Heading left from the fork and walking for about two or three minutes, one would come upon a very spacious contestants' waiting room.
First- through third-year contestants filed in one after another.
Having received their number tags, Dark and Diana entered in turn as well.
The two of them found a pair of empty seats inside, sat down, and began chatting in low voices.
On the wall of the waiting room, the number of registered contestants was being displayed in real time.
By now, the first- through third-year contestants who had completed registration already numbered over eighty, and it seemed they would soon break the hundred mark.
Relative to the under-five-hundred total across the three years, that was already a great many.
And with so many participants, a last-minute adjustment to the competition format was inevitable.
Dark looked around and noticed more and more familiar faces appearing in the waiting room.
The seven first-year duelists had all arrived, and besides them there were plenty of classmates who had scraped together forty Magic Guide Cards just to experience the battle-royale format.
Quite a few from Doron's little clique had squeezed in, and were now gathered in a corner laughing and joking.
As for the Knight House, Virt Gold was sitting together with another Knight House duelist, Justin Wayne, but the two seemed to have little to talk about, and the atmosphere felt somewhat stiff.
There was no sign of Robert Broheim in the waiting room; evidently he had failed to gather forty Magic Guide Cards.
Dark had actually had high hopes for him—after all, the Magic Guide Cards left behind by Vampire Vlad were still in his hands.
If he could successfully summon the "Vampire Count" in the qualifier battle royale, Robert would most likely advance with ease.
A pity he hadn't seized this fine chance to show himself off.
Dark's gaze shifted, and he noticed Emma Metis was with a group of third-year senior girls.
One of the senior girls wore a ponytail and cut a valiant, dashing figure—it was Helena Tracy, a Literary Club member on good terms with Emma.
Also nearby were fellow Literary Club members Senior Angelia Hudson and Senior Winnie Skadi.
Dark vaguely recalled that Senior Winnie Skadi had accepted the Eldest Princess's invitation at Halloween and danced a number with her.
She also seemed to be the descendant of some sage, ranking among the top of the third-years in the Magic House.
And speaking of sage descendants, Dark's gaze couldn't help drifting to Sarah Swati; this dark-skinned girl was as eye-catching as ever.
As he looked on, Dark suddenly felt a sharp gaze.
He instinctively turned his head and found, in a corner not far behind him, Senior Mike Owen—who had once fought him in a Street Duel on Valentine's Day—chatting with a group of young men and women.
"Are these members of that, what was it, Noble History whatever society?"
In that instant, Dark's eyes met those of one of the boys.
But once that boy realized it, he immediately turned away, feigning conversation and laughter to avoid the gaze.
Such a guilty gesture immediately put Dark on his guard.
"On Valentine's Day, Senior Owen came to challenge me on a flimsy, error-riddled pretext, and now someone's up to no good again."
"Could my refusing to join their society have provoked their retaliation?"
"But that was over a month ago. Besides, if it really were for such a reason, wouldn't that be petty beyond measure?"
Dark shook his head, unable to figure it out and not bothered to.
...
A few more minutes passed, and the number on the wall finally froze.
First through third years: 132 people;
Fourth through sixth years: 171 people;
...
In the final tally, it really did exceed three hundred!
Among the first through third years, it was mainly the first-years dragging down the numbers, which was why they fell short of the fourth through sixth years.
The students' enthusiasm for the qualifier battle royale exceeded all imagination.
And the final format was adjusted once the headcount was settled.
Enia Knight, the Dueling Club vice-president in charge of the first through third years, laid out the final format with crisp enunciation.
"This Easter Dueling Festival is divided into a senior and a junior group; the first through third years form the junior group, totaling 132 people as of now."
"The competition consists of two rounds: the first is the qualifier, the second is the main tournament."
"As you all know, the qualifier adopts the unprecedented battle-royale format."
"Based on the number tag each of you has drawn, we have preset positions around the demarcated circular arena. When the time comes, please proceed to the contestant position matching your number tag and stand ready for the match to begin."
"The rules of the qualifier battle royale are simple."
