"The winner is Noise!"
A roar like a physical wave erupted from the stadium, shaking the very foundations of the arena. Noise stood amidst the thunderous ovation, but his eyes never left the figure of Rei lying motionless on the stage.
His gaze was filled with wonder and a spark of excitement. The cacophony of the crowd failed to reach his ears.
(To copy the Overlord's Armor in such a short time, however crudely... in terms of raw talent alone, he has already surpassed me.)
Noise was a master of the skill, capable of compressing his magic power so densely it became visible to the naked eye. But that mastery had not come easily. It had taken him hours to compress it at all, days to sustain it, and months to wield it freely.
Yet the boy currently unconscious before him had observed the technique once and instantly wreathed himself in its power. Crude though it was, he had used it. He had even managed an advanced application, concentrating the armor into specific points to achieve near-teleportation speeds.
It hadn't been true mastery, of course. It was a clumsy maneuver, forced into existence by Rei’s sheer, overwhelming magic power. It was a feat only possible because of Rei’s freakish reserves, but in another sense, it proved the boy had the natural instinct to fully exploit his gifts.
(A genius. That is the only word for it. Though from the empire's perspective, he is more like a natural disaster.)
For the moment, Noise was still the stronger of the two. He had superior proficiency with his skills, a lifetime of combat experience, and other hidden trump cards. There was no question of his victory today.
But as time passed, as Rei gained more experience and refined his control over the Overlord's Armor... what then? If their level of refinement became equal, the outcome would be decided by their relative magic power. When that day came, Noise could not say with absolute certainty that he would win.
He had no intention of losing, of course.
(And more importantly...)
Noise glanced away from Rei to the magic sword in his hand. Rei had uttered the word "Corrosion" during their struggle.
In that moment, Noise had felt a chill of genuine alarm—a sensation he hadn't experienced in years. He suspected it was a skill rather than a spell, much like his own armor. Given the name, it stood to reason that contact would cause his weapon or his flesh to literally rot away.
Noise didn't know the skill only affected metal. Without that specific knowledge, his instincts had warned him that his magic sword would be ruined if he clashed with the Death Scythe directly. That was why he had committed almost entirely to attacking with his fists.
He had wagered that his Overlord's Armor would protect his flesh even if it made contact. His sword, however, was too far removed from his center; his armor could only extend as far as the hilt he gripped.
Noise had overestimated his opponent's reach, but his caution had inadvertently been the perfect counter to Rei's Corrosion. Had he underestimated the skill and clashed recklessly, his blade might have rotted through mid-fight. It was Noise's sword, a weapon of peerless quality, so it might have resisted for a time. But Noise was not the sort to gamble his life on such uncertainties.
...Or perhaps it was more accurate to say he simply could not.
Looking at Rei now, and looking at the official results, it appeared to be a one-sided blowout. It looked as though Noise had dominated the entire match while Rei had been unable to mount any defense at all.
But...
(Idiots who didn't stand in that circle have no business opening their mouths.)
He clicked his tongue inwardly at the voices filtering in from the stands. Many were mocking Rei, claiming Crimson wasn't so tough after all, that no one could best the Immovable, and that the boy had finally been taught his place.
There were others praising Rei’s valiant effort, but Noise found himself disgusted by the irresponsible spectators who chose to insult the man he had personally acknowledged as a peer. It was infuriating to hear someone who had reached the same heights spoken of with such flippant disdain by those who had never seen them.
"P-Participant Noise."
It was a stroke of luck that the referee spoke up before Noise's exhilaration could be completely soured by the crowd's negativity.
"What?" Noise asked shortly.
The lingering bloodlust of the battle still clung to him, and the referee involuntarily caught his breath. However, he flinched for only a second—a testament to the skill required to be chosen for the finals.
"Um, the award ceremony will be held in one hour. We need you to prepare."
"...Right," Noise muttered. The emotion had already drained from his eyes. The referee was taken aback; moments ago, Noise had been roaring with a joy that bordered on madness.
Paying the man no mind, Noise walked over to the unconscious Rei and gently hoisted the boy onto his shoulder. With his free hand, he gripped the Death Scythe. He lifted the massive weapon—easily weighing over a hundred kilograms—with a casual strength befitting an S-rank adventurer.
"P-Participant Noise?"
"I know. I'll be there for the ceremony. But I can't just leave Rei lying here, can I? Will he be expected to attend as well?"
