Raising the Princess to Overcome Death

Chapter 364: Lena - The Unfortunate Master

362: Lena - The Unfortunate Master

“This, this is… what the heck? That person wasn’t there last time.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Ray clamped his mouth shut but couldn’t hide his gaze, so I could see exactly what he was looking at. At the end of his line of sight was a noisy group of warriors crowded together.

Ah, so noisy. Why are they swarming the tournament board like that?

I furrowed my brow like Ray. Just as I was about to say, “It’s too noisy. Should we just leave?” a warrior stepped out from the crowd.

He was hard to miss because of his enormous size and bold demeanor.

And his laughter...

“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! I’m number one! Of course—naturally so!”

He was huge.The man casually tapped the tournament bracket board, far above most people’s eye level, with a thick finger.

Can you really treat public property like that?

I was taken aback by his rudeness and lack of manners, but since he appeared to be a fellow contestant, I became curious about who he was.

When I followed his thick finger to where it was pointing, I saw the name “Arpen Albacete” written under slot A-1. He must be a great warrior from the Albacete tribe.

It looked like his weapon of choice was an axe. Wait a moment—A-1? Does that mean he’s my opponent?

Suddenly recalling what I’d forgotten, I turned back to the tournament bracket. There was a reason I’d come to check it in the first place.

“You think you’ll meet Ray in the finals? You’re in Group B, and Ray’s in Group C! Hahaha!”

Uncle Elson had laughed at me so muChapter He didn’t explain why but said I’d understand once the bracket was out.

Uncle Elson and Ray, they’re both looking down on me for sure. Just you wait. I’ll show you.

I lined up my fingers in the air with the bracket to trace the tournament’s order. I’d start in Group B, advancing step by step, while Ray began in Group C and…

“…What the?”

Now I understood why Uncle Elson laughed at me. My face heated up, and disappointment washed over me.

“What, what? We can’t meet in the finals? Couldn’t they have just said so?”

I wouldn’t be able to face Ray in the finals.

Instead, we’d meet in the semifinals.

The bracket made that much clear.

The winner of Group B in the Round of 16 would face the winner of Group A in the quarterfinals.

It wasn’t certain if that opponent would be the great warrior, but assuming I beat him, I’d face Ray next. The setup wasn’t ideal.

Ray and I are going to win everything anyway! It would’ve been so much better if we could’ve faced off in the finals.

If Ray had been seeded in E-1 instead of C-2, everything would’ve been perfect.

But… Well, looking at it differently, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Imagining the worst-case scenario, I changed my perspective.

We could’ve met in the Round of 16 or the quarterfinals, but we didn’t, and that felt like a blessing.

If either of us lost in the Round of 16 or the quarterfinals, we’d have to fight through the loser’s bracket.

That would’ve been humiliating, so meeting in the semifinals seemed like a better outcome.

At least in the semifinals, we could both become knights, and one of us could cheer for the other in the finals.

If I won, I’d say to Ray:

“Just wait. I’ll win the championship and come back. When I win, we’ll get married.”

That sounded nice.

Even if I lost (and honestly, that was slightly more likely), I had something I wanted to say to Ray if he beat me and went on to the finals:

“I don’t accept this. I need closure, so let’s get married. Marriage will be our conclusion.”

I wanted to insist on it.

You’re too amazing, and I need time to catch up. You owe it to me for always defeating me, so spend your life repaying that debt.

Honestly, it didn’t matter who won.

Whoever triumphed, we’d both become knights and get married. That was how my life was supposed to end with the line, “And they lived happily ever after~.”

But then something unimaginable happened.

Ray lost in the Round of 16.

And… I lost in the quarterfinals.

“The star everyone knows and loves from the Maunin-Reti Tournament! From the Albacete tribe—Arrrrpen!!”

“Arpen! Arpen!”

“Isn’t this guy’s best record in the quarterfinals? Hahaha! Hang in there, Arpen!”

It was a moment I didn’t want to remember: stepping onto the quarter final stage.

I’d been feeling down ever since Ray was eliminated in the Round of 16, but I’d steeled myself to perform well. From the announcer’s introduction alone, I knew things were off. The crowd burst into cheers.

Arpen Albacete.

The giant warrior I’d seen two days ago swaggered onto the stage, moving strangely as he brandished his axe. He struck exaggerated poses, showing off his impressive axe-wielding skills. His showmanship was absurd.

He bellowed:

“This body is back, alive and well! And still hungry!”

“Hahaha! That’s right, that’s right. Wasn’t it food poisoning that knocked him out last year?”

“No, food poisoning was two years ago. Last year, he forfeited because he overslept. Haha! That guy has the worst luck. He always meets the champion in the Round of 16 or something. Arpen! Go for it! Please make it to the semifinals this time!!”

Later, I learned that Arpen Albacete was practically a living symbol of bad luck in Barnaul.

For nearly 20 years, he’d competed in the Maunin-Reti Tournament but had been eliminated in all kinds of ridiculous ways.

Food poisoning and diarrhea were just the beginning. Once, he got lost and failed to show up for his matChapter Another time, he fell in love and forfeited to confess his feelings. There was even a year when he didn’t compete because his child was sick.

