The day of the tournament finally arrived.
Seven Angels took to the clear blue sky. After they signaled the opening with a grand display of fireworks, the dragons began their formation flight. More than ten of them soared through the air with perfectly disciplined movements.
Their spirits must have been high, because they even started breathing fire. This was news to me. However, since they were aiming their breath upward to avoid setting the forest ablaze, I decided to let it slide.
Between the opening fireworks and the dragon flight, the residents of Village One and the newcomers from Village Three were thrown into a state of panic. The Giants and the Lamias were just as rattled.
"It’s all right. You’ll get used to it in no time," the others said, providing warm support until the panicked groups managed to compose themselves.
Setting the Village Three residents aside, shouldn't the people from Village One be used to seeing dragons by now? Hakuren was currently pregnant, but I was fairly certain Rusty took her dragon form quite often. I would have thought the Lamia and Giant races had seen them before as well.
"It’s a matter of numbers," someone explained.
I see. That made sense.
By the way, Fouche and Michael were so busy doting on the cat that they missed the whole spectacle. I understood that the cat was adorable, but they could at least try to pay attention. Look, Progenitor-san was already giving the opening address.
The tournament proceeded according to the usual schedule, divided into three parts: the General Division, the Warrior Division, and the Knight Division.
In the General Division, contestants only fought a single match, meaning the results were heavily influenced by the luck of the draw. While I felt the pairing system could be improved, it was impossible to ensure every single match was perfectly balanced, so leaving things to fate wasn't entirely bad.
As luck would have it, one of Gatto’s apprentices was matched against Galf’s son—both of whom were participating for the first time this year. It was a fierce struggle, but Gatto’s apprentice emerged victorious. Galf’s son seemed stronger on paper, but his mind hadn't been on the fight. He had been far too preoccupied with trying to break the stone pavement of the stage. It wasn't exactly something you could break that easily, was it?
...Or so I thought.
During a stage check, I discovered a spot where he had sabotaged the stone to make it easier to break. I understood his desire for a dramatic flair, but his efforts were definitely misdirected. I made Galf’s son clear away the rigged stones himself.
The highlight of the General Division was the match between a three-year-old Lizardman and one of the Beastman boys. Although the Lizardman was young, he already had the physique of an adult. On the other hand, the Beastman boy had been receiving private lessons from Galf during his breaks from work. It was a classic battle of power versus technique.
The match dragged on, and just when it looked like the physically superior Lizardman was going to take it, the boy unleashed a hidden throwing technique. That settled the matter.
Even in defeat, however, the Lizardman proved his strength; he had actually managed to crack a piece of the stone pavement with the force of his step. I double-checked with Galf’s son to make sure it wasn't a rigged stone he'd forgotten to collect, then gave the boy the praise he deserved.
Several of the men from Village One also participated in the General Division, but their performance raised some questions.
"Perhaps we should create a Beginner Division?"
"Let's look into it," I replied.
Next came the Warrior Division, a survival-style tournament for those who were more capable than the general participants. The winner was determined by whoever could rack up the most consecutive victories.
The key to winning this division was the Lamias. The challenge lay in figuring out how to defeat the two members of the Lamia Race who were competing. Gratz and Randan both entered this division, but... well, they didn't win.
Gratz simply lacked the necessary skill. Randan, meanwhile, had the misfortune of being repeatedly matched against Lamia opponents who were still fresh and full of energy.
Ultimately, the dwarf Donovan handled the Lamias with surprising grace. Donovan was by no means weak, but in previous years, he had always been blocked by Ya the Mountain Elf or Galf the Beastman. Since those two had moved up to the Knight Division, Donovan cruised to a well-deserved victory.
"I'm happy to win, but... I’m dreading next year," Donovan admitted.
As for Randan, it was a pity.
"I was completely toyed with by the Lamia fighting style... I saw how they were beaten, but I just couldn't replicate it."
I left the dejected Gratz to Ronana. They could go be lovey-dovey somewhere else.
Finally, it was time for the Knight Division! But first, we held the exhibition matches. Though there were many volunteers, we limited it to only two matches decided by lottery this year. Last time, the exhibition matches had been so exciting that they overshadowed the main event. We had to remember that the Knight Division was the real attraction.
The first exhibition match was Dragon King Dos versus the Dark Dragon Giral.
A massive roar of approval erupted from the stands. Even though it was left to luck, the lottery had produced a spectacular pairing. However, the other dragons in attendance looked pale.
"Everyone, erect barriers! Protect the spectator stands as well!" Raimeiren commanded.
Under her direction, the dragons, Progenitor-san, the Demon King, Beezel, Lu, and Tia all began weaving magical barriers.
