Unlike the other ministers, Heve was not somewhere preparing for tomorrow's final stage of the tournament. Instead, she was inside the stadium infirmary, assisting the tournament's medical staff.
"Teacher, thank you so much for coming to help us, but are you sure you don't want to rest before tomorrow?" asked the human leading the medical team.
"No, there is no need. The injured must always take priority; that is the most logical course of action," replied the Minister of Health in her cold, almost robotic voice.
Virtually all of today's matches had ended in one or two strikes, and nearly every one of those blows had been decisive—many dangerously close to lethal. Obviously, most of the winners had no intention of killing their opponents, but they had still unleashed attacks designed to finish the fight immediately, attacks fueled by tremendous force.
As a result, the infirmary remained packed even several hours after the preliminaries had ended. Broken bones, severe bruises, concussions, and magical injuries filled the infirmary, leaving many of the participants in terrible condition. Because the matches had progressed so rapidly throughout the day, the injured had arrived in waves, one after another, overwhelming the staff.
That was why, shortly after the preliminaries ended, Minister Heve's unexpected arrival had been received almost like divine salvation.
At that moment, her attention was focused on treating the massive minotaur Mitoros, who had been defeated by the queen's bodyguard.
"As usual, the frostburns caused by Lady Aislyra are difficult to treat," Heve remarked. Yet despite the long hours of work, not the slightest hint of exhaustion could be detected in her emotionless voice.
Near the center of the capital—not far from the Arena of the Four Golden Trees—stood the dojo of the Falling Leaf Style.
Normally, the dojo would have been bustling with activity, but because of the tournament, it was practically deserted today.
Almost deserted.
Inside, a single figure continued training relentlessly.
It was the style's master herself, Aurola, Minister of Education, and she had been practicing nonstop for at least five straight hours.
After several heavy breaths, the minister—who had remained completely silent and fully concentrated throughout the entire training session—finally broke the silence.
"I think that's enough for today. If I keep going, I risk exhausting myself before tomorrow's match," she murmured to herself.
However, she was not the only one who heard those words.
A moment later, an extraordinarily beautiful elf stepped into the dojo.
And she was someone Aurola knew extremely well.
"I knew I'd find you here, Master," said the newcomer.
It was Agratà—the Minister of Agriculture, the idol adored throughout the kingdom, a radiant bundle of joy and positivity… and also the greatest prodigy of the Falling-Leaf Style.
Normally, her face was inseparable from her trademark dazzling smile.
But if any of her countless admirers had seen her expression at that moment, they would have been deeply surprised.
To be clear, Agratà did not look sad, angry, or upset. There was not even the faintest trace of negative emotion on her face.
And yet… something was undeniably different.
For once, the only visible emotion in the prodigy's expression was pure determination—an intense seriousness strangely unaccompanied by her usual smile.
"Hello, Agratà. Did you come here to train as well?" Aurola asked, even though she already knew the answer.
The Minister of Agriculture shook her head.
"No, Master. You know very well that I love training with you, but that's not why I came today."
Her voice was unusually serious for someone known as the kingdom's embodiment of sunshine and optimism.
"I came to remind you, before the actual tournament begins, that this year I intend to defeat you. And as we promised each other, if I manage to win, I will inherit the position of master of the Falling-Leaf Style."
This time, however, a dazzling smile finally bloomed across Agratà's face, and her words overflowed with unwavering determination.
Aurola inhaled slowly before replying.
"I know, my student. This year, your goal is not merely victory—you intend to take my place as master."
Her sharp gaze pierced directly into the eyes of her most talented disciple.
"Then understand this as well: if we face each other tomorrow—or at any point during this tournament—I will confront you using everything I have learned throughout my centuries of life. I will hold absolutely nothing back."
Then, in a much quieter voice, one that sounded almost more directed at herself than at Agratà, she added:
"It is still too early for me to relinquish this position… too early. I still haven't done enough…"
However, Agratà heard those words clearly.
And for a brief instant, an incredibly rare emotion appeared on the eternally smiling elf's face:
Sadness.
But it vanished almost immediately, replaced by an even stronger determination burning within her eyes.
"Of course, Master!!!" Agratà declared brightly. "If I didn't defeat you at your absolute best, I could never truly consider myself the new master of the Falling Leaf Style! And above all, I'd never be able to face my fans afterward!"
