People were judged by appearances. No matter how talented someone was, if their looks were no better than a hideous man, they would always attract negative attention, no matter what they did. Rajis, the Sword Dragon, was a prime example. He had been blessed by the heavens with everything: a strong physique, outstanding talent in swordsmanship, a noble soul, and a dignified, commanding presence. But in one area, it seemed even the gods had abandoned him: his face. He had narrow, elongated eyes, cheekbones that jutted upward as if ready to ascend to heaven, and a bulky nose, an oddly asymmetrical jaw… One poet once described Rajis’s face this way: “It’s as if God fell backward while sculpting Rajis’ face.” In noble society, marriage was an extension of politics. Bloodlines and abilities mattered more than age or appearance. In that sense, Rajis was the ultimate groom candidate; he was a prodigy who had become a Swordmaster at just twenty-two, destined to rise to the rank of a Prime, equivalent to seven-star. To become a Prime meant becoming one of the lords of the kingdom. To be the wife of such a man would be a prize no noble family would refuse. However, Rajis was just too ugly—so ugly it was almost a tragedy. “Ah… this is a bit much…” As Rajis aged, his harsh features only became more pronounced. Even among nobles, who would normally overlook appearances if status and talent were good enough, none could help but grimace when they saw him. On top of that, he gave off a strange, fishy smell, which especially made it hard for women to endure his presence. Of course, Rajis himself knew he was ugly, but he didn’t care. Even when urged by his family to undergo cosmetic surgery, Rajis steadfastly refused. Rajis was the embodiment of righteousness. “My dream is to end the cold wars with neighboring countries. Furthermore, it is to conquer the demon realms that threaten this continent, so that everyone may live without fear and enjoy peace.” Hearing such lofty ideals, his father, the patriarch of Garcia, was worried. “You are a citizen of the Lillian Kingdom. Is it not enough to fight only for the peace of this nation—no, for the peace of our family? Why would you seek to save even the citizens of enemy lands?” However, Rajis was adamant. “Because it is the will of our founding ancestors who forged the Flawless Immortal Raiment. As his descendant, I must continue his legacy.” With such convictions, it was only natural for Rajis to protect the weak and defend the vulnerable. Helping Sefira was an obvious choice for him. He simply could not stand by while multiple stronger forces bullied the weaker Sefira. “Sir Rajis, this is a misunderstanding.” Fighting a five-star Master like Rajis would bring no benefit, especially when their true target was Sefira. Thus, Regan attempted to reason with him politely. “We merely happened to gather here by coincidence and fight. Since the cowardly Sefira brothers kept firing from a distance, we were simply trying to deal with the archers strategically.” People often made many mistakes based on appearance—believing, for instance, that an ugly man must also be a fool. Rajis, aiming his sword at Regan’s throat, warned coldly, “Don't insult my intelligence with such clumsy lies. Do you think I don’t know you conspired with mages to track Sefira’s location?” “W-what are you saying?! That’s baseless slander!” Ignoring Regan, Rajis turned toward Anis and Taragon. “Sefira, please withdraw. I will handle things here.” At that moment, there were one four-star knight, eight three-star knights, and a growing number of two-star knights gathering. Taragon struggled to understand why Rajis would help them and couldn’t bring himself to simply abandon him. “We will fight alongside you. If we join forces, we still have a chance…” But Anis cut him off. “No. Accept Sir Rajis’s kindness. If we stay, we’ll only get in his way.” Though he couldn’t fully understand it, Taragon nodded. Without looking back, Anis and Taragon sprinted away. They had already gathered ten badges each during the battle. They had reached their goal of five points. If they had more energy left, they might have stayed to lower other knights' scores further, but with their aura nearly depleted, there was no point risking it. “Who said you could run?!” Regan unleashed sword energy toward them. It was thick, sharp, and perfectly formed, but… But Rajis casually swung his sword, and the incoming energy shattered like mist. “If you want to chase after the Sefira brothers, you’ll have to get through me first.” Regan bit his lip in frustration. “Sir Rajis. Do you not realize what it means to stand in our way? You would be offending many of the high nobles, including Lord Galahind.” “How absurd. You think the Garcia family—I—would be afraid of some other families?” “If that's how it is… then we have no choice.” Aura erupted violently from Regan’s sword. The other three-star knights also summoned all the aura they could muster. It wasn’t just pride as knights that kept them from retreating; there was also a very subjective, unfounded belief among them that they might stand a chance since Rajis had only recently become a Master. In response, Rajis simply raised his sword overhead, so slowly it was almost frustrating to watch. The sword, raised at a sluggish pace, began to descend even more slowly. As it did, the path of the sword was vividly etched into the sky. It was the Steady Sword of Flawless Immortal Raiment. The sword Rajis held was barely as wide as a fingertip, yet to Regan, it felt like the sword descending from the heavens was vast enough to cover the entire island. It wasn’t