Chapter 159: The Challenger

The carriage moved deeper into Kilmir, its wooden wheels rolling steadily over the stone-paved streets as it headed toward the city knights’ training grounds, where the city knights and members of the Night Watch regularly trained.

The Sword Spirit floated silently inside the carriage, her arms folded across her chest as she stared at Elias with her usual impassive expression.

"Are you scared?" she asked, sounding as though even the question itself was beneath her.

Elias glanced at her before shaking his head.

[Not really. I am just wondering if that person would really answer to my request.]

"He would," she stated without hesitation. "He has helped you before, so I do not see why he would refuse to help you this time."

[You are right,] Elias said, then exhaled sharply as he turned his attention toward the carriage window.

The streets of Kilmir passed by one after another, but the atmosphere was noticeably different from before. Civilians moved along the roads in uneasy groups, and whenever they noticed the carriage, many slowed down and turned their heads.

Some even pointed toward it while whispering among themselves.

Elias ignored them all.

He had no intention of wasting his energy on rumors that had already been carefully cultivated by Berlic.

Eventually, the carriage slowed before a large training ground surrounded by tall stone walls. The city knights’ training grounds were already packed with people, and even from inside the carriage, Elias could hear the murmur of a restless crowd.

The carriage came to a halt.

Elias opened the door and stepped down.

The moment the crowd noticed the young nobleman, the surrounding voices gradually died away until the entire training ground became almost completely silent.

Elias did not acknowledge them.

With a cold expression on his face, he simply strode through the entrance and toward the center of the training ground.

People of all ages had gathered around the field. Men and women, young and old, all stood behind the boundaries of the training area, their attention fixed upon Elias.

At the far end of the training ground stood a platform raised roughly four feet above the ground.

Upon it sat Berlic Draveon, the City Lord of Kilmir, comfortably seated upon a throne.

Standing beside him were two knights.

One of them was Daemon, the knight who was supposed to lead the main raid into the widening spatial rift.

Elias glanced at him before his eyes returned to Berlic.

’Putting everyone in danger just to kill me...’

He couldn’t help but shake his head.

Behind him, the Sword Spirit floated lazily with her arms folded over her chest, her crimson hair moving slightly in the breeze.

Then Berlic rose from his throne.

"Welcome, my dear nephew," he called out, his voice carrying across the entire training ground.

Every conversation immediately ceased.

Elias stared at him without saying anything.

Berlic smiled warmly before spreading his arms toward the crowd.

"My people, I am aware of how worried you are about the unknown killer who has been pillaging our lives!" he declared, his voice filled with concern. "I understand your fears. I understand your pain!"

The crowd remained completely focused on him.

"But even if a man fits the picture of the unknown killer we have been searching for, I cannot punish an innocent citizen of our city without proof!"

Berlic paused for a moment, allowing his words to settle before continuing.

"That is why today, my nephew, Elias Crimson, will prove his innocence through the most sacred and honorable ritual!"

His voice became louder.

"He will face one of our knights in a trial of combat, and let the old gods decide whether he is innocent!"

The crowd erupted.

"Glory to the City Lord!"

"Glory to the Old Gods!"

"Glory to the Knights!"

The chants rolled through the training ground like waves, and Elias couldn’t help but feel slightly surprised.

Just yesterday, those same people had shown obvious disapproval when they heard about the duel. Some had even questioned why such a pointless spectacle was being arranged when the city was already in danger.

Yet now, they were cheering as though they had been waiting for this moment.

’He really is a skilled speaker.’

Elias narrowed his eyes as he looked toward Berlic.

’Although I have no idea how good a fighter he is.’

Berlic waited until the cheers had subsided before looking directly at Elias.

"Now, Elias Crimson, son of the ruler of the Crimsonland, Duke Aegon Crimson, name your challenger."

The training ground fell silent once again.

Everyone waited.

Elias slowly looked to his left, then to his right, allowing his gaze to pass over the gathered knights.

His hand moved toward Lastbane.

With a smooth motion, he unsheathed the sword, and the blade gleamed beneath the sunlight as he raised it.

Then Elias pointed Lastbane toward a slender knight standing among the others.

"I request Sir Belthon to be my challenger."

The crowd immediately turned toward the knight.

Belthon himself appeared surprised, his eyes widening slightly as he stared at Elias.

Berlic’s smile remained on his face, but his eyes narrowed.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice carrying a faint sharpness.

Elias lowered Lastbane slightly while meeting his uncle’s gaze.

"I am, uncle."

Berlic’s jaw tightened for the briefest moment.

The word clearly displeased him, but the City Lord quickly concealed his reaction beneath another smile.

He turned toward Belthon.

"And what about you, Sir Belthon? Do you agree?"

Belthon remained silent for a moment.

He looked at Elias carefully.

He did not know the young nobleman very well, but he understood the situation surrounding this duel better than most.

This entire event was a trap.

Berlic wanted to use the duel to create a convenient narrative, and regardless of the result, Elias would be placed in an unfavorable position.

Yet Elias had deliberately chosen him.

Belthon’s eyes narrowed slightly as he realized what that choice meant.

It was not merely a request for a duel.

It was a plea for help.

Belthon’s thoughts briefly returned to his conversation with his old friend.

’Erick, you bastard,’ he muttered inwardly, remembering the man’s words.

Perhaps this really was his opportunity to help the youth that would shape the world after them.

Belthon slowly stepped forward.

"I agree," he said.

The moment his words left his mouth, the tension that had gripped the training ground broke apart.

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

"Sir Belthon!"

"Lord Elias!"

"Glory to the Knights!"

The voices of the people echoed across the training ground as Belthon stopped before Elias.