Chapter 62: Martial Arts Tournament Preliminaries

Time truly passed in the blink of an eye.

After trying out archery and enjoying a few more attractions, and then eating the village’s specialty, Dragon Steak, for lunch, it was already three o’clock.

We headed to the arena set up in the center of the village to apply for the preliminary round of the Martial Arts Tournament.

It was an arena that looked like the Colosseum of the Roman era, and it was so large and spacious that it could accommodate all the demons who had flocked to the village with room to spare.

They called it a tribal exchange event, but it really felt like we had come to watch some kind of autumn sports day.

People were shouting the names of the athletes they were cheering for, munching on popcorn in real-time.

We decided to register as participants at the reception desk set up in one corner of the stadium.

“Welcome. May I have your name, please?”

“Ozma Zoroaster.”

The attendant sitting at the reception desk made a surprised expression, but when Ozma put her index finger to her lips in a gesture to be quiet, they seemed to realize their mistake and sat back down.

Then, clearing their throat, they explained.

“Ozma Zoroaster-nim has been entered as participant number 13 in Preliminary Group D. We wish you the best of luck.”

“Mm.”

It seemed her name was quite famous among the regular demons, given that she participated in the Martial Arts Tournament every year to defeat Gab, one of the strongest demons of the current generation.

Ozma nodded calmly and was looking through the list of tournament participants posted on the notice board when she suddenly called me.

“Patraash.”

“Yes.”

“Your name is here?”

“…What?”

I wondered what this was all about, like being struck by lightning out of a clear sky, and quickly glanced at the participant list she was looking at.

Following her finger, my gaze landed on the list, and sure enough, my name was written there.

Group B, number 7, Patraash.

“Could it be someone with the same name?”

“Are there any other demons named Patraash besides you?”

Actually, it wasn’t like I had no idea.

What Gab, whom I met at the hot springs yesterday, had said.

If that was true, then Gab must have secretly put me on the match list using his authority as Village Chief.

I found it a bit absurd to be forced into participating without my consent, but I was glad I found out now.

“Then I’ll go tell the reception desk to remove my name. It won’t mean much if I participate anyway.”

Ozma asked back with a surprised expression.

“You’re going to withdraw from this tournament?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

Ozma shook her head back and forth and explained.

“This Martial Arts Tournament is quite a meaningful event. It’s a place that gives young demons a chance to rationally appeal their strength in front of the numerous demons in Doom Land. Simply achieving a high rank in this tournament can spread your reputation throughout the entire Demon King’s territory. If you, who are practically unknown, miss this great opportunity, you’ll regret it endlessly later.”

Hearing that, it wasn’t wrong, so I started thinking maybe I should just participate.

“Ah, but if I participate, you won’t be able to win, Ozma-nim.”

Ozma looked at me with a slightly exasperated gaze.

“You seem to think you’ll win quite naturally. Don’t worry about that. According to this bracket, you’d only face me in the finals.”

Hearing her words, I read the explanation written next to the bracket.

It seems the tournament proceeds by selecting 64 survivors from each of the ABCD blocks to advance to the Round of 32, and then sequentially to the Round of 16, quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals.

According to this explanation, I would fight an entrant from Block A in the semifinals, so as Ozma said, I would only be able to see her, from Block D, in the finals.

“In that case, there’s nothing particularly awkward. See you in the finals.”

“Yes. That’s how it should be.”

Ozma nodded with a determined expression as she said that.

Her gaze was fixed on Block C of the bracket, and I quickly realized why.

Because the name of Gab, the Heavenly Demon Dragon, who was none other than the dark horse of this tournament, was proudly written in Block C.

Even if Ozma systematically crushed her opponents and advanced, she would eventually meet Gab, the favorite to win, in the semifinals.

Naturally, she’d be worried.

I gazed at Ozma’s profile, then chuckled and patted her shoulder.

“Don’t worry too much. You’ve gotten significantly stronger over the past few weeks learning magic, Ozma-nim.”

Ozma asked with a reluctant expression.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Your smile was completely gone? Like someone who just encountered a wolf on the street.”

