“I’m getting old, but I made an exception this year. A friend of mine asked me to participate, you see. I couldn’t refuse, since he’s been helping me out all these years.”
He would only fight after the qualifiers. In the meantime, Phelms was out promoting his restaurant. He told us that reconstruction efforts were already underway in Bulbola, and that the former Marquis Christon had donated his assets to the cause. The Adventurers’ Guild played a big part in helping out, too.
Amanda renovated the Bulbolan orphanage while Io took care of its children. Io was still making delicious Garbage Soup out of meager ingredients, and I imagined that it tasted even better now that she had basic cooking utensils and more funds to buy ingredients.
And then there was the great curry boom. Many stores imitating the Black Tail had cropped up, usually with names starting with “Black” or ending in “Tail.” They all followed the basic curry recipe I sold to the Lucille Trading Association, adding their own interpretive twist. I could barely believe it; it seemed so unreal.
Fran was happily listening to the old man, but it was time for us to go. I would hate for us to be late.
Fran.
“Hm. I have to get going.”
“Oh, sorry for holding you up.”
“That’s okay. It was nice talking to you.”
“I hope I’ll see you on the main stage.”
“Hm. Sure.”
“Now there’s a smile I like to see.” Phelms’ grin had all the ferocity of Fran’s battle-hungry smile.
“I’m going to win,” she said.
“Will you now? I must be getting on if your optimism is enough to impress me.” He smiled warmly, as if she was his own granddaughter. His lack of condescension betrayed a genuine admiration.
“Don’t you want to win, Phelms?”
“Ha ha ha! That will be difficult, considering my age. I’ll try to make the semifinals. But I do hope you can take the crown, Fran.”
“Hm! You bet!”
Phelms’ words of encouragement motivated her. I just hoped she didn’t blow all her energy on the qualifiers.
That building there, Fran.
“Really? Here?”
We made our way to a building next to the guildhall. It was a lot smaller than expected, but that made sense since the initial qualifiers weren’t open to the public. Hardy-looking adventurers entered one at a time, each looking ready to kill.
You’re supposed to report at the entrance.
“Hm.”
Fran casually walked to the reception.
“Oh, I’m sorry, little girl. You can’t watch the first round of the qualifiers. You can come back again tomorrow, though,” said the young man who manned the desk.
Even with me on her back, he didn’t take her to be a combatant. He thought she wanted to watch.
I thought the guild had announced Fran’s rank promotion, but then, this man didn’t have the adventuring look about him. He was probably a lackey of the local aristocracy. He was shocked when she told him she was a combatant. Even so, he knew she wasn’t joking, and frantically reached for the name list.
“Oh? Wh-what’s your name?”
“Fran.”
“Uh…! Whoa! R-really? You’re participating?”
“Hm.” Fran nodded. The attendant became even more worried.
“No offense, but would you consider backing out? It’s not too late. The first qualifiers are very dangerous. No Healing Mages, you know.”
The man had Fran’s best interest at heart, but it really wasn’t his place to say. Since his worry was genuine, she wasn’t offended. “I’ll be fine.”
“People die every year. I’m serious.”
“Thanks. I’ll be going now.”
“Just throw in the towel if you get cold feet! You’ll bleed out if they get you, and then it’ll be too late!”
The receptionist shouted his concern after Fran as she walked away. Despite our difficulties at the entrance, the rest of the registration process went smoothly. The contest official was an old man and seemingly a seasoned adventurer himself. He could tell how strong Fran was. In fact, he turned to look at the rest of the contestants with a sort of pity.
“Heh heh. How’d this kid wander in here?”
“I guess this makes it a four-way fight.”
“Is this some kind of joke? This tournament’s my chance to get scouted by the army! I can’t fight a little girl!”
Two mercenaries and two adventurers were already waiting in the ring. They all underestimated Fran, with one exception. I Identified the stern adventurer who’d kept his eyes trained on her. He was strong. D-Rank, probably. He had probably heard about Fran’s recent promotion.
“We shall begin.” The old contest official walked unceremoniously into the arena, now in the capacity of referee. He was treating this a lot more casually than I expected. Then again, it was only the qualifiers.
The combatants readied their weapons and took their positions, except for one young greenhorn who raised his voice in complaint.
“I know the tournament’s open to everyone, but you can’t expect me to hurt a child! I came here to make a name for myself! Beating her would only soil my reputation!”
“Even so, I do not have the authority to make her forfeit.”
“Go home, kid!” the greenhorn shouted. “This isn’t a playground!”
The veteran adventurer turned to him. “First day in Ulmutt?”
“I got here yesterday, what of it?”
“That explains it…” The veteran sighed at the greenhorn’s ignorance. He seemed to sympathize, but also to understand it would be a waste of time and effort to try change his mind. “It is time. We shall begin.”
“You can’t be serious…!”
“Look bud, if you don’t think you can beat this kid, then why don’t you drop out?”
“Yeah, just spare us your whining!”
“What?!”
The two mercenaries were losing their patience.
Teacher, can’t I just go at him now?
No. They’ll disqualify you.
Fran was getting irritated. Fortunately, the old referee chose to ignore the greenhorn’s pleas and began counting down.
“We shall begin. Five, four, three…”
“You can’t just—”
“Two, one. Begin!”
The match commenced despite the greenhorn’s complaints. The mercenaries made the first move.
“Heh heh. First things first…”
“Take down the strongest of the lot!”
They weren’t much, but they
