Ch.502Episode 18 – Men’s Club

The primal pleasure of dueling is a culture where romance and sanctity coexist, a thrilling and sensual tightrope walk that straddles the boundary between custom and illegality.

Why is dueling sacred?

Because honor and courage are at stake.

The courage to willingly risk one’s life for honor. That resolute determination is what highlights the sanctity and romance of dueling.

Of course, from the spectators’ perspective, they couldn’t care less about honor or courage. They just wanted to watch a bloody fight where limbs get hacked off!

After all, isn’t culture something that grows when there are people to consume it, and gains impressive meaning when many people enjoy it?

But there was a common misconception.

Namely, the prejudice of modern people addicted to mass media: ‘dueling = exclusively for men’!

This was a very biased, sexist, and Un-Educated way of thinking. In this world, there’s nothing that only men or only women can do, except for cross-dressing.

And dueling is a battle where the honor of the brave is at stake! Regardless of gender or age, if one’s honor is threatened, anyone has the freedom to challenge their opponent to a duel!

Naturally, being a woman is no exception.

This is a truth demonstrated personally by the ‘magic-phobic great sword enthusiast’ who was born male but trapped in a woman’s body, in a one-on-one final duel with a man who knew nothing of honor.

It is also the history decorated with brilliant bloodshed by ‘Imperial Russian female nobles’ who inherited temperaments as volatile as Siberian blizzards, drawing their swords to settle scores with those fox-like bitches (also noble women) who gossiped behind their backs.

No order of precedence for the elderly or children!

Regardless of gender, once a sword is drawn, limbs must be sliced first!

Fight to win, and if you lose, you must die!

The sanctity and fairness of dueling by all, for all, has been clearly proven. (Though the police, prosecutors, and courts may have different opinions)

Therefore!

Dueling is a sacred culture, enjoyed by people of all ages and genders.

If you have the confidence to take responsibility for your own words and actions (cowards should stay crumpled up), you can wag your tongue carelessly and still preserve your life! (Of course, this only applies if you win. If you lose, you must die)

In other words,

If we think about it differently…

“Please give me just one more chance, Professor!”

“No.”

“Help! There’s a senile wizard trying to kill his disciple!”

“…Look at this wench?”

For one who is not only incompetent but also cannot control their tongue!

If you have accepted this duel, abandon all hope!

Episode 18 – The Gentlemen’s Club

Armed with a pair of fire pokers, Camilla attempted “Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. P-Please spare me,” but was ultimately crushed by the calamity she had brought upon herself.

“No matter how many times I see it, what impertinent manners. Calling your master a senile wizard. Hmph, really.”

“Eeeeek…”

A palm smacks her lips repeatedly! It was the master’s admonishment to her unworthy disciple, lamenting her frivolous tongue.

Grabbed by the nape of her neck, Camilla cowered like a kitten.

Her legs dangled in the air, and her drooping eyes evoked pity. The Grand Duchess regarded Camilla in her grasp with disapproving eyes.

“You reckless child. Did you really have to speak ill of your master?”

“Then maybe you should do better…”

What have I failed to do for you? A momentary bewilderment flashed across the master’s eyes, but the disciple apparently had much to say.

Held by the Grand Duchess, Camilla began to voice her grievances with a tone full of indignation.

“What kind of training involves throwing someone into a horde of monsters! That’s unfair enough, but then you suddenly pull me out from fighting monsters for a one-on-one duel! And then because I couldn’t land an effective hit, you say my training is insufficient and throw my exhausted body back among the monsters.”

Having to live in the Colosseum 24 hours a day without rest! Even ancient Roman gladiators wouldn’t have lived like this.

And the food didn’t even come on time.

“No rest and starving me! What is this all about…!”

At least gladiators got three meals a day on time. The Grand Duchess not only denied rest but barely provided food—she was the epitome of cruelty.

So she felt wronged. This was what Camilla was claiming.

“Besides, our abilities are restricted, but you fight with full power.”

The Grand Duchess, who had been listening to Camilla’s protests, raised an eyebrow askew.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

Am I the one training? You’re the ones training.

Her words were so absurd that Camilla cut off the Grand Duchess mid-sentence to ask:

“How is that obvious?”

“I am not a person of leisure, child. Nor are you in a position to train at your own pace. Even 24 hours would be insufficient to receive my teachings. Naturally, I must keep you working without rest, mustn’t I?”

“……”

“And training is inherently arduous. Even pushing oneself to the limit all day might barely yield achievement. How much less if a child eats whatever they want and rests whenever they please.”

