Zakkaria Tournament, August 378 HE
What strange children.
The view of those innocent sleeping faces from the wooden beam
high overhead prompted the sudden thought.
Two boys were fast asleep on hay piled thick on the floor of the
rickety old barn. There wasn't anything particularly noteworthy
about their appearances. The boy on the right, sleeping on his
side, had flaxseed blond hair and deep-green eyes, when they
were open. Those colors were common enough here in the NNM
(Norlangarth Northern Middle) area. His height and weight were
within average values for a boy his age.
But the boy on the left, his limbs thrown about with abandon
in his sleep, had both hair and eyes of pure black. That was different. Those dark colors were designated to appear with much
higher likelihood in the E and S areas. While it was rare for a
child to be born with those colors in the north, the probability
was still greater than zero. With the total population of the
Human Empire as high as it was now, it wasn't out of the question. His size was so similar to the other boy's that they might as
well have been twins.
Master had given the order to directly observe these two boys
163 days ago, and the result was a bit of a letdown after the long
trip from Centoria. Nothing about their appearance or actions
suggested talent greater than other units of the same gender, region, and age range. In terms of planning and ability to avoid
danger, they seemed below average, in fact.
But now it had been half a year of carefully following their
travel, making sure not to be spotted. The rains had passed, and
now that summer was waning as well, Master's interest in these
particular boys was becoming clear at last.
That lack of planning and regularity could also be called
healthy curiosity and love of adventure. Even after more than two
centuries of life, few things had surprised the observer as much as
the ingenuity and agency of the black-haired boy. He had nearly
broken the Taboo Index's laws on a number of occasions in the
period since the observation had begun and seemed likely to continue doing so.
In a sense, it had to be this way, or else he could not have done
what he did. After all, it was otherwise unthinkable that someone
could break down one of the eternal barriers that Master's archrival had placed around the world—and do so in just a matter of
days, no less…
Whatever the black-haired boy was dreaming about, his limbs
jerked into movement. The hem of the shirt he wore as a pajama
top pulled upward. He stopped wriggling, oblivious to his nowexposed stomach. The observer rolled its eyes.
Even in late summer, here at the border of Norlangarth's
north region, the night breeze could chill. The barn was drafty to
begin with, so sleeping with exposed skin on top of a bed of hay
could very easily cause an illness effect that would slightly downgrade his total life. And tomorrow—August 28th in the year 378
of the Human Era—was the biggest event of the boys' journey
thus far.
They'd made a fair amount of money working at this farm over
the summer, so the observer had wanted to tell them to at least
spend some of it to stay at an inn on this particular night. But direct contact was absolutely forbidden, and so they were sleeping
in this rickety old barn yet again. And look at him now.
…Oh well. I'm sure Master will overlook a tiny bit of meddling.
Atop the beam, the observer waved an arm, muttered an incantation in a tiny voice, and produced a little point of green
light, hovering at the fingertip—a wind element.
The observer carefully guided the light downward. It descended right next to the black-haired boy and buried itself about
thirty cens into the hay, where it was silently released.
The resulting gust of wind was enough to lift an armful of hay
into the air, where it gently settled over the boy's exposed midriff.
It wasn't much of a blanket, but it would at least shield against
the chill of the breeze seeping through the walls.
The observer watched the oblivious boys as they continued to
sleep and reflected on this action.
In over two centuries since Master had frozen its life and recast it as a familiar, it had undertaken similar tasks a number of
times. But never had there been any attachment to the target
above the level of interest. In fact, the observer was not supposed
to have emotions at all. It was not, after all, even a human unit of
the type that ruled over the human realm or the Underworld as a
whole.
It was fine to anticipate that the boy would catch a cold the
night before a major test. The problem was, why use arts to interfere, rather than simply stand back and watch? In fact, if the boy
fell ill, failed the test, and had to return to his original village, the
observer's stint would be over, allowing it to return to that corner
of the bookcase in the great library where it liked to be.
Did that mean…it valued the travel with these boys over the
prospect of going home?
It was impossible. It was irrational. It was as though the irregular nature of the youths had infected it.
Enough thinking. This was not part of the job. The only thing
that mattered was sticking close and watching until blond Eugeo
and black-haired Kirito reached their journey's destination.
The observer shrank its body down to the minimum size of
five mils and leaped off the rafter beam. At this size, there was no
life penalty for falling, so arts would not be required. It landed on
a straw of hay without a sound and scurried on little legs to its
usual spot: the shaggy black hair of the boy named Kirito.
It grabbed a few hairs its own color and fixed itself in place,
then felt its small body fill with that inexplicable emotion again.
Peace, calmness, relief, and, somewhere beneath all that,
something tiny but rising…No matter how much it pondered, it
would never know why.
What strange children, the observer thought again, closed its
eyes, and settled into a light sleep.
2
On the morning of the last day of August, the sky was clear.
Kirito stretched and opened his eyes, picked up a single piece
of the hay covering him, regarded it with suspicion, then bolted
upright. That movement was enough to shake his mind awake. In
his hair, the observer stretched, too.
It slid around near the base of the hair and stopped just before
the bangs. This was the ordinary position. Kirito had a tendency
to scratch his head, so care had to be taken on those occasions. Its
life was frozen only in the sense of the natural aging process, so
bodily damage still took its toll. On the other hand, its maximum
life value was far higher than a human's, and its body retained its
toughness even when shrunken, so a little impact would not be a
problem.
Kirito rolled out of the pile of hay, unaware that an observer
the size of a wheat grain was hiding in his own hair, and placed a
hand on his partner's shoulder to shake him. "Hey, Eugeo, wake
up. It's morning."
The other boy's eyelashes, the same color as his hair, fluttered
and opened. His green eyes were dull at first, then blinked and
crinkled into a weak smile.
"Morning, Kirito…Somehow you always wake up earlier on the
important days."
"Better than the alternative! Come on, up and at 'em! Let's get
the morning work over with so we can practice our forms before
we eat. I'm still a little worried about number seven."
"Why do you think I always tell you we should practice forms,
rather than just mock fights all the time? I can't believe you spent
the last night cramming before the day of the tournament…the
last morning, even!"
"Noon-cramming, moon-cramming, I don't care," Kirito said
enigmatically. "You only have to do the form demonstration the
one time!"
He picked up a huge armful of the hay that had been his bed a
minute earlier and moved it to the large wooden barrel along the
wall. Once the barrel was full, he lifted it up and started walking
for the entrance.
As soon as he exited the barn, the morning sun blazed into two
pairs of eyes. The observer retreated, hiding among the hair. It
had spent so long living in dim corners of the great library that it
was sensitive to sunlight. But Kirito happily breathed in a lungful
of early mist. To no one in particular, he said, "The mornings are
a lot cooler now. Good thing I didn't catch cold before the big
day."
He has no idea at all, the observer noted. Next time he slept
with his skin exposed, there would be no help.
Eugeo trotted up and answered, "Sleeping on the hay in the
barn might not cut it anymore. Why don't we pay the fare starting
tonight and sleep in the house?"
"We won't need to," Kirito said with a grin. The observer
couldn't see it from its position at the base of his hair, but it could
easily imagine the smirking expression. Kirito boasted, "After all,
tonight we'll be sleeping in the Zakkaria garrison building."