"The circular arena serves as the boundary. You may summon any Magic Guide Spirit and use Magic Guide Cards, but you may not cross beyond the boundary, nor attack contestants outside it. Accidentally injuring a contestant outside the boundary results in an immediate loss."
"Scoring is based on the number of Magic Guide Spirits killed: +1 point for each Magic Guide Spirit you kill, -1 point for each of your own that is killed. A divisible Magic Guide Spirit counts as 1 point as a whole."
"Every contestant's score will be displayed in real time on the big screen."
"A normal match lasts half an hour."
"We are changing from a point-cap system to a time-limit system."
"Final rankings are by score."
"The top eight contestants by score will advance directly to the main tournament!"
"The main tournament uses single-elimination: losers are out, winners advance."
"The matches of the two groups will be held alternately."
"This competition will have one and only one contestant claim victory in each group, and the academy has prepared an Easter Golden Egg for the champion!"
"Understood?"
...
The competition rules were indeed quite simple and easy to grasp.
Dark had guessed the whole ruleset before she was even halfway through.
He was merely surprised that the point-cap system had been changed to a time-limit system.
The point-cap system—that is, capping the score—meant that once a contestant reached a certain value, they could advance.
This could effectively let high-scoring contestants exit midway, giving the remaining contestants more opportunities to hunt for points.
The time-limit system, on the other hand, would gradually turn into a hunting ground for the high-scorers!
It would drive high-scorers to keep hunting for an even higher score.
It would also make the whole match more intense.
To win, one had to race against the clock from the very start.
As for which format was better?
It was hard to say which was good or bad.
As one of the 303 participating contestants, all Dark could do now was follow the format and perform within its bounds.
The appearance of the number tags did scatter and separate the students' positions.
To some extent it reduced the impact of off-field team-ups.
And the real-time scoring method catered to both contestants and spectators—quite nice.
Another thing to note was the reduction in advancement slots.
Originally the two groups combined would have advanced thirty-two contestants; now each group had only eight.
This would utterly intensify the competition.
And make advancing even harder!
But the reason for trimming the number of contestants was easy to guess.
After all, this was a festival-celebration sort of competition, and the schedule shouldn't be packed too tightly.
Holding one match every half hour was rather appropriate.
Two matches an hour, with intervals in between, allowed for interviewing and introducing the contestants, giving the audience more familiarity with them, so as to conveniently...mm, win fans.
Going by this, the main tournament would total twelve matches over six hours.
Add the opening and closing ceremonies and the two qualifier battle royales.
There'd even be room left for a lunch break.
By dusk, the competition could conclude.
Perfect!
...
After mulling it over a bit, Dark grasped the rough schedule.
When he raised his head, his thoughts concluded, the fourth-year Senior Enia Knight was already calling the contestants to enter.
Because it had been organized rather hastily, the opening ceremony of the Easter Dueling Festival was extremely concise—just a few minutes of speeches and one war-dance performance by the academy's students, no more than fifteen minutes all told.
When the students' war dance ended amid the drumbeats, the first- through third-year contestants who entered first were led into the arena.
It was only then that the 132 contestants first laid eyes on the stage of the qualifier battle royale—a standard circle over two hundred meters in diameter, but with no contestant platform.
The problem caused by the lack of a contestant platform was glaringly obvious.
The contestants' physical elevation would limit their field of view, leaving them unable to survey the entire arena from on high.
This limited vision would in turn force them to deploy Magic Guide Spirits only in their own vicinity.
This would affect the entire strategic layout.
That said, in this qualifier battle royale many had come with a recreational mindset, so any so-called strategic layout would likely be stillborn on the spot.
...
As first-years.
Both Dark and Diana entered behind the second- and third-years.
"It feels like such a lot of people."
The moment Diana stepped out, she was startled by the densely packed spectator stands.
She had only ever experienced one Rookie Tournament; though there had been plenty of spectators that morning too, there had still been many empty seats in the stands.
But this time, the crowd surged and the clamor of voices rose; especially in two of the large sections, there was hardly an empty seat.
