The Martial Arts Festival began.
It seemed the Demon King had failed in his quest to bring his wife along. Beezel offered words of comfort to the dejected ruler, though his daughter, Yuri, didn't seem particularly bothered by her mother’s absence. She likely anticipated that a visit at this time of year was impossible. Eventually, she joined Beezel in trying to cheer up her father.
Gol, Sil, and Bron—the three beastman boys—along with the High Elf Rigne, were unable to participate this time around. Their duties at the academy kept them occupied, and I received a letter from them expressing their regrets. It was a shame, but work is work. No, wait—that’s a bad mindset to have. I really ought to complain about a workplace environment that won't permit even a single day off. Besides, regardless of their roles as teachers, those three are still just kids.
According to their letter, the academy is suffering from a severe teacher shortage. Apparently, several staff members quit a few years back, and they haven't been able to find suitable replacements since. Hmm. There wasn't much I could do to help. I could only hope they’d make good use of the donation I’d handed Beezel—even if he hadn’t managed to convert it to actual currency yet.
I turned to Lu. "Is there a teacher shortage at Ifuls Academy in Shashato City, too?"
It turned out they were in the same boat. Everyone was struggling. Back here in the village, Hakuren took the lead in education, with Rusty, Frau, and Yuri helping her oversee the children’s studies. I really had to be grateful for such a blessed environment. The boys and Rigne mentioned they would visit during the winter. Perhaps the Demon King’s wife might make her appearance then as well.
Near the festival grounds, the usual cluster of food stalls and tents had sprung up. In one of them, Guronde was working with Gral, grilling hamburger steaks over charcoal.
"Mother, aren't those a bit overdone?" Gral asked.
"The Village Head said the heat wouldn't reach the center unless they were grilled thoroughly," Guronde replied.
"Aren't they charred?"
"...I can just scrape the surface a bit."
"Mother, it’s a lost cause. Let’s give up."
"I suppose you're right. Dear?"
Giral, who was standing by, dutifully ate the burnt offerings. Was he okay? He seemed fine—apparently, love made his wife's cooking palatable. Still, at this rate, he’d be eating nothing but charcoal, so I stepped in with some advice. They were using skewers, but the meat was too close to the coals. I also told them not to flip them so often. Once per side was enough.
"Why not use an iron plate?" I suggested. "It’s much easier."
With Gral’s enthusiastic support, we switched to iron plates. I set out to gather the necessary tools immediately.
By the way, I noticed three figures standing perfectly still in the corner of the tent—the trio from the Post-Age of Gods Dragon Race. Were they frozen in awe after meeting Guronde? Actually, they looked like they might have fainted. Were they even breathing? Well, they’d come all this way for the festival; they surely wanted to participate. I’d have to wake them up. The General Division was already over, but the Warrior Division was about to start.
A special exhibition match had been scheduled for this year: Aegis, the phoenix chick, versus the World Tree Silkworm. Aegis had requested the match itself, likely still smarting from its previous loss. The Eagle served as Aegis’s second, while Gordon, the representative of Village Two, stood with the silkworm. While the Eagle seemed to be whispering tactical advice into Aegis’s ear, Gordon looked like he was doing nothing but feeding his contestant World Tree leaves. Actually, that’s exactly what he was doing. Gordon, don't look at me like you're questioning your life choices. Good luck to both sides.
The match ended in a flash. Aegis pounced the moment the signal was given. The silkworm attempted to intercept with silk, but Aegis dodged the threads with grace and closed the distance. Just as Aegis moved in for the finish, the silkworm suddenly leaped into the air and delivered a heavy body slam. Before the stunned chick could recover, the silkworm spat out a fresh layer of silk, binding its opponent and securing the win.
The victorious silkworm crawled back to Gordon for more leaves, while the Eagle worked on untangling the dejected chick. It was a close one, Aegis. I certainly didn't expect a silkworm to jump, so it was only natural to be caught off guard. Aegis hadn't given up, though. Its eyes were already burning with the desire for a rematch.
Wait, was Aegis actually on fire? I hurried over, but the flames vanished as quickly as they’d appeared. What a relief. Come to think of it, Aegis is a phoenix chick. Cloaking itself in fire should be well within its capabilities—it had tried to melt snow off the roof before, after all. Still, I had to tell it to be careful. The Eagle next to it had been terrified, and so had I. It seemed it had been an accidental flare-up, so learning to control that power was the next step.
