The Martial Emperor Festival. It was one of the most prestigious martial competitions in the world.
During this period, skilled martial artists from every nation converged on Klied.
Mages, knights, martial artists, and — Treasure Hunters. Merely being allowed to participate was considered proof of being first-rate, and the tournament was an object of aspiration for anyone who enjoyed the martial arts.
If, by some extraordinary stroke of luck, one actually won, that name would thunder across a thousand leagues. One might even be etched into history.
In this era, where the balance of power was decided by the powerful Treasure Weapons that the Treasure Hall produced, strength equaled value — and the Martial Emperor Festival was the perfect stage to prove it.
Klied, visited by Tinno for the first time, was far noisier than he had imagined.
Stalls lined the streets, their merchants' calls echoing through the air. Countless banners bearing the sword — Klied's emblem — flew from rooftops, and even outdoors, the palpable heat of the crowd tightened Tinno's focus.
During this period, the strongest of the strong gathered in Klied. The participants' companions would surely come to cheer them on.
Just walking through the crowd, Tinno could spot countless people who had absorbed no small amount of Mana Material. Among them were several whose abilities surpassed even his own.
But the tournament's participants were stronger still than those people.
What would be decided here was the pinnacle of martial might — the Martial Emperor. The more one honed their strength, the more one progressed along the path of a Hunter, the more one came to understand just how vast the world truly was.
Tinno took a shallow breath and clenched his fist with renewed determination.
At this year's Martial Emperor Festival, Tinno would not be competing. His abilities were insufficient, he had received no invitation to participate in the preliminary rounds, and he had not built up the achievements necessary to earn one.
But Mastaa — his beloved Master — and his older sister would be competing, and that was tantamount to Tinno competing himself.
This time, a large number of Beginning Footprint members had come to Klied. The benefits of the Clan Master's prestige trickled down to the clan in no small measure.
Tinno was certain.
All the mighty competitors — under Mastaa's divine strategies and ghostly machinations, they were all equally…
Dust and chaff.
— At this year's Martial Emperor Festival, Mastaa would become a legend.
Of course, his older sister and the others would make it far. But they couldn't possibly defeat Mastaa. In fact, Tinno had witnessed Luke — his older brother — and his sister engaging in what amounted to a deathmatch disguised as a sparring session, but he had never once seen anyone spar with Mastaa.
They understood that the gap in their stages was simply too vast. Fists alone did not constitute the whole of combat; the moment one faced Mastaa, the match was already over.
The champion would be Mastaa. That was now an absolute certainty.
The strongest clan, assembled with the strongest members. And Mastaa, victorious at the Martial Emperor Festival, would surely be certified as Level 9 before long.
Tinno would become a witness to a legend.
He didn't think Mastaa needed any help, but for the sake of Mastaa's victory, Tinno was prepared to do anything.
From the day he learned of Mastaa's participation in the Martial Emperor Festival, Tinno had thrown himself into training with even greater intensity. His sister had left him to his own devices, but there was no slacking on the cheering front. As a junior member, he couldn't afford to show a sorry face.
He had withdrawn every last coin from the modest savings he had painstakingly accumulated, all for today. Using every means at his disposal, Tinno had also gathered intelligence on any opponent who might pose a threat to Mastaa.
Mastaa's reaction upon reviewing the information had been thoroughly disinterested — but that, no doubt, was a sign of confidence.
When Tinno asked whether there was anything he could do, Mastaa told him to find delicious sweets from the stalls and bring them back. That, too, was a sign of confidence.
He had worked hard, scouring every shop in Klied to find delicious sweets, only to find Mastaa absent when he arrived — but that, too, was a trivial matter. Tinno didn't mind in the slightest.
When he asked later, it turned out Mastaa had been busy making fried tofu. Divine strategies and ghostly machinations… terrifying.
And Tinno's greatest objective at the moment was — to make Mastaa the most popular fighter in the tournament.
At the Martial Emperor Festival, a competitor's popularity was clearly displayed in the form of betting odds. The more people who bet on Mastaa, the more popular Mastaa would be — and that would manifest itself as a drop in the odds.
As a betting subject, that was disqualifying — but who cared about betting?
His sister and the others had made Mastaa the leader of the strongest Party. If so, then Tinno would spread Mastaa's reputation far and wide in a single stroke.
Of course, racking up victory after victory from a position with no prior information and building a name that way was one approach.
But Mastaa had said, "I guess I'll try a little harder this time." If that was the case, then Tinno would give it everything he had.