Tens of thousands of spectators were in branch halls all over, yet their projections converged into a single venue—an unprecedentedly grand sight.
Diana wanted to search hard for her parents' figures, as she had last time.
But on the flat ground, she really couldn't see much.
She let out a small sigh, but soon cheered up upon spotting Rose, who was cheering them on.
At the same time.
Dark, too, found Senior Pandora in the ring of stands.
But unlike Diana, he next spotted in the front row his own mother, along with Claire and the two little princesses!
Alvit was toying with a white model; it was too far away to make out its exact shape.
Claire was still holding that fat cat.
The two little princesses were tugging at each other, a heap of models laid out beside them—who knew whether they'd drawn the Magic Guide Spirit they had their hearts set on?
"Contestants, please find the contestant position matching your number tag as soon as possible after entering."
The repeated announcements from the on-site host drew Dark's attention back.
He looked at Diana and encouraged her: "Now then, give it your all."
Diana: "Mm! You give it your all too!"
Dark reached out, and the two of them high-fived, then headed off in different directions.
Win or lose aside—go all out!
...
Two minutes later, Dark found his contestant position.
His number was 77, a rather lucky number for him.
Once he had taken his place, contestants No. 76 and No. 80 arrived one after another.
The number tags were drawn at random, so the numbers weren't perfectly consecutive.
But the contestant-position numbers were basically arranged from small to large.
To Dark's left was contestant No. 76, and to his right was contestant No. 80.
Unfortunately, both were unfamiliar-looking seniors.
Still, No. 76 wore a second-year uniform and No. 80 a third-year uniform.
Big fish eat little fish.
If he wanted to rack up points efficiently, he'd have to start with the second-year senior.
Dark narrowed his eyes slightly and began thinking fast.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side.
Contestant No. 6, Diana, had become neighbors with contestant No. 4, Virt.
Virt felt a touch of relief at having a fellow first-year beside him.
Diana, however, was mulling over big fish eating little fish.
...
The dozen or so first-year participants were scattered here and there among the second- and third-years, most of them like trembling little lambs hemmed in by a pack of wolves.
Zach Wilson, who had the honor of commentating on this junior-group qualifier, stood on the commentary platform overlooking the entire arena.
Although Wilson ranked in the lower-middle of the Noble History Research Society because his father was a Viscount with little real power, in the Dueling Club he was a well-liked, core member.
Having commentated many official events, this time he hadn't been ordered here.
In fact, because his commentary in the last Rookie Tournament had shown no bias at all, he had since been swept to the bottom by Jeffrey, the Noble History Research Society's president, becoming one of the society's very much disliked sorts.
Wilson, who had once fawned endlessly upon the same-faction Jeffrey because his father belonged to the First Prince's faction, actually lived more comfortably once the chance to fawn was gone.
He'd secured this qualifier battle-royale commentator role on his own ability, and was observing the whole venue in rather high spirits.
If one could just manage to be a decent person.
Who would want to be a dog?
"I wonder if Dark Demon can luckily win this time too?"
...
Up in the stands.
Once the names of all 132 contestants were fully projected on the big screen, the spectators who had come specifically for certain people couldn't wait to search the screen for the name in their hearts.
Second- and third-years could already take part in official events, and some students had thereby gained no small number of devoted fans.
But besides fans, there were also many parents on site hoping to catch a glimpse of their own children.
Though St. Marian's Academy was a most ideal place of learning, with children studying away from home for a whole year and even letters being inconvenient, it was hard for parents not to worry.
Viscount Greatbear, thinking his daughter might be competing this time, mingled in the crowd with his wife, counting the names on the big screen.
"Dianna Greatbear! Dear, I found it!"
"Where? Where?" Viscount Greatbear said excitedly.
In the last Rookie Tournament, his precious daughter had defeated a second-year senior as a first-year, which truly let him, as her father, hold his head high.
Out and about, it was all compliments of "no mediocre son from a fierce father"—completely different from the Doron family's child on the other side, dubbed "Defeated with Glory."
