The Villainous Noble’s Father - Chapter 20

It was a clear, sunny day in April.

In the eastern part of the royal capital stood the Royal Academy, right at the heart of the academic district.

This year’s entrance ceremony at the Royal Academy was filled with an unusual tension.

Security was tighter than ever, on a level more fitting for a battlefield than a school event. The Royal Guard, fresh from the Demon War, and the prestigious Third Knight Order of the Duke’s House were leading the charge. It was a full-blown military-style operation.

All of this, just because an absurdly large number of people came to watch a duel between a noble heir and a commoner student, an event the Duke’s family itself had helped organize.

Though, saying it like that kind of makes it sound like it’s all my fault. Which it’s not.

Sure, I may have helped spread the word about the duel. I casually brought it up within my faction, and it came up during some meetings with southern nobles. But I never expected this many nobles from all over the country to show up.

And honestly, I’m not the only one to blame.

“Hmm. Feels cramped, doesn’t it? It sounds grand when you call it a ‘traditional arena,’ but it’s really just a school facility. No wonder it’s tight with this many people,” said my lazy cousin as he stuffed popcorn into his mouth, sounding way too relaxed.

That carefree guy? That’s our King.

“You’re seriously the last person who should talk. This whole situation blew up because you said you were coming! Everyone scrambled to accommodate you!” I snapped.

The world of nobles is way more pressure-filled than any small-town gossip circle in Japan. Once the King said he was attending, his poor aides sprang into action, and that started a chain reaction of nobles moving heaven and earth to follow suit.

“Come on now, I may have some influence, but you’re the real culprit here, Roberto. You stirred up all the nobles at those meetings!” the King shot back.

Sigh. Honestly, it’s pathetic. He’s deflecting the blame just because I hit a nerve.

“I don’t remember doing anything like that,” I replied. “All I did was briefly mention the duel between my son and the boy we took in.”

“If I remember right, didn’t you say something to the northern lords like, ‘Maybe you should brew a tea from Leonard’s fingernail dirt and drink it?’ And to the southern nobles, ‘Your kids have less talent than the commoner I’m sponsoring?’”

“…That was just an honest assessment.”

In fact, I sugarcoated it quite a bit. I mean, the southern nobles can’t even use Red Eye and they still have the nerve to talk about protecting the kingdom like they’re hot stuff.

“Heheheh. If you ask me,” said a long-bearded old man in robes, chuckling like a jolly grandpa, “it’s thanks to you two, no, it’s because of you two that we’re having such a spectacle.”

That was Headmaster Wiseman.

He’s your classic white-bearded, twinkle-in-the-eye, wise old wizard character you’d find in any fantasy school story and he’s the real deal when it comes to skill.

In the game, he’s the “cool adult” who secretly supports the protagonist’s wild plans from the shadows. And that cheerful chuckle? Not an act. He’s just making so much money off this whole thing he can’t stop grinning.

In exchange for officially approving this duel, he squeezed the Duke’s family for funding to renovate the arena and rebuild part of the campus. On top of that, he’s charging a massive entrance fee to all the nobles attending.

What a shrewd old man.

The arena is basically an indoor colosseum, with tiered seating under a roof and a stone ring in the center where the duel will take place.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and a buzz of curiosity spread through the crowd.

Huh? Is something wrong? Was this part of the plan?

“Thank you all for waiting!”

With a soft whoosh, a spotlight lit up the center ring, revealing a lady in a black-and-gold dress. Her pink-blonde hair shimmered under the lights.

“Now begins the Finster-Heréol Family’s Official Royal Academy Combat Tournament!”

Her voice, magically amplified, echoed like chimes across the arena. As she spoke, deep tribal drum beats began to throb through the arena like a heartbeat.

Wait, what the hell is this dramatic vibe? And why is my future daughter-in-law announcing?! That wasn’t part of the plan!

“In the blue corner! A rogue with the highest mana level in the academy’s history, despite being a commoner! Driven by his blazing ambition, he stormed the academy gates, claiming: ‘I was born on the battlefield, and I’ve taken everything I wanted with my own strength! The title of strongest student will be no different!’ Behold, the white-flamed, bloodthirsty tiger, Alan!!”

Blue flames lit up one side of the stage as smoke poured in. Out stepped Alan, looking completely mortified.

Yeah, I’d make that face too… How did a war orphan who worked quietly and diligently become some battlefield-born powerhouse out to conquer the world?

“And in the red corner! A prodigy born with everything! Brilliant mind, stunning looks, unstoppable will, unshakable spirit! All praise dims before him! Ignoring the unworthy, those obsidian eyes aim only for godhood! The black-lightning lion, heir to the Finster-Heréol Family, Leonard Johnston von Finster-Heréol, whom I love with all my heart!”

The opposite corner erupted in red light and smoke, and out came Leonard, wearing a deeply uncomfortable expression.

Well, okay, none of that is technically wrong… but this commentary is completely one-sided. Did she just say she loves him out loud?!

This is the kind of announcer who’d slip Leonard a weapon when Alan isn’t looking. Poor Alan’s been cast as the villain! “Bloodthirsty tiger”? What is this, Fist of the North Star?

What the hell is that future daughter-in-law of mine doing?

Okay, yes. I did involve her in this duel. She wanted to do something to support Leonard, so I asked her to help run the event. She even came up with some presentation ideas.

But no one told her to go this far!

“This is… oddly cutting-edge! I like it!” the King exclaimed.

“Hmmm, flashy indeed… Perhaps we should make this an annual tradition,” added the sly old headmaster.

Meanwhile, I sat there holding my head, listening to these two morons say the dumbest things. And judging by the faces of the nobles around us, they seem to be enjoying it too.

At first, they looked unsure, but now they’re all shouting “Woo!” like it’s a pro wrestling match.

Can’t really blame them, though. Entertainment is seriously lacking in this world. It’s even more starved than mid-Showa era Japan when everyone crowded around outdoor TVs to watch baseball and wrestling.

Add smoke, lights, and fire to the mix, and this is what you get.

While my headache throbbed, my future daughter-in-law’s cheerful narration carried on.

“These two both received training from the great hero, Duke Roberto Maxwell von Finster-Heréol! They are, in a way, disciples of the same master!”

Uh… yeah? I guess you could frame it that way…

“And this duel will not only determine the strongest student in the academy, but possibly the successor to the Reaper himself!!”

Okay, that has to be an exaggeration. I mean, if he wants the title, I’ll give it to him, but still…

The crowd murmured in excitement, reacting with such sincerity it kind of warms my heart.

“And now, the curtain rises on this fateful showdown!!”

In the center of the ring, the two boys faced each other with wooden swords in hand. Their expressions were… not thrilled. The swords were just symbolic, really. With their power, they didn’t need them.

And no, they weren’t allowed to use the holy sword or demon blade, too dangerous.

“The rules: anything goes! No time limit! One round! Knockout by ring-out or 10 second-countdown!”

I based the rules on a mix of old martial arts traditions and fantasy duels. Also, unlike some fantasy stories, there’s no magical resurrection field or invincibility bubble here—yes, they could actually die.

“Do your best, Leonard-sama! Ready… FIGHT!”

That damn girl…!