The day of the duel had dawned.

This was the fateful day when the leader who would determine the nation’s future for decades would be chosen.

Crowds surged toward the great coliseum where the duel would take place.

Even from afar, the sheer number of people was staggering.

It looked as if the entire population of Valeria, the capital of Blake, had gathered here.

“So many have come.”

Shushruta stood precariously atop the outer rim of the tall coliseum, gazing down at the scene below.

It wasn’t yet time to enter.

Even so, the line of people stretched around the enormous arena multiple times.

Those who had arrived at dawn were still only halfway down the line—proof of how massive the crowd was.

“Perhaps it’s because it’s been so long.”

The current king’s reign had been long, and this festival had been absent for many years.

It was only natural that when it finally returned, people would gather in droves.

But why had they gathered in such numbers?

For the highlight of the festival—the duel.

Even setting aside the grand meaning of princes battling for the throne, watching the kingdom’s finest knights clash was a rare spectacle.

Most of the crowd had little interest in the new king. They had come to see knights fight.

Thus, the atmosphere of the coliseum was far from solemn.

“This too… is by design of the royal family.”

So the old man always said.

Every time a duel was held, the royal family hosted a grand festival around it.

Outwardly, it was to welcome the new king and pray he would rise as a saintly ruler to guide the kingdom well.

But the true purpose was to make people see the duel as nothing more than entertainment.

The role of the common folk was simple: get swept up in the festival, enjoy themselves, and when the new king was crowned, cheer and accept him without even realizing it.

In short—stay out of politics.

Don’t even ask yourself, “Why can’t we choose our king?” Instead, here’s a spectacle, here’s merriment. Enjoy the festival. Don’t think too deeply.

“Hm…”

Shushruta thought the old man’s words sounded a bit cynical.

But from up here, watching the crowd, she had to admit there was some truth to them.

Listening to the chatter below, it seemed clear.

They had little concern for the monumental event of a new king being chosen.

All they cared about was seeing knights fight.

It was the result of long conditioning.

This custom, older than the kingdom itself, had become second nature.

And in truth, they had no influence over the throne’s succession—unless they rose in rebellion.

The right to choose the king was never granted to commoners.

It was steeped in the nobles’ arrogance: How could lowly commoners have a say in affairs of state?

But beneath that arrogance was simply the nobles’ unwillingness to give up their privileges.

“What was it the old man said again…?”

There’s a saying: too many helmsmen send the boat up a mountain.

If everyone had a say in politics, chaos could follow.

The foolish masses, swayed by impulse rather than reason, might steer the state into disaster.

They would decide matters of utmost importance with reckless ignorance.

Given the poor state of education, such a possibility was very real.

Thus, the monarchy-aristocracy system: a select few of exceptional ability ruled on behalf of all.

But that only worked when the ruling class was truly capable and morally upright.

Perhaps in the beginning it functioned well.

But over time, what remained was incompetence and bloated privilege.

With each generation, ability dwindled while privilege remained or grew.

Sloth gnawed away at them.

“…The old man’s words are too hard.”

So the old man had once summed it up simply:

“It’s rotten to the core.”

He muttered it so often it had become a catchphrase.

And every time, without fail, he would add:

“What this kingdom needs is a tyrant to sweep away the rotten nobles.”

Shushruta had heard it so many times she’d memorized it.

And whenever she grumbled that the old man was noisy, she’d get a smack on the back.

Naturally, the guildmaster who preached the need for a tyrant welcomed the Black Prince’s rise.

The Black Prince and the thieves’ guild had been in secret contact for a long time, aligning their purposes.

Since Ashuban met the Black Prince, messages had even passed through Shushruta.

The thieves’ guild had provided the expected roster of the First Prince’s knights, leaked information about the Red-Eyed Devil to the Second Prince’s camp, and assisted the Black Prince’s long-planned schemes.

But Shushruta wasn’t helping because she shared the old man’s views.

She was helping simply because Ashuban had decided to.

Nothing more, nothing less.

To Shushruta, the Black Prince was no different from the teeming masses below.

“So many… like ants.”

She tilted her head, watching the tiny people swarming below, when a man appeared beside her.

“You’ve waited.”

Wearing black in bright daylight only drew attention.

This man, instead, wore plain clothes the color of stone. He could melt into the crowd or stand here unnoticed.

Shushruta asked him evenly, “The matter I told you to check?”

“Yes. I was already watching, so it didn’t take long.”

Wherever there were people, the eyes of the thieves’ guild were there too.

That had become a proverb in the Blake Kingdom.

Through guild informants, Shushruta already knew Ashuban had clashed with royal knights yesterday—and also of the assassins’ suspicious movements.

“The investigation shows those men were not under the First Prince’s orders.”

“Then…”

The man nodded.

“Yes. Higher. The royal family itself.”

“…I see.”

“They were confirmed to be agents secretly commanded by the king.”

Shushruta had sensed something odd in how things were turning.

But she hadn’t expected the king himself to break an age-old rule.

Interference in the duel was forbidden.

If any royal broke that rule by colluding with a prince, execution awaited them.

But what if the king himself broke it?

Who could punish the highest power in the realm?

Until now, no king had dared.

It was treated as a sacred, inviolable law.

There was no written punishment for a king who broke it—only the unspoken weight of tradition: Your forebears abided by it, so must you.

Until now, that had been enough.

But this time was different.

The king himself had interfered.

It was unprecedented.

Shushruta nodded slowly.

“Understood.”

How exactly the king would interfere, she could not know.

