Reincarnated as a Son of the Sword Saint and the Sage

495  The Preliminary Round

Three days after the registration, the first day of the preliminaries had begun. As a participant in the tournament, Azrael, who was masking as Erik, was in a camp outside the black walls together with thousands of other fighters. Due to the number of fighters, it was a tradition to hold the preliminary in a more spacious area, like outside the city, to avoid chaos among citizens. The arena was reserved for the main event, which would be participated in by the winners in the preliminary. There was also the factor that the participants in the arena were equipped with an expensive item, so the fewer the gladiators would save the empire and the guild some money. Large tents were scattered around the camp, and each tent could give dozens of warriors shade from the sun while waiting for their fights. Within the camp, numerous makeshift wooden raised platforms, around eight in total, were temporarily constructed to serve as arenas for the prelims.

Each makeshift arena would be held a one-by-one match. The preliminary rounds would be a single-round competition, which meant that participants would be immediately eliminated upon defeat. The duelists would be systematically chosen through the lottery. The top four contestants on each temporary arena would advance to the main event at the coliseum. The participants were given numbers during the registration. Erik remembered his number to be No. 129. Looking at the chart, he would face off contestant No. 864. Since he remotely recorded the registration list, Erik knew who was his opponent. After hours of waiting, his turn to step on the stage had come.

"Next fight! No. 129 versus No. 864! No. 129 and No. 864, please come to the third platform right now!" Upon the loud call of one of the officials, Erik forced himself into the congestion of the crowd before reaching the more spacious area nearby the platform. Looking around, he was his opponent talking with an official confirming his identity. Erik was then approached by one. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Are you No. 129?"

"Yes. My name is Erik."

"Good. Get to the platform right away."

After the bright interaction with the official, Erik got to the platform where his opponent already stood. His opponent was a middle-aged man with not-so-lean or muscular physique. Judging from the robe and wooden staff he was wearing and holding, respectively, his opponent was undoubtedly a magic caster. "What's with that getup, boy? You only make yourself look ridiculous."

His opponent mocked up his mask, and some of the audience actually laughed with him. But Erik took no heed of it and kept himself cool. "Prove yourself first before you comment, old man."

Erik unsheathed his weapon, which was a shining mithrill rapier. The referee stepped forward in between them before raising his hand. "The match between Contestant No. 129, Erik, and Contestant No. 864, Martin, began!"

The moment the referee brought down his hand, Erik's opponent, Martin, pointed his staff at Erik before unleashing the magic spell he had precast beforehand. Being able to precast was a sign of a skilled mage. "Flamethrower!"

A violent gush of fire was released from his staff, and it was on its way to completely devour its target. Erik's initial response was to jump, but Martin had prepared an attack for him midair. He then decided to dash sideways and lunged himself toward Martin. "Eat this! Water Lance!" Canceling the Flamethrower, the mage fired a Level 4 Water Magic spell toward dashing Erik. In response, Erik thrust his rapier forward and collided it with the Water Lance. The water broke and burst out, leaving Martin in panic and making him reflexively cast defensively. "Fire Wall!"

A flaming wall gushed forth from the floor and created a division between Martin and Erik. Erik immediately stepped back not to get hit by the flames. But he was not going to wait for another attack. Erik used Martial Art Level 6, Dash, to the side and then one more time toward Martin, who was in the middle of casting a spell. Martin realized it was too late to react as he caught a glimpse of Erik slashing his blade diagonally. Before the rapier reached the target, Erik flipped the blade to its flat side before proceeding to send Martin's staff in the air. This was a tournament, so making them incapable to fight was enough to win. Martin dropped his knees and got all fours in the process. Once he raised his head, he saw in the pointy end of Erik's blade only a few inches in front of his face. "Looks like it's my win, old man."

"Alright, I surrender."

"Contestant No. 864 is unable to fight! The winner of this match is Contestant No. 129, Erik! Erik has advanced to the next round!" The referee then declared Erik the winner, and a number of claps echoed in the ring. There were also comments about his performance spreading among the audience, who were also contestants of the tournament. After the match, Erik stepped out of the platform, and he received a few compliments from other warriors as he walked out. Even though his next match was tomorrow, he could stay here for some time. Erik then walked to the platform next to his to watch the fight there. In the match there was a fight between a swordsman and an archer. As many had predicted, the swordsman easily obliterated the archer and even inflicted huge damage on him.

Afterwards, Erik roamed around the camp to watch the others fight as well. He noticed that he had not seen even a shadow of Prince Edward. He was supposed to be present to participate in the preliminary, but he was not.

Apparently, from what he heard from the others, Edward had already advanced to the Top 32 or the main event. Erik thought the emperor made him a favor to increase his chances of winning—royal privilege. Since Edward could not be stopped, his father was doing what he could to help him. That being said, since one spot had been occupied by the crown prince, the preliminaries would be choosing the remaining thirty-one spots. Everything seemed to be normal so far in the preliminary stages. However, Erik took note of something that other fighters had noticed in the camp—there were too many archers or other sorts of marksmen in the competition. Through the preliminary rounds, there were matches involving a marksman or two. Erik found it strange as well, and he could sense that there was something fishy on it. Whatever it was, Erik needed to be cautious at the time.