"Wow, look at how many participants there are. Six hundred? Grandfather, is this for real?" Caron asked.
"His Majesty wanted to give everyone a fair chance," Gyle answered. "As long as they pay the registration fee, anyone can participate."
"Still, why are you the one managing this?" Caron asked.
"Because you installed this old man as the Minister of Finance, remember? This is all budget-related. With His Majesty pushing dozens of projects at once, we're already facing a deficit. Someone's got to keep a close eye on things," Gyle replied.
"Come on, I know how much you're already collecting in taxes. And foreigners are pouring in and spending like crazy, right? Don't exaggerate," Caron said with a smirk.
"My clever grandson knows everything, doesn't he?" Gyle added with a smile.
They were inside the mansion of Gyle, the Minister of Finance.
Caron skimmed through the list of names Gyle had handed him, the contestants for the Martial Tournament, then clicked his tongue in disbelief.
There were far more names than he had expected. It seemed that nearly every renowned warrior on the continent had signed up for this tournament.
After all, the prize wasn't just a mountain of gold and silver. It included an imperial title, a life-changing opportunity. And since it was also a rare chance to gauge the strength of other top fighters, the response had been overwhelming.
"I bet just the ticket sales from the stands already covered the costs," Caron said.
"Haha! My son-in-law raised a very sharp boy. Your math is impressive," Gyle replied.
"Discounts for citizens, premium prices for foreigners... a dual pricing strategy, huh? Did that really work?" Caron asked.
"Anyone coming all the way here to watch a martial tournament is bound to have money. The kid who came up with that pricing plan was a commoner, but he's been rapidly promoted," Gyle explained.
"Figures," Caron said.
When money or promotions were on the line, people tended to exceed their limits.
Caron smiled as he glanced through some of the greed-ridden financial reports. The simple suggestion he had once tossed out—a 'team-building event'—had somehow evolved into a continent-wide spectacle.
That was the power of bureaucracy, it seemed.
"But I don't really like the tournament bracket," Caron muttered. "Personally, I wanted to start from the qualifiers."
The tournament was structured to have a preliminary round, followed by a single-elimination bracket of thirty-two contestants—a classic tournament format often used in knightly duels.
Caron had been seeded directly into the final thirty-two.
Every warrior who made it straight to that round had one thing in common: They were all ranked 8-Star or higher. This tournament had eight 8-Star warriors competing, and the remaining twenty-four slots were to be filled through the preliminaries.
The reason was simple.
"No one wants to watch a fight where the winner is obvious. Just consider it your noble sacrifice for the entertainment value," Gyle said.
"My body's itching for a fight, though..." Caron trailed off, then clicked his tongue with a disappointed expression.
Gyle smiled as he gently patted his grandson's head, thinking, When did he grow up so much...
That one and only precious grandson had become a fully grown man. Caron was now the heir to his other grandfather, Halo, and had already accomplished great things at a young age.
To say that Gyle wasn't proud would have been a lie. Though he worried about Caron constantly being at the center of chaos, he could only offer silent support.
After all, the center of the storm was always the calmest place to be. He'd rather Caron be the eye of the storm than be swept away by it.
"Well then, I should head off to work," Gyle said.
"Huh? Already? It's only eight o'clock," Caron said.
"My one and only grandson postponed my retirement, so now I'm busier than ever. His Majesty has summoned all the department ministers," Gyle explained.
"Want me to tell His Majesty to stop exploiting the elderly?" Caron asked with a smile.
"Haha! As expected, only my grandson cares about this old man's health," Gyle said with a laugh.
Once known as the Devil of the Tax Office, Gyle was now called the Devil of the Treasury. Even the highest-ranking nobles had to bow before him if they wanted funding for their national projects. Bribes and lavish hospitality meant nothing to him, so they had no choice but to grovel.
"I've heard there's been a rise in petty and serious crimes around the capital lately... If you're planning on roaming the city, be careful," Gyle warned.
