Red for Raina, blue for Logia, and gold for the sun that shines upon them—along with their radiant glory.
The ornate and geometric patterns that could never fit within a simple badge were meticulously embroidered across the three backgrounds. Some scholars, upon seeing it, would launch into passionate lectures whenever matters of state arose. They claimed the imperial banner of Raina Logia was a philosophical chronicle of history itself—embracing past, present, and future.
There had been a time when Leonardo deeply engraved that reverence in his heart and agreed with it. He had once obsessed over the meaning of every line and surface forming the imperial banner and sworn loyalty before it.
Not anymore.
Still... it’s worth looking at.
The majestic procession of imperial banners was clearly visible even from the corridor of the participant waiting area. Leaning against the railing by a window, Leonardo lowered his gaze just as the sky became almost entirely obscured by the flags.
Below, on the transparent ground set in the center of the stadium, the military band raised their trumpets and layered harmonies over the music. The restless stands and the high-ranking nobles alike rose to their feet in unison, resonating with the anthem.
It was a magnificent sight.
Among the floating islets drifting lazily overhead and between sections of the audience seating, official cameramen had stationed themselves. With lenses as large as their own torsos, they captured scenes throughout the stadium.
Within those images appeared theatrical performers in unusual makeup, opera singers, and—occupying a large portion of the view—two massive crystal main boards.
Like a projector, light shone through the engraved film within them, enlarging the display so information could be viewed from anywhere in the arena. As the national anthem gradually drew to a close, the boards that had been filled with imperial flags once again began displaying the list of participants.
Around that time, Leonardo sensed movement nearby again. The loud chatter had diminished, but tension still hung thickly in the air. As if boasting about having passed two tests, competitors stiffened their jaws and shoulders.
At the slightest meeting of eyes, they looked ready to clash.
They were no different from yard dogs barking inside a fence.
Speaking of which... did that brat Ero get eliminated?
Leonardo had grown somewhat fond of the guy and was staring intently at the crystal board, curious whether he had passed. Occasionally, brief notes about notable performances from earlier matches appeared beneath certain names, but none caught his eye yet.
The numbers on the list passed into the 400s, yet there was still no sign of him. Leonardo glanced behind him toward the waiting area and corridor as well—but Ero was nowhere to be seen.
At that point, the probability of elimination began to feel more likely.
“I even gave him all my tokens... what the hell is he doing?”
If that was simply the limit of his ability, there was nothing to be done. Still, the absence of the chatterbox who had been babbling beside him earlier left a faint sense of emptiness.
The kid had kept insisting he would treat him to a meal. Maybe he should have spared the time just once.
Adjusting the mask that had slipped down slightly, Leonardo decided to let it go. There were countless fleeting encounters in life—and only a very few people who continued walking the road beside you.
Letting the thought fade, he absentmindedly touched the blue band fastened around his wrist during the identity verification process. The faintly glowing fluorescent band read:
No. 500 — Lion
Apparently that meant his identity number for this match was 500.
Not number one.
Typical sense of humor from the Council.
“Brother!”
At that moment, a rather welcome voice rang out from the corridor.
Leonardo turned his head instinctively.
There he was—the same useless pistol dangling at his waist as he ran toward him.
The movement briefly drew the attention of nearby competitors, but Leonardo didn’t care. Though the only part of his face visible was his eyes, his expression brightened enough for the other man to notice.
“You’re late.”
His voice remained low as he raised a hand lightly. The corners of his eyes curved like a crescent moon.
Ero quickly approached, letting out a sheepish laugh. Despite his usual quick feet, his breathing was rough—as if he had rushed.
“Haa... ha... were you waiting for me?”
“Are you insane? Why would I wait for you?”
“Come on, brother. You were glad to see me.”
A grown man leaning in with a playful tone should have been annoying, but Leonardo had actually been a little worried about him. He merely snorted instead of reacting harshly.
He didn’t bother denying it.
“So what took you so long?”
“Ah, the roads ahead were completely packed once the registration deadline got close. I thought I was going to miss it—I nearly had a heart attack!”
“Proud of that, are you? You should’ve come earlier. But you somehow passed the test?”
“You mean the last match? Well, since I’m your perfect partner, brother, that much was easy—”
Bzzz—
<Attention. All participants who have completed registration are requested to move to the central multipurpose hall of the waiting area. The match will begin shortly.>
The timing was perfect.
Both men stopped speaking and looked up at the ceiling where the announcement echoed. After the message repeated twice, the scattered participants slowly began rising from their seats.
They started walking together in one direction.
Watching the sudden tide of people forming before them, Ero spoke.
“Brother, looks like it’s starting. Let’s go too.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, and something I wanted to say earlier... thanks for last time. Honestly, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think I could’ve passed on my own.”
