Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 406 (Part 1):
The opening address, delivered in a clear and resonant voice, came to an end, followed by the scheduled festivities.
It made no sense for such a grand-scale martial arts tournament to conclude with just a single match.
Thus began a period that was delightful to some, boring to others.
Alea rested her chin on her hand, Asuka was half-asleep, and Charlotte stared at the stage with a stiff expression.
In contrast, Elaga, who had quietly relocated, and Sian, who now held him in his arms, were swaying side to side, thoroughly enjoying the performances on stage.
It was just around the time that Asuka’s head dropped in sleep and he suddenly jolted awake.
Finally, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived—the two finalists were about to face off.
“We will now proceed with the entrance of both finalists!”
As the participants walked onto the stage, murmurs rippled through the audience.
“No way, is that…”
“Did they dress him like that on purpose? Surely not…”
The swordsman in the iron mask—Dark. He wore the same outfit as before.
Completely unadorned, his attire emphasized functionality: black clothes devoid of ornamentation.
The only items that stood out were the sword at his waist and the iron mask on his face. That alone made him seem less like a human.
More like a walking harbinger of death.
And he was powerful. Powerful enough to instill in his opponents an inescapable fear of death. His presence—potent yet quiet as night.
The iron-masked man, like nightfall chasing away the sun, overwhelmed with absolute dominance. Whether it was his opponent or the crowd, all felt it.
But that wasn’t why the audience was in turmoil.
Opposite him stood a man with golden eyes.
Unlike his counterpart, he wore dazzling white attire. A Holy Knight’s simplified battle robe, gleaming white like eyes reflecting light.
The moment the audience recognized the significance of his garb, confusion erupted.
“What? He’s a Holy Knight?”
“I thought the Empire and the Temple were at odds?”
“Even with His Majesty the Emperor present…”
“Why would a Holy Knight participate in a martial arts tournament?”
“Maybe he’s just wearing the uniform? That makes even less sense!”
The noble Holy Knights who served Lumen did not concern themselves with worldly honors.
The Temple’s authority was not something proven through flashy accomplishments, which is why the Holy Knights had never participated in external events.
That was the unspoken rule. One that had never been broken.
Yet here stood a Holy Knight. Pretending to be a Holy Knight was a grave crime. This man *was* a Holy Knight. There was no doubt about it.
And yet, a Holy Knight—wearing the Holy Knight’s robes—was participating in a martial arts tournament before the very emperor who had rejected them. It was an unfathomable act.
How had the organizers allowed this? Such a thing was surely enough to incur the Emperor’s wrath.
The audience’s gaze drifted upward. The emperor’s high seat was strangely still.
But that didn’t mean everyone present remained unfazed upon seeing the man with golden eyes.
Even Margret, who had spoken with him just yesterday, was shocked by his audacity.
‘How could he…’
In fact, the topic of his participation had already been brought up during the banquet the night before. At that time, the Emperor had declared:
“This tournament is a place for contestants to prove themselves through skill. Even if he is a Holy Knight, as long as he has proven himself by fair means, we cannot revoke his eligibility.”
“I agree.”
The Grand Duke of Renosa had responded in kind. With the tacit approval of both rulers, Servant’s entry into the final proceeded unimpeded.
But no one had expected him to appear so brazenly dressed in full Holy Knight attire.
It wasn’t that the organizers hadn’t tried to stop him. But forcing a finalist to change clothes by force wasn’t an option either.
And canceling the final outright wasn’t feasible.
Though he’d been briefed on the matter, the Emperor couldn’t help but show signs of unease upon seeing it with his own eyes.
He rubbed his jaw and muttered with a grim expression.
“Arrogant bastard.”
Grand Duke Farnese responded calmly.
“If he wins, it will bring great prestige to the Temple. But if he loses…”
It would bring disgrace to the Temple, already estranged from the Empire. The Emperor let out a short laugh.
“Look at him. He exudes the confidence of someone who doesn’t even consider the possibility of defeat.”
Whether the man on stage was aware of the chaos he had caused or not, there wasn’t a hint of disturbance in his bearing.
From his upright stance radiated a confidence forged in certainty.
The Emperor asked lightly,
“What do you think, Grand Duke? Do you think the result will go as expected?”
“I don’t bet on the losing hand.”
The Grand Duke answered plainly, his eyes flashing sharply. The Emperor laughed aloud.
“Ah yes, that’s just like you brother. Then I suppose I’ll bet on your choice as well.”
A faint smile formed on the Grand Duke’s lips.
“Are you sure about that? I can’t guarantee anything, after all.”
“Now that’s unlike you—sounding uncertain.”
Chiding him gently, the Emperor turned his gaze back to the stage. This time, his eyes fell not on the paladin, but his opponent.
“I’m looking forward to seeing those haughty faces twist. Aren’t they the ones who claim results speak for themselves?”
“If he wins, it’s Lumen’s will. If he loses, that too must be part of Lumen’s greater plan. Either way, they will learn humility.”
The Grand Duke’s expression turned cold.
The Emperor, who had ascended to the throne after a fierce struggle against another brother backed by the Temple, and the Grand Duke who had stood by his side through those trials—they were united in their views on the Temple.
Grudges do not fade easily. If the Temple claimed this was all in Lumen’s name, then so be it. Let Lumen’s will be realized again.
Right here, on this stage.
—
