Chapter 365: 365. Whispers from the Past

Three artifacts from the wilderness—that was the deal Dallion had been forced to make with the general. The only concession Dallion had managed to get was that the original deal regarding the whip blade remained in force—if Dallion managed to reach the top eight, or if he was still in the tournament when it was suspended, he would keep it for free. Also, the general had agreed to give up any monthly rent until Dallion found him the items in question. Considering the man’s nature, the news must have shaken him up quite a bit.

The Gremlin’s Timepiece remained packed by the time Dallion went back. Even so, it felt empty. The Luors were gone, leaving Jiroh to take care of serving the food that Aspan had prepared before his departure. Hannah was taking everything remarkably well, even if it was looking like this was going to be the last night that the inn would serve food. For all intents and purposes, from here on it was only going to be a place for people to rest and have a drink.

You should go see your girlfriend, the armadil shield said. After tonight, you might not get the chance.

Dallion didn’t respond. He knew that the shield was right, but preferred not to think about it for the moment. It wasn’t that Dallion blamed Eury for the change in their relationship. Rather, it was his reluctance to say goodbye.

Don’t build up new regrets, the shield added.

There won’t be any regrets. Good night.

Sleep came quickly. If there were any dreams, Dallion didn’t remember them. The closest to a dream was him being woken up by a chorus of guardians singing together. The chorus was surprisingly chaotic—apparently new guardians were musical. It was a good thing too, for there was less than an hour remaining until his fight at the arena.

Slightly panicked, Dallion washed up, then quickly got dressed and prepped his gear. On his way out, he passed by the kitchen out of habit. Unfortunately, the room was like a desert. With Aspan gone, so was breakfast. The only edible things were a few sacks of apples which, although first grade, were nowhere as good as a ready meal. Even so, Dallion grabbed a few, leaving several silvers on the kitchen table.

You could have slept a bit more in your realm, dear boy, Nil said as Dallion was getting ready to leave.

Dallion wasn’t thrilled with the idea, although he did venture into his personal realm to level up. The trial felt remarkably easy compared to what Dallion was expecting. It turned out to be yet another paradox cube in which he had to fight several advanced echoes of himself throughout an ever-changing environment. His reaction was the focus of the trial this time, which proved to be more than enough to advance Dallion to level twenty-six. Dallion spent the point advancing his empathy stat—the greater the range at which he could converse with items, the better the odds of him finding the Vermillion artefact later on.

The hidden prize turned out to be of minor significance—a crescent sword blueprint, which, while far superior to a standard weapon, couldn’t compare to the gear Dallion had in his possession. Half a day had been spent searching for the hidden area, leading to a massive disappointment. Secretly, Dallion hoped he would find an achievement, possibly even one that brought his empathy to nine. Instead, he was forced to leave his realm pretty much empty handed, and head straight to the arena.

With Dallion waking up late, the streets were so full that it was better to use building rooftops to reach the building. Normally, the city guard would frown on this, but since many of them had seen Dallion fight at the arena, they let it go with a nod and a smile. Upon arriving at the arena, the atmosphere changed. In the previous rounds, Dallion was quickly rushed to the massive waiting halls by an organizer's assistant. There he was approached by a well-dressed woman who wore the emblem of the Lord mayor’s household.

“Good morning, sir.” The woman bowed. Reaching the level of semi-celebrity status, Dallion was given a taste of things to come, probably to make him more eager to fight. “Please follow me. I’ll lead you to your waiting room.”

“I have my own personal waiting room?”

“Not yet, sir. You’ll be sharing one with three other contestants. However, if you manage to reach the next round, you will.”

With sixty-four participants remaining, it was expected there would be some benefits before the fight itself. Having only four people in the waiting room was far better than what Dallion had experienced before.

Try not to be too cocky, dear boy, Nil said. Your opponent is sure to be skilled. Don’t drop your guard or you’ll have to go through three more rounds of fights.

Hardly an issue, Nil. I have something special planned.

The waiting room was already “full” by the time Dallion got there. Unlike him, his competitors were all wearing full plate armor. Seeing the fine craftsmanship and materials used, Dallion felt relieved he hadn’t brought his own creations. Normally, he would have, but Nil had managed to make him reconsider.

“Fresh blood for the grinder,” one of the people greeted Dallion. He was about the same height, though much broader, equipped with two pairs of swords, all sheathed on his back. Had Dallion seen a drawing of the man, or even a picture he would have laughed how unrealistic the whole thing was. Seeing him in person, though, made it obvious that the man knew exactly what he was doing.

The other two participants weren’t any less intimidating. The single woman in the room could be described as a version of March whose entire body was covered up with armor. If she ended up Dallion’s opponent, it was going to be one difficult fight. Thankfully, most of her armor wasn’t indestructible, although it would still take several strikes with the Nox dagger to make it crack.