It was just that at the last viewing, he'd accidentally cheered too loudly and seemed to have offended First Prince Charles.
Aiming to avoid trouble, this time Viscount Greatbear resolved to keep his mouth firmly shut.
After all, the Valkyrie seated in the front row was so very conspicuous.
Viscount Greatbear had a mind to exchange notes on "praising one's children" with the Valkyrie, but Viscountess Greatbear always said she would handle it on his behalf at the tea party.
But could such an exchange really be handled on his behalf?
The great bear sighed.
...
At the same time, Alvit had also found her son's name on the big screen, and she instantly broke into a beaming smile.
The two little princesses, while complaining that they couldn't draw the "Skyvault White Dragon," were also searching the arena for Dark Demon's figure.
But under layer upon layer of obstruction, he was not easy to find.
Claire, looking at the competition rules displayed to one side of the big screen, said earnestly: "These rules are rather interesting."
Alvit reined in her smile and agreed: "Seemingly disordered, yet ordered. If this format were made more formal, it would turn into a contest of connections.
Only those who know how to forge alliances and play the field during a match can remain forever undefeated. But the contestants in this match are quite a mixed lot—clearly it's recreation first, so it still comes down to luck."
Claire smiled: "I wonder if Dark's luck is good enough?"
Alvit's willow brows knitted, her face clouded with gloom: "This child's luck has been poor ever since he was little."
The Third Princess, Angie, sitting between Claire and Alvit, immediately found this funny: "That's right, I remember he always lost at rock-paper-scissors!"
On the other side, the Second Princess, Anna, immediately undercut her: "Aren't you the same? I'm the only winner."
Angie was displeased: "Hmph, we were clearly fifty-fifty!"
...
The Free City.
The Dueling Branch Hall.
Within the box, City Lord Montielfali had also found Dark Demon's name on the big screen.
"So he did enter after all?" She tapped the armrest with her fingertip and said to Principal Cynthia, "Cynthia, I'd like to take a closer look at him."
"No problem." Principal Cynthia flicked a finger, and a wisp of fluorescent light flew from her fingertip and bored into that entire one-way mirror.
St. Marian's Academy's Open-air Dueling Arena, in theory, had no boxes.
Only the Principal herself could set up a separate box and connect it to the projection shown by the Dueling Arena.
The spirit bug she released searched once through the projection, then came buzzing back, and burst open into a firework, becoming an oval mirror.
Dark Demon's figure appeared in the mirror.
City Lord Montielfali furrowed her brow slightly and examined him carefully.
Aurora, beside her, widened her eyes a little.
This son of the Valkyrie had perfectly inherited the Valkyrie's hair color, his features as exquisite as a doll's.
Were it not for the sheer abundance of rumors about him, he'd surely be the sort to make any woman fall for him at first sight.
"Far too frail."
City Lord Montielfali, however, was clearly displeased.
"Alvit is, after all, a war goddess—how did she raise such a delicate child? How could such a delicate child be worthy of my little moon?"
Aurora, however, said softly: "It's all right, I'll be gentle..."
City Lord Montielfali instantly shot her a glare.
Dark Demon's pretty-boy face was indeed highly deceptive; ordinary little girls simply couldn't resist it.
But her daughter, of course, couldn't possibly be so shallow.
That Aurora cared so especially about the Valkyrie's son was also her own fault.
After relaxing with too much drink following a busy stretch, she'd accidentally let slip and exposed the children's childhood betrothal.
Originally, this so-called "childhood betrothal" had merely been casually settled between two mothers while chatting.
At the time, Montielfali had just formed the intention to build a city, but was hard-pressed for connections and resources, so she had sought out her most trustworthy comrade-in-arms—the Valkyrie, Alvit.
Alvit, being such a gentle person, agreed without the slightest hesitation upon learning that Montielfali's purpose in building the city was to shelter the much-discriminated-against mixed-bloods.
It had been only a few years since the war ended; the Ducal Manor was also licking the wounds left by the war, its reserves likewise strained.
That Alvit would choose, without hesitation, to support Montielfali at such a time moved Montielfali deeply.
