A records archive lined wall-to-wall with solid wooden bookshelves. In one corner of the paper-scented room, a wide desk had been set up. Hugo placed the thick file he had just printed on the tabletop and perched lightly beside it.
With one hand he lifted a cup of coffee that had already gone cold to his lips, while the other hand mechanically flipped through a stack of documents floating in the air. His gaze moved along with them, sweeping steadily across the pages. Participant profiles for the league flashed rapidly through his field of view.
Repeating the same motion, he turned one more page—and paused.
D67-808
Gillad Gastovar
Alias: Beast
His hollowed eyelids twitched slightly. The participant number at the very top and the league alias caught his attention. After staring at it quietly for a moment, Hugo pulled that sheet out of the stack and placed it to his left. A few other papers, previously extracted from different files, were already spread there.
D67-314
Benetra Lacrusia
Alias: Belle
F114-296
Jack Cutter
Alias: Appendix
Special Note: Withdrawn
Leaning back on his arms, Hugo set down the coffee cup and stared at the papers. The code preceding the participant numbers being the same—D67—meant that, even if the exact submission times differed, the applications had been filed at the same regional registration office.
His blue eyes continued scanning the pages until they stopped at a man’s real name: Jack Cutter.
I shouldn’t be thinking this about someone’s name...
Still, it struck him as slightly playful. The combination of a notorious unidentified criminal’s name and the surname meaning “cutter.” It simply didn’t feel like a real name.
Of course, there was also someone nearby with the peculiar surname Hazelnut, but that man was the second son of a hazelnut orchard family who had officially applied for a name change with the state—so that was understandable.
Knock knock.
The concise knock from outside the door interrupted his thoughts. Hugo answered without shifting his gaze, as if he already knew who the visitor was.
“Come in.”
Click.
With the sound of the door opening, a head cautiously peeked inside. It was Flinn. The tightly closed door opened halfway, and the quiet room was immediately filled with noise from outside.
The roaring cheers of the crowd and the heat of the spectators surged inward.
Heavy drumbeats and the opening music announcing the beginning of the event echoed through the air. Even before Flinn could speak, Hugo realized the time was approaching and checked his wristwatch.
“Do I have to go now?”
“Yes. The official ceremony starts in five minutes, so it would be best if you move now.”
“The battalion commanders?”
“They’re all seated.”
“I’ll hear about this later.”
Hugo narrowed his eyes slightly and stood up. Fastening the buttons of his jacket, he gestured toward the desk with his chin.
“Flinn. Write down the participant numbers I set aside. Then put them back in their original positions and organize the files again.”
“Understood. Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Roughly. Once the schedule ends and I return to headquarters, I’ll check the original applications as well.”
“Yes, sir. Should I give Gabe a heads-up in advance?”
“No. It’s better if there isn’t an official record of the inspection. I’m counting on you.”
With that brief instruction, Hugo left in hurried strides. Flinn, who had been about to organize the documents, suddenly turned.
“Ah, Commander—”
Click.
But the door had already closed, and the noise outside vanished as if it had never been there.
Flinn stood there blankly for a moment, scratching his cheek before finishing organizing the scattered files and papers. Lately, whenever the commander attended a match, he would disappear immediately afterward, saying he had another engagement.
As his adjutant and attendant, Flinn occasionally found himself in awkward situations because of that.
“I should’ve asked if he was leaving again today...”
It wasn’t as if important schedules were disrupted, nor did the commander keep everything completely secret—but he never revealed the exact destination either. On days when urgent approval requests poured in from every direction or when a councilor asked about the commander’s whereabouts, improvising an explanation on the spot was difficult.
There had even been an incident before where the entire mansion froze with tension.
According to the other attendants, lately the commander’s uniform had often returned wrinkled or dirty, and he seemed to go to bed very late at night. They quietly wondered if something was troubling him.
Whenever such rumors surfaced, Flinn would briefly find himself curious about his master’s private life—wanting to support him more fully—but he quickly reminded himself of his proper role.
Even if someone else’s scent clung strongly to the dust-covered cloak he returned wearing, refraining from speculation was the duty of a true adjutant and attendant.
Having quickly finished organizing everything, Flinn gathered an armful of files and was about to move toward the bookshelf.
“Huh?”
Something slipped out from beneath the thick stack of documents and fell near his feet. Setting the files back on the desk, Flinn bent down and picked it up.
What’s this?
It looked like a gambling chip.
A thin token with the number 0 engraved on it.
