Chapter 72: A Tournament of Fate

While Lady Elina III and Creon briefly left the Waiting Room, Lawrence lay as though dead until a knight who arrived late discovered him and escorted him out.

An hour later, when Lara, disguised as a man, entered her brother’s Waiting Room, Lawrence was already down, diagnosed with a ruptured organ.

“You came through, Raan…”

“Ah, yeah.”

I had come for revenge, but the atmosphere was anything but vengeful. Lara, feeling wistful, stood near the Waiting Room door.

“You came all the way to cheer me on… and now look at this mess. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t come here to cheer – it was more like, how did this even happen…”

“It was a terrible accident.”

Lawrence shut his eyes as if he didn’t want to think about it, then reached out and gripped Lara’s wrist hard. Startled as if a bug had crawled on her, Lara jerked his hand away.

“What’s your real name? You’re never going to tell me, right?”

“…Yeah, screw you.”

Silence fell between them. Although Lawrence’s curiosity about this enigmatic, cross-dressing woman was strong, he held it in check.

“Hey, I need a favor.”

“Yeah, screw you.”

“I’m serious.”

Silence reigned once again. With a heavy sigh behind him, Lawrence eventually spoke.

“Enter the Swordplay Tournament in my place. It’s obvious I can’t compete in my condition right now.”

“What do you mean? Is the spot transferable?”

“No, I need you to pretend to be me. We do look quite alike…”

“Ugh, that’s just gross!”

Both were in a foul mood. Just as Lara began to bolt from the Waiting Room, Lawrence’s words called her back.

“If I don’t place high in this tournament, my family’s future is at stake.”

“…What are you…”

“The Schmord Family comes from nothing. That means the marriage prospects, decided by our family’s honor, will surely be delayed if I perform poorly. And that means my little brother—no, that damn kid, Lara—won’t be wed when he should be.”

‘That brat sure got my scolding this morning,’ Lawrence thought.

Lara seethed internally but masked it with indifference.

“I see… So you do care for your sibling, after all.”

“It’d be better for me if you got married soon. How can I stand seeing that face every day…”

With a loud whir, Lawrence’s head spun half around. The muscles built from flipping through comic books tensed up as he lost consciousness, and Lara left the Waiting Room behind.

Lara entered the area where the contestants had gathered. Though anxious, she figured it was the fastest way to check on things. A few knights stirred at the sight of a cross-dressing knight with brown hair and an ordinary look.

“Raan…? Without any qualifications, why are you here…?”

“It’s Lawrence. I dyed my hair brown.”

“Ah, so it was you, Lawrence. Now that I look closer, you really do resemble Raan except for the hair color.”

‘Kill me…’

Lara sank into a corner of the Waiting Room and burst into tears.

“What’s up with Lawrence?”

“I don’t know. He started like this as soon as he got here.”

While other knights shrugged, Elina II, who had been sitting quietly alone, was beckoned and rose from her seat. At last, the first sparring match was about to begin. As she strode through a long corridor to the Outdoor Tournament Arena, cheers erupted from the crowd.

Standing face-to-face with an opposing knight, just as she was about to draw her Demon Sword,

“Oh, Mikki Yoo-Sso Fine~”

a bright and peppy voice resounded through the center of the arena. Turning her head, she saw a woman in bizarre attire at the very front of the stands.

It was Elina II, with a face identical to hers, clad in a revealing outfit that showed off her belly button, her silver hair tied high in twin buns as she waved a clump of golden fur in both hands.

“Hey, Mikki, hey, Mikki~ Cheer for Lady Elina III! Victory is yours!”

Even though such attire might be typical for modern women like Elina II, it was completely outlandish for the locals. Eyes were fixed on her, shifting between appalled stares questioning her taste and intrigued glances marveling at the novelty.

Among those glances was that of Emperor Karlahee, seated in a position of honor.

‘…What’s this? Who’s caught his attention now?’

After a brief glance, Karlahee refocused ahead. He noticed a knight with short silver hair.

‘They look alike… Are they related?’

Karlahee took a long swig of his drink through a straw before casting a bored look at the field. By the time Lady Elina III started her match, he had missed the crucial moments after a hurried bathroom break.

Meanwhile, news of Lady Elina III advancing to the semifinals spread throughout the Waiting Room. Hearing that it was her turn, Lara rose, only to find her opponent waiting outside.

“You’re Lawrence? You look just like the rumors said.”

“…”

Lara sensed a fierce determination stirring deep within her.

“Don’t say we look alike!”

She swung her sword with a desperation she’d never mustered before. Caught off guard, her opponent flinched and stepped back, but quickly raised his sword to block the attack.