At this point, it seemed like the gods themselves had decreed he would never win.

But his skills were undeniably top-tier. It was no surprise the citizens of Barnaul rallied behind him. And this year, he’d reached the quarterfinals for the first time.

It was a cause for celebration, but…

Tsk, tsk. Looks like this is the end of the line for him.

After all, he was facing none other than me, Rera Ainar! (Embarrassing as it is to admit, I thought this at the time.)

A Confident Start, A Humbling End

Having easily crushed my opponent in the Round of 16, I strode into the quarterfinals with confidence, drawing my sword with a flourish. The blade, long and streaked with white stains resembling blood, drew immediate silence from the crowd.

This is why I love this sword.

I rested the blade on my shoulder, adopting a stance designed to conserve as much strength as possible.

“Pfft. What’s with that sword? If you’re going to use something like that, you might as well pick up an axe,” my opponent mocked.

His words broke into my focus. Clearly, this man liked to talk.

“Don’t you want to become a knight, too? Knights use swords. If not a sword, at least a spear. Axes aren’t it.”

“Oh? What’s so bad about axes?”

“They’re brutish. Hard to adapt with.”

“Hah! You little girl, you don’t know a thing. You’re from the Ainar tribe, right? Guess you don't hunt. Just stick to farming.”

“What did you just say?”

“Axes can’t adapt, huh? You’re clueless. But I’m not in the mood to explain. Here, let me show you instead. Get ready, little warrior.”

He charged.

I quickly visualized the clash of two heavy weapons.

Whether it’s my longsword or his double-headed axe, heavy weapons like ours don’t allow for repeated attacks. Each swing requires strength, agility, and a sharp tactical mind.

As he closed in, I shifted my lead foot back slightly, adjusting my weight forward to prepare for a decisive counter.

Good. Just keep coming.

The massive warrior, Arpen Albacete, seemed overconfident in his strength, gripping his axe’s handle tightly with both hands as he lunged forward.

So he thinks he can block my strike head-on? Fine, let’s see him try.

Using the elasticity in my shoulders, I flicked my blade from its resting position and brought it down with all my might.

Swaaaaaash!

The long blade of Avota cut through the air, gaining speed and force as it fell.

“Hyup, cha!”

“Huh?”

I had assumed he wouldn’t dodge—and he didn’t. But his response was anything but ordinary.

He dropped his axe handle.

Instead of wielding the axe by its shaft, he caught both sides of the axe head in his palms, holding it aloft with the shaft dangling below.

And it worked.

Clang!

Because he raised the axe head to head height, my sword didn’t have the acceleration it needed to pierce through. Even more surprising, his stance—though laughable at first glance—was remarkably stable.

Standing straight with his arms raised, he deflected my blade perfectly.

Normally, someone would hold an axe horizontally to block with the shaft, which I could’ve easily broken. But by using the sturdiest part of the axe, the head, he negated my attack and transitioned smoothly to his next move.

“Hohoho! Can’t adapt with an axe, huh? Hahaha! Sure, that might be true. But someone as great as me mastered the basics ages ago. Now, take this! My stick technique!”

“Ah!!”

What followed was a bizarre maneuver. If the two blades of his double-headed axe were left and right, he crossed his hands to grip the lower left blade with his right hand.

Then, with a sharp twist, he swung the axe handle—which had been dangling like a pendulum—spinning it like a wheel straight toward my head.

Toward my head!?

I clenched my teeth.

It’s nearly impossible to transition a heavy weapon from an attack to a defense without significant delay. Fortunately, my sword was already raised, giving me a chance to block.

Relying on the weight of my sword, I pulled it back to intercept.

Tang!

The axe handle grazed past, narrowly missing my head.

But I had no time to breathe. A whooshing sound came from my right.

“Kyah!!”

“Arpen! Arpen!”

The crowd erupted as I barely dodged. My opponent had swung his left hand, aiming a fierce slap at my face. I managed to block with my shoulder at the last second.

“Hmm~ Not bad. Only a handful of people have ever managed to block this. What do you think, little lady? Still think axes are brutish?”

“…Pfft! Yeah. They’re ridiculously brutish.”

“Hoho! Still got a fight in you? Good. You haven’t had enough, then.”

Winning or losing no longer mattered to me. Somewhere in his chaotic movements lay the key to wielding my sword more freely. Enraptured, I dove back into the fight—and got thoroughly beaten.

Arpen Albacete.

He was an incredible warrior who gave me a humiliating defeat and a valuable lesson.

Advancing to the semifinals, he cried out to the stands where his wife and children cheered:

“Darling! Kids! Did you see that?! I did it! I made it! I’m winning this year and never coming back! Hahahaha!”

His booming voice echoed through the arena.

But true to his reputation as a symbol of bad luck, the very next day, he faced Rev, the warrior who had defeated Ray.

That battle was over before it began. Rev beat Arpen so thoroughly, it seemed personal.

In the end, as Rev stood over Arpen’s battered form, he reportedly said, “Thank you.”

Watching from the sidelines, I couldn’t help but think I was right all along—Arpen Albacete was just a little crazy.