"Ideally, we should probably be about ten kilometers away for safety..." someone muttered.
The match was promptly canceled.
A wave of boos swept through the crowd. The two participants themselves started complaining, insisting that they couldn't just leave things unresolved.
I had made a mistake. A serious mistake. I had factored in the possibility of the tournament grounds being destroyed, but I hadn't properly considered the risk to the village itself. I couldn't give them permission to fight in earnest!
"In that case, I will determine the method of competition!" I declared.
Searching for the safest possible way for them to settle the score, I came up with an idea.
"Arm wrestling!"
The booing intensified.
"...In your dragon forms!"
The booing stopped instantly.
To put it simply, it was a massive success. We hastily constructed a suitable platform, and though I feared the delay would kill the momentum, the excitement only grew. Two enormous dragons locked hands, pouring every ounce of their strength into toppling the other. I had intended to referee, but since that was physically impossible, I left the task to Progenitor-san.
It was a white-knuckle struggle that went back and forth. Eventually, Giral slammed Dos’s arm onto the table, but the victory was awarded to Dos. At the very last second, Giral had gotten too worked up and accidentally let out a blast of fire. Giral was disqualified.
"Yes! Yes! YES!" Dos cheered.
"What a... what a blunder..." Giral groaned.
Dos was clearly overjoyed, but I was more concerned about his well-being. He had taken a blast of fire right to the face, hadn't he? Apparently, he was just surprised and otherwise perfectly fine. As expected of a dragon.
The second exhibition match: The Demon King versus Zabuton.
"I sense a distinct lack of impartiality in this lottery!" the Demon King shouted in protest, but the draw had been fair.
"Then, I beg of you, please decide the competition method for this match as well," he pleaded.
Zabuton didn't seem to mind, so I made my choice.
"Tug-of-war!"
A simple test of strength: pull the mark in the center of the rope to your side to win.
"Reinforcements! I request reinforcements!" the Demon King shouted.
At his suggestion, it turned into a team battle. I expected him to call upon the Four Heavenly Kings, but he chose Draim, Domaim, Marksbergark, and Kuorun instead.
Isn't that a bit unfair? I thought, but they all maintained perfectly straight faces, insisting it was within the rules.
On Zabuton’s side, she was joined by Rusty, Gral, Urza, and a large number of Zabuton's Children.
I was a bit worried about Gral and Urza's safety, but Zabuton assured me she wouldn't let them get hurt. If she said so, I would trust her. Besides, it was just tug-of-war. I made sure to strictly forbid anyone from wrapping the rope around their bodies, as that was how accidents happened.
With Progenitor-san continuing as referee, the match began. It was a raw display of power. The rope groaned under the tension.
I realized they didn't seem to know any rhythmic chants to coordinate their pulling. I always felt that chants were the soul of tug-of-war. It might have been a bit biased of me, but I called out a suggestion to Rusty.
She looked skeptical at first, but she started a chant anyway. Slowly but surely, Zabuton’s side began to gain ground. Sensing the shift, Gral and Urza joined in the shouting. The rest of the venue soon followed suit. A powerful sense of unity filled the air as Zabuton’s team drew closer to victory.
But then, a voice cut through the noise.
"Demon King-sama, fight on!"
Three of the Four Heavenly Kings had organized themselves into a cheering squad and were shouting at the top of their lungs. The wives of Draim, Domaim, Marksbergark, and Kuorun joined them. The mark in the center of the rope began oscillating wildly.
After a grueling struggle, the Demon King’s side managed to clinch the victory. The crowd went wild. Perhaps a little too wild.
First, Giral, unhappy that his daughter Gral had lost, demanded a rematch and immediately joined Zabuton’s side. In response, Dos joined the Demon King’s team. Seeing the heavy hitters get involved, the spectators began jumping in one after another.
The second round went to Zabuton’s side. Setting the dragons aside, it had essentially turned into a "Residents vs. Non-residents" showdown, and the numbers had become a bit lopsided. Michael had been on the losing side with the Demon King, but he was already muttering about how this could be turned into a profitable business venture. I wondered if he was planning to host a tournament in Shashato City.
Even after that, the tug-of-war fever refused to cool down. Eventually, we were forced to hold an official inter-village competition. Even then, people kept volunteering to bolster the teams, so the power balance remained surprisingly even. The village names essentially just became team designations.
And then...
"At this rate, we won't be able to start the Knight Division today," someone noted.
"We’ll have to carry it over to tomorrow," I decided.
With that announcement, even the contestants who had been holding back for the Knight Division threw themselves into the tug-of-war. The festivities continued late into the night.
I couldn't help but wonder if everyone would be in any condition for the actual main event tomorrow.