Leonardo had been about to step forward but turned back.
Ero twisted his hands shyly, then bowed a full ninety degrees.
“Please take care of me from now on as well! I’ll serve you with absolute sincerity!”
His voice was embarrassingly loud.
It sounded like he meant to rely on Leonardo again in this match—but Leonardo had always been awkward when people expressed gratitude to him. Hearing such a normally noisy guy suddenly speak so formally only made it more uncomfortable.
For a moment, Leonardo stared down at the round crown of Ero’s head. Then he looked at the man’s face as he lifted his head slightly to gauge the reaction.
Ero scratched the back of his head and grinned foolishly again.
He looked like an idiot.
But... well.
Sometimes carrying around one idiot wasn’t such a bad thing.
“If you know that, then act like it. Let’s go.”
Touching the corner of his mouth, Leonardo replied simply before striding forward, his cloak sweeping behind him.
Startled by the dry response, Ero hurried after him.
His mouth, however, kept running nonstop.
“Brother, how about a drink after this today?”
“We’ll see.”
“Oho, that’s a promise then? You said you’ll see depending on the situation. By the way, what number did you get?”
“Five hundred.”
“Wow, looks like even the Council acknowledges we’re a duo now!”
***
[ No. 499 — Joker ]
Test Match #2: 2nd in Group C
[ No. 500 — Lion ]
Test Match #2: 1st in Group C
As the final names on the main board passed by, murmurs spread through the stadium. Some spectators, apparently having made their decisions, began writing numbers on the cards distributed earlier.
The cards were special betting tickets engraved with seat numbers. Only a designated pen could write on them.
<On your betting ticket, please write the numbers of the three participants most likely to advance to the next match. Those who correctly select all three will receive a small bonus.>
<Once written, the entries cannot be erased or modified, so please choose carefully. Betting will close shortly.>
The first betting round of the preliminaries was always relatively easy. Among so many participants, selecting just three often succeeded by sheer luck—even without prior information.
It might appear disadvantageous, but there was a reason for the format.
The first bet was less about profit for the organizers and more like bait—to lure participants into the much larger betting rounds that would follow.
“I wish we could place bets too. Betting among ourselves all the time gets boring.”
“Do not forget your duty. We are not here for entertainment.”
Loren crossed his arms and coldly dismissed Andreas’s complaint. For the sake of fair operation, officials of the organizing body were prohibited from participating in betting.
Naturally so.
Anyone who knew Lion’s identity would simply write his name and win repeatedly.
“Can’t even make a comment now?”
Even as his subordinates chatted idly, Hugo remained silent.
His eyes stayed fixed on the last name filling the main board before fading away. Until now, he had managed to prevent information from spreading through various means.
But here—
There were too many eyes watching.
And reporters had gathered in droves to capture highlights.
This was no longer an area he could control.
Thinking that, a contradictory feeling surfaced within him.
Part of him wanted everyone here to focus on Lion.
Yet another part of him wished that Lion would escape everyone’s notice—visible only within his own sight.
Still, since he entered the match... I hope he enjoys it.
Hugo closed his hand around the ice fragments resting in his palm.
He had briefly formed them earlier to recall some of the names that had caught his attention while the participant list passed.
Tonsils, Adenoids, Gallbladder.
Names of organs that could be removed from the human body without much consequence in everyday life.
Under Hugo’s tightening grip, the ice shattered into powder.
Why so many contestants in this preliminary round had chosen such strange aliases, he had no idea.
Of course, none of them would become Lion’s equal.
But they still required attention.
<Have you all made your selections?>
<We have confirmation that all participants are ready.>
<Then we will proceed quickly! Five, four, three, two, one. Betting closed!>
Officials in uniform quickly moved down the rows, collecting betting tickets.
At that moment, someone hurried up the stairs between the spectator stands and rushed toward the seating area of the Council’s senior commanders.
Both Hugo and Shorendo turned their eyes in that direction.
The sudden arrival was Shorendo’s adjutant.
She approached her superior and whispered urgently into his ear, barely taking the time for proper formality.
“Vice Commander...”
Shorendo, who had been concentrating on the match, snapped sharply.
“What?”
Then he immediately turned toward Hugo beside him.
Hugo gave a small nod as if telling him to speak.
Lowering his voice, Shorendo reported with a grave tone.
“Commander... the autopsy results for Marcus Servan have come in. There are no signs of antemortem muscle rupture in the tongue.”
<And now, the stars of today enter the arena! Please welcome them with thunderous cheers and applause!>
Hugo clapped reflexively along with the commentators’ announcement while focusing on the shape of Shorendo’s mouth.
The following words were swallowed by the roaring cheers.
But one thing was clear.
“It is highly likely that the body was manipulated after death.”