She happened to see the two half-grown children cuddling on a little bed, and on an impulse proposed this childhood betrothal.
Alvit knew that doing so would set her comrade somewhat at ease, and agreed on the spot.
But in truth, neither side had taken it too seriously.
After successfully building the city, Montielfali also provided the Ducal Manor with a great deal in return.
Had neither side ever brought it up, then as both their children gradually grew up, that "childhood betrothal" would most likely have existed in name only.
Unfortunately, City Lord Montielfali accidentally exposed the matter when her daughter was five.
From then on, Aurora—who at five already understood reason and right from wrong—knew she had such a "fiancé."
Although they had never met after growing up, the flow of information in the Free City was fairly quick.
Aurora could occasionally glean things about him from the maids around her.
Gradually, she learned his name, learned of his mischief, learned of those half-true, half-false rumors.
But what did any of that matter?
Being good-looking was enough, wasn't it? [?]
A bad personality could be cultivated. [?]
Aurora actually knew what this "childhood betrothal" was all about.
But from her standpoint, if the marriage could go smoothly, the burden on her mother's shoulders would immediately lighten considerably.
The founding of the Free City was only the beginning; its subsequent development was the key.
As a new city built within Demon race territory, its development was bound to be fraught with hardships and obstacles.
For her mother, for the city, for all the mixed-bloods, the Valkyrie's support was essential.
Of course, Aurora wasn't so noble.
She was only doing it for her mother.
In any case, that was certainly how it began.
That was her thinking at five years old.
...
Back then, Aurora's goal was to become "the wife behind a successful man."
But later, as she gradually grew up and her understanding of relationships between men and women grew clearer, she became too embarrassed to voice this goal.
That initial trace of utilitarianism also gradually faded with age.
City Lord Montielfali always told her: the road is your own; you must walk it on your own two feet.
Always thinking to take shortcuts and rely on others was a sign of immaturity.
Once Aurora deeply understood this principle, she snipped off the first half of "the wife behind a successful man," keeping only the latter half: "wife."
As long as she herself, as a "wife," was capable enough, then what did it matter if the "husband" was a good-for-nothing?
Yes, she need only become that kind of "wife."
Aurora had already grown accustomed to casting herself in the role of "wife."
Even though the two of them weren't actually engaged, and hadn't even met since growing up.
But the present her already had the confidence to support any "husband."
...
"No problem, Aurora."
Looking at the "husband" in the mirror, Aurora silently psyched herself up a little—go for it!
...
St. Marian's Academy.
The Open-air Dueling Arena.
Dark Demon had no idea he was being watched.
After all, aside from the occasional joke, the Valkyrie would never bring up that matter.
And he had been such a carefree sort before that he wouldn't pay attention to a few stray words.
So he had no impression of the so-called "childhood betrothal."
But even if he had known, it wouldn't have changed his thinking.
The so-called "fiancée," though a popular character in the original game,
had nothing to do with the current him.
Even if they got to know each other later, that would be a matter for after they'd met.
He put his utmost effort into dealing with the "Demon God bloodline"; for everything else, he hoped to do as he pleased.
"It's about to start!"
As all one hundred thirty-two contestants stood at their positions.
The atmosphere in the arena gradually shifted from its initial cheer toward solemnity.
No matter what mindset they had come here with.
The moment they stood upon the arena, they would realize that to keep a recreational attitude now would cost them more than just face!
The spectators' passion for dueling matches startled the few first-years taking the stage for the first time.
A mountain-toppling, sea-overturning roar replaced the match's opening accompaniment.
Being in the stands and being in the arena were two entirely different experiences.
Among those few first-years, some had already begun to tremble because of it.
And Dark Demon, too, felt his blood gradually begin to boil.
On the commentary platform, Zach Wilson waved his arms vigorously, trying to quiet the spectators.
But his presence was clearly insufficient to command the scene.
The coming commentary on the qualifier battle royale would be a major test for him as well.