"Well, if I were the one committing the crimes, then... Ahem. Thank you for the concern. It's all because the crowds have gotten bigger," Caron replied.
Tourists were flooding in from across the empire and beyond. With that kind of density, crime was bound to rise. Even though Revelio had significantly increased the number of patrols, that alone wasn't enough to handle it.
"Actually, I was thinking of acting as a part-time sheriff today," Caron said.
"...Did you clear that with the head of security?" Gyle asked.
"Nope, but if I say I'm gonna be sheriff, who's gonna stop me?" Caron asked.
"I need to hurry to the palace, then. I've got to warn them that the Mad Dog is loose in the capital," Gyle replied.
Upon hearing Gyle's words, the elderly butler standing behind him silently handed over his coat.
Gyle quickly slipped it on and grabbed the bag he had left on the chair, saying, "If you're going to cause trouble, please keep it within reason."
"You're not even asking me not to cause trouble?" Caron asked.
"Would it stop you if I did?" Gyle asked. He was a wise man.
He gave his grandson a few hearty pats on the shoulder, slung his bag over his back, and walked out the door.
Caron poked at the sorbet that had been served for dessert and smiled, then said, "He knows me too well."
The main rounds would begin in one week. Which meant Caron could enjoy the festivities until then.
Unlike him, Leo had to start from the preliminary rounds, so Caron figured he'd kick back for a bit and go watch Leo's matches when the time came.
This year's tournament had drawn competitors from a wide range of races. Dwarves, elves, and even orc warriors from the Rahal Mountains had signed up. So had the giant warriors led by Utula.
Watching all these different races clash and test each other's strength could actually be fun.
"Fighting is how people become friends," Caron muttered.
By the time the tournament ended, maybe they'd all understand each other a little better.
With that hopeful thought, Caron finished off his sorbet in one gulp. Then he waved the empty glass toward the butler, who had been silently watching from behind.
"This sorbet's great. Can I get a refill?" Caron asked.
The butler nodded and said, "Of course."
"While I'm gone, feel free to use the butler I brought with me. He's got ridiculous strength," Caron said.
"There are plenty of repairs to be made... Thank you. I'll be sure to put him to good use, Young Master," the butler answered.
In the distance, it almost sounded as if Caron's personal butler—former deserter Urhan—was screaming in despair.
***
After finishing breakfast, Caron stepped out into the streets with a light heart.
Disguising himself with an artifact imbued with the doppelganger's ability was essential now. He had become far too famous to walk around with his real face exposed.
Fully disguised and ready, the first place Caron headed to was the capital's plaza. There, he witnessed a rather shocking sight.
"Step right up! We're selling portraits of Sir Caron! Hang one in your home and it'll ward off all misfortune!" an artist shouted.
Street artists were selling paintings of Caron's face. Though they were slightly over-glorified, the portraits were impressively well-done, likely thanks to the artists' talent.
And it wasn't just portraits, either.
"A thrilling romantic novel about Caron Leston's love life—The Wolf of Azureocean—now on sale!"
"Dried jerky, just like the kind Caron Leston loves to eat!"
"An epic recounting of Caron Leston's battle with the Demon King—The Caron Chronicles—now showing at the Talin Theater!"
From novels and plays to food and more...
Truly, the whole world had become...
"It's all about Sir Caron these days," someone remarked.
"Damn it!" Caron jumped in surprise.
"I envy you, Sir Caron. I wish I were that popular," a man in a black robe said, smiling.
Caron frowned and turned toward the strange man. He was short, barely reaching Caron's chest, and his youthful voice gave his identity away.
It was Libre, the master of the Dark Magic Tower.
"What the hell? What's a dark mage who's supposed to be under arrest doing out here?" Caron asked coldly.
"Hehe. The Tower Master granted me a vacation," Libre said with a chuckle. "Besides, my life is tied to yours now. Where would I even run?"
Libre's Life Force Vessel was still stored in Caron's subspace. He grinned, eyes gleaming as he said, "I already belong to you."
"You psycho. Stop saying creepy crap like that," Caron snapped.