an illusion. The mere presence of the descending blade created an overwhelming, crushing weight that pressed down on their entire bodies. Should I dodge it? Block it? I-it doesn’t matter. No matter what they did, there would be no stopping Rajis’s sword. Fear turned into dread of death, dread turned into regret, and regret gave way to resignation. But then… The Steady Sword descended to the earth. It left a scar upon the land, as if a giant had smashed down a sword the size of his own body. And yet… There were no casualties. Regan and the other three-star knights were still alive. Only, they were frozen like statues, petrified by the terror that had seized them when they were certain they would die. Rajis approached them slowly, calmly stripping each knight of all their badges as he said, “I’ve been struggling to gather badges because no one would dare fight me. Thanks to you, that problem is solved. I’m grateful.” Since the tournament began, Rajis hadn’t once attacked knights who fled at the mere sight of him. Thus, despite being a Master, he had only collected a single badge. But thanks to Regan and his men foolishly challenging him, Rajis was able to preserve his dignity and obtain more than twenty badges. “I only need twenty. I’ll leave the remaining six here. Please divide them among yourselves as you see fit.” Setting six badges atop a nearby rock, Rajis immediately turned and made his way toward the exit. Originally, several knights had been lying in ambush around the exit, but now not a single one remained. That was because Spear Dragon Jordic had wiped them all out, baffled at how they called themselves knights while hiding like sneaky rats. Amidst the traces of intense battle, Rajis noticed the distinctive marks of Jordic’s spearmanship and nodded. Looks like Jordic cleaned up the area. That’s just like him. Then, in the distance, he saw Anis and Taragon approaching the gate. Rajis made no effort to greet them, as he knew that doing so would likely only make them uncomfortable. No one had ever appreciated his ugly face. Even his own parents, who never said anything aloud, had ever met his gaze when speaking to him. He knew better than anyone that it was unrealistic for him to expect warmth from strangers he had just met, even if they owed him their lives. He was used to not receiving thanks after helping someone. It’s fine. I didn’t do it to get something in exchange. To avoid making them uncomfortable, Rajis quietly waited behind the gate until Anis and Taragon had gone ahead. “Sir Rajis!” shouted Taragon, having seen him. To show he had no hostile intent, Taragon ran over with his hands raised. Rajis, caught off guard, responded curtly, “What would you have done if I had attacked?” Seeing Taragon flinch nervously, Rajis gave a faint chuckle. “Phew, thank goodness. Um, I came to thank you for helping us.” “I simply followed the code of knighthood.” “Um… Sir Rajis, is there something behind me?” “You’re not looking at my face. You keep speaking while looking past me.” Rajis had a habit he wasn’t even fully aware of: when speaking to others, he would avoid eye contact. He always averted his gaze just slightly to the side, thinking it would make others feel less burdened by his appearance. Realizing this through Taragon’s observation, Rajis gave a bittersweet smile. “It’s all right. I’ve received your thanks clearly enough. Please, you and your brother should leave first. I’ll follow after.” “Anis stayed behind to keep watch, but he asked me to deliver his thanks as well. Once again, thank you. We will repay this debt, no matter what.” Rajis still kept his gaze turned slightly away, but he could clearly feel that Taragon was looking directly at his face. After Anis and Taragon had left, Rajis didn’t head to the exit right away. He stood there for a while, head bowed, as if deep in thought. The first day of the tournament had ended, along with the battle royale for Group A. Some results were as expected by the tens of thousands of commoners and hundreds of nobles watching, and others were completely unimaginable. —Rajis: Twenty badges. Seven points. —Jordic: Twelve badges. Five points. —Anis: Ten badges. Five points. —Taragon: Ten badges. Five points. —Regan: Nine badges. Three points. —Polka: Six badges. Three points. Everyone expected Sword Dragon Rajis to score seven points. Seeing it, people nodded in agreement, thinking it was impressive. Likewise, Spear Dragon Jordic earning five points wasn’t surprising either. Though not a five-star like Rajis, he was a four-star, skilled with the spear and strikingly handsome. Audiences actually cheered Jordic’s name more enthusiastically than Rajis’, especially after he cleared out the knights loitering near the escape gate. Mixed among Jordic’s name were two that hadn’t been expected at all: Anis and Taragon. Both had scored five points, the highest after the Sword and Spear Dragon. No one had predicted it. All of it was shattered—the stigma of being the weakest among the noble families, the prejudice that archers were useless outside of large-scale battles, and the assumption that archers were helpless alone. Everyone had seen their performance clearly on-screen, so there was no room for dispute. Anis and Taragon left a lasting impression. Their excellent archery skills with makeshift bows and arrows crafted on the spot, and their composure and boldness despite difficult conditions. Anis also made the audience laugh by winning a four-star knight in close-combat and saying that his legs were weak. Taragon, even more so, impressed the audience with martial arts that surpassed Anis’. His strikes were