The last man was rather round—closer to Falkner’s age, and with a family emblem to match. However, that wasn’t the greatest difference; his skin and hair were dark brown. Ever since arriving in this world, Dallion had seen a handful people of different complexions. The first was Dame Vesuvia, who had led the chainling hunt. The second was Jiroh, who was a thunder fury. Finally, the last was Falkner.

A noble from the provincial capital, Nil said. He might even be part of the Archduke’s family. Better be careful, he’ll be the most challenging one here.

So, he’s come just for the fight, Dallion thought.

Nobles from the northern part of the province come down here a lot to learn. As I said, a lot of disgraced nobles are sent here. And most often the reason for being disgraced wasn’t the lack of skills, but the lack of political flexibility. Many of the exiled nobles believed that it was more important to achieve the pinnacle of skill and knowledge, and didn’t bother to participate in the political games of the families.

Does that include you? Dallion asked.

If the city survives past the festival, maybe you’ll find out.

Falkner was also a noble coming from the north. His father was the Lord Mayor of the city of Arlera, which by all accounts was considered of much higher standing than Nerosal.

“Don’t be tense,” the woman in the room told Dallion. “It makes for poor entertainment. The crowds won’t like it if a fight finishes too fast.”

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“I didn’t know there was a minimum time limit,” Dallion replied, trying to make himself appear as arrogant as possible.

“There isn’t.” A vicious smile appeared on the woman’s face. “It comes naturally.”

Looking at her Dallion felt the same way he had when joining March’s expedition for the first time. The other people in the room were experienced, awakened who had gotten where they were after centuries of constant training. They weren’t from another world, so they didn’t rely on any shortcuts, nor were they chosen by a Moon. In short, they could be described as sheer monsters.

“What’s your level?” the woman asked.

“Twenties,” Dallion replied vaguely.

“So, we have a twenter in the group.” The man who’d addressed Dallion first snorted. “Lucky us. Do you know what they do to twenters moving on? They chew them up and spit them out like a ball of wax.”

Dallion didn’t have time for this. It’s all a distraction, he told himself. The insults were nothing but an annoying sting that cried for attention. The best way to do it was to ignore them, no matter the itch.

“Can’t wait to see who the lucky one will be,” the woman laughed. “One in three. I like those odds.”

“You’re from Dherma,” the noble said, speaking for the first time. Dallion could feel a thread of eagerness and joy coming from him. It wasn’t as strong as to say that he wanted to meet Dallion, but rather rang with the pleasant surprise of meeting a former classmate at the mall years later. The only problem was that Dallion hadn’t met him in his life.

“Yes,” Dallion replied, taking a neutral stance.

“My old babysitter told me about you. She said you were reckless, but with potential. As always, she was right.”

“Excuse me,” a well-dressed man walked into the room. “The event is about to start. Please make sure you are adequately prepared.”

“Can’t look bad for the crowd,” the woman said as she put on her helmet. “What are the pairings?”

“Vanessa Kies of the Triple Moon guild versus Plement Ineu of Incandescent,” the assistant said. “And Baronet Itella Lanitol versus Dallion Darude.”

It was always a possibility that Dallion would face a young and rising noble. Having it happen today, though, wasn’t his first choice.

Not the best option, Nil said. Then again, at this point, there are no easy wins.

He knows me from somewhere, Dallion said.

Don’t think about it too much. It’s not as uncommon as you might think. Nobles are bored people. When they are not rising up the ranks, they like to gossip. Someone probably mentioned it to someone at some event, and it inevitably reached him.

The explanation was plausible, but Dallion felt uneasy. There was something in the way that the noble that had spoken to him that felt off. Taking a moment, Dallion went through the realms of all his clothes, fixing what there was to fix. It wasn’t a lot of work, especially with Lux’s help, but it remained annoying.

“Vanessa and Plement first,” the organizer said.

Dallion went in line, standing next to the noble.

I can take him no problems, Gleam said. Don’t worry about it.

If only it were that simple. The weapons Dallion’s opponent had equipped were unlike anything he had seen before. A pair of maces hung from his belt, each head of which resembled an origami. Back on Earth, one would call it an interesting fashion statement. Here, Dallion felt anxious. Neither Nil nor Gen were able to give any details on the weapon, which was weird by itself. Normally, they’d at least be able to compare it to something else.

Just follow my lead, Gleam said with a confident chuckle. It’s been a while since I’ve spread my wings in the open.

“Your old babysitter,” Dallion whispered. “How much did she say about me?”

“Hardly anything,” the noble replied. “Just that you had no limitations and were liked by the Green Moon.”

Droplets of sweat formed on Dallion’s forehead. That was too specific. He could accept the fact that the news of his lack of limitations had spread. He could even accept that someone had let it slip that he was from another world. However, no one in the real world was supposed to know his link to the green Moon.

“Why does she think so?” Dallion asked.

“Because she belongs to the Order of the Seven Moons. Also, she saw you face off against a chainling back when you were a semi.”

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