"…I'd love to know where you get that boundless confidence…"
Eugeo murmured, shaking his head. He brought out another barrel stuffed with hay. While they made it look easy, a thick wooden
barrel one mel across filled to the brim with hay was far, far heavier than the airy material would suggest. The average man their
age might be able to lift it, but certainly couldn't take two dozen
steps with it.
How was it possible that the skinny young boys could do this
without breaking a sweat? It was because their object control authority was unbelievably high. High enough, in fact, that they
could swing around the class-45 Divine Object resting against the
wall of the barn: a longsword.
That raised the question: How did two ordinary boys born in
an obscure little village have such a high authority level? Even
after half a year of observation, the reason was a mystery. At the
least, it was an amount impossible to reach through ordinary
training and safe sparring. Perhaps if they had engaged in serious
battle against high-class wild animals, but they'd have to hunt so
many of them that the animals would go temporarily extinct
around the village. And that would be a twofold breaking of the
Taboo Index: one for hunting without possessing the hunter's
calling and another for hunting past the prescribed amounts.
Even proactive Kirito would not go to such lengths, to say nothing
of the better-behaved Eugeo…
The only remaining possibility was a foe whose authorityboosting value would be far greater than a beast…in other words,
a triumphant battle over an invader from the Dark Territory. But
that was impossible, too, only in a different way. It was unthinkable that these two boys, not even men-at-arms, would face off
against the dread forces of darkness. And even the occasional
dark knights and goblin scouting parties should be vanquished by
the Integrity Knights from Centoria long before they ever reached
the End Mountains.
Even if there had been an unexpected infiltration near the
boys' village, that would represent a far greater problem in and of
itself than their abnormal rise of control authority. It could be an
omen of much bigger things. Perhaps even the Prophesied Time
that was guaranteed to arrive someday but which everyone believed was in the far-flung future…
While the observer pondered this from the safety of Kirito's
hair, the two youngsters carried the mountains of hay from the
barn to the nearby stable, where they spread them into the feeding troughs of the ten horses there. As the horses proceeded to
crunch on their breakfast, the boys took brushes to them in turn.
This was the first duty every morning at Walde Farm, Kirito and
Eugeo's temporary home outside of Zakkaria.
After five months there, they were so good at this task that
they might have been confused for having the groom's calling.
They finished brushing just as the last one finished its meal. Moments later, the bells at the church in Zakkaria three kilors away
chimed the seven o'clock melody. The Axiom Church created divine "Bells of Time-Tolling" for every town and village. Their
sound traveled ten kilors in every direction without fading a bit,
but any farther than that, and they were completely inaudible.
This was one of the psychological barriers meant to prohibit autonomous long-distance movement in human units, but it
seemed to have no effect on Kirito and Eugeo.
They washed their hands at the water basin, hung the large
horse brushes on the nails on the wall, then left the stable, each
carrying an empty barrel in his hand. Just then, a pair of excited,
expectant greetings erupted.
"Good morning, Kirito, Eugeo!"
The voices belonged to the farmer's daughters. Teline and
Telure were twins, turning nine later in the year. They had the
same reddish-brown hair, the same dark-brown eyes, the same
color tunic, and the same color skirt. The only way to tell them
apart was the color of the ribbons they used to tie up their ponytails. When they had first been introduced five months ago,
Teline was red and Telure was blue, but the mischievous girls
loved to switch them from time to time to confuse Kirito and
Eugeo.
"Good morning, Teli—" Eugeo started to say in his normal
tone of voice, before Kirito covered his mouth from behind.
"Hang on! I sense something suspicious is afoot…"
The girls looked at each other and giggled in unison.
"Are you sure about that?"
"It might just be your imagination."
Their voices, their mischievous smiles, and even the number
and placement of freckles on their cheeks were identical. Kirito
and Eugeo groaned and compared the two.
Apparently, even Master didn't know why human units were
capable of coming in twins…or even triplets, on rare occasion.
Twins were more likely to appear after consecutive unit deaths in
an adjacent area, so it was probably a factor of the population adjustment function—but that didn't explain the need to make them
identical. At the very least, there didn't seem to be any benefits
that outweighed the trouble of being unable to tell them apart.
On the other hand, the observer could see all units' status windows—what they would call a Stacia Window—so it could sense at
a glance that the twins had switched their ribbons today. In other
words, Kirito's intuition was correct.
Of course, the boy couldn't hear the inaudible, exasperated
voice coming from the base of his hair, telling him to trust his gut.
But he held up a hand and pointed at the red ribbon on the left.
"Morning, Telure!"
Then he pointed to the blue ribbon on the right. "Morning,
Teline!"
The girls glanced at each other again and shouted, "Bingo!"
They held out their arms to reveal that each girl was carrying a
woven picnic basket.
"You win today's breakfast: mulberry pie!"
"Mulberries give you lots of strength! We spent an entire day
picking them to help you two win at your big tournament!"
"Aww, that's so sweet. Thank you, Telure, Teline," Kirito said,
setting down the wooden barrel and rubbing the girls' heads.
They scrunched their little faces into huge grins, then simultaneously looked at Eugeo.
"…Aren't you happy, Eugeo?"
"Do you not like mulberries?"
The flaxen-haired boy vigorously shook his hands and head.
"N-no, I love them! It's just…I'm remembering some stuff from
the past. Thanks, you two."
The girls smiled with relief and trotted off to a table set up between the stable and pasture. While they began to prepare the
breakfast, Kirito sidled closer to Eugeo and patted him on the
back.
"We're going to win today's event, make our way to the top of
the garrison, and be in Centoria by next year…very close to Alice.
Right, Eugeo?" he said in a hushed but insistent voice.
Eugeo nodded. "That's right. It's why I spent the last five
months learning the Aincrad style from you."
Just this little snippet of conversation contained a number of
fascinating bits of information. In over two centuries of service as
a familiar, the observer had never heard the name of that school
of swordfighting. And then there was the unit named Alice, who
served as their final destination.
If this was the same Alice unit who existed in the observer's
memory…their hopes were almost impossibly distant and unlikely. For she was currently located very, very high in the Central
Cathedral that loomed over Centoria…
"Kirito! Eugeo! Hurry up!"
"If you don't come now, me and Teline will eat all of it!"
Kirito quickly withdrew his hand from Eugeo's back and
rushed for the table. The vibration was enough to interrupt the
observer's thoughts and bring it back to reality. How many times
over the last five months had it needed a reminder that thinking
was not its job? And now it was not only thinking about their
fate…it was worried about it.
The observer clung to the base of the black hairs and sighed
yet again.
After a hectic breakfast, the twins said, "We'll come and cheer for
you!" and left for the house.
Once the boys had let the horses out to graze and finished
cleaning the stables, they would normally engage in their sword
practice using safe wooden blades, but today was different. They
washed their hair and skin at the well—the observer evacuated to
a nearby branch while this happened—then changed from their
supplied work clothes to their own tunics and headed for the
house.
