Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 133

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 133.
Two Blades, Four Names (17)
Because Isolet had woven a trace of chant magic into her voice, the Young Boy immediately understood and turned his head.
In such a cacophonous place, it was a whisper that ordinarily would have gone unheard—yet the intended listener heard it with perfect clarity.
As expected, the servant remained oblivious, his attention consumed entirely by the din of the crowd.
“Pardon? Oh, you’re a woman? When I saw you earlier, I thought….”
“Yes. That’s not important. If you truly have the nerve to place a substantial wager, I can introduce you to someone exceptional.”
“Hmm….”
The charming young master fell into contemplation, wrestling with what seemed a serious deliberation before finally meeting Isolet’s gaze. When she smiled knowingly, the Young Boy’s eyes widened.
“Wow, you’re quite a beauty, aren’t you? But are you saying I should place the bet on you?”
He had noticed the sword strapped to Isolet’s back without missing a detail. Isolet shook her head.
“No. It’s someone else. If it feels like too much risk, you can decline. But I’m certain he will win the championship.”
“The championship?”
“Yes, the championship.”
The servant still had not turned around. The Young Boy gradually became aware that only he could hear this beautiful woman’s voice among all those present.
Yet her words reached his ears with such crystalline clarity, and carried such a compelling force that it made him want to nod in agreement.
In the next moment, the Young Boy did indeed nod and spoke.
“Understood. Father always said that opportunity comes alongside crisis. Your voice is quite peculiar—that must be both the crisis and the opportunity, yes? I’ll place the bet. What is his name?”
“Boris Misterie. Wager as much as you wish on that name. And when you place it, put down this money of mine as well.”
Isolet placed a single hundred-Elso gold coin into the Young Boy’s hand. He smiled and nodded.
“My name is Lucian Kaltz. And you are?”
“Isolet. Then I’ll see you at tomorrow’s preliminary matches.”
As Isolet turned to leave, the Young Boy named Lucian called out boldly from behind her.
“Here! Fifty thousand Elso! Make sure you hear me clearly! I’m wagering fifty thousand Elso on the name Boris Misterie! And adding another hundred Elso on top of that!”
The servant beside him nearly stumbled in shock, desperately trying to grab the young master’s arm to stop him, but the words had already left his lips.
And so an unfamiliar name was added to the betting board.
The preliminary matches began.
Silverskull’s official schedule spanned four days. On the first day of preliminaries, all participants were divided into four groups and competed in two rounds of team combat.
Those who fell within the time limit, accidentally struck their own allies, or lost their weapons were eliminated from the preliminaries.
Each group was given a headband of a different color. If life was in danger, removing and throwing down the headband signified surrender and protected one from further attack. Striking an opponent who had surrendered was also grounds for elimination.
It was said that in earlier years, the preliminaries had been conducted with greater sophistication, but as the number of participants swelled with each passing year, they had been forced to adopt this simpler method to determine the main bracket entrants.
Each group contained roughly seventy or eighty participants. Boris was assigned to the final team and would compete in the second round.
A yellow headband was distributed to mark team affiliation. Looking around, I saw some wearing light armor of leather and others fully equipped with helmets and proper arms.
All Boris possessed was a single sword given by Nauplion, leather gloves, and a brigandine coat distributed by The Island for its children competing in Silverskull.
The brigandine reminded me of the one worn during the attack on Jineman Estate in childhood, though its quality was far inferior.
A man holding a signal flag stood before the central platform. Since many spectators came only to watch the main bracket, the crowds on all sides were not overwhelming. Yet the weight of concentrated attention was considerable.
When the first round had ended moments before, I heard the announcer declare the preliminary survivors while remarking that it was fortunate no one had perished.
This was a competition where death could truly occur—where one could genuinely kill. It was nothing like practice with wooden swords. It was not a match where one merely walked away with minor wounds.
Standing in line with my team, watching the boys arrayed opposite us in similar formation, my body gradually grew warm with tension.
Lifting my gaze, I saw the assembled crowd beyond the wooden palisade. The elevated seats of the nobility, including Duke Fontina, occupied the left side, while the remainder were filled with people of every description from across the Continent.
Where could Isolet be?
“…and so, all of you must strive for the glory of yourselves and your houses!”
A green flag rose into the air…. It had begun.
Upon the first clash, I was startled by the heat reaching me before the blades themselves. Visible faces, hidden faces—all tangled together with a single purpose.
From the initial collision, forfeitures erupted immediately. Those who conceded threw down their weapons and crawled out beyond the palisade.
The abandoned weapons became spoils for the survivors. Scattered headbands were trampled chaotically across the dirt. With each passing moment, the fervor of those remaining burned ever brighter.
As the match grew fierce, the crowd erupted into frenzy. They chanted the names of their favored contestants or their hometowns, waving scarves, hats, tunics, and branches in wild celebration.
“Victory to Anomarad’s finest young swordsman!”
“The glory of Hyacan lives on!”
“Five consecutive victories within reach! Who can stand against Kangpir!”
“Those from Zanford! Sidmer! Galjar! Dorendelf! Show your strength!”
“Silverskull’s true homeland is Lugran! This time, we claim it!”
