WIEDERGEBURT: Legend of the Reincarnated Warrior: Volume 4

by Varnell, Brandon

  Thinking about Eryk made her depressed. Ever since that moment when she had caught him and Kari holding each other, she had distanced herself from him. She still trained with him every day, but she no longer talked to him about inconsequential or everyday life matters like before. Their relationship now was almost like two business partners who didn’t trust each other.

  It hurt.

  She knew this was her fault, that Eryk hadn’t really done anything wrong. He had told her that he liked Kari. She was the one who’d stubbornly refused to give up, and now she was reaping the rewards for her stubbornness.

  But I don’t know what else I can do…

  While she didn’t like to admit it, Fay had always felt inferior to Kari, the princess of Nevaria, the most beautiful girl of their generation. That was part of the reason she had distanced herself from the other girl. Being next to such a perfect person caused Fay’s self-confidence to plummet. Her own self-doubt and insecurity combined with what happened in their past had caused Fay to refuse any and all attempts from Kari to become friends again.

  She felt bad about that, but there wasn’t anything she could do. She couldn’t change how she felt. She could no more change her feelings of inferiority than she could change the gnawing guilt she felt whenever Kari tried talking to her.

  It was vexing.

  In an attempt to get her mind off the matter of Eryk, Fay observed all the other people who were in the room with her. There were a lot of people. She recognized some of them, like Grant, who stood over in another corner. He hadn’t spotted her yet. She aimed to keep it that way. Aside from the few more prominent members of nobility, there were many people she didn’t recognize, such as the old man who looked like a farmer, or the hulking brute of a man wearing nothing but a loincloth and wielding an axe.

  “Is that you, Fay?”

  Fay felt her blood run cold as a familiar voice reached her ears. Wearing a grimace, she turned around to find Grant standing before her. He wore a silver breastplate that gleamed brightly as though freshly polished. The armor was segmented so it wouldn’t hinder his movements. Beneath the armor was a black tunic with long sleeves. The armor came with gauntlets, greaves, and a skirt-piece that protected his groin.

  “Grant, I’d been hoping to avoid seeing you,” Fay didn’t bother hiding the rancor in her voice.

  Grant merely laughed. “What are you saying? By the time this tournament is over, you and I will be engaged. There’s no reason to avoid me.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Fay said in a frozen tone. “I have no intention of ever marrying you.”

  “That is unfortunate because you will become my Second Wife, whether you like it or not.” Grant narrowed his eyes. “There’s no escaping from fate, Fay. You had best accept it while I’m still feeling amicable. If you continue to resist me, then I’ll be sure to remember your insulting attitude after we’ve been officially married. During that time, I will ensure that you are taught proper obedience.”

  Fay narrowed her eyes as red-hot anger flowed through her body. This boy, who was like a dog that would hump anything it found attractive, dared to talk about teaching her obedience? She had never felt so insulted in her entire life.

  Yet just before Fay could open her mouth, a loud whoosh sound like the air was being cut entered her ears, and a massive slab of steel suddenly blocked her view of Grant. She followed the metal to the one holding it. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was.

  “Why are you bothering my friend?” asked Eryk, his glare turned on Grant.

  “Peasant, are you getting in my way again?” Grant ignored Eryk’s question and returned the glare with a nasty sneer.

  “So long as you are willing to keep bothering Kari and Fay, I will keep getting in your way,” Eryk replied in a mild voice. “Besides, you won’t be marrying either of them.”

  “Hmph!” Grant snorted and turned away. “We’ll see about that. I’d tell you not to lose until we face each other so I can beat you myself, but I somehow don’t think you’re going to have any hope of winning the preliminaries, nevermind winning enough rounds to face me.”

  Eryk waited for Grant to walk away before lowering his weapon. He glanced at Fay and smiled.

  “Sorry for interfering,” he said. “I know you could probably deal with him on your own, but I just can’t stand that guy.”