"Yes. As the champion and runner-up, we hope to have you both. However, if he remains unconscious, we won't force the issue."
"Fine. I'm taking him to the waiting room."
With that, Noise stepped off the stage, carrying both his opponent and the boy's massive scythe.
"Incredible! Absolutely incredible! It was so fast, the combat was almost invisible to the naked eye! They vanished, appeared, and vanished again! I've announced countless matches, but I've never seen a clash of this level! Everyone, a thunderous ovation for these warriors!"
The stadium erupted in a renewed storm of applause. With that sound at his back, Noise walked through the entrance tunnel, his expression unreadable.
"...That Noise. If he'd just finished the boy off, he'd have saved us a great deal of trouble."
A man muttered bitterly amidst the roar of the crowd. The men surrounding him nodded in unison.
"Indeed. If he isn't killed here, he will undoubtedly become a thorn in the side of the Bestia Empire."
"Truly, truly. Such a perfect opportunity wasted..."
"Count Schwindel, what news of the Requiem Bell?" one of the noble's sycophants asked.
Count Schwindel shook his head, his face a mask of irritation. "They struck... but they failed."
"What!? After all that data we gathered? We delayed the assault and ensured they were perfectly prepared!"
"Common rabble are useless in the end."
"Exactly. We were fools to rely on them from the start."
The group vented their shared frustration, but Count Schwindel's faction knew they had no other options. Their own private forces stood no chance against Rei. The boy's performance in the tournament, fighting his way to the very end, was proof enough of that.
Moreover, he had just held his own against Noise the Immovable. While it hadn't been an even fight, the fact that he had survived at all spoke volumes. Noise had spent the entire main tournament playing with his food; Rei was the only one who had forced him to take the field seriously.
(And that's why we have to rely on the Requiem Bell. Pathetic... for a Count of the glorious Bestia Empire to be reduced to this. But I will not let this go. He will pay. I will make him suffer, even if this is nothing more than a misplaced grudge.)
Schwindel felt the dangerous heat of the vengeful fire burning within him, but he surrendered to it willingly.
"Rei... lost?"
The whisper came from the VIP room. Rhodos spoke the words as if he couldn't process the sight before him. The members of the First Prince Faction turned toward him with varied expressions—pity, mockery, sympathy, and even disgust. Rhodos noticed none of it. He could only stare blankly at the entrance where Noise had disappeared with Rei on his shoulder.
Blatta's voice pulled him back to reality. "Come now, why the shock? Did you honestly believe Crimson could defeat the Immovable?"
"That's..."
Under normal circumstances, thinking a B-rank could beat an S-rank was delusional. Rhodos understood that. But he had seen Rei defeat his father—a veteran A-rank and the Leader of the Axe of the Thunder God. He had come to believe Rei was invincible.
Pelfeel spoke up, her voice surprisingly soft. "He was the only participant in this entire tournament who forced Noise to show even a glimmer of his true self. Overlord's Armor... I'd heard the rumors, but I never expected to see it in person."
Her voice was colored with genuine admiration for Rei. Losing to Noise was no disgrace, and her tone made it clear that anyone laughing was a fool. In fact, her eyes challenged everyone in the room: Could you have done better?
Those who met her gaze either looked away in shame or nodded in silent agreement.
"Well, it was certainly a finale to remember," someone added, trying to lighten the tension. "Truly. He earned that alias of Crimson."
The room relaxed slightly as others murmured their agreement. In truth, not a single person in that VIP room could confidently say they would have survived three minutes against Rei. Even Blatta and Pelfeel knew they were looking at a monster.
"If His Highness Cabajid takes the throne... that man might very well be the greatest obstacle standing in our path," Pelfeel noted.
A collective shiver ran through the room as the nobles imagined facing Rei on a field of battle. If they didn't voice their fear, it was only out of loyalty to their master.
"I'm telling you now, I'm not giving up my fight with him," Rhodos declared, his voice firm. "That was my condition for helping you."
The nobles looked at him with pity and respect. Some were glad he’d take the risk in their stead; others simply thought he was suicidal. But they all acknowledged his resolve.
"Then I suppose it's time we gave Rhodos his promised magic item," Blatta said.
Rhodos nodded. Finally, the power he had been promised would be his. With it, he would bridge the gap and carve his name into Rei's memory.
(Even if it takes time to master it, I will be ready,) Rhodos vowed silently, his eyes fixed on the officials preparing the stage for the awards.