"I only speak the truth," Libre replied.
"How did you recognize me anyway?" Caron asked, suspicious.
"Did you really think I wouldn't know where my Life Force Vessel is? Here, try this," Libre said, handing him a skewer of grilled chicken. He continued, "A street vendor up there was selling it as 'Caron's Special Marinated Skewer.' I had no idea you'd branched out into the food business."
"As if I would," Caron muttered, though he still accepted the skewer and took a bite.
It was savory, sweet, and had just the right amount of spice. The flavor immediately made him crave a beer. It was surprisingly good.
"...This is actually delicious," Caron admitted.
"It feels less like a martial arts tournament and more like a Caron Leston festival. That's the mood in the capital. Rumor has it the emperor himself gave permission to use your name," Libre continued.
"As if I would ever agree to that—" Caron began, but was interrupted by a hazy memory. It was something he had drunkenly discussed with Revelio three months ago.
"Come on, little brother. Just let me borrow your name for this event. It's nothing big, right?"
Back then, drunk and relaxed, Caron had agreed without a second thought. He hadn't expected this to be the result.
"What if you don't win the tournament, Sir Caron?" Libre teased.
"It's not as if I'm liable for any losses," Caron said.
"Fair point," Libre conceded.
At this point, it was no exaggeration to say the whole city was preparing for a grand coronation. Caron's name was spreading like wildfire throughout the capital.
And with the nature of the martial tournament, it was only natural that betting on the winner was rampant. Unsurprisingly, Caron was the top contender.
"For the record, I also placed my bet on you," Libre added.
"Now I feel like throwing the match in the finals," Caron grumbled.
He quickly finished the skewer, then used mana to reduce the wooden stick to dust before dusting off his hands. He said, "I'm not spending such a nice day hanging around with a dark mage. Just say what you came to say."
"I only wanted to share some alone time with you..." Libre began.
Shing.
Caron partially drew Guillotine from its sheath, and Libre immediately raised both hands.
"Joking, just joking! I came because I have urgent news for you," Libre said.
"What is it?" Caron asked.
"You must have heard that something big has happened in the Demon Realm. The Demon King of Slaughter has perished, and his domain has been claimed by someone else," Libre explained.
Whoosh.
Caron subtly activated Pluto to dampen the surrounding sounds, making sure no bystanders could overhear. He said, "I've heard the news."
"One of the demons who fled from Slaughter's territory was captured in the northern part of the continent. My detection magic worked," Libre reported proudly.
Caron met Libre's eyes, silent for a moment. He then said, "So you got information from a demon... Good."
"Yes," Libre replied.
"So who took over Slaughter's domain?" Caron asked.
"It's a demon you're already familiar with, Sir Caron," Libre answered. He took another bite of his chicken skewer and let out a small sigh of satisfaction. Then he continued with a grin, "The Queen of the Succubi, Laia. Her forces took over the Castle of Slaughter and killed the recovering Demon King. She then stole his divine authority."
"...Laia," Caron muttered.
That vulgar succubus had toyed with Ugo's soul. She was previously one of Sloth's subordinates, but now she had ascended to the throne of Slaughter.
Even Caron was caught off guard.
"They say the Demon King of Havoc played a part in the incident. Ironically, the Demon King of Sloth was the one who went into a frenzy," Libre explained.
"Laia betrayed Sloth and took the throne of a Demon King?" Caron asked.
"Correct," Libre answered.
"She's not going to keep using the name 'Slaughter,' is she? The powers would be different anyway," Caron asked.
"Laia now calls herself the Demon King of Lust," Libre replied.
"Oh, for hell's sake," Caron muttered. This wasn't a welcome development. He wondered what in the world was going on in the Demon Realm.
Just as Caron was racing through possible outcomes in his mind, Libre lowered his voice and quietly said, "The Demon King of Lust sent you a letter."
"...To me?" Caron asked.
"It seems she intends to interfere with the tournament in some way," Libre answered.
A most unwelcome message had arrived.