The farmer's wife, Triza Walde, was an extremely generous
and pleasant unit for her role in a farm of this size. It was surely
why she had happily hired and taken in two suspicious, wandering boys. She greeted Kirito and Eugeo bracingly and gave them
packed lunches as they headed off for their tournament. As they
left, she called out, "If you lose, don't become guards in the town,
come back and marry Teline and Telure!" The two boys gave her
very uncomfortable smiles.
As they walked the three-kilor path from the farm to the town,
they shared fewer words than usual. It must have been their
nerves. The Northern Norlangarth Swordfighting Tournament
held in Zakkaria every August 28th drew over fifty contestants
each year from neighboring towns and villages. As a rule, these
were all men-at-arms by calling in their respective hometowns;
Kirito and Eugeo would almost certainly be the only exceptions.
The only contestants admitted into the Zakkaria sentinel garrison would be the winners of the east and west blocks of the tournament, so neither of them could afford to lose once if they both
wanted to achieve their dream. That would be hard enough as it
was, and it also required them to not be in the same block. The
observer didn't know if the boys had even considered this…
From up ahead came the dry sound of smokegrass bursting.
The observer peered out of Kirito's bangs and saw the reddish
sandstone of the town beyond a small hill. It was Zakkaria, the
biggest city in the NNM area. Its current designated population
was 1,958 units, less than a tenth of Centoria's, but on the day of
the biggest event of the year, it was positively buzzing with activity.
As they walked for the western gate of town, Eugeo mumbled,
"You know…until I saw it for myself, I had started to wonder if
Zakkaria even existed."
"Why would you think that?" Kirito asked.
The flaxen-haired boy shrugged. "Because…even the grownups in Rulid have never actually seen Zakkaria, either. The old
head man-at-arms, Doik, had the right to participate in the Zakkaria Tournament, but he never once made use of that right before he retired. And as the carver of the Gigas Cedar, I shouldn't
have ever had a chance to go to Zakkaria. So if no one'd ever been
there, and I'd never get to see it, either…"
"…then it might as well not exist?" Kirito finished. He grinned
and added, "Well, I'm glad it does. Zakkaria's existence means
that Centoria's not out of the question, either."
"That's true. It…it feels so strange. It's already been five
months since we left from Rulid, and yet the fact that there's
more to the world than that village is still…well, incredible to
me."
Eugeo's words were a bit hard to fathom, but they caused the
observer to recall a strange sensation. Throughout its long life in
Master's service, it had seen not just Centoria but the entire fifteen-hundred-kilor expanse of the human realms. That volume of
memory far surpassed that of any human unit, aside from the Integrity Knights. But there were still areas unfamiliar to the observer. The place beyond the End Mountains that surrounded the
human realm—the Dark Territory. It knew from secondhand
sources that there were a number of towns and villages out there,
even an enormous black city…But would it ever have the opportunity to register its existence with visual data in person?
That was essentially impossible. It was a thought without any
basis in fact, and yet, if it continued to observe these two, perhaps
someday…
The observer was so lost in thought that it was unprepared for
a sudden vibration and nearly tumbled off Kirito's head. It clung
to the black hairs in surprise and looked up.
Directly ahead was a horse rearing up in the air, front legs
kicking. It shrieked and tried to toss the Zakkarian sentinel off its
back. The sudden shaking had been from Kirito crouching down
to avoid the horse's hooves.
Just a few dozen mels ahead was the west gate of the city. A
horseback sentinel in his red uniform was situated just in front of
the stone bridge over the moat, and for some reason, the horse
had reared up and out of control the moment Kirito passed it.
"Wh-whoa! Whoa!" the rider commanded, pulling on the reins
desperately, but the horse would not calm. The "horse" dynamic
object required a fairly high control authority to master, but any
unit with the sentinel calling should have fulfilled that amount.
That severely limited the causes of the horse's continued abandon. Either it was losing life from lack of food or water or it
sensed a very dangerous, large beast approaching—but neither of
those seemed likely here.
Meanwhile, the bucking horse reared up again. But rather
than trying to get out of the way, Kirito continued crouching
below it. Passersby began to scream and yell. Even a full-grown
male unit would lose half his life if trampled by a horse—perhaps
all of it, if he was unlucky.
"L-look out—!" someone shouted, and Kirito moved at last:
not backward but forward. He evaded the kicking legs and
pressed up against the horse, grabbing it firmly around the neck
with both arms. Then he commanded, "Eugeo, the rear!"
But his partner was already on the move. He circled around to
the back of the horse while Kirito held it still. The horse's tail was
whipping around wildly, but Eugeo reached out fearlessly and,
like lightning, deftly snagged an object sticking to the brown hide
and peeled it away. Instantly, the horse was as calm as if nothing
had ever happened.
Kirito rubbed its nose soothingly as the horse's snorting breath
steadily calmed. "There, there. You're okay. Sir, you can ease up
on the reins now."
The pale young sentinel riding the horse nodded nervously
and relaxed his grip. Kirito let go of the horse and took a step
back. It swung itself around and clopped over to its original position at the side of the bridge. Sighs and voices of relief could be
heard throughout the crowd.
The observer was among the relieved; it quickly folded up the
arms it had unconsciously extended from its perch in Kirito's
hair. It had nearly cast a sacred art to protect Kirito from impact.
In fact, if he hadn't moved as quickly as he did, it would have. The
action was unthinkable for an observer.
Meanwhile, totally unaware that a little stowaway was reprimanding itself in his bangs, Kirito approached his partner and
whispered, "Greater swampfly?"
"Bingo," Eugeo muttered back, glancing around the area. The
foot traffic was moving again, and the sentinel was paying attention to his poor horse, so he felt emboldened to open his hand
and show Kirito.
Resting in his hand was a winged insect about four cens long,
striped deep red and black. It looked like a bee, but there was no
stinger at the end. Instead, sharp mandibles extended from its
mouth.
Among the "pest" dynamic objects that existed around only
human units' active areas, this was nothing particularly dangerous. After all, it posed no direct danger to humans. It primarily
stole tiny amounts of life by sucking the blood of horses, cattle,
and sheep. The sentinel's horse had reared up because the greater
swampfly had bitten it on the rump. But…
"It's strange," Kirito muttered. He plucked the fly out of
Eugeo's hand, where it had died from the shock of its capture.
"There aren't any swamps around here, are there?"
"Nope. I learned that the first day we started working at Walde
Farm. They said the nearest swamp is in the western forest, so
don't take the horses that way."
"And it's seven kilometers from there to Zakkaria. The greater
swampfly only lives around swamps, so it wouldn't fly all this
way," Kirito noted.
Eugeo pondered that notion but seemed a bit hesitant. "That's
true…but couldn't it have wandered into a merchant's carriage or
something?"
"…You could be right about that."
Even as they talked, the insect between Kirito's fingers began
to rapidly lose its red coloring. The lives of insect objects were already small, and a dead insect's life was even smaller. Their
corpses would maintain shape for only a minute at most.
Soon the swampfly's husk was a pale gray, and it crumbled like
sand, emitting a slight spatial resource before disappearing.
Kirito blew on his fingers, glanced around nonchalantly, and
snorted. "Well, at least neither of us got hurt before our big tournament. I guess living with horses for all those months on the
farm paid off."
"Ha-ha, good point. If we get into the garrison, should we enlist for horseback service?"