Her radiant smile had fully returned now, and her voice once again overflowed with boundless optimism.
"Now that I've confirmed this, I apologize, Master, but I need to go prepare for tomorrow's matches!" Agratà said cheerfully, bowing deeply before leaving the dojo.
A wistful sigh escaped the Minister of Education's lips.
Yet immediately afterward, a small, incredibly gentle smile formed on her face.
Shortly after the preliminaries ended, a lone swordsman wandered among the food stalls just outside the arena.
That swordsman was the legendary Miyamoto Musashi.
At that very moment, he was wiping a drop of drool from the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his kimono.
"There are so many delicious-looking things here…" Musashi muttered in amazement as he admired the incredible variety of dishes being prepared and sold around him. Among them were even foods he had not seen since before his first death.
Then he let out a heavy sigh.
"Too bad I don't have enough money to buy any of it. Thanks to that wonderful lady, I managed to pay for the repairs, but I'm still completely broke…" he lamented dejectedly.
A moment later, he shook his head and muttered to himself, "That's exactly why I need to hurry to the forest and continue training. Even finishing fourth in the tournament would still earn me a decent cash prize."
As he walked, Musashi began imagining all the things he could do with the tournament reward money.
Lost in those thoughts, the exiled hero eventually reached the edge of the marketplace, where the stalls ended and a narrow path continued onward toward the Forest of Yggdrasill—a place he could reach after another ten minutes or so of walking.
While traveling to the capital of Yggdora, he had discovered the perfect clearing there to use as a training ground.
But—
"I'VE FINALLY FOUND YOU!!!!!!!!!!"
A scream overflowing with rage and hatred suddenly halted the wandering swordsman in his tracks.
Turning around, Musashi saw a man sprinting toward him.
The man wore armor that looked like a strange mixture between the battle attire of a samurai from Musashi's homeland and the equipment worn by the high-ranking knights of this world. Long ago, it had likely been an exceptionally valuable suit of armor—the kind an ordinary person could never hope to own.
Now, however, it looked little better than scrap metal.
Its former brilliance had completely faded. Dirt and scratches covered every inch of it, while the decorative ornaments that had once displayed the wearer's wealth were either shattered entirely or hanging broken in half, stripped of all value.
Musashi felt strangely certain he had seen that armor before, though he could not remember where.
The exiled hero slowly placed a hand on his chin and began trying to identify the furious stranger, who clearly seemed to recognize him.
The instant the man reached him, he grabbed the hilt of his own sword and shouted:
"You bastard!!!! You'll pay for destroying our country! Because of you, the king and queen are dead, and I lost everything!"
"Ah! Now I remember," Musashi said casually. "You were one of the bodyguards serving the king and queen who used one of your kami to summon me into this world…"
Then he tilted his head slightly and added,
"But I don't remember killing your rulers. All I did was refuse their request, after which I was exiled. And I certainly didn't have time to destroy your kingdom—I was only there for a single day before I was forced to leave with no chance of returning."
As he spoke, his hand drifted thoughtfully to his chin once more.
The man's fury only intensified.
"No, it was your fault!" he screamed while drawing a dirty, slightly dulled sword from its battered sheath. "If you had accepted that mission, the king and queen would never have needed to summon another hero!"
Completely unfazed by the blade now pointed at him, Musashi tilted his head slightly to the side and asked in a calm voice,
"What was he, then? A failed Hero?"
He sounded more curious than concerned.
"That mission didn't seem particularly difficult to me. I refused only because I didn't want to witness even more children dying after my own death. I already saw enough of that during Shimabara."
His tone was confused and almost bored.
The man clenched his teeth so hard that one of his molars cracked audibly.
"No! That hero crushed the rebel army with ridiculous ease!" he roared, rage nearly overflowing from every word. "The disaster happened afterward, when he returned to the palace to receive his reward. Without warning, he murdered the king and queen, then seized control of the entire country with the support of a large part of the army. I barely managed to escape…"
Beneath the fury in his voice, deep terror could also be heard.
"But I lost everything! My wealth, my money, my position, my noble title—everything!!!"
"I see," Musashi replied calmly. "I'm sorry for your situation, but I still don't understand what any of that has to do with me. I'm not the one who killed those rulers or forcibly took over your country."
Even now, his demeanor remained relaxed and indifferent.
Then, while rubbing his chin thoughtfully, realization suddenly crossed his face.