  “It’s fine,” Fay muttered softly, not sure how she should feel. Her cheeks felt a little warm, but her chest felt cold, like an icy fist had clutched her heart in its freezing grip. “I appreciate that you are willing to stand up for me.”

  “Of course, I am.” Eryk shrugged. “I care for you.”

  Fay didn’t know whether she should laugh, cry, or blush. Eryk was able to make flattering and heartfelt comments like that so easily, but he didn’t seem to realize how she interpreted his words. To him, they were probably just the sort of thing he’d say to a friend, but to her, they meant so much more.

  “That outfit…” Eryk mumbled as he looked her up and down.

  “Is something wrong with my outfit?” Fay asked, feeling just a little embarrassed.

  She was wearing a black and red coat that flared out just above her hips and stopped at her thighs. Gold outlined the hem of her jacket. A black and gold chestplate went around her chest, held together by a set of leather straps. She only had one shoulder pauldron. It was small, had the same black and gold color scheme, and sat against her left shoulder. Her right shoulder was free, but she had a tight sleeve held together by leather bands that went all the way down to her hand. Aside from the jacket, chestplate, pauldron, and arm sleeve, her outfit featured a white undershirt, black pants, and black boots that had red and gold knee pads.

  “No.” Eryk shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with your outfit.” He turned his head away, and for a split second, Fay thought she saw him blushing. “You look good.”

  “Oh…” she breathed, her cheeks suddenly burning.

  The rest of their time in the waiting room was spent in awkward silence, until someone came in and told them all to travel up to the arena.

  Chapter 2

  Beginning of the Preliminaries

  Unlike when Eryk had fought against Albert in the Honor Duel, the Colosseum stands were filled to the brim today. Kari couldn’t even begin to guess at how many people were in attendance. The lower, upper, and middle-class seating was fit to bursting with people. It was like staring into a multi-colored sea of hair... though most people possessed varying shades of blonde with only a few who had brown or red hair.

  She was once more sitting in the chair next to her mother. Her three brothers were also present, but her fathers were not. Valence, Rainer, and Dante had gone down to the waiting room, which had not been used during the Honor Duel, to get all of the participants ready.

  “I wonder what sort of showing we’re gonna get this year,” said Geirolf as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Last year, we had that old guy from the Kriger Family who won. What was his name again?”

  “Grim Kriger,” Earland said.

  “That’s the one.” Geirolf snapped his fingers as an excited expression appeared on his face. “He was pretty good for an old bastard.”

  “It is often the older generation that we need to watch out for,” Mykkel added. “They tend to be a lot more cunning and ruthless than the newer generation. And I hear Grim Kriger is at the Third State of Spiritualism, which only Mother and Grandfather have reached. It was obvious he would win.”

  “Hmph! I can be plenty cunning and ruthless.”

  “No one said you couldn’t.”

  Kari listened vaguely to what her brothers were saying, but most of her attention was focused on the arena. Her fathers had just stepped out of the door and were leading all the people who would be participating onto the arena floor. There were a lot. It looked like the amount of people taking part this year was in the double digits.

  At the sight of all these people walking onto the arena
floor, the many people who had been waiting in anticipation suddenly worked themselves into a frenzy. They roared and cheered at the sight of all these Spiritualists who had agreed to battle for their entertainment. Feet stomped, voices shouted, and banners flew through the air from families who were present to cheer on their participating family member.

  The arena was a circular area with a diameter of about 109 meters in both length and width. It was even larger than the throne room where her mother listened to reports from the nobles and commanders working for the Nevarian Spiritualists and Imperial Royal Guard. Yet at that moment, more than half the arena floor had been filled. This caused her to bite her lip. She constantly swept her gaze over the individuals, but there were so many she couldn’t find the person she was looking for.

  “If you are looking for Eryk Veiger, he is the one with the giant ruler on his shoulder,” her mother said.

