Victor stated seriously, "The competition rules only forbid the use of Authorities granted by Professional Law. His Assimilation is a manifestation of his own bloodline—it’s not cheating."
"I’m not saying it’s cheating, I’m just curious."
Stephen shook his head, dismissing Victor’s justification. "The Dragon Claw that appeared from his Assimilation, the Fire Dragon Armor..."
"To think he’s a Knight acknowledged by the Dragon Race. His Golden Eye is already starting to show. The dragon he has a contract with must be of a high Tier, even if it’s not a pureblood."
"An Azure Fire Dragon, a Fire Dragon Subspecies," Lewis said. "While he can’t quite be called one of the legendary *Dragon Knights*, he isn’t far from it. The Dragon Race exerts a degree of bloodline suppression over nearly all Contracted Beasts, with the exception of other inherently powerful Magical Beasts."
"Furthermore, Gawain is a Round Table Knight, chosen by the Knight King himself. Once he receives the baptism of the Holy Grail, it probably won’t be long before he breaks through to the Silver Tier."
He continued, "Among Contract Knights of the sa tier, no one on the entire Prole Continent could definitively overpower him, aside from the Emperor’s Golden Lion Knight army."
"Ah, the Sun Knight..." Tate chuckled, clearly enjoying the drama. "It looks like the rest of the competition is already a foregone conclusion."
His words were laced with schadenfreude. He was clearly thinking about how L, under the alias Allen, was also in this competition. A confrontation with the Sun Knight Gawain—a man even Tate considered a handful—was sure to be a bloody fight.
But then, Stephen shook his head. "Not necessarily."
eting their questioning gazes, he gave a faint smile. "Gawain is indeed exceptional. A Bronze Tier this young is exceedingly rare, even in Gillian."
His tone shifted. "But L isn’t as outmatched as you all imagine. Anyone capable of turning the tables on Barbarian Bear Knight Gray is more than they seem on the surface."
Yalilan nodded. Having spent half the Foggy Day night killing Demons, then an entire morning in the library researching Blood Demon Hunters, ’she felt that L’s "not simple" rating should be prefaced with the word "extrely."’
"Mr. Stephen, do you think L can actually beat Gawain?" Victor asked.
He no longer used the alias "Allen." So things were best left unsaid, as long as everyone present understood.
As for the True Allen, whose identity had been usurped and who was found "accidentally deceased" this morning, all one could do was hope he rested in peace.
The City Governnt listed his cause of death as "killed by a Beast during the Foggy Day," and the First Hunter Association paid out a compensation of 100 Silver Coins.
After receiving the compensation, True Allen’s once-wailing family and loved ones stopped their fuss. They simply left instructions to "just cremate the body" and then quickly made themselves scarce.
In this day and age, what kind of affection could you expect from a family that, out of desperation for money, would let their own relative beco an Intern Demon Hunter and even enter the Hunting Competition with its known casualty rate?
It was a grim, but realistic, situation.
Stephen shook his head in response to Victor. "He won’t win, but he won’t lose too miserably, either."
Victor shook his head. "Mr. Stephen, you don’t know Gawain. He’s no ordinary Bronze Knight. Even without using Promise, the Dragon Mighty he subconsciously releases is far beyond what any Black Iron Tier Demon Hunter can withstand."
Stephen chuckled. "Captain Victor, you don’t know L, either."
He paused. "Of course, I don’t really know him myself. But my gut tells this Feinan might give us all a little surprise in this competition."
"Then let’s just wait and see," Lewis said, stepping in to ease the palpable tension in the air.
At the sa ti, he shot a harsh glare at his forr subordinate, Victor. ’Forget Stephen’s strength as a Silver Demon Hunter,’ he thought. ’Just his nominal post at the First Hunter Association is enough to bring hundreds, if not thousands, of new jobs to Fude City.’
’If Victor’s bluntness caused this partnership to fall through...’
’Faith Knights are so uncouth!’
As for the string of defeats suffered by the Demon Hunters representing Fude City, Lewis couldn’t care less. It was the Fude City Demon Hunters who were losing face, not him or the Fude City Governnt.
Winning or losing was one thing, but at least the City Governnt was making money.
His only real concern was that they weren’t earning *enough*.
...
"Ladies and gentlen! The break is over! Now, let’s tear our gazes away from the Sun Knight and give a round of applause for our next Demon Hunter contestant!"