"Ah… I get it now. You're too frightened of the hero who conquered your kingdom so easily, so instead you chose to blame someone you thought was easier to reach."
A faintly defiant smile appeared on the swordsman's face.
"I don't particularly enjoy being underestimated… but it does come with certain advantages, so I suppose it doesn't matter."
The man shoved the tip of his sword even closer to Musashi and, consumed by pure, uncontrollable fury, shouted,
"SHUT UP, BASTARD! You're the one who took everything from me! So I demand, here and now, that you challenge me to a duel to the death!"
Then he added words that sounded little more than the ravings of a madman:
"Killing you will definitely make me feel better!!! And if word spreads that I managed to defeat a Hero, I'm sure I'll be able to secure a social position even better than the one I had before!"
"A duel to the death, huh…" Musashi muttered thoughtfully.
He considered it for less than a second before replying,
"All right, deal. It sounds like an excellent warm-up before today's training. Besides, I'm still struggling to get used to not killing my opponents during the tournament, so returning to my old habits for a little while doesn't bother me in the slightest."
A smile of satisfaction mixed with rage spread across the man's face, and he immediately prepared to attack.
"Wait."
However, Musashi stopped him with a raised hand.
"A duel like this needs a referee so that no one interferes midway through. Would you mind officiating for us, Mr. Ranger?" Musashi asked while glancing toward the canopy of a nearby tree.
Immediately, a Ranger dropped down from the branches and landed beside them.
"All right," the Ranger said, "but if the two of you start causing too much noise or damage the street or nearby stalls, my teammates and I will intervene immediately to stop the fight."
"Don't worry, Mr. Ranger," Musashi replied casually. "This will be over quickly."
The armored man silently nodded as well. He, too, had no desire for anyone to interrupt before he could kill the Hero.
The Ranger sighed.
"Fine. Then take your positions. The duel will begin on my count of three."
The two men stood roughly a meter apart.
By now, a small crowd of curious citizens had gathered around them to watch.
The Ranger raised his arm and began the countdown.
"One…"
The furious man was already tense and ready to move.
"Two…"
Before the Ranger could even say the next number, the man lunged forward.
He was tired of waiting and convinced that attacking early would catch his opponent off guard.
"Three!" the Ranger declared as he lowered his arm.
Only then did Musashi draw his sword.
That meant the man was already directly in front of him, fully committed to his strike.
But for the legendary swordsman, this posed no problem whatsoever.
Using only the shorter of his two katanas, Musashi pierced straight through the man's chest—directly through the heart—before the enemy's blade could even touch him.
The decrepit armor offered virtually no resistance at all.
The man died instantly.
Then, with a swift and practiced motion, Musashi withdrew the blade from the corpse and calmly sheathed it once more.
His opponent collapsed lifelessly onto the ground.
"Just as I expected," Musashi said while casually stretching his arms. "That was a pretty good warm-up before training."
Without paying any attention to the shocked silence—or the applause erupting from parts of the crowd—he calmly continued down the path leading toward the forest where he intended to train.
"Wasn't my fight against Mitoros incredible, big sis? It was definitely the best match of the day, right?"
"Yes, it truly was fantastic."
Night had already fallen.
Dinner had long since ended, and inside the queen's chamber, Lucas, Aislyra, Katerina, and Sequoria were discussing the day's matches together when someone suddenly knocked on the door.
"Excuse me, Your Majesty, but there's something extremely important I need to discuss with you. May I come in?"
It was Emeralda's voice.
"Of course, come in," Lucas replied immediately.
"Thank you," Emeralda answered before opening the door and stepping into the room.
For a brief moment, the beast Ranger looked surprised to find everyone gathered there, but she quickly regained her composure.
"What's wrong, Emeralda?" Aislyra asked.
The elf seemed slightly irritated that it was Aislyra who had questioned her, but she immediately pushed that feeling aside and answered seriously.
"While speaking with Ativ, I learned something extremely important regarding the Derived Magic used by the assassin who has already attempted to kill Her Majesty twice."
Instantly, every gaze in the room focused sharply on Emeralda.
The elf Ranger then continued in a grave voice.
"Portals created through that type of magic can only be placed in locations the user has physically touched beforehand."
The atmosphere in the room darkened immediately.
Because that revelation could only mean one thing.
Among the people who regularly entered the royal palace—and who had access to the queen's chambers—there was someone who had hired the assassin.