Growth and training are naturally difficult, and certain restrictions are to be expected. This was the reason a master scolded a slacking disciple, and why an incompetent disciple complained.

But the disciple’s ears seemed deaf to the master’s words.

Even as the Grand Duchess lectured, Camilla was fidgeting, preparing something.

“Also, the child has always eaten too much. Before complaining about insufficient meals, first consider how much you’ve been eating all along…”

“Opening!”

In the midst of the heated lecture, a fire poker flew like a dagger.

The Grand Duchess easily avoided the surprise attack by tilting her head back. At that moment, Camilla, having regained her freedom, wrapped a small flame around her fist.

“I bent my knees to gain momentum!”

Ha-ha, take this! With a fist of fire, she dove into her opponent’s space at tremendous speed, and hands and feet began to clash.

As the trajectory of a straight punch cut through the air, the archmage nimbly stepped on the sand to avoid the attack.

Swoosh-! Stepping aside, a low attack aimed at her abdomen grazed her side. Swish-swish-! She deflected a punch aimed at her face by turning her head.

The archmage continued to evade with light movements, as if taunting her opponent, while the disciple calmly identified openings and charged.

Just as her punch was about to connect with the side, snap! A hand caught her fist.

“…Huh?”

Surprised that her attack was caught rather than blocked, Camilla made a dumbfounded sound. Suddenly, a mad wind embraced her and flung her far away to a place teeming with monsters!

This is insane-

“This is too much…!”

Even as she disappeared into the distance like a dot on the desert horizon, her voice of indignation could be heard.

To this, the master who had personally flung away her disciple snorted.

“The heavenly master’s words weren’t even finished, yet you attacked first. I couldn’t overlook such impudence.”

-Where are there rules in a duel?!

“Shut up, you brat.”

The disciple who had shown nothing but shameful behavior to her master dropped into the midst of monsters.

The monsters cheered at the arrival of fresh meat (??: Who’s this? / ??: We’ve been waiting for someone like you), and Camilla let out a scream of joy in response.

It was a signal that the chase had begun.

“Such a worthless fool who knows nothing of honor. What am I to do with that child…”

I am truly worried about my disciple’s future.

The Grand Duchess sighed, dusting off her palms.

Then, composing her expression, she beckoned with her finger to the alchemist sitting demurely, as if telling her not to hesitate.

“Your turn has come already. Come in, child of Ranieri.”

“…I’m coming, Grandmother.”

The alchemist, armed with magical tools, took flight, and the archmage’s flames devoured the sky.

*

No sooner had the operation to arrest the underworld wizard been suspended than the Grand Duchess kidnapped us as if she had been waiting for it.

And thus training began again!

The master, who had been impressed by the five students’ escape, introduced more planned and systematic methods than before.

The desert was filled with diverse and abundant monsters, and a one-on-one duel system reminiscent of a dog fighting pit was born. (??: Brother Lizard, these friends are smiling? / ??: Leave them be. They must be having a good dream)

Sweet-smelling drool began to flow from the mouths of the impudent disciples, and 100% chemical-free salt bands appeared on their backs.

It wasn’t hard to guess where such dog-bone training methods came from.

“…You prepared quite thoroughly during that week.”

Humans tend to overthink when they have nothing to do. The Grand Duchess had to spend the entire week alone, like a teacher left in an empty classroom after students skipped detention and ran away.

She could easily see what her missing disciples were doing outside just by turning on the TV.

Like a teacher checking the game records of students who escaped to PC cafes under the pretext of going to the bathroom, the Grand Duchess spent seven days watching TV and sharpening her knife with the sole intention of disciplining “these brats…”

Thus was born ‘The Human Reformation Furnace 2.0’! The +9 reinforced Gentlemen’s Club, evolved to be stronger and more brutal than before!

“Are you okay?”

“No. I feel like I’m dying…”

The granddaughter (not really) who got indigestion after eating Grandmother’s hearty meal-dessert answered with a half-dazed expression.

“I could tell just by looking. The Grand Duchess was hunting you down like mice. But is it really that hard?”

“You would understand if you faced her yourself, Sir…”

“Oh…”

The alchemist, crawling shamelessly on the sandy ground, looked up at the sky with blank eyes. It was a pitiful sight, but she was in relatively good condition.

The saint sitting far away had even lost her focus, hadn’t she?

Compared to Lucia, who had been thoroughly beaten by the Grand Duchess, Francesca, who had received some mercy, was in better shape.

“But at least you can move, right? Lucia couldn’t do anything but get hit. It’s fortunate you can at least move—think positively.”