“…Not bad.”

The opponent bent forward and lunged rapidly. As he swung his sword to cut Lara down,

“Ugh…!”

suddenly, a brilliant light shot out from somewhere and struck the opponent’s spine. He arched his back like a drawn bow and looked up at the sky. The nagging stiffness of his back, which had tormented him for years, seemed to vanish as if replaced by celestial clouds.

“…Haaah!”

The opponent’s body became as limber as a newborn’s, and with an ecstatic expression like he’d ascended to heaven, he collapsed onto the ground.

“L-Lawrence… Schmord wins!”

A flag was raised in Lara’s direction. It was the first time she’d ever encountered an opponent whose victory left her feeling so disgusted.

Muttering about wasting her eyes because of that perverted jerk, Lara turned around just as Mikhail in the stands hurriedly buttoned up his shirt. That dazzling light had not come from elsewhere—it was his Sacred Power emanating from his navel.

‘I heard he’d been eliminated. So why is he making a fuss at this Swordplay Tournament, damn it?’

It could have been dangerous. Mikhail furrowed his brows but soon softened when he caught a glimpse of Lara’s familiar backside—an expression utterly uncharacteristic of him.

Lady Elina III received news of Lawrence’s victory. As she finished preparing for the next match and re-entered the Outdoor Tournament Arena, cheers poured in.

In a bid to meet expectations, she drew her sword with determination. At that moment, a red-haired man strode in from the opposite side—a knight from another branch of the Knight Order who had advanced to the quarterfinals. A brief bow was exchanged between them.

Lady Elina III took a half-step backward, crushing the arena’s dirt softly beneath her feet. Just when it seemed she might dash out at any second, her opponent drew his sword from its scabbard.

Simultaneously, a massive gust of wind blew through. Through her fluttering bangs, Lady Elina III’s eyes widened in uncharacteristic shock as she took in the scene.

“…That sword technique…”

She had heard of it before—no, even if she hadn’t, it would have been instantly recognizable thanks to the giant eagle illusion appearing behind the man’s back.

“Eagle Sword Technique.”

The moment the man exhaled heavily, the piercing cry of an eagle split the air. With a swift half-turn in midair, the eagle illusion dove rapidly toward Lady Elina III.

‘No, his style is on a completely different level?!’

Lara watched in horror from the corridor of the Waiting Room. The Swordplay Tournament had long since crossed the line. It felt like she’d have to roll her sword with all her might to deflect the opponent’s blade off the ring.

The blinding speed of the approaching eagle illusion made Lady Elina III tense up as she raised her sword. At the same time, her arm began to quiver slightly.

‘…What is this?’

It was a shockwave. The Demon Sword in her grasp trembled, as if awakened by an overwhelming force. Both Lady Elina III and Lara, along with everyone else, focused on the Demon Sword. Something began to drip from its hilt. At first it looked like sweat from Lady Elina III, but the yellowish fluid was actually the oil the Demon Sword had absorbed until now.

‘Unbelievable…’

It was simply oozing.

Lady Elina III glanced down at her damp hand. Yellow water trickled down her wrist. She had heard of the Demon Sword endowed with the power of the four elements.

‘Then does that make this Demon Sword… the Sword of Water?’

If nothing else, she was an optimist.

In that moment, the eagle illusion rushed toward Lady Elina III’s head and snatched her wig. The moment her wig was yanked off, brilliant silver hair cascaded down to her waist.

“…!”

Instantly, the stands fell silent as though splashed with cold water. Amid murmurs questioning whether she was actually a woman, only Male Lead Karlahee in the front row remained lost in thought.

‘I suppose he originally had long hair…’

Usually, knights wear wigs to conceal balding, but this was the first time I’d seen it reversed. It wasn’t inexplicable when considering the Knight Order’s strict hierarchy.

For middle-aged knights with sparse hair, a newcomer with a full head of locks was far more appealing—a fact that perhaps led to them hiding their luscious hair to avoid envy-fueled bullying.

Karlahee, convinced that such bad practices needed to be rectified, promptly called upon his endearing subordinate, Creon, though he did not fully trust him yet.

“When the match is over, go find that knight and tell him I want a word with him separately.”

“Why? Why do you want to meet him privately?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t meet him alone?”

“Yes. Because he belongs to me. He must only have eyes for me.”

“Ah, so that was your arrangement. But I still need to meet him.”

“No way.”

“You refuse to listen to orders at all. How cute.”

Karlahee, shaking his head decisively, smiled fondly at Creon before continuing.