Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 148 (Part 1):

Upon being called to the stage, Helmut raised his eyebrows. There seemed to be something catching his gaze in the distance. He turned his head in that direction.

‘Michael.’

As promised, it seemed he really came to cheer. Well, not necessarily. After all, Helmut himself had only realized upon arriving here that he belonged to the first group. It meant Michael was there to see the tournament and decided to cheer for Helmut as he saw him.

It was a VIP seat close to the stage, shaded like a tent. Dressed in white, with blond hair and pale skin, Michael stood out like a white dove among a flock of crows.

Michael often fell ill, but being accustomed to it, it seemed his condition quickly improved after resting for a day. He looked healthier than initially thought, even seeming fine this morning when he left.

He lightly waved his hand towards Helmut. Not making a fuss about recognizing someone on stage was both noble-like and very much like him.

Soon, Helmut’s opponent took the stage. A familiar face. The opponent recognized him first.

“I’m Jackal. The same guy you saw a few days ago. Lucky, lucky.”

‘Today’s my lucky day.’

Helmut agreed internally. He remembered that name. It was the guy who picked a fight with him when he was submitting the documents for the tournament.

As a rule, weaklings aren’t worth remembering, but one mustn’t forget those who owe a beating.

“The match ends when one participant calls for surrender or is deemed unable to fight. There is no time limit. Begin as soon as the bell rings.”

“It’s hot.”

Helmut muttered. He had thought about sparing him some pain, but that would be bothersome.

“Let’s finish this quickly.”

“What are you babbling about? You brat!”

Jackal’s face contorted in rage. It seems he heard him. Dealing with such small fry was a waste of time.

Ding! A short and heavy bell sound echoed. Helmut moved like a flash of lightning. His sword cut through the air without resistance. Shush. A chilling noise followed.

The duel ended in an instant.

A moment of silence, then.

“Wowwwww!”

A fierce cheer erupted from the audience.

“Ugh!”

Jackal clutched at his now empty forearm, eyes wide in disbelief. His arm, holding the sword, was now spurting blood on the floor. All it took was a single strike!

‘What, what just happened!’

Jackal wasn’t the only one in the dark. Before anyone knew it, the match was over.

The sight of blood excited the crowd, who chanted Hyde’s name like mad.

Hyde! Hyde! Hyde!

Even amidst the roaring cheers, Helmut on stage remained composed.

The boy with blond hair and blue eyes, whose appearance seemed understated in Basor, displayed a shocking reversal.

The audience welcomed the emergence of a strong contender with all their might. A new powerhouse making this tournament interesting!

“That’s impressive.”

Michael murmured leisurely.

“I did well to stop you that day, Robert.”

“…I never thought the boy named Hyde would have such skills.”

Michael’s escort, Robert, commented in a low voice. Though not the only escort, facing someone of such caliber could have endangered Michael. It was a close call to endangering the person they were supposed to protect.

“My judgment is reliable, you know.”

Robert understood the meaning behind Michael’s gaze. It was the look of wanting something. And Michael had an exceptional talent for acquiring what he desired.

“He’s an enigma.”

“That’s something we’ll have to slowly figure out. There’s still plenty of time.”

Michael smiled sunnily. It was an inscrutable smile.

The day’s preliminaries ended cleanly. At least by Helmut’s standards. The skills of his two opponents were on par.

That meant both matches ended with a single strike.

The condition of the second opponent was somewhat better. Not in a good condition, but being tournament participants, they would receive treatment.

‘Tomorrow, I have no matches.’

His competitors dwindled in an instant. Having fought twice today.

The format was a match per group per day, with a rest day in between, followed by another two matches five days later.

There was no need for deep contemplation. Just face whoever’s thrown at you and knock them down.

‘Are the students of Greta Academy’s Swordsmanship Department better than I thought?’

Helmut tilted his head. The two he faced today felt like they had the average skill level of second-year Swordsmanship Department students.

Helmut reevaluated his schoolmates. Of course, there might be a difference in experience, but purely in terms of skill, they seemed comparable to those participating in Basor’s tournament.

‘Well, many of them come from swordsmanship families.’

It made sense then. Greta Academy was a prestigious institution that required passing rigorous exams for admission.

Many came from swordsmanship families, trained from childhood. They would have solid fundamentals, making them a match even for the less refined participants of the tournament.

There were a few boys who looked like academy students among the participants in Basor’s tournament, but they appeared older than Helmut.

If they were second-year students, being younger, they would focus more on training rather than traveling to distant Basor to participate in the tournament.

‘It’s better not to run into someone I know.’

It would be hard to recognize Helmut in disguise unless they had very keen eyes.

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