precise and lethal. It was rare to see an archer overwhelm a three-star knight using only close combat. Of course, his strength and speed were boosted with Heavenly Strength, but to the audience, that didn’t matter. Even the nobles began to reevaluate the Sefira family. “Were they always this strong?” “When have we ever seen Sefira fight ? We’ve only seen them shooting from the fortress walls, never on land.” “Could all of Sefira’s archers be this formidable?” “Perhaps Rajis aiding Sefira reflects the will of the Garcia family…” What should have become Besil’s mistake now made the nobles wonder. Besil’s passive strategy and avoidance of battles, the Masters of Swordsmanship's dismissal of Sefira in small-scale skirmishes left the nobles confused. “Have we misunderstood Sefira?” “Sefira’s patriarch is terrifying…” “Perhaps now’s the time to build friendly relations…” Though admiration for Anis and Taragon surged, no one quite considered them contenders for the championship yet. “I believe the terrain in the first event favored archers. It was wide and had many places to hide.” “Indeed. In the second and third event, the expected results will play out.” The next two rounds—the team and individual tournaments—took place in smaller spaces: seventy meters for the team match, and fifty for the individual. It was a generous size for swordsmen but cramped for archers. As nobles made optimistic predictions about the tournament’s outcome, others weren’t enjoying the festivities. A bottle of two-hundred-year-old Sangreal, worth tens of thousands of gold, shattered against the wall. No liquid stained the walls, as all of the wine had been drunk. Marquis Galahind trembled with fury, his fists clenched tight. “What in the hell happened?! How does Sefira have that kind of strength?! Anis and Taragon shouldn’t be more than two-star knights!” The three noble allies of Galahind were equally outraged. As they rose to express their fury, the laxative laced in the Sangreal that Keter had gifted began to take effect. The room filled with awkward, resonant flatulence. Galahind’s eye twitched violently. “Who dared to break wind in front of…” Suddenly clutching his stomach, Galahind’s face went pale. “Uh, I need to step out for a moment…” The other nobles were no better. Though their postures differed, everyone was clutching their bellies in agony. With a flushed face, Galahind shouted, “Out of the way!!” Googlᴇ search 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹⟡𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⟡𝙣𝙚𝙩 As his sphincter—the last guardian of dignity— threatened to give way, Galahind sprinted for the restroom. Just as he grabbed the door handle… The trap bomb Keter had rigged to the handle exploded. The blast was small, only enough to wreck the door and the inside of the bathroom. But that was all it needed to be. As Galahind lay half-buried beneath the blasted door, a brown fluid leaked from his trousers. The knights who rushed in to check if he was alive recoiled, covering their noses. The other three nobles, Delmore, Eiwen, and Bristan, panicked, scrambling to knock on any nearby room. “Please! Open the door! I need a restroom!” “Open up! Please, the bathroom!” But other nobles, behind closed doors, refused to unlock them. “Who is it? What’s going on?” Just as he tried to speak, Delmore collapsed. “What… is that smell?” Eiwen and Bristan met the same fate. These high nobles, patriarchs of powerful houses, had soiled themselves in full view, right in the palace corridors where other nobles passed by. As for Galahind—though he had lost control of his bowels, he was fully conscious, which made it worse. Sprawled on the floor, humiliated, he barked at his knights, “Find the Viscount Monsord! Bring him to me immediately! Scour this entire city if you must!” The only thing he had consumed was the Sangreal from Viscount Monsord, or rather, his servant, but that didn’t matter now. That had to be what caused this. Of course, there was no Monsord. Keter had made him up on the spot. This entire mess was the result of Galahind’s arrogance and Keter’s delightfully brazen scheme. It was a filthy masterpiece, born of recklessness and retribution. Even after Group A’s match ended, the excitement and energy of the crowd hadn’t died down, thanks to the upcoming Group B match scheduled for the very next day. It wasn’t just the commoners; even the nobles considered it the most highly anticipated match of the tournament. There were two figures in Group B who stood at the center of this burning attention: Keter, the first-ever independent participant in tournament history, and Henya, the daughter of Eslow and the Sword Witch. Of course, no one actually believed Keter would defeat Henya. “It’s impressive that Keter entered the tournament as an independent, but isn’t he just a Diamond-class mercenary? He’s not really a contender. Lady Henya is in Group B, and so is the Red Wolf!” “I’m not even sure if he could beat a three-star knight.” “But there are rumors he conjured up Aura Arrows from scratch.” “That’s definitely nonsense. Keter brought a letter of recommendation from Gyro, the Gambler. He probably learned swordsmanship from him. And he only joined Sefira three months ago. How could he have learned archery in such a short period of time?” The crowd was curious to see what kind of performance Keter would show, but no one actually expected him to fight well. However, there was something the crowd didn’t know: Henya owed Keter a debt, and she was fully aware of it. The moment the Anis and Taragon returned to the palace after Group A’s match, Henya went to find Keter.