There was a tiny hole drilled through its center.
Gambling had always been a popular pastime among nobles. With stakes that large, the rise and fall of entire families could hinge on a single table.
But unless it was unavoidable—such as appearing in high society or entertaining an important guest—the commander had always kept his distance from such things.
Did he pick up a new hobby?
Flinn studied the token with a puzzled expression, then carefully slipped it into the inner pocket of his uniform. After placing the files back into the bookshelf, he wiped away any fingerprints with a handkerchief, just in case any traces were left behind. Only after picking up the coffee cup as well did he follow the path Hugo had taken.
***
<Welcome to the Ether Nexus Stadium! Today’s first preliminary match of the Xenogrant League will take place right here on the Nebaron Field!>
<Nebaron was once considered a promising aerial city alongside Celestia. Over roughly 3,000 years, its altitude gradually descended, and it now maintains a height of about 77 meters above the ground. Because of that, the scenery—where sky and earth seem to meet—creates a strange and beautiful spectacle.>
<That’s right. Ironically, as it drew closer to the ground, its stability improved dramatically, and over the past five years it has become an indispensable core arena of the league. And speaking of Nebaron’s defining characteristics—we cannot overlook ‘Ether’! Can you feel it? That sensation of lightness, as though walking on clouds?>
When Hugo stepped out into the outdoor spectator stands, the cheers grew even louder, as if the sky itself might split apart. Because this was the first match open to the public, professional commentators would accompany the entire event from start to finish. Their powerful voices, amplified by magic and heightened by the live atmosphere, made the ground vibrate faintly beneath his feet.
The unusual structure of the stadium also played a role.
This arena was not a colosseum nor a semicircle. It was a perfect sphere, suspended in the air.
When many lords authorize stadium construction in their territories, they consider symbolism and commercial interests, striving to give each venue unique characteristics. The lord of Nebaron, who proudly declared his lineage to be descendants of the heavenly realm, had spent many years differentiating his domain from Celestia.
The result—the Ether Nexus Stadium—was widely considered a successful attempt.
<Ether is the geometric energy most prominent on the Nebaron Field. It acts as a medium for the flow and transmission of mana, and is involved in levitation and expansion.>
<In this Ether-dense Ether Nexus Stadium, we are extremely excited to see what kind of performances the participants will deliver! Now then, before the betting begins, we will reveal the list of competitors making their debut in this preliminary round! Please welcome them with thunderous applause!>
Waaaaaaah!
Aside from several upper and lower openings in the stadium where light could enter, nearly 270 degrees of the sphere’s interior—top, bottom, and sides—was packed with spectator seats and broadcasting facilities.
If someone sat in the stands and looked diagonally across, it almost appeared as though people were seated on the ceiling.
The reason this was possible lay in the stadium’s unique gravitational effect.
Because of the expansion properties of the Ether filling the spherical arena, a force pushing outward acted like a second gravity for those in the stands, allowing them to walk normally as if on solid ground.
However, the center of the arena had weaker gravity, meaning that even a light jump could result in an unusually long time suspended in the air.
That was both the defining feature of this stadium and the key variable of today’s match.
In other words, even competitors who could not fly would gain an effect similar to aerial mobility.
This would benefit most participants.
But for Lion, who originally fought like the wind itself, it would hardly be welcome news.
<The national anthem will begin shortly. Please rise.>
Moving briskly, Hugo arrived just in time at the box seating area where the upper members of the Council were gathered. A few irritated glances were directed his way for arriving late, but after a brief nod of greeting, he headed toward the open-air section above the box seats reserved for battalion-level commanders.
As his cloak fluttered past, his subordinates greeted him silently with their eyes.
Returning the gesture, Hugo naturally took his place at the central seat between Vice Commander Shorendo and Second Battalion Commander Loren.
On the way, he noticed that the Eleventh Battalion Commander’s seat was empty.
He also felt the gazes of Third Battalion Commander Meterion and Eighth Battalion Commander Venum follow him briefly.
They were withdrawn soon after.
“You’ve arrived.”
Shorendo whispered softly.
Hugo nodded slightly. The moment he faced forward in his position, the orchestra’s music swelled magnificently from one side of the stadium.
At the same time, every Council-affiliated commander and soldier—including Hugo—raised their right arms in salute.
The spectators also stood, removed their hats, and fixed their eyes on a single point.
A massive imperial flag, carried by four small levitating vessels at its corners, unfurled like a great wave and slowly revealed its majesty across the sky.
