside him, smiled ever so slightly as Besil took a single spoonful of the soup.