  Kari glanced at her mother, still seated elegantly on her chair like it was a throne, and then glanced back at the crowd of participants. There were quite a few people with large weapons resting on their shoulders. However, she looked for the ruler like her mother suggested. It took a little time. She swayed in her seat, which directed Spiritual Power into her eyes and caused her vision to sharpen. It wasn’t like everything had suddenly been magnified and more like the fog on a glass window had been cleared away to reveal details in greater focus. Only then did she find him.

  Eryk stood near the front of the group, close to Valence. Like her mother had said, he was holding a large ruler in his hand, which rested against his shoulder. She’d never seen such a massive weapon before. It was a brutal-looking thing and seemed almost ill-fitted for his feminine appearance. However, if she were to judge it based on its intimidation factor, it was a great weapon. Looking at it made her shudder.

  However, when she found Eryk, Kari discovered someone else who was with him. Fay Valstine. Her heart clenched when she saw her former friend.

  “There really are a lot more people than last time,” Geirolf muttered behind her. He sounded depressed, like he was pouting. “It really sucks that I can’t participate. I’d kick all their asses.”

  “If you participated, I would also be allowed to join,” Earland murmured in a soft but firm voice that caused Geirolf to still.

  “Way to take away my enthusiasm,” Geirolf said in a bitter tone.

  Her mother waited for a little while longer before standing up and stepping onto the balcony. Her presence caused all those who’d been roaring with excitement to settle down. Kari stared at the woman from behind, wondering just what sort of prestige a person must wield to gain this kind of presence. Just by appearing before them, her mother had quieted an entire crowd.

  “Nevaria is a place that is ruled by the strong,” her mother began. “It is the duty of the strong to safeguard Nevaria from the dangers of Demon Beasts and keep order within the city. This is why we honor those who are strong. That is also why we host this yearly Spiritualist Grand Tournament. Not only does this tournament allow the strongest Spiritualists within Nevaria to showcase their strength, but the winner goes on to receive the prestige that comes from being strong. This includes the right to challenge me for the title of Emperor.”

  As her mother explained the purpose of this competition, Kari swept her gaze to the arena floor, where the many Spiritualists were still standing. All of them were looking at her mother—except for one person.

  Kari felt her breath catch in her throat when she realized that Eryk was staring right at her. His bright eyes were gazing into hers with a power that seemed to transcend time. Her knees felt weak under his gaze. It was a good thing she was sitting, or her legs would have already given out. Not only did she feel weak, but her cheeks felt warm, and she didn’t doubt that they had gained a healthy bit of color.

  Unfortunately, Fay also seemed to realize where he was looking. She gazed up at Kari with a challenging glare. This caused the pain in her chest to become magnified. It was a sharp ache that made her feel like someone was brutally stabbing her with her own ranseur.

  While Eryk might have been staring at her, the eyes of everyone else were on her mother. There was a hungry leer in them. Some of that was definitely because of her mother’s beauty. She was often hailed as the most beautiful woman in Nevaria. However, Kari was certain that many of these Spiritualists also wanted the right to challenge her in combat.

  “The last victor of the Spiritualist Grand Tournament was Grim Kriger,” her mother continued. “Unfortunately, those who have already won are no longer eligible to participate, so he is no longer able to stand beside these competitors.” She glanced at someone specific in the three-tiered seating, and while Kari couldn’t see who she was looking at, there was no doubt in her mind that it was Grim Kriger. She looked back at the crowd at large. “I would like to wish all those who have elected to participate in this glorious competition good luck. This is your time to showcase your martial prowess and let those among us who value your talent see how much you can shine. Do your best.”

  At these last words, her mother stepped back and sat down. Her words invoked roaring cheers from the crowd.

  * * *

  I stood beside Fay as the three men before us stared over our group. There was Dante, the man who had refereed my Honor Duel with Albert. He wore the same laid-back smile as last time. The other two individuals were a stern-faced man who was clean-shaven and looked like he’d been carved from stone and a slightly younger man with a calm demeanor that reminded me of a still lake, placid and peaceful. The stern-faced man wore gleaming golden armor, while the calm one with the gentle smile wore silver armor.