“…I’m confident I could defeat a few wolves if they came at me.”

Ozma said that, glancing at me, then nodded her head and said,

“I can’t help it. With my Master right beside me, I can’t be a disciple acting weak.”

“Huh? I’m your Master, Ozma-nim? This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“But you taught me magic, so aren’t you my Master?”

Thinking about it, she wasn’t wrong.

Besides, I had never trained a disciple when I was at the Magic Tower, so I wasn’t even sure if my teaching was helpful to anyone.

Camilla, who had been quietly listening to our conversation beside us, tugged on my sleeve from behind.

When I turned my head slightly, wondering what was up, Camilla looked at me with a blank expression burning with competitiveness and said,

“Can I call Kaldraash-nim my Master too?”

No, don’t get serious about this all of a sudden.

In the end, I decided to participate in the Martial Arts Tournament under the name Patraash, aiming to gain fame among the young demons.

After all, I quite enjoy fighting.

Since I was in Group B, my match was scheduled quite early, so the waiting time wasn’t long.

While doing some light warm-ups in the participant waiting room, I heard my name being called from the arena side.

“Participant Patraash, number 7 in Group B! Please come up to the stage!”

‘Time to go.’

What I was wearing on my hands now wasn’t gauntlets, but knuckles.

I had sufficiently tamed my recently acquired Stormbringer on the way to Dragon Mountain, so this time it was time to tame my excellent second means of conversation.

Admiring the snug grip of the knuckles on my hands, I walked onto the arena stage.

My current attire consisted of my usual clothes with the robe removed, and a dog-shaped mask covering my face.

The referee, confirming my arrival on stage, turned his head towards the demon who had come up from the opposite Block A.

He was a scantily clad, muscular man, looking like a Spartoi straight out of a movie, staring at me with only a red cape draped over red underwear.

His gaze was burning intensely with passion, and he was quite an intimidating man to face.

If I weren’t wearing this mask, my distorted expression would have been revealed to my opponent.

Soon, the participant from Block A and I stood facing each other on the stage.

The referee standing in the middle looked us over alternately and explained the simple rules.

“There is no time limit. The match isn’t over until one person dies or declares surrender.”

It was literally a no-holds-barred rule.

A stage where there were practically no rules, and only pure strength was valued.

Truly a martial arts tournament imbued with a demonic essence.

After greeting each other, we each took our weapons in hand.

My opponent held a long spear longer than his own body, while I wore a pair of knuckles.

Judging solely by weapon reach, I was in an overwhelmingly disadvantageous situation.

Silence descended upon the audience seats looking down from the stage.

They were probably already anticipating the kind of fight we would put on.

Of course, we could show them a fight filled with bloodshed.

But that goes against my aesthetic.

Because I believe putting on such a show in a fight that can be easily won is inherently disrespectful to the opponent.

So, if possible, as cleanly as possible-

Finish it instantly, without making the opponent feel uncomfortable.

“Sssup…”

Koooooooh-

As I began the proper breathing technique from my school’s arcane arts, the imaginary mana furnace within my body started spinning rapidly.

Immediately after, the flag in the referee’s hand was raised above his head-

Flap!

The moment it was swung down, I thrust both hands, enveloped in electricity, forward.

“What!”

Then, like a swift leopard, the Passionate Man, who was about to charge at me, was pulled in with a surprised expression.

He hastily tried to resist by planting his spear into the ground, but once caught by the magnetization magic, he was helpless.

If my hands were the N pole, his body was the S pole.

Unable to escape even if he tried, the Passionate Man’s face, caught by the intense magnetism, was drawn towards my fist.

Bang!!

Along with a powerful impact sound like a bursting cannonball, the punch landed cleanly on his face.

“Kuhuk!”

The straight punch, its destructive power amplified by the Orihalcon knuckles, knocked down the muscular macho man in a single blow.

The audience seats, having witnessed the one-sided victory, so different from what they expected, were filled with a strange silence.

The referee, looking bewildered, glanced back and forth between me and the Passionate Man before hastily raising his flag.

“Match 4 of Group B! Mage Patraash wins!”

It was literally a 3-second knockout.