"No ifs, Eugeo. We've come all this way, and nothing is going
to stop us from getting in together," Kirito said with a wicked
grin. Eugeo was taken aback.
"Why do you make it sound like stuff's going to stop us? Aside
from all the opponents we'll have to defeat to win…"
"Well, all I'm saying is…don't get careless before the event.
You never know what might surprise you at any moment, as we
just saw."
"I didn't realize you were such a worrywart, Kirito."
"You'll never meet a guy who avoids recklessness and abandon
like I do," Kirito quipped, and patted Eugeo on the back. "C'mon,
let's go. We've gotta get a bite to eat before the tournament."
3
Zakkaria was a town surrounded by long, rectangular fortress
walls running east and west.
It was nine hundred mels from north to south and thirteen
hundred mels from east to west. That was well over five times the
size of Rulid. It was built in the middle of a field with no nearby
rivers or lakes, so all their water came from wells. It seemed a bit
dry as a result, but it still had far more plant objects than the
desert towns in the far south empire.
Nearly all the roads and buildings were made of a sandy red
rock, and most of the residents wore some kind of red-based
clothing. Therefore, the two boys from the north in their blue tunics stuck out like a sore thumb. Eugeo kept his face pointed
downward, feeling self-conscious about the attention, but Kirito
paid them no mind and peered at the various carts and stands
along the main road.
"Ooh, the meat buns here look good…but the skewers earlier
were two shia cheaper…What do you feel like, Eugeo?" Kirito
wondered, turning back to look at his partner. He finally noticed
Eugeo's low energy, and he rapidly blinked a few times with annoyance. "Come on, Eugeo, it's our third visit to Zakkaria! You
don't have to be so nervous anymore."
"You mean it's only our third visit. Remember, I never saw so
many people at once until I left the village…"
"If you can't handle Zakkaria, how do you think you'll do in the
big city? And remember, the tournament's going to be in front of
an audience of hundreds. Plus Farmer Walde, his wife, and the
girls are coming to root for us, so you don't want to embarrass
yourself in front of them," Kirito said. He smacked Eugeo's back
again, much to the other boy's displeasure.
"I—I know that…You know, it's times like these when I envy
your lack of caution…"
"Well, well! You talk a big game for a guy so pale and nervous.
Don't you know that a lack of caution is a major secret to the Aincrad style?"
"Huh? R-really?"
"Yep, for sure."
They continued like this down the five-hundred-mel-long west
main road. Up ahead was a building that towered over the others.
It was the central grounds, the biggest facility in Zakkaria. This
rectangular plaza, which matched the length ratio of the town
walls themselves, was lined with tiered seating for an audience.
The space was used for a variety of purposes, such as addresses
from the liege lord, musical and dramatic performances, and
today, of course, the swordfighting tournament.
Admittance was free, so while things wouldn't kick off for another two hours, there were already many people in attendance.
To the human units whose daily schedules were bound and regulated by their callings and the Taboo Index, this was the biggest,
most exciting event of the year.
But for Eugeo, the added intensity of the expectant crowd only
added to the pressure on his shoulders, and his color was even
worse than before.
"…W-we're going to compete in there…?" he rasped. Kirito
wasn't in the mood to pump him up after every little comment, so
he grabbed Eugeo by the arm and dragged him over to the registration desk near the entrance to the grounds.
Most of the contestants were either staying in town or already
lived there, so they had probably registered first thing in the
morning. A single elderly, bearded sentinel who appeared rather
bored manned the long desk. Kirito walked up boldly and proclaimed, "Two entries, please!"
The old man raised a gray eyebrow, cast a suspicious glare at
Kirito and Eugeo, and cleared his throat. "To enter the tournament, you must have the calling of a man-at-arms in any of the
northern towns, or be a Zakkarian sentinel in training, or—"
"We're the last 'or.' Show him," Kirito said, elbowing Eugeo.
He reached into his tunic and pulled out a faded parchment
envelope. The surprised clerk took it and pulled a single sheet of
paper from inside.
"Let's see here…Ah, a handwritten note from the elder of
Rulid. This note serves as witness that these two young men
have completed their Stacia-given callings and now seek a new
way of life. Interesting…"
For the first time, a hint of a smile tugged at the elderly sentinel's mouth. "So two boys from tiny, distant Rulid, not even
men-at-arms, have come in search of entry to the hallowed Zakkaria garrison, eh?"
"That's correct," Kirito answered, grinning back. "But we're
not stopping at the garrison. Next we'll be heading for Cent—"
This time it was Eugeo who elbowed Kirito to shut him up. He
quickly stepped in and said, "S-so there, now you've heard our
story, and we'd like to be registered for the tournament!"
"Hmm. Very well." The sentinel opened up a leather-bound
register and produced a copper pen. "Write down your name,
place of birth, and sword style."
"…S-style, too?" Eugeo asked, pausing mid-reach. Kirito
snatched the pen away instead. Unlike the high-durability parchment, the register's paper was cheap and made of threadgrass,
and it was full of the names of all the participants who had already signed up.
The black-haired youth filled out the name Kirito and place of
birth Rulid in the common language of the Human Empire, then
paused before scrawling down Aincrad style.
The observer had been curious about a number of things in its
five months of surveillance, and this strange name was first and
foremost among them. There were around thirty different schools
of swordsmanship in the human lands, and the name Aincrad
style did not appear anywhere else.
At first, the observer wondered if bold, confident Kirito had
decided to start this style all on his own, but over time, that
turned out not to be the case. The mysterious Aincrad style did
not have just one "secret form" like all the others but more than
ten…
Kirito and Eugeo finished jotting down their information—
Eugeo indicated the same style—and returned the pen to the sentinel. He put it in the holder, turned the register to face him, and
raised an eyebrow again.
"Hrmm. I've been swinging a sword for many years, and I've
never heard of this style before. Is this from around Rulid?"
His suspicion was warranted. There were over fifty names on
the register already, and half of them belonged to the Zakkarite
style founded by the original lord of Zakkaria. The other half be-
longed to the Norkia style spread far and wide within the Norlangarth Empire. No other participants registered under a littleknown name like this one.
But Kirito proudly announced, "It's a pretty new school, from
what I understand."
Eugeo could only nod, his face growing paler by the moment.
The sentinel merely grunted—it certainly wasn't a reason to turn
them away—and handed each a thin bronze placard. Kirito's had
the number 55 engraved on it, while Eugeo's said 56.
"Be in the waiting room of the grounds by eleven thirty. First
thing, you'll be sorted by lots into the East Block and West Block.
That's where you'll get your dueling sword. When the bells ring
noon, that's when the preliminary round starts. You'll demonstrate your forms until each block is whittled down to eight. The
forms from one to ten were announced ahead of time; I trust you
know what to do?"
Eugeo nodded lightly; Kirito, a little oddly.
"Very good. The final competition will begin at two o'clock.
You will duel such that eight becomes four, then two, then one.
That one winner—in other words, the two from West and East—
will be given the calling of a Zakkarian sentinel."
This time, both boys nodded with vigor. From within Kirito's
bangs, the observer went back to its thoughts of several hours
ago.