A blade flashed past with dazzling speed. I turned my head to confirm the yellow headband, then cut off the enemy’s follow-up attack.
The swift blade belonged to a heavy saber with a slightly curved tip. Yet the one wielding it was a beautiful girl with short black hair!
Caught up in the whirlwind again, I had no time to observe further. Before I knew it, I had become the target of several blue-banded fighters.
I thought I should strike methodically, but my blade extended faster than anticipated. It was like dancing. In mere moments, I had pierced the wrists of three opponents in succession. It happened in a single breath once I found the rhythm.
“Ugh!”
Two dropped their weapons, while one rushed at me with his blade transferred to his other hand. But left-handed swordplay was not something everyone could manage. I kicked at his knee and struck his fingers with the hilt, and his weapon fell from his grasp.
As I spun around, I evaded another incoming blade with an flexibility that seemed almost impossible.
A question arose in my mind. In this one-against-many combat, I seemed to have developed a remarkably three-dimensional perspective, yet I couldn’t pinpoint when this had begun.
Lost in thought, I revealed an opening. A blue-banded youth attacked from the front. Judging by the emblem carved into his silver breastplate, he was likely nobility….
“How insolent!”
A roar erupted as the thrust came at me. I barely evaded it this time. It was a powerful strike. I didn’t understand why my opponent was angry with me.
There was no need to ask. I answered with my blade.
Tsching!
As our blades scraped past each other, I saw my opponent’s eyes. Beneath aristocratic blue irises, a thin linear scar crossed his face—a visage unfamiliar to me. Yet I immediately recognized that he was one who overwhelmed his opponent not merely through skill, but through sheer force of presence.
After two more exchanges of blades, both of us realized the other was no easy opponent.
Dong! Dong! Dong!
Three bell tolls reverberated across the arena. The master of ceremonies cried out loudly.
“The second preliminary round is concluded! All return to your respective camps!”
We lowered our blades and withdrew. Continuing to fight after the end was declared was also grounds for disqualification. Several were disqualified for this reason this time as well.
Even as I retreated, my opponent’s gaze did not leave me. As I returned before the palisade, I saw scattered swords and shields on the dirt, headbands strewn about, and those who had suffered mortal wounds and could not withdraw.
Record-keepers rushed over to confirm the names of the participants standing before the palisade. Those who had wagered on the eliminated saw their hopes dashed, throwing wooden tokens to the ground or sighing heavily.
From beyond the palisade came the voices of those ordering coffins for the two young boys who had lost their lives in the second preliminary round.
Shortly after, the names of the eighteen who had passed the second preliminary were announced one by one. Naturally, the nobility came first, while the names of commoners and those of unclear affiliation were pushed to the end.
Isolet had already spotted my figure, but harboring an inexplicable anticipation, she waited for the master of ceremonies’ voice.
“Boris Misterie!”
A boy surrounded by servants in the spectator stands clenched his fists and shouted.
“See! I knew he’d breeze through the preliminaries! My instincts are never wrong!”
By that evening, the name Boris Misterie was on the lips of others besides Lucian.
At first, he became known by the name of a young boy who had unexpectedly wagered a considerable sum at the gambling tables, but once the preliminaries concluded, those with discerning eyes began spreading word of both his skill and speculation about his true identity.
“I heard that just before the second round was declared over, he was the one who faced Kangpir Marquis’s son?”
“What, that guy? I saw him too. He seemed pretty skilled, didn’t lose ground or anything….”
“How can you tell anything from just watching a brief exchange! You can’t know anything from a fight that never reached its conclusion!”
“That’s the truth. The House of Kangpir Marquis isn’t just any family, is it? There’s been talk that the son might achieve five consecutive victories in a row—something the Marquis himself never managed.”
“By the way, did you hear this? Word leaked from the Kangpir Marquis’s servants that when they heard the surname Misterie, the Marquis was greatly startled! They say that’s all anyone’s been talking about in his tent ever since!”
“Misterie? What kind of house is Misterie?”
“I’m not entirely sure myself, but anyway… apparently there was a past champion with the name Misterie.”
“A past champion? When?”
“We won’t know that unless we go to Lugran Castle and look at the bronze plaques ourselves.”
At that same moment, in one of the finest tents in front of Pontina Castle, the young boy Luisan von Kangfir came to an abrupt halt upon seeing his father and all four uncles gathered together. They appeared to be in the midst of a serious discussion.
“Welcome, Luisan. Come here and sit down.”
Nineteen years old, approaching twenty, and competing in Silverskull for the fifth consecutive year, the young man possessed an impressive height and angular jawline that gave him a formidable appearance, seeming more mature than his years. Only his tousled, light chestnut hair fell boyishly across his forehead.
As Luisan settled into his chair, his hot-tempered youngest uncle spoke first.
“Do you remember the boy you crossed blades with at the end of today’s preliminary round?”
Luisan’s dark brows twitched slightly. But he quickly regained his composure and replied.
“Yes, I remember him. Is there some problem with that boy?”
“How old did he appear to you?”
“I’m not entirely certain, but he couldn’t have been more than seventeen at most.”
“What was your assessment of his skill?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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