Mastaa was far too modest about promoting his own achievements. Mastaa's sole weakness was his sense of decorum. This was Tinno's all-out effort as a junior member to lift Mastaa's spirits.
This should be the first time Thousand Transformations had entered a martial tournament. That was precisely why Tinno intended to make the Martial Emperor Festival the grandest stage of all.
It was a surprise. Surely Mastaa would be happy.
Naturally, Tinno planned to bet his entire fortune on Mastaa. But something like that was nowhere near enough.
Tinno surveyed the stronghold of powerful fighters that was Klied once more and steeled his resolve.
"Watch me, Mastaa… I'm going to make you the greatest there is."
§ Tinno had gone to speak with members of his own clan first. Among them, Sven Anger — of the Storm Strike Party, affiliated with Beginning Footprint — threw his eyes wide open and stared at Tinno with a look that questioned his sanity.
"Hah!? Bet on Kli!? What are you talking about, you lunatic!? Are you out of your mind!?"
"I am perfectly sane! Sven, if you too are a member of Beginning Footprint, then you should cooperate!"
He slammed both palms on the table. Tinno was his sister's disciple, a Solo — meaning, a lone wolf. Cool by nature, but for the first time in a while, he threw himself into persuasion with burning passion.
The Storm Strike Party, led by Sven, wasn't quite on the level of the Mourning Specter, but it was still a powerful Party.
It steadily built up achievements — in a sense, the polar opposite of the Mourning Specter. Naturally, the assets at its disposal were incomparably greater than Tinno's.
And if word spread that Black Gold Cross had gone all-in with its entire fortune, other Hunters' Parties would surely follow suit.
Henrik, a new member of Black Gold Cross who sat beside Sven, opened his mouth to speak, then immediately shut it again.
After all, Sven had been invited by Mastaa and had come to cheer him on. Joining the betting pool was, in a sense — only natural.
Tinno, clenching his fists and puffing out his chest, was met with these words from Sven: "Bet your entire fortune? But come on, Tinno — Kli could actually lose, you know?"
Tinno's eyes flew wide open at words he hadn't even considered. He glared at Sven and spoke in a tone meant to intimidate.
"!? Are you… questioning the Master's abilities?"
At Tinno's best attempt at a low, threatening voice, Sven narrowed his eyes and replied: "There's no questioning her abilities. No questioning her abilities at all."
"…………"
While Tinno stood in silence, Marietta — the Mage who had been sitting beside Sven — spoke up.
"Think about this calmly, Tinno! The Master — if she wanted to give someone a trial… she wouldn't hesitate to hand them a victory."
Th-that was — true…
Mastaa was incredible. Powerful. Cool. Modest. But — a tyrant when it came to trials.
Thousand Transformations would bend for neither honor nor gold. Always thinking of their comrades. And repeatedly, Mastaa threw Tinno into hellish ordeals.
How many times had Tinno thought he was going to die…
"Tinno, betting on Kli isn't the only way to show your support. Think — really think — about it."
Marietta's expression was one of genuine concern for Tinno. She must have witnessed him come close to death countless times before.
But this time, Mastaa had said, "I guess I'll try a little harder." And Tinno had thought, maybe I should try a little harder too — he'd said it so casually.
Gritting his teeth, he fixed Sven with a glare.
If that was the case, then Tinno had no choice but to believe.
Rather than harbor doubts about his beloved Master, Tinno would rather be blind.
"No… I trust the Master. I'm — putting everything on the Master!"
"…………Tinno… has trusting her ever actually paid off for you?"
"It has!!"
Tinno fired back without a second's thought. And then Henrik — who had been silent until now — spoke up timidly, but said something truly outrageous.
"But, Tinno-san, you lent money to the Master, right? Did you ever get it back?"
"She stopped asking me for money."
This was going nowhere. Tinno spun on his heel.
Besides, the debt was irrelevant now. It hadn't been a loan in the first place — he had given it to her! And the money had come back properly.
…From Citry, his older sister.
"You'd better think clearly! Tinno, Kli is definitely just messing with you!"
Sven's voice, hurled from behind, pierced him to the core.
Sven was brilliant. He acknowledged Mastaa's greatness. That was exactly why those words cut so deep. They hurt.
Mastaa was kind. Truly kind. Mastaa was kind to Tinno too.
…Mastaa, I'm sorry. I'm pathetic for not being able to defend you.
Tinno clamped his hands over his ears, berated his wavering heart, and decided to seek out his next target — the Star's Holy Thunder.
— Since Tinno hasn't been showing up in the story much lately, and I feel a bit sorry for him, here's some filler.