The boys sought to join the garrison here. That required them
to be placed separately, in either block, then pass the prelims and
combat rounds to win. But if the luck of the draw had them in the
same block to start with, their scheme was ruined right from the
start. Had they even considered that? What was their plan if that
happened…?
As it happened, that very topic came up after the boys finished
the registration process, while they ate their lunch of meat buns
and skewers in the square.
"…So here's the question, Eugeo…What will we do…if we're in
the same block?" Kirito asked in between bites of the split meat
bun.
"…What will we do?" asked Eugeo after finishing his first
skewer.
Neither of them had given it any thought. The observer had
had an inkling of this, but it was still so shocking to hear that it
nearly tumbled out of Kirito's hair. It channeled its raging demand to think! into gripping the hair even harder—but just then,
Kirito raised his right hand, and the observer had to make a quick
evacuation of his head. Kirito scratched at his bangs and came to
his grand conclusion.
"Well, whatever happens happens. It's fine; I'm sure we'll
wind up in separate blocks. Besides, I prayed to Stacia and Solus
and Te…Terror…"
"Terraria!"
"Right. I prayed to Terroria for this to happen."
Eugeo sighed loudly at the same moment as a tiny, inaudible
sigh in Kirito's hair. It returned to its usual position and told itself, Well, if you say so. But this really could be it, boys.
Thirty minutes later, just before the ringing of the half-pasteleven bells, they made their way into the waiting room.
On the western side of the large chamber, twenty mels to a
side, there were four long benches, upon which sat the tournament participants, facing east. On the east wall were four rather
fine chairs. They were still empty, but a sentinel stood at the registration window.
The instant Kirito and Eugeo stepped into the room, fifty-four
pairs of eyeballs turned upon them.
All of them were large, powerful, confident men. About ten
wore the tunics of Zakkaria's sentinels-in-training, most of whom
were young, but the majority of the guards from neighboring
towns and villages were in their prime. Some wore whiskers that
covered most of their faces, while others proudly bore ugly scars.
Eugeo flinched under all the attention, but Kirito just stared
around at the large chamber and murmured, "Ah, good…"
"Wh-what's good?" Eugeo hissed back at him.
He turned and whispered, "There aren't any female entries."
"…Come on, Kirito…"
"Hey, you don't want to have to fight a girl, either, do you?"
"W-well, no, but…I wasn't even thinking about that."
"Hopefully we won't have to worry about fighting girls until
that unified, four-empire whatsitcalled."
"I wouldn't be so sure. I heard a story once about a band of
knights that was entirely made up of women."
"…Ooooh."
The fifty-four warriors quickly lost interest in the two boys and
their frivolous conversation. They would be gone in the prelims
soon enough. The men returned to their inspection and care of
the supplied swords and leather gloves.
Kirito gave the room another once-over and left Eugeo's side
to walk straight to the long benches where the participants sat.
He walked from bench to bench, sniffing the air repeatedly. It
was anyone's guess as to what this meant.
For five minutes, he strolled around all the competitors, then
returned to Eugeo's side. His partner gave him a suspicious look,
so he leaned in and whispered, "Don't turn your head. Can you
see the young guy at the very end of the second bench?"
Eugeo swiveled his eyes to the spot. "Yeah. The one wearing
the sentinel apprentice uniform?"
"If you face off against him, watch out. He might try something."
Like Eugeo, the observer peered doubtfully out of Kirito's
bangs. Seated in the spot in question was a young man with long,
sandy hair, wearing a brick-red tunic with the Zakkarian insignia
on it. According to his Stacia Window, he was eighteen years old.
His life numbers and object control authority were below average,
suggesting that he wasn't particularly noteworthy.
"Huh…? Do you know him?" Eugeo asked. Kirito shook his
head.
"No. But…maybe this will explain it to you. I'm pretty sure he's
got a personality like Zink's."
The observer knew that the unit named Zink was the current
chief man-at-arms of Rulid, their home. He had a personality
index that these two did not particularly want to associate with.
Human units strictly followed the laws and accords of the
world, but that did not mean they all acted with perfect benevolence. Some units were like the Walde family, taking in suspicious
wanderers and treating them generously, while others might in-
tercept, manipulate, or insult others with whatever words they
could use that did not violate any laws. Zink in Rulid was one of
the latter type, so if Kirito's statement was correct, that harmlesslooking apprentice was, too.
"…Like Zink's, you say? Then before my match, he'll probably
try to smear bittergrass sap on my blade," Eugeo said, scowling.
"Wouldn't that be against the rules?" Kirito wondered.
"It wouldn't affect the life of the sword; if anything, it'd add a
shine effect. But when freshly applied, it stinks like crazy. Zink
got me with that one many times as a kid, and I could barely
focus on the exercise."
"I see…Better make sure not to let go of the swords they give us.
Don't lose focus in the match, either. Hopefully he's on my block
instead…"
"If that happens and he tries some nonsense, you'd better be
careful not to get angry and mess everything up, Kirito."
"…I'll try." Kirito grinned weakly. He and Eugeo headed for
the registration window, handed over their placards, and received
the swords that all participants would use. They were metal
blades rather than wooden and had plenty enough power to lower
a human's life, despite their low-priority value. Naturally, the rule
said that they had to stop at the last second, so there would absolutely, positively be no bloodshed.
With their swords, the boys returned and sat on the very front
bench, right around the time that four new units proceeded
through the door in the back. They were proper sentinels in their
dazzling red uniforms. One of them was the grizzled old sentinel
from the desk out front.
A fortysomething man wearing the golden shoulder badge of a
captain gave a quick greeting, and then a younger sentinel
brought in a large box. The captain patted the box and said, "Inside this, we have red and blue balls, each with a number from 1
to 28, so that there's one for all fifty-six of you. You will reach in
through the hole at the top and take out a ball. Red is for the East
Block; blue is for the West Block. Your preliminary form demonstrations will happen in the order of your numbers. If there are
no questions, then starting from the front bench, you may now
draw your—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Kirito shot to his feet and
rushed to the box. Eugeo hurriedly followed him, and the rest of
the participants clanked to their feet as well.
The observer leaned out to see that there was a little hatch
about ten cens across in the lid of the box. The interior was dark
enough that even its powerful eyes couldn't identify any individual balls. Kirito clicked his tongue in disappointment; this explained his haste to be first to draw. He was hoping that when
full, the box would allow him some measure of identifying the
ball color before he drew it.
For being so lackadaisical, the boy certainly had a devious
side, just not the knowledge he needed. In this world, lottery
boxes built to avoid being seen into were impenetrable to the
naked eye. Only with some element that eliminated the box's
properties—such as creating a light element inside the box or
casting an art of visual strengthening—could the contents be
seen.
"Go on, draw your ball, youngster," said the captain. Kirito
slowly reached inside. Without being able to see the color, it
would be up to luck to ensure that he and Eugeo weren't in the
same block. But…
…I'll help him out this time.
Just before Kirito reached into the hole, the observer leaped
from his bangs to the lid of the box. It raced along the shadow
cast by the boy's arm and into the hole.
Kirito's hand rushed into the box after it, grabbed the first ball
it touched, and pulled it out. Once inside the box, the colors were
easily visible. Kirito had pulled out a blue ball—putting him in the
West Block.
