I arrived at the arena for my second-round match against Zack Power.
After undergoing a strict physical inspection by several tournament management committee members, I was instructed once again to wear the stat-suppressing clothing.
Hmm. It seemed the tournament management had an exceptionally strong reason for wanting to ensure my defeat. Otherwise, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to persistently prepare these garments.
Amidst thunderous booing, I entered the arena and stepped onto the martial ring. Standing directly opposite me was a wild-looking, red-haired man—Zack Power—bearing a fearless smirk and an imposing presence.
I had watched Zack's earlier match, and his skill as a martial artist had reached a commendable level. I had actually been looking forward to this to some degree, but as the host began explaining the special rules for this bout, my mood soured.
"Hey, host, are you in your right mind saying that?"
Zack asked the black-haired, middle-aged host in a harsh tone, thick blue veins bulging on his forehead.
"Yes, this is entirely a measure to eliminate any foul play from that incompetent!"
The host declared this with immense smugness.
Supposedly, to prevent foul play, I was forbidden from holding a wooden sword, and the moment the referee deemed me guilty of any infraction, I would be disqualified on the spot.
With this, my defeat rested entirely on the whim of the referee. Well, this tournament held no meaning for me other than earning money. If it were just a matter of losing, I wouldn't have cared in the slightest, but if foul play was declared, I would receive no prize money whatsoever as a penalty.
In other words, in order to bow out without incident and still collect my earnings, I would have to intentionally throw the match against Zack. I truly questioned the sanity of the management for shamelessly devising such rules. Frankly, could anyone even feel genuine joy winning a tournament so steeped in corruption?
"Don't give me that crap! This is a bout between martial artists! It's not a playground for you damn amateurs!!"
Faced with Zack's furious roar that shook the very air, the host's cheek twitched, but he shouted back:
"I shall now hand things over to the referee!!"
With that cry, the host practically fled down from the martial ring. In his place, a massive, bear-like referee stepped up onto the stage.
"Fight!"
Signaling the start of the match, the referee quickly scurried to the side. Judging by how he kept his eyes glued solely on me, he clearly had no intention of letting a fair match take place.
Zack glared fiercely at the management tent for a brief moment before shaking his head.
"Ridiculous. Screw this! I'm done! Just give him the win."
Shaking his head, he turned to step down from the martial ring.
"Kai Heinemann! You just made a suspicious move!!"
Flustered by Zack's declaration of surrender, the referee pointed an index finger straight at me and yelled at the top of his lungs.
"I haven't even moved, have I?"
"Silence! You just made a suspicious movement! Therefore, Kai Heinemann loses by disqualification!!"
He boldly spouted that amusing joke.
"So he says."
I didn't have enough free time to keep playing along with this farce. There was still time before the deadline; I would just have to scrape together the money some other way.
Raising my right hand toward Zack, I turned around and began to walk away, when—
"Gwah!!"
A strangled groan struck my eardrums. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the referee lying flat on his back with his face caved in, twitching like a dying frog.
"Now that I've laid hands on the referee, I'm disqualified too, aren't I? Well? Care to fight as fellow disqualifications?"
A fight, huh.
"I don't mind."
Glancing at the management side, I saw the host screeching down at us arrogantly.
"A-As if we could allow such a thing! Both of you are disqualified! Leave the ring immediately!"
"So he says."
"Yeah, let's take this elsewhere. Either way, these bastards don't deserve to watch our battle. They can keep entertaining themselves with rigged matches like they always have."
Zack spat out the words, stirring up a wave of bewildered murmurs among the crowd.
Unlike me, Zack's matches were popular. That was likely because his honed strength, which effortlessly overwhelmed others through raw physical might alone, strongly captivated the audience. Hearing such vehement rejection from Zack naturally caused confusion.
I felt a little bad for the spectators, but—
"I agree."
Sweeping my gaze across the crowd, I voiced my concurrence.
Originally, martial arts was a matter of life and death between combatants. It was by no means a spectacle, and spectators were entirely unnecessary.
Moreover, many contestants in this tournament lacked any will to fight in the first place. A fixed game, no doubt. Frankly, there was no way people who took pleasure in such trivial pastimes could ever understand our clash. Watching it would be a total waste.
Before that, though, I should clean up this troublesome mess. After all, this conflict stemmed from the feud between Rose and that foolish prince. A proper martial artist like Zack shouldn't have to suffer penalties over something so profoundly petty.
Approaching the referee, who was still groaning on the floor, I took out a medium potion, uncapped it, and poured it over him, instantly restoring his injuries. I had a ridiculous abundance of potions of this tier, and as long as I gathered the ingredients, brewing them wasn't particularly difficult. Using one here was of no loss to me at all.
Unlike with a Healing Slime, it would leave a scar, but I had not the slightest intention of being that generous to this referee.
"What in the world is that absurd item? The wound healed in an instant."
"Let's go."
Ignoring Zack's dumbfounded question, I turned to walk away, but—
"There is no need to change locations. I shall serve as the referee."
A white-haired old man whose eyes were hidden beneath thick, snowy-white eyebrows stepped forward. Stroking his long white beard with his right hand, the elder lightly leapt onto the martial ring and made his declaration.
Oh, brother. To think I would encounter this gentleman here...
"It has been a long time."
I bowed my head lightly and greeted him with formal politeness.
He was the grand master of Cayen style swordsmanship—Aaron Cayen. My grandfather had taken me to meet him several times in the past.
"Indeed, it has been a while."
As Aaron raised his right hand with a smile, the venue fell unnaturally silent.
"Lord Aaron, that incompetent committed foul play, and Zack used violence against me—"
The healed referee pointed at the two of us, railing on with intense fury, but—
"Silence! You are expelled from our school!"
With the countenance of a demon, Aaron barked the words of severance at the bear-like referee.
"Huh? W-Why am I being expelled!!?"
"Do you intend to make me explain it piece by piece, you fool?"
"..."
Color instantly drained from the massive referee's face. Turning completely ashen, he hung his head and began to tremble. And naturally so. It should have been blindingly obvious to this old man that I hadn't committed any foul play.
"I know not how much gold was shoved into your hands, but you have desecrated the martial arts far too greatly. You are no longer a martial artist! Get out of my sight at once!!"
Stumbling down the stone steps of the martial ring, the bear-like man disappeared into the corridor.
"Kai, Zack, forgive me. That fellow was one of my school."
"Not at all."
"Yeah."
As Zack and I nodded, Aaron let out a small sigh, turning his hawk-like, piercing gaze toward the tournament committee tent.
"In the first place, this tournament is overseen by my school. Hey, tournament committee head, you will be giving me an explanation I can accept later, won't you?"
He spoke in a low, intimidating voice.
The host, who had been speaking so arrogantly, and the committee members waiting inside the tent all hung their heads, trembling in fear.
Good grief. It seemed that this old man alone threw off my rhythm, partly because his aura was so similar to my grandfather's. Perhaps this was due to the past memories of Kai Heinemann...
"Old man, you're gonna referee for us, right? Then let's get this started already."
Speaking of Aaron Cayen, he was the foremost master standing shoulder-to-shoulder with my grandfather as one of the realm's strongest swordsmen. In this world, he was a figure at the pinnacle of martial prowess. This guy really feared nothing, did he? Well, personally, I didn't dislike a martial artist—a fool—like him, even if he were weak. As I thought, he was the right choice to succeed as Rose's Royal Guard.
"Mm, indeed. We martial artists speak through our techniques. It was certainly boorish of me."
Laughing dryly, Aaron's expression turned solemn as he raised his right hand.
"Have at it as you please!!"
And with that—prompted by Aaron's signal, our battle began.