There was no help for it; he could only shout at the top of his lungs amid the roar: "Under the eyes of all, our contestants have taken their positions. Whether the first-years newly stepping onto the battlefield or the seasoned third-years, all stand upon the same arena, offering praise for an all-new dueling format. Here, on their behalf, I greet all the spectators—Happy Easter!"
"Happy Easter!"
Though not many, at least some people scattered responses to Wilson's call, and the blessings mixed into the cheers made Wilson quietly wipe away a bead of sweat.
"Happy, my ass!"
But there were also those who took the chance to hurl curses.
Angus Jeffrey, the president of the Noble History Research Society, was gritting his teeth within the ring of stands; mingling in the crowd, he even bellowed: "Finish him off!"
The few Noble History Research Society members in the arena seemed to deliberately glance in his direction—some nonchalant, but some with a sharp glint in their eyes.
Ever since the great Valentine's Day failure, the third-year Mike Owen had gradually fallen from being one of Jeffrey's trusted confidants to a marginal figure, which naturally left a vacancy at Jeffrey's side.
Whatever their reasoning, taking over Mike Owen's position and becoming one of Jeffrey's confidants was advantageous in the short term.
As for the long term...
Who does long-term investment these days?
In any case, in a qualifier battle royale, no matter how chaotic it got, no one would find it odd.
So they might as well stir up some chaos while they were at it.
Those who took Jeffrey's proposal rather seriously numbered three in the second year and two in the third.
And the one closest to Dark...
No. 74, a second-year.
Separated from Dark by only two people.
Second-year Noble House—Oligo Ruther!
The Ruther family was but an obscure little house within the Kingdom.
Its head was merely a Baron.
But they possessed a vast baronial fief—though it was mostly wasteland.
Recently, however, they seemed to have mined out some minerals.
Thanks to this, Oligo Ruther had barely squeezed into the Noble History Research Society; for him this was a chance to climb into the upper rungs, and he was striving to seize it.
For a fringe noble, climbing into the upper rungs was a crucial avenue for elevating one's family's standing.
The people of the upper rungs and the lower rungs had access to entirely different information and opportunities.
This held true within noble circles as well.
What's more, the Ruther family's sole capital—abundant land—was becoming worthless.
As city construction accelerated, humanity was passing through the early "everything-in-ruins-awaiting-revival" stage.
It was believed that before long, humans would begin the development and reuse of Demon race territory.
And the Free City, as a forward outpost, would become a contested prize.
"Sun Warrior." Suna Montielfali had indeed built a home of promising prospects for the mixed-bloods.
...
In short, for the sake of his own and his family's interests, Oligo Ruther was scheming to trip up Dark Demon.
As for why he didn't simply defect to the Duke's son?
For one, he had no avenue to defect; for another, he had already joined the Noble History Research Society.
A person's vision is usually blocked off by the environment they're in.
If he were in the Noble History Research Society yet his heart inclined toward outsiders, the road ahead would scarcely be worth walking.
But how should he trip up Dark Demon?
If he targeted him too deliberately, might he be mistaken for having a grudge against the Ducal Manor?
If he attacked him too forcefully, might he anger the Duke's son and be privately retaliated against?
The Ruther family could not bear the Duke's wrath—not even a single spark of it.
As a minor noble, Ruther truly had it hard.
He was stressed half to death.
...
As the match was about to begin.
Dark Demon drew two Magic Guide Cards from his card pack and held them in his hand.
The qualifier battle royale had no rules whatsoever, save that one couldn't begin summoning before the match started—anything else went.
So he directly took out "[Curse Cage: DemiDevimon]" and "Pride III."
In the early stage of the qualifier battle royale, whoever summoned a powerful Magic Guide Spirit faster would gain the advantage faster.
High-star and low-star Magic Guide Spirits were each worth one point, so naturally one should hunt the low-star Magic Guide Spirits!
And for dealing with low-star Magic Guide Spirits, there was nothing faster than "Devimon."
His gaze swept to both sides, poised and ready.
...
"Ding-dong!"
As the bell tolled.
A massive countdown appeared overhead.
[30s]
...
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