The observer shifted the size of its body, going from the minimum of five mels to ten cens, twenty times the size. It was still
small in comparison to its original size, but this would do. It used
two arms to lift up a five-cen wooden ball—colored red, of course.
Seconds later, a fumbling white hand entered, obviously
Eugeo's. Unlike Kirito's direct grab, his fingers wandered around
timidly, so the observer pushed the red ball up toward them. The
fingers flinched at first, then grasped the ball and yanked it out of
the box. The boy even let out a cute little "Yah!" as he pulled.
A few seconds later, he finally opened his hand and exclaimed,
"Look, Kirito! It's red!" The next sound was of hasty footsteps as
the following contestant ushered them out of the way.
What a handful…
The observer was about to shrink down again and leave the
box, but it paused to think first.
The young, sandy-haired apprentice. Why had Kirito focused
on that particular unit? The observer had a professional interest
in this. Perhaps that apprentice ought to face off against Kirito,
rather than Eugeo.
It decided to wait in the corner of the box rather than leave. If
anyone opened the lid, the sight would shock him. It was only ten
cens in size, but there were no living things of this shape in the
world of the human units.
It lay in wait for several minutes. After a few dozen other
searching hands had taken their turns, a weak, spindly limb entered the box, its window specifying that it belonged to the sentinel trainee in question. As the fingers rubbed nervously over the
bunch, the observer slid its prepared blue ball into them. He
grabbed the ball without suspicion and pulled it out, much to the
observer's relief. This time it shrank down to minimum size and
clung to the sleeve of the next arm that entered the box.
It rode on the sleeve back to the waiting benches, then raced
across the floor with some amount of risk to the feet of the boys
sitting at the end. It climbed up the worn leather boots, the back
of the dark-blue tunic, and then into the black hair hanging over
the back collar. Once it was back in its usual spot near the front
hairline, it sighed.
Manipulating drawing results was completely out of line with
its duties. If Master found out, it might even suffer a word of rebuke.
No…Separating Kirito and Eugeo into different blocks would
make observation more efficient, and it might learn something by
arranging for Kirito to be in the block with that apprentice. These
actions were certainly not from a line of thought that violated its
duty. It most definitely was not considering a possible sacred arts
interference if the apprentice tried any funny business in a match
against Kirito. Not at all.
4
When the bells of the Zakkaria church chimed the melody of midday, a roar arose from the stands.
Amid the applause and bursting of smokegrass, fifty-six contestants left the waiting room in two lines. Eugeo's line curved to
the right toward the eastern stage, while Kirito's line headed left
to the western stage. The groups of twenty-eight contestants filed
into lines on their respective stages, then turned to the VIP seating on the south side to salute the Zakkarian lord's family.
Kelgam Zakkarite, liege lord of the town, gave a speech that
went on just a bit too long, received a brief round of applause
from the impatient crowd, and then the event began. First came
the preliminary round that would whittle each block from twentyeight down to eight contestants. The contestants would go in
order of their ball numbers, taking turns exhibiting the designated swordfighting forms onstage.
A "form" was a set string of movements, including sword path,
arm placement, and footwork. Contestants were judged on precision, boldness, and beauty.
Over five months of observing the boys, it was not worried
about Eugeo, but Kirito was a different story. Yes, he had his
mysterious, unique "Aincrad style," but all of the designated
forms in this event were Zakkarite style. On top of that, the
judges were senior members of the garrison and town hall. If anything, they would be more inclined to harshly judge the wielder of
a strange, unfamiliar style, not less.
The preliminaries proceeded, the observer feeling a bit nervous, until Eugeo's number was called. He looked a bit pale, as
was his tendency, but he had the fortitude to get up on the stage,
salute, and draw his sword in a smooth, confident motion.
Each form took about ten seconds, making the entire demonstration a hundred seconds long. Eugeo made not a single mistake and executed his routine with grace and skill. The furious
morning practices were a part of that success, no doubt, but it
was also thanks to his very high object control authority. To him,
that sparring sword had to feel as light and airy as a fallen twig.
The roar of applause he received was far greater than any for
the men-at-arms or sentinels-in-training. The judges would not
be eager to give a suspicious wanderer high marks, but given that
they were bound by the tournament rule that all contestants
should be judged solely on the merits of their performance, they
could not penalize him for their own reasons. An imperial noble
unbound by lesser laws would be a different story, but the only
noble in town was Kelgam Zakkarite, a fifth-rank peer, who was
not one of the judges.
Eugeo stepped down from the stage, wiped the sweat from his
brow, and flashed a huge smile to his partner waiting next to the
western stage. Kirito shot him a thumbs-up, but if anything, he
was the one to worry about.
Two minutes later, Kirito's number was called at last. He
strode up the steps without a hint of nerves—which was precisely
the worrying part. The observer wanted to command, Just do it
normally today; don't get any crazy ideas.
He stood in the middle of the stage, which was made out of fitted blocks of polished red marble rather than the usual sandstone, bowed to the lord in his special stands, and promptly drew
his sword. The judges sitting in the nearby tent scowled at his
haste. But he ignored them, lifted his right arm, and proceeded
into the first form…
Zmmf! The grounds trembled with his powerful step. Vwum!
The rush of air from his swing reached the stands twenty mels
away. Amid shouts and screams of surprise, the dressed-up VIPs
bolted out of their chairs. It was hard to blame them; Kirito had
just executed a ten-second form, at full power, in barely two seconds.
The observer nearly pulled out the boy's hair and screamed,
What are you thinking?! Then it recalled that the instructions regarding the form only designated that it be completed within a
certain number of seconds. Therefore, there should be no penalty
for early completion. But still…
Kirito spun around from where he had finished his swing and
faced the north stands for his second form. The next powerful
breeze ruffled the hair of the audience in front. There were more
yelps and screams but also an increase in cheers. As he demonstrated the third and fourth forms in quick succession, the cheers
turned to roars and applause. It made sense; watching dozens of
contestants perform the same movements one after the other was
a tepid opening act for an excited audience. Perhaps that was why
they had both stages performing at the same time, to lessen the
time required.
Kirito finished his ten forms without slowing in the least,
sheathed his sword, bowed, and left the central grounds rumbling
with applause. There was a portion of the stands screaming in a
higher pitch than the rest, owing to the presence of Teline and
Telure, the twins from Walde Farm. Their parents had brought
them to cheer, just as promised.
He waved to them and confidently descended the steps, only
to meet the onrushing Eugeo. The other boy looked fit to grab
him by the shirt in anger, but instead he merely hissed, "Wh-what
are you thinking?!"
"Oh, I just noticed that there was some variety in the amount
of time these demonstrations take, depending on the person…so I
figured maybe the quicker, the better."
"W-well, you might not get marked down, but you could have
just done it normally!"
"I also figured that if I moved fast enough, the judges might
miss some small mistakes in terms of my finger and toe placement…"
"…"
Eugeo looked 70 percent annoyed, 30 percent impressed. His
shoulders dropped and he let out a very, very long breath. "Let's
just pray that the judges take audience reaction into account…"
Deep in Kirito's hair, the observer had to agree. The preliminary round lasted more than an hour after that and concluded
just around the two o'clock bells. The contestants lined up onstage again, and the judges announced the names and numbers of
those who qualified for the dueling portion.