Too many eyes were watching—surely he wouldn’t risk anything blatant.

“Lady Shushruta.”

She looked at the man. Her eyes said: You’re still here?

He gazed at her intently.

“There was a message from the Shadow Lord.”

Shushruta’s eyes widened.

“…From the old man?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him in surprise, then hesitated before saying, “Speak.”

“Yes.”

The man cleared his throat, then spoke in a voice not his own.

Rough, worn by time, unmistakably an old man’s voice.

“Young wolf, take care of yourself.”

“…!”

Since the day she had run away, the old man had never once sent her a message.

That made it all the more shocking.

“That is all.”

“…You may go.”

“Yes.”

The man leapt over the railing.

When Shushruta leaned out to look, he had already vanished without a trace.

“……”

Shushruta’s face grew grave as she sank into thought.

For the old man to say something like that… it gave her a bad feeling.

While she brooded, the time to enter finally came. The crowd poured into the arena.

Seats filled quickly from the front.

“Popcorn! Freshly fried corn snacks, get your popcorn here!”

“Cool fruit juice, only three cooper!”

“Cold draft beer available!”

Vendors wove through the aisles selling food and drink.

“Who do you think will win?”

“Of course the First Prince! Sir Riley, Sir Stefan, Sir Lionel—all famous knights are on his side.”

“What are you talking about? The Black Prince has the Golden Flash. Didn’t you see yesterday? She sent the viscount’s knights fleeing with only a few words.”

“Besides the Golden Flash, who else does he have?”

“The Black Tiger Knights, don’t forget.”

“No, no. The Black Prince’s lineup isn’t solid. He can’t rely on just one knight to guarantee victory.”

“You think so?”

“Look at the First Prince’s side. Not a single weak link among them.”

The people argued heatedly, the air loud and festive.

But while seats filled in a wave, one section remained empty.

“Why’s nobody sitting over there?”

“Don’t you know? That’s reserved for the nobles.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

Before long, nobles in splendid clothes and glittering jewels arrived fashionably late and took their places.

“At last, the day has come.”

“Indeed.”

Heads of noble houses, their wives, and children sat and gossiped.

They naturally split into two camps.

On the right sat the elder houses supporting the First Prince. On the left, the newer houses that backed the Black Prince.

Among the Black Prince’s supporters were families once under the Second Prince and those who had long supported him.

“You too with the Black Prince?”

“I thought you were neutral…!”

Those from the Second Prince’s faction were startled at how many had been quietly backing the Black Prince all along.

Most had proclaimed neutrality, hiding their stance until he made his move.

But now that they were in the same boat, they blended together quickly.

The two camps traded barbed words, even as they chatted among themselves.

“A young tiger has gathered quite the following.”

“He must have been scheming behind the scenes.”

“Tch tch. Who does he take after, to be so sly?”

“For someone so devious and violent to sit the throne—it’s unthinkable.”

As they sneered, a man on the Black Prince’s side picked his ear and muttered, “Where’s that barking dog?”

“What was that?!”

He looked at them calmly.

“Ah, my mistake. A pig, not a dog.”

“……!”

“You old men are noisy. After all this time in power, isn’t it about time you stepped down?”

“Insolence!”

“Just talking to myself, same as you.”

With his remark, the younger lords supporting the Black Prince grew bolder, openly mocking the elders.

“No skill, yet their greed only grows.”

“Look at their bellies, swollen with fat.”

“They rule only because they inherited a family name, not through ability.”

“Careful. Once the duel is over, you’ll be the first slaughtered by the Black Prince.”

Their feud ran deep, and now, with no turning back, it finally erupted in the open.

“Y-You lowborns!”

“How dare you, who once couldn’t even squeak—!”

Their faces flushed crimson, fists trembling, while the Black Prince’s men only grinned darkly.

They said dogs take after their masters.

In every way, they resembled the Black Prince.

Hearing enough, Shushruta shifted and dropped from the top of the arena.

She landed soundlessly and slipped into the shadows, making her way to the waiting room below.

Ashuban, his eyes covered with a dark cloth, greeted her.

“You’re here?”

She tilted her head at the blindfolded man.

“Why are you like that?”

Ashuban grinned.

“They don’t know I’m the Red-Eyed Devil.”

“And?”

“It’s mind games. Use whatever you can. They probably think Sir Fluffy is the Devil.”

Shushruta glanced at Fluffy, gripping Vlad and steadying his breath.

His eyes had been tinged red ever since he became Vlad’s wielder.

Not as dark as Ashuban’s, but still.

“And also…”

She turned back to him.

He smirked.

“It’s fun.”

“……”

Shushruta stared at his savage smile.

Truly… an incomprehensible companion.

But since she too had often been misunderstood, she couldn’t help but feel a strange kinship.

Is this what comradeship feels like?

“Hehehe.”

“Hahaha.”

Watching the two of them snicker, the Black Prince shook his head.

Do strange people find joy just by looking at each other?

Shushruta suddenly looked Ashuban up and down.

“You. Did something happen?”

“Not really. Why?”

“Hmm… I don’t know. You just look different somehow.”

“Ah, that?”

Ashuban smiled meaningfully.

“I had a good dream.”

At that moment, a majestic trumpet sounded outside.

The Black Prince rose.

“That means His Majesty has arrived.”

The ten knights stood with him.

Ashuban rolled his shoulders and said,

“Then let’s go.”

Led by the Black Prince, the ten knights marched out into the vast arena.

(End of Chapter)

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