Lifeless purple eyes rolled around. They began to glare with a coldness that would make the spy gentleman flinch. They were eyes filled with killing intent.

Francesca, sprawled out, asked in a voice tinged with indignation:

“You can say that after seeing me crawl on the ground?”

“Ahem…!”

“Besides, if you think about it, didn’t I suffer worse than the saint? At least her power was sealed. I did my best without any such restrictions and ended up like this.”

The Grand Duchess’s will to punish her insolent students was truly remarkable.

She scraped together her knowledge, experience, connections, and tools to create a spirit bomb, and in just one week, she completed various methods (very horrific torture devices) to train us.

One of those results was the ‘sealed powers of Lucia and Arkande.’

“That’s natural since her divine power and strength were bound.”

“Where on earth did Grandmother find such vicious devices?”

“They were made by the Inquisition, I heard.”

I didn’t hear the exact principles, but according to my personal investigation, the Grand Duchess found methods from the Church and Al-Yabd. More specifically, from the Inquisition and the Punishment Committee.

These two organizations, which had specialized in researching and dealing with heretics for thousands of years, had created various weapons, including devices that suppressed the divine power of ‘clergy.’ The device Lucia wore was such a ‘restraint.’

Of course, the Grand Duchess couldn’t be reassured by merely suppressing divine power, so she created several additional magical tools.

The herculean strength of Lucia and Arkande, who could lift trucks with bare hands and send people flying with punches.

The moment they wore the magical tools handed by the Grand Duchess, these two who had displayed explosive power instantly became powerless. Just like Camilla, whose magic was restricted. (For reference, she had her magical power restricted again as soon as she was brought here)

I sighed while looking at the disgustingly clear desert.

“You should have done better. Those two landed effective hits even when powerless. Why did you lose when you were allowed to use magical tools?”

“I tried, ugh… It’s not as easy as it sounds…”

Unlike Camilla, Lucia, and Arkande who had become powerless, the Grand Duchess allowed Francesca to use magical tools.

This was because she primarily used magical tools, and also because modern alchemy was a discipline far from combat.

Of course, she couldn’t use just any magical tool. The only magical tools the Grand Duchess permitted were those Francesca had designed and created herself.

In other words, she couldn’t use commercially available magical tools or modified versions of them. That was the problem.

“Most of the magical tools I own are modified versions. I couldn’t use them in the first place, and Grandmother could easily counter them.”

No matter how many decades it had been since the Grand Duchess retired from the front lines, no one could deny that she was an archmage.

Not just because she was a renowned figure in her youth. Because the Grand Duchess’s wisdom and experience surpassed those of the prominent magicians of the current era. Not just surpassed—she could single-handedly suppress the entire magical society.

Modern magical tools? A veteran magician who had rampaged on battlefields could understand their principles, how to use them, and even their vulnerabilities just by touching them briefly.

Then she would need to develop original magical tools…

This was not easy even for Francesca, and far from sufficient to face the Grand Duchess.

Francesca’s knowledge all originated from what archmages had left behind, so naturally, she was easily read by the Grand Duchess who stood above her.

“…Haa.”

Francesca, rolling on the sand, carelessly threw away the magical tools she had created.

The powerlessly thrown tools fell on top of other tools, and they piled up to form mound-like graves here and there, so it was natural for the alchemist to be in such agony.

“Waaaaaah-!”

A massive object fell onto the grave of magical tools.

Crash! Crunch!

Amidst all sorts of magical tools breaking, snapping, and shattering, a bear-like figure suddenly rose above the mess.

“Haha! Levitation! This is really fun!”

It was Arkande.

Despite diving into a pile of scrap metal, he emerged walking proudly with a broad smile. Even at this moment when everyone else was dying of exhaustion, he maintained the most positive mindset.

“Ah… My magical tools…”

As the alchemist lost consciousness and fainted, the barbarian warrior (truly barbaric) walked out, dusting off his scratched body.

“You. Frederick.”

“What?”

“Looking for you. Silver-haired woman.”

“……”

Finally, the inevitable has come.

I stood up, dusting the sand off my buttocks. While Lucia, who had regained her focus, saw me off, I gathered my belongings and headed to my destination.

A translucent barrier rippled, and there was a significant temperature difference between the inside and outside of the hemisphere-covered desert. The quiet and desolate appearance of the desert was nowhere to be seen. Only traces of destruction remained there.

As I physically penetrated the barrier, the archmage sitting cross-legged gently opened her eyes.

“You have come.”

“…Yes.”

“Finally, it is your turn.”