The observer was certain that Eugeo would be called. When
Kirito's name followed seconds later, it experienced a measure of
relief it could not recall feeling in decades and nearly tumbled out
of his hair.
How long has it been since I had a mission that af ected me
so? Perhaps never.
Forty contestants returned to the waiting room in defeat and disappointment, while eight fighters on either stage descended to
special waiting areas within the open grounds. They took a light
meal and chilled siral water from a well while the audience relaxed. The tournament began thirty minutes later. It consisted of
single-elimination blocks of three rounds each, so that there
would be an east and west champion.
According to what Vanot Walde had told them while they were
workers on his farm, there had been a final match between the
east and west winners up until a few decades ago. That custom
was removed when one year's final had been so hotly contested
that an accident occurred and blood was shed—a forbidden act.
It was the rule of not just Zakkaria but the regional tournaments across Norlangarth—across the entire realm of humanity—
that blows should be stopped before they landed.
The Taboo Index ruled that "another's life must not be intentionally shortened for any reason, aside from those listed in a separate verse." Therefore, duels required contradictory strategies,
where a duelist had to both subdue the opponent while also protecting their own body.
The reason that sword styles focused on forms so heavily was
that they allowed the duelists to time their movements to avoid
accidents. Form intercepted form, a kind of strategic, formalized
style of fighting, such that the contestant whose stamina and concentration lapsed first would largely disqualify himself. The only
places where bloodletting "first-strike" duels were allowed were
at the higher tournaments in Centoria or during practices at the
high institutions such as the Imperial Knighthood or Swordcraft
Academy.
But unlike other types of moving objects, human units had
"emotions." Those gave them great strength but could also make
them lose focus and produce unpredictable results at times.
When Vanot Walde said there had been an "accident," he
likely meant that one of the two finalists had been so taken by his
desire to win that his sword did not stop short; it had hit and
drawn blood. Surely it would not have been fatally deep—such an
incident would prompt the Axiom Church to intervene, and it
would remain in the Cathedral's records—but even a single drop
of blood was enough to terrify the townsfolk. It made perfect
sense that they would scrap the idea of a singular winner and
have two champions instead.
Naturally, the two youngsters were not aware of this. All they
cared about was winning this tournament, standing out in the
garrison, and earning the right to take the test for the Swordcraft
Academy in Centoria. If they squeezed through these gates, one
by one, they would eventually be reunited with Alice at Central
Cathedral.
Surprisingly, they were going about it the right way. It was incredibly narrow and unfathomably long, but the path they were
on now indeed led to the cathedral. But even if they succeeded at
stepping into that chalk-white tower, by that time, they would already…
The two-thirty bells interrupted the observer's train of
thought. The musicians in a corner of the grounds began to play a
thrilling march, signaling the start of the competition.
The boys bolted upright from their folding chairs. Black and
green eyes met. They bumped fists, turned their separate directions, and climbed the east and west stages; there was no need for
words at this point. The stands hadn't been at full capacity during
the preliminary round, but they were packed now, and the roaring of the crowd was like a storm overhead.
A sentinel set up a large board with parchment pulled across
it, right next to the judges' tent. On it, in the black letters of the
common script, were the tournament bracket and matchups.
Eugeo's first-round match was the third in the East Block. Likewise, Kirito's was the third match on the West Block, but more
noteworthy was the name Egome opposite his—the apprentice
sentinel he had singled out earlier.
The observer's tiny body was filled with an odd sensation that
had not arisen when it was actually doing the manipulation of the
drawing. It was a baseless anticipation that something was going
to happen. Such a feature should not have been possible in a nonhuman being.
Meanwhile, Kirito himself gave no reaction of any kind when
he saw the name Egome next to his. When the head judge's
speech finished, he descended the stage and plopped into a chair
in the west-side waiting area. Eugeo had come over during the
lunch break, but he had to stay on the east side now, so there was
no one to talk with.
The first and second fights finished peacefully and uneventfully. The first attacker tried three or four basic forms, which the
defender received easily, blocking the sword with his own. Then
they switched; three more clangs. It almost looked like practice,
except that they were using real metal swords and both sides
would lose a bit of life due to fatigue. After a certain level of fatigue, movements would get sloppy, defense would suffer, one
side would falter, and the tip of the sword would stop just short—
signaling the end of the duel.
At Centoria tourneys, the feints and timing ploys were much
more advanced, but up in the north, this was the best you got.
The young man named Egome wasn't particularly noteworthy, so
thanks to his exceptional authority level, Kirito should win easily,
the observer told itself. When Kirito's name was called, he ascended to the red marble stage.
Seconds later, Eugeo's name was called on the other side, but
even at a distance, the sweat running down his opponent's desperate face was clear—Eugeo would have no problem. Meanwhile,
Kirito's adversary, Egome, stared at him from behind that sandy
hair, never blinking. Once again, the Stacia Window indicated below-average numbers for this tournament. What was it that Kirito
was worried about?
They advanced to the starting lines and drew their swords. The
adult judge raised his arm, then brought it down and bellowed,
"Start!"
Egome moved instantaneously. Both duelists were supposed
to take a stance, sense who would attack first, then begin, so this
move startled the crowd. However, it wasn't against the rules.
Catching the opponent off guard was a valid strategy, if an unpopular one.
"Iyooo!" Egome howled, slashing from the upper right. Kirito
stepped in to intercept it. Grshing! The clash of swords sounded
unlike any of the others so far, and yellow sparks briefly lit the
combatants' faces.
The attacker's sword would normally fly backward, but this
one stayed still at the point of impact, trembling. Kirito's ferocious defensive move was late to start, but now he actually applied pressure from above. The sound of the swords grinding rang
out across the hushed grounds.
As they pushed, Kirito leaned in closer to Egome's tense face
and muttered, "You smell like tanglevine."
"…What if I do?" Egome hissed back, his voice like scraping
metal.
"There's only one use for tanglevine. You dry it out, burn it,
and use the smoke to paralyze poisonous bugs. Such as…a greater
swampfly."
"…!"
Egome's narrowed eyes went wide at the same moment that
two tiny ones blinked atop Kirito's head.
That meant Kirito's prowling walk around the waiting room
was an attempt to catch the scent of tanglevine. In other words…
"That swampfly that bit the horse outside the west gate this
morning…You let it loose, didn't you?" Kirito accused.
Egome only leered back at him. "I don't have to answer to a
vagabond like you…but let's say I did do that. All I did was release
a harmless bug, rather than kill it. You won't find any rules
against that in Basic Imperial Law or the Taboo Index."
The apprentice sentinel's statement was true. If a swampfly
was a type of insect that directly afflicted people and lowered
their life, it would be forbidden to bring them into areas of
human residence. But as the flies attacked only horses, there was
no rule against releasing them.
But the situation wasn't that simple. Even the smallest children knew that if they released a living swampfly near one of the
horses they fed upon, it would bite the animal and damage its life.
Furthermore, that horse could panic and cause major injury to
pedestrians nearby.