  I was sure the armor was decorative rather than functional.

  The one with the calm demeanor stepped forward, his caramel eyes sweeping over everyone. He had short hair that was swept back a little. There were only two small bangs that trailed down from the center of his forehead and hovered around his brow. As he shifted, the greaves he wore made the soft clicking noises that came from metal touching against metal. Likewise, noise issued from his gauntlets and chestplate every time he moved them. There was a broadsword strapped across his back.

  “While I am sure many of you recognize me, allow me to introduce myself anyway. My name is Rainer. I’m the first commander of the Nevarian Spiritualists, and I will be the one whose job is to ensure that all of you follow the rules.” He paused to sweep his gaze across us again, and I could have sworn his eyes lingered on me for a second longer than they did on everyone else. “The rules of this competition are very simple: What I say goes. Winners are determined by knockout or forfeit. If someone forfeits, you must halt your attack immediately. Failure to do so will result in your disqualification. Furthermore, there is to be no killing. If any of you kill your opponent, you’ll not only be disqualified, but you will face harsh punishment. This is a contest meant to let all of you show off your skills in combat. It is not a blood sport.”

  A grave pressure seemed to emanate from Rainer, who spoke in a seemingly calm manner that didn’t match the intensity of his gaze. Even I was not immune to it. Beside me, Fay had completely stiffened up.

  “Now, allow me to tell you all how this is going to work,” Rainer began again. “Currently, there are far too many people participating. This is usually the case for the Spiritualist Grand Tournament. The contest is only supposed to last for two or three days, but if we held the tournament as we are now, it would probably take around a week. Furthermore, this contest is meant to showcase only those who are strong. That is why we are going to be holding a series of preliminary matches.”

  As he continued speaking, someone came out of the door that all of us had entered the arena floor through. It was a young woman wearing a frilly gown. She was pushing a cart across the dirt. Sitting on the cart was an ordinary box with a hole at the top. The woman, who I guessed might be a maidservant, stopped in front of Rainer.

  Rainer placed his hand on the box and began speaking again. “Wi
thin this box are several slips of parchment with the numbers one through sixteen. There are only five of each number. Each of you will come up and draw a number. That number will determine who you will be fighting. Anyone who draws the same number as you will be fighting against you in a group elimination round. The winner shall go on to fight in the actual Spiritualist Grand Tournament.”

  Given that it looked like there were upwards of 80 people present, I could see why they would want to hold this kind of preliminary round. If 80 people fought in single combat, that would be 40 separate battles for just the first round, which would probably take at least several days to conclude.

  Spiritualist battles could last anywhere from five minutes to several hours, depending on the strengths of the Spiritualists battling. A battle in which two Spiritualists of equal strength fought often lasted for at least an hour because it ultimately became a battle of attrition. The one who made the first mistake lost.

  “We will now begin drawing numbers,” Rainer announced. “Who will step up first?”

  No one stepped up for a few seconds, but soon a large man who appeared to be in his mid-forties, with a head of gray hair and a scar over his right eye, stepped up. He was wearing thick leather armor and carrying a halberd. The armor was scuffed and dinged in some places. I guessed he was a mercenary. He walked with a calm, confident gait up to the box and slipped his gauntlet-clad hand inside. Soon, he pulled out a slip of parchment. He glanced at it, looked at Rainer, and then walked back to where he’d been standing.

  That appeared to be the cue. One by one, the other people began walking up and grabbing a number from inside the box. All of the people were unique. I saw one guy with a twig-like figure who looked like a stiff breeze would break him in half. There was a woman with a stern demeanor who was dressed in heavy plate mail. A man wearing nothing but a loin cloth and wielding a battle axe also grabbed a number. I used Spiritual Perception to judge each one. All of them were decently strong, but none of them had reached the same level of strength as the three men standing in front of us.