"Practice hard, Aegis. But do it outside. No fire indoors!"
The Martial Arts Festival proceeded through the brackets without a hitch. The winner of the Warrior Division this year was Galf’s son’s wife. She had clearly made a full recovery from childbirth, proving herself a fierce competitor in her debut. Meanwhile, the three dragons from the Post-Age of Gods race decided to pass on competing, opting instead to cheer loudly from the stands.
The Knight Division was claimed by Red Armor. It was incredibly formidable, defeating heavy hitters like Lu, Tia, Ria, and Ann in succession. White Armor, on the other hand, had been knocked out in the first round by one of Kuro’s children. Since that same wolf later lost to Lu, I suppose you could say Red Armor had avenged its comrade. Of course, there are no certainties in combat; sometimes it just comes down to the matchup. They can always try again next time.
Galf and Daga both made it past the first round but were eliminated in the second. Despite the loss, they seemed genuinely thrilled to have made it that far. On the flip side, Kudel and Corone—who had lost to Galf and Daga—were currently receiving a stern lecture. It wasn't just Tia scolding them; Malbit, Suarlou, and Razmaria had joined in as well. Personally, I liked to think it wasn't a matter of the angels being careless, but rather a testament to how hard Galf and Daga had trained.
Finally, it was time for the exhibition matches—often referred to by some as the Hero Division. Since no winner was being officially decided, I settled in to watch at my leisure. The main draw was seeing who the Demon King would be pitted against.
"Is there really no way for me to opt out?" the Demon King asked in a final, futile resistance.
This year, his opponent was Giral. With Guronde cheering him on, I expected Giral to be at the top of his game. Then again, his belly was noticeably round from all those hamburger steaks.
"Demon King, here's your chance!"
He seemed to have the same thought and launched a bold offensive. He fought bravely, and I won't soon forget his valiant effort. Yuri, please stop focusing on your food and cheer for your father. You too, Beezel.
Guronde herself didn't compete. She couldn't move properly in her human form, and her dragon form was too massive for the stage. Instead, she treated the visitors from outside the village to a formal display of her draconic self. Since she had a habit of shifting when she was drunk, it was better to let everyone see her now so they wouldn't panic later. She’d almost certainly be drinking tonight. Her eight-headed form was accepted quite readily, and as always, she was a huge hit with the kids. I was almost a little jealous of her popularity.
The match between Malbit and Suarlou was another highlight. They put on a spectacular display of aerial combat, yet somehow ended up back on the stage settling things with a joint lock. Malbit emerged the victor.
Wait, wasn't Suarlou supposed to be the strongest angel before Tia came along?
"I have the weight of being the Angel Race Leader on my shoulders. I couldn't afford to lose," Malbit explained coolly.
Suarlou, however, had a different perspective. "That woman was pinching my thigh while she had me in that lock! It was a dirty trick!"
Well... let's just give them both a round of applause for a good fight.
The night transitioned into the usual banquet. The dwarves were already busy challenging Guronde—not to a duel, but to a drinking contest. I allowed the children to stay up late, within reason. Hiichiro was reaching his limit; his head was starting to bob. The younger children had long since retired to the bedrooms, so he’d done well to last this long.
"Alright, I'll carry you up," I said.
He shook his head, wanting Raimeiren instead. I didn't mind. Raimeiren looked absolutely delighted to take him.
"Hm? Rusty, what is it?"
She reminded me that she was also Raimeiren’s grandchild. I wasn't quite sure what she wanted me to do about it. The difference in treatment came down to etiquette; Raimeiren was being careful not to overstep with Graffaloon, Rusty’s mother. It’s easy to dote on your own daughter’s child, but apparently, even for someone like Raimeiren, it’s tricky to manage the relationship with a daughter-in-law’s child. Or so she’d told me.
She also mentioned that Helze, her other daughter’s child, was hard to see simply because of where she lived.
"Why not try acting a bit spoiled when she gets back?" I suggested to Rusty. "There's no need to be shy. Besides, Dos is over there looking very much like a grandfather waiting for his turn."
Lananon was already fast asleep. On a night like this, everyone should just relax. Sometimes just talking is enough. The night of the festival deepened as the celebrations continued.