The majority of human units, understanding this likely consequence, would not be able to release the fly. It would activate the
taboo against reducing the life of others. But despite knowing
that Kirito or Eugeo could easily be hurt—in fact, because he
knew that—Egome had done just that. To him, his action was the
liberation of a harmless insect, and any further consequences
were not his responsibility. That idea outranked the obedience to
taboo in his mind.
…Noble blood.
This young man had a strong streak of the negative side of
noble genes. He was a unit diametrically opposed to the Waldes;
he believed that as long as it wasn't against the law, anything was
fair game.
"…Why?" Kirito demanded.
"Because I don't like you. What gives a jobless, homeless wanderer like you the right to compete with the noble Egome Zakkarite? Get into the garrison? They'll never let you. From the
moment you applied to the tournament last month, I swore I'd
crush you," Egome spat.
"I see…You're in the lord's family. But that noble background
isn't going to help you here. Sorry, pal—I'm going to win now."
Kirito was not taken aback in the least by the revelation that
his opponent was of noble blood. He pushed back on his sword,
hoping to unbalance the other man.
Egome leered again. There was a fine cracking sound, and Kirito tensed. Of the two swords firmly pressed together, Kirito's was
faintly, but undoubtedly, cracked and pitted.
They were both dueling swords, so how was only one damaged?! The observer looked closely, pulling up the windows for
both swords, and was stunned by the results.
Kirito's sword was a class-10 object. Egome's, however, was
class-15. Indeed, upon closer examination, it seemed to have a
different shine to it.
"Ugh." Kirito grunted and tried to pull away, but Egome only
thrust his weight further. The inferior sword squealed and crackled, its life dwindling rapidly.
"Just so you know, this isn't against the rules, either," Egome
gloated. "The rules state that all participants borrow from the
swords arranged by the judges. So if a finer blade just so happens
to get accidentally included, and I wind up getting to use it, that's
not my fault, is it?"
"You got the sentinel in charge of distribution on your side."
"No idea what you're talking about. Anyway, vagabond, aren't
you worried about pushing back so hard? Don't you think your
cruddy sword will break?" he taunted, pushing with all his might.
But then Kirito did something unexpected.
Rather than push back, he collapsed to the stage and slipped
down through Egome's legs. The man's sword slid free and
clanged loudly on the marble. As Egome froze from the vibration
of the impact, Kirito took the opportunity to leap back and take
his distance.
The crowd, which had been holding its breath, now began to
stir. This clashing competition of strength and the roll through
the legs were new to them. They applauded vigorously, unaware
of the argument happening between the combatants.
Egome recovered and faced Kirito, his face twisted with fury.
The observer sensed danger. Of course, even nobles could not
break the Taboo Index, so he would not attempt to harm Kirito
directly with his sword—but he could certainly be contemplating
some accident that might coincidentally end up in injury.
Egome's next action solidified that theory.
He had been holding his class-15 sword with both hands before, but now he lifted it with just his right, settling it on his
shoulder. He twitched in place for several seconds, as though
searching for something. Eventually, the blade began to glow a
faint blue color.
That wasn't sacred arts—it was a "secret form" passed down
within each style of swordsmanship.
"…Zakkarite-style secret technique—Bluewind Slash."
The stands rumbled again with surprise, including the eastern
half this time. The judge onstage looked toward the judging tent
for help, but they didn't know what to do, either. As the name secret form suggested, these were the deepest secrets of the style
and not meant to be thrown about at a moment's notice. But that
was entirely up to the user's discretion, not encoded in law, so if
Egome decided he wanted to use it, nobody could stop him.
The problem was, these secret techniques were far more powerful than ordinary forms, and once started, they could not be
stopped. A power apart from the user's will, something similar to
yet different from sacred arts, would largely possess the body. In
other words, if Kirito failed to block the attack, Egome would not
be able to stop himself from cutting flesh and spilling blood—a
fact that he knew full well. If he was using the attack at all, he
must believe it would be the fault of his target if bloodshed ensued.
In that case, there was a way to halt Egome's form.
Kirito had to lower his sword and leave himself completely defenseless. In that instant, Egome's rationale would collapse, and
his use of the secret form would be a clear violation of the Taboo
Index. Even the noblest blood could not override the authority of
the Axiom Church. It was an absolute boundary etched into the
existence of every human unit.
Put down your sword, the observer wanted to command Kirito. Of course, Kirito would realize this himself. Go on, put it
down…
"…Secret technique, huh?" Kirito whispered, quietly enough
that only the being atop his head could hear.
Like Egome, he released his doublehanded grip, but rather
than setting it down, he held it at his left side. The moment he
paused, his blade flashed a brilliant purple.
Again, the entire crowd and team of judges held their breath.
The only exception was Eugeo, who had already won his fight on
the other stage and was now shaking his head in disbelief.
Egome's face trembled and warped, and he exposed his teeth.
"Kyieaaaa!!"
He screeched like a large avian object, and his form lurched
into motion. His left foot stomped forward, and the sword on his
right shoulder swung forward on a diagonal path.
For an instant, the observer contemplated interfering. But it
was too late for sacred arts now. It would have to leap down from
Kirito's head and expose its true form. It would be a complete violation of its orders—but even punishment from Master would be
preferable to losing this surveillance target…
But then—
"Nshh!!" Kirito hissed, and shot forward.
He plunged straight toward the pale-blue slice. His right hand
flashed, tracing a bold purple curve through the air. Left to right.
At the same time, right to left.
A tremendous, ringing clash echoed beyond the walls of the
central grounds, perhaps even to every corner of the town of Za-
kkaria.
A silver light shone high in the sky, catching the reflection of
Solus at its peak, before falling back to earth. It landed and sank
upright into the red-marble stage—a blade snapped at its base.
Kirito's move was so fast, even the observer couldn't catch all
the details. But it certainly saw enough.
The sword had swung from left to right, then immediately
turned back to go right to left. It was so quick that it was as
though two swords were swung at once. But in truth, there was
only one metallic reverberation. The doubled swings caught
Egome's sword precisely at a point, like the jaws of a wild beast,
and crushed it—a dueling sword, half-damaged, destroyed a finer
blade five levels its superior in priority.
Egome stared down at the remaining handle of his weapon,
his eyes as wide as saucers, trembling slightly. From his own finished position to the left, Kirito murmured into Egome's nearby
ear.
"That's the two-part Aincrad-style attack…Snakebite."
The instant it heard that, all of the observer's fine hairs stood on
end.
This Kirito unit was so far beyond expectations that he was
unnerving, alien. In the 378-year history of the Underworld, he
was an extremely rare case…Possibly even as noteworthy as Master or the Great One…
It did not know the nature of what was racing through its
mind. It did not even register that presence. It just repeated one
thought.
I must see Kirito and Eugeo's journey to its end.
Surely, that will lead me to…
The Zakkaria Swordfighting Tournament in the year 378 of the
Human Era was won by two youngsters with no calling from a
tiny northern village, earning them entrance into the Zakkaria
garrison. It was an unprecedented result.
In the end, Kirito only (briefly) struggled in that first fight and
did not need to use his two-part attack after that. It should come
as no surprise that the following spring, Kirito and Eugeo earned
the recommendation needed to test for the Imperial Swordcraft
Academy.