"Hailing from the First Hunter Association, it’s Saladin! A Black Iron Tier Demon Hunter..."
"The odds for him against the Sun Knight, Gawain, are 1-to-5! That ans if you bet one Gold Coin on him, you could win five!"
"Betting closes in one minute! Pick your champion now!"
"Betting is closed! Let the countdown begin! Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven... Three! Two! One!"
The roar from the crowd was deafening, followed by the announcer’s shocked voice over the broadcast:
"Saladin is eliminated! It was another single punch! Our Sun Knight Gawain took him out with just one blow, exactly like he did with Kapi!"
"Gawain! Gawain! Gawain!"
Young maidens, noblewon, and children alike scread the Sun Knight’s na.
Gawain crossed his arms and impatiently urged the announcer, "Next."
The matches that followed were simple—or rather, a little too simple.
After Kapi was taken off the stage, the longest any Demon Hunter spent in the arena was during the announcer’s pre-match speech about the betting odds.
Then, as soon as the crowd’s ten-second countdown finished, they would be sent flying by a single punch from Gawain.
The few Demon Hunters who weren’t sent flying by the first punch barely had ti for a smile of ’Hey, I’m still standing!’ to form before a follow-up kick drove them into the ground below the fighting stage.
Their injuries were heavier, their defeat more miserable.
Among the contestants were two freelance "lone wolf" Demon Hunters who, after witnessing the fate of their predecessors, weighed the power disparity and surrendered cleanly before the countdown even started.
There’s a difference between losing after taking a beating and just surrendering outright.
At least this way, they spared themselves the physical pain.
This, of course, earned them shouts of "Coward!" from the gamblers in the stands who had been hoping to "turn a bicycle into a motorcycle" with a long-shot bet.
They felt a bit resentful.
But then they saw a Beast Hunter get on stage, only to be so terrified by the Sun Knight’s seemingly golden eyes that he froze on the spot, fainted, and had to be carried out of the arena.
Any lingering resentnt they felt vanished.
’They may have brought sha upon the Demon Hunters of Fude City, but at least they hadn’t been *that* pathetic.’
As Gawain continued to cut through one opponent after another, the odds on whether he could make a clean sweep of all seven opponents to face "Allen" dropped to rock bottom.
anwhile, a new betting pool quietly opened for the match between Gawain and "Allen."
1-to-7.
Not for Gawain, but for Allen.
In other words, a bet of one Gold Coin on Allen would pay out seven.
The generous payout had many gamblers itching to take a chance, but one look at the proud, brilliant figure of the Sun Knight on the stage and their greed instantly vanished into thin air.
’There’s no way he can win.’
That’s what everyone thought after seeing the seventh Demon Hunter get scared off the stage by a single glare from Gawain.
’So this is Gawain Lannier...’
In the Knights’ waiting area, Galahad watched the bored, yawning Sun Knight on stage, and the fla of battle slowly kindled in his heart. ’So this is a Round Table Knight!’
Listening to the cheers from the crowd, the eighteen-year-old Galahad swore to himself that one day, he too would stand on that stage just like that!
The announcer glanced at the contestant list. After confirming only one na remained, he picked up his microphone and, as chanically and numbly as an executioner announcing the next victim, said:
"Next up is the final victor from the fifth day of the Hunting Competition!"
"The Intern Demon Hunter who defeated Barbarian Bear Knight Gray—Allen!"
As the announcer’s voice faded, the surrounding stands, including the five people under the canopy, all turned their gazes toward the Demon Hunters’ waiting area.
Gawain’s gaze followed theirs. He was looking at the Intern Demon Hunter who had defeated and grievously wounded Gray—and who might have ultimately been responsible for his death.
’Honestly, even though he knew his opponent couldn’t possibly beat him, even going all out, he was still a little curious.’
Victor had ntioned that this opponent had countered Gray’s "Lost Claw" attack using only a standard-issue Alchemy Weapon from the organizers.
’Gawain could do the sa, of course, but what made him curious was *how* the other man had done it.’
’Was it because of his opponent’s superb technique? Or was that fellow Gray just that bad?’
’If he got the chance, maybe he’d try using "Lost Claw" himself to test the waters.’
As he was thinking this, Gawain saw the iron gate to the Demon Hunters’ area slide open. A black-clad, black-haired figure erged from the steam-wreathed doorway.
He instinctively looked over.
But before he could even get a clear look at the man’s face, his knees buckled, and he staggered, nearly falling over.
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