Tenkomori: The Homecoming Club Conquers Another World
Chapter 133

Chapter 133.2. The Third Year at the Academy - Fratricide (2)

Returning home just before the gates closed, I fell asleep as if dead and woke up to the morning of the final day of the martial arts tournament.

After finishing breakfast, I relaxed in the living room, poking at Yane-sama and Koyane-sama, who were oddly clingy, when Ted and Gemma arrived shortly after.

"Alter! Where have you been—"

"Just had some business to take care of. What's up, Ted?"

For some reason, Ted fell silent and stared intently at me.

As I wondered what was going on, Gemma beside me flapped her hands.

"It's the martial arts tournament, what were you doing?!"

"I know. Today's the mock battle, right?"

"Ah..."

Crap, I completely forgot.

The magic demonstration had been planned out long ago.

And the only ones who could use intermediate magic were me and Elphimia, with no substitutes.

"Were they mad?"

"Extremely! And the mock battle is about to start too!"

Ah, right.

Today was just one match in the mock battle. The start time was early, wasn't it?

Unusually hurried by Gemma, I began my preparations.

Meanwhile, Nails, Dana, and Quince also arrived, and we headed to the arena with the usual group.

At the arena, Elliot and the Ranaine group, as well as Elphimia and Lola, were waiting.

As soon as Elphimia saw me, she glared.

"You finally showed up!"

"Sorry, things happened, and I couldn't make it to the magic part."

"You, do you know how much trouble we—"

Cutting herself off, Elphimia narrowed her eyes.

Her too?

I changed my clothes, and my wounds are mostly healed.

What did Ted and her notice?

Elliot, confused by Elphimia's behavior, cautiously spoke up.

"Alter-sama, we're running out of time."

"Right. Then, after the closing ceremony."

Bid farewell by everyone, I headed to the waiting room.

It seemed I was just in time, as the staff immediately explained the mock battle to me upon entering.

And soon, the match began.

Entering the arena, I responded to the now familiar cheers.

Casually glancing up at the sky, I saw the usual cloudy weather.

Though the snowfall had decreased by mid-March, clear skies were still rare.

Shortly after, my opponent entered the arena.

The senior division champion—what was his name again?

Amid the applause, my opponent first bowed to the VIP seats.

There, his father sat pompously.

The VIP seats were noticeably empty.

With only barons and the like gathered, it was no wonder a baron's son acted so high and mighty.

Ah, right. He was the son of Baron Vesil.

So, his name was... something like Radikel Seim Vesil?

It sounded like "Latira's fur," or something...

Nope, I can't remember at all.

As I puzzled over this, the announcer introduced both fighters, and the correct name was revealed.

Radikel Seim Vesil.

Latirano Kegawa Vesil.

Yeah, close enough.

Satisfied, I nodded, and Radikel approached.

It didn't feel like a pre-match handshake.

"You're the third year Halvis was talking about, aren't you?"

"Who knows? I have no idea what you're talking about."

Playing dumb, Radikel glared at me.

Seems his mental growth hasn't improved much.

That's why he suffered a crushing defeat against Halvis.

"I won't hold back just because you're younger. I'll defeat you and secure my second consecutive win."

"Is that so? I'll do my best too."

I gave my best response, but Radikel seemed deeply dissatisfied.

Gritting his teeth, he opened his mouth to say something more.

At that moment, the referee arrived at the arena.

Radikel shut his mouth, gave me one last glare, and walked away.

Hasn't he gotten worse since before?

Why is he so angry? I don't get why he's so easily rattled.

If it were Lambert, Felix, or Talvit, they wouldn't be fazed at all.

After receiving instructions from the referee, we faced each other with blunted swords in hand.

The excited audience.

Even though today was just this one match, the seats were full.

I thought about ending it quickly, but—

The scene from two years ago flashed in my mind.

Halvis had also dragged out the mock battle with Radikel.

Since people paid to see this, I guess I'll play along.

"Begin!"

At the signal, Radikel charged with a roar.

I dodged his overhead slash and lightly leaped over his sweeping counter.

A fierce opening attack.

But I was troubled.

I could read his movements perfectly. His weight shifts and eye movements made his intentions crystal clear.

I could somewhat predict Lambert and the others, but Radikel's cleaner swordplay made it even easier.

Could Jarid see this too?

Even when desperately moving around, attacks and parries slow you down.

Maybe even such minor details are readable by a superior opponent.

Dodging his desperate [Double Strike], I quietly sighed.

But—what is this gap?

It's almost pitiful to compare, but the difference is too big.

"Are you even trying?!"

Suddenly, Radikel barked.

He was breathing heavily from swinging his sword relentlessly.

Watching him, I scratched my cheek.

Trying, huh?

Well, just dodging wouldn't be fun for the audience.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it."

I raised my blunted sword.

In that instant, Radikel let out a small scream and backed away.

Why—is he retreating?

Tilting my head, I approached, and he retreated even further.

Radikel's pupils dilated, and his breathing grew even more ragged.

This expression... it's the same as the mercenaries.

Is he actually scared?

Just the other day, I killed over a hundred people.

It wasn't even a proper fight. It was a one-sided slaughter.

Did that change something in me?

Did Ted and Elphimia notice that?

Hesitantly, I opened my status, but there were no suspicious entries or strange titles.

If not that—then it must be something intangible, like killing intent.

Let's test it.

I fixed my gaze on Radikel and gripped my sword as if intending to kill.

At that moment,

"Eeek!"

Radikel let out a strange cry and retreated further.

He tripped over a slight unevenness in the stone pavement and fell on his backside.

Even as laughter erupted from the audience, he didn't try to get up.

He just stared straight at me, frozen.

Seriously... what's coming out of me...?

Uh, sorry for testing that.

My internal apology didn't reach him, and Radikel remained frozen, not getting up.

The referee, snapping back to reality, approached and called out to him several times.

Then shook his head.

"Radikel is deemed to have lost the will to fight—the winner, Alter Les Reedwald!"

In this indescribable match, there were no cheers.

Only sparse applause trickled down, as if remembered.

Looking towards the VIP seats, I saw Radikel's father leaving.

A far worse reaction than two years ago.

Without a doubt, Radikel had been discarded.

Watching Baron Vesil walk away and Radikel still frozen, I mentally facepalmed.

This is bad... I completely overdid it.

I didn't even do anything, so it's not like I overdid it—but still, I overdid it.

Responding to the sparse applause, I deeply regretted participating in the martial arts tournament.

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