The Grand Duchess, who had jumped lightly from the rock she was sitting on, responded in a dignified voice.

“I will teach you how to use it, so take out what I gave you.”

“……”

I put my bag on the ground and unlocked it. Opening the case for the first time was no different from opening Pandora’s box.

An inexplicable anxiety swept over me, but there was nowhere left to run. Even if I ran away, I would soon be caught again.

With anxious eyes, I peered through the slightly open gap. The glossy surface reflected the sunlight and sparkled.

I took out the item I had received from the Grand Duchess from the case, held it with both hands, and slowly unfolded it.

This is…

“…Armor?”

*

Confirming the nature of the gift, a sense of bewilderment washed over me.

“What is this.”

What was in the case was armor. To be more precise, “clothing similar to armor.”

Can I even call this armor? I thought as I looked at it front and back with puzzled eyes.

It looks like the padded vests police wear for riot control. It has characteristics of ‘protective clothing,’ yet why are there so many pieces of cloth attached to it?

If I had to compare, it looked like a brigandine. You know, that combination of cloth and armor worn by medieval Islamic armies or crusaders in movies. Exactly that kind of feeling.

The difference is that with a brigandine, you’d immediately think “that’s clearly what Joseon Dynasty soldiers wore,” but this doesn’t look like ‘Neo-Joseon Army’ cosplay either. It’s more like a ‘tactical-brigandine.’

It was essentially something I’d never seen before.

“……”

Unable to speak due to its bizarre appearance, I was quietly examining it when Camilla’s voice began to be heard from afar.

“Wow- That’s a really cool-looking armor. It looks like something from a game!”

“Cyberpunk?”

“No, Battlefield 1. It’s similar to the bulletproof armor worn by elite classes, isn’t it?”

What are you talking about, you nerd? Always talking about things only you understand.

Watching from beyond the barrier, Camilla suddenly tilted her head in confusion.

“Wait a minute… Was it 1 or 5 where the Sentry appears? I definitely played both, but my memory is fuzzy.”

“How much gaming do you do normally? You’re quite the bourgeois.”

“I didn’t pay for it myself! My brother subscribed to Game Pass. I secretly took his Xbox and tried various games.”

Why are you taking your brother’s game console, you thief?

Blood doesn’t lie. Just like a true Brit, she takes whatever she wants. Is looting a folk tradition? (Half true.) At this rate, she’ll loot stores during riots.

As my concerns about Camilla’s morality and law-abiding consciousness deepened, the archmage who had walked over with heavy steps naturally put her hands behind her back and began to speak.

“Would you like to know what that is?”

I shook my head as I examined the item that might be protective gear or something else.

“It looks like protective equipment, but I don’t know who made it or where it was used.”

I was saying I’d never seen it before.

When I expressed curiosity about its origin, the archmage resolved my doubt with an old story.

“It belonged to a comrade who shared life and death on the battlefield long ago.”

“A war?”

“Indeed.”

She was saying it was a possession of a magician who had been active in the Church-Magic Tower War. Meaning it had been used in actual combat.

For something like that, I’ve never seen it before? I didn’t see any records of such an item when researching military history. When I asked why there were no records of such an item, the archmage lightly shrugged her shoulders.

“Were there only one or two records that disappeared in the flames of war?”

“I suppose…”

Given that magic passed down from ancient times and magic developed during the war had disappeared, it wasn’t strange at all that records of such an item would be lost in that era.

As I observed the unknown relic, the archmage began to urge me.

“Put it on quickly. Although it is a relic from a bygone era, it was made by an excellent magician, and I have modified it, so I can promise good performance.”

If the archmage says so, it might be worth expecting something.

She continued that since wearing it was no different from putting on clothing, she didn’t need to help, and she would explain its purpose after I wore it, so I should hurry up. The usually leisurely grandmother was unusually pushy today. She must be excited seeing an old item.

I took off my outer clothing and was about to put on the relic.

Just as I was about to extend my neck toward a space large enough for a head to fit through, small letters engraved on the inside caught my eye. It was a very familiar foreign language.

“Why is there Fatalian…”

I paused in putting on the relic and held it up to the sunlight.

Although it was difficult to make out due to weathering over time, I muttered what I could roughly read.

“…Barbara. In any hardship and adversity. Protective armor. Difficult to make. Do not touch.”

The passage of time was clearly felt in the sporadically broken sentences. The short text ended with a name.

Probably the name of the magician who had made or owned this.

And at the same time, a name I knew.

Barbara, armor that protects me in any hardship and adversity. Since it was difficult to make, do not touch without permission.

– Giovanni Ranieri.