Chapter 139
His Majesty the King should rightfully stand at the pinnacle of this nation. For commoners like me, having a direct audience would normally be impossible—even catching a distant glimpse of his figure would be considered fortunate.
When one imagines a king from another world, the image conjured is that of a dignified, charismatic ruler whose very presence inspires loyalty, a noble being who bears the weight of his people's lives.
Right now, I'm acutely aware that such a person exists only in fantasy.
"Duke Edelgard, is this boy truly the one who slew the wind dragons you spoke of?"
Moreover, I recognize the face of the southern continent's king. After participating in so many events, you can't help but remember him.
He's notorious for assigning particularly troublesome quests while offering underwhelming rewards. Among FBO players, his popularity ranking is so low it's quicker to count from the bottom up.
And now, I'm currently in the middle of an audience with this very king.
In the end, after all that, it was forcefully concluded that while I have the will to become a hero, I'm still a child, and thus Duke Edelgard would act as my patron, with expectations for my future growth.
Truth be told, no one could come up with any alternative solution.
My strength lies in leveraging my knowledge to act swiftly and decisively. If I were to get entangled in noble politics, that advantage would vanish.
That's why I remain silent, kneeling with my head bowed, motionless as a statue. I leave all negotiations to Duke Edelgard, and as a precaution, Claudiah—dressed in her formal priestess attire—sits beside me in the same posture, acting as my guardian.
"Yes, this is the hero of House Edelgard who conquered the dungeon this time."
"...He looks ordinary."
Even so, Your Majesty, I can hear you.
Sorry for having such a mob character face!!
I can sort of guess the comparison being made.
The infamous troublemaker's physique is nothing like mine.
My apologies for not being a hulking, muscle-bound giant like Jakanaran!!
Though I suppose eating nothing but meat does give him that enviably rugged appearance!
"What was your name again?"
"Liberta."
"Hmm, Liberta. Raise your head."
"Yes."
From his tone, tinged with disappointment, it seems he was hoping I'd be some breathtakingly handsome man radiating an overwhelming aura. Unfortunately, when I first reincarnated, I was an orphan on the verge of starvation.
Lately, I've started putting on some muscle, but I'm still far from even being "lean and toned."
Besides, my combat style revolves around a "Reaper build."
Standing out would defeat the purpose.
Grumbling internally, I finally lift my face and get a proper look at the king—only to immediately think, "Who is this?" as a question mark hovers over my head.
My first impression: he looks unwell.
Hollow, sunken cheeks.
A spiritless demeanor, with an air of timidity.
And eyes that cling to me with the faintest glimmer of hope.
I could've sworn he looked better in the original story.
"Indeed, Liberta. Your conquest of the dungeon was truly a great deed. Your accomplishments are worthy of being called heroic."
Am I the only one who imagined a trembling little dog cowering behind the king as he desperately praises me?
Here is the ruler of a nation, clearly terrified of something—something he's struggling to hide.
But what?
"Your Majesty."
"! What is it, Duke Boltlinde?"
Mid-sentence, the king is interrupted. I sneak a glance at the speaker.
Pale, sickly skin. A bland, expressionless face. If his tongue were forked, you'd mistake him for a snake.
His tone makes it obvious he holds no respect for the king as he steps forward.
"Is it not cruel to burden a mere child with the weight of being a hero?"
Though his words are admonishing, his gentle tone and smile can't conceal his true feelings:
"How dare you acknowledge a hero when I already have one under my wing?!"
His entire demeanor oozes that sentiment.
Here comes the troublemaker, I think, watching as the king reacts to him—confirming that this man is the source of his terror.
Giuseppe Boltlinde, Duke of Boltlinde.
Commonly known as the "Castle Serpent Duke."
"And yet, he has slain two wind dragons, has he not?"
"According to Duke Edelgard's report, yes. But the truth remains unclear, does it not?"
In the southern continent, he's infamous among players as a nuisance—a man of unchecked ambition, scheming tirelessly to seize the throne for himself.
"Duke Boltlinde, are you suggesting my word cannot be trusted?"
"Not at all. Were he a dwarf, perhaps, but expecting anyone to believe a child slew wind dragons defies common sense. Even if those words come from Duke Edelgard, who has sworn loyalty to the crown, no?"
His snide tone irritates me, but there's no point in intervening. Even if I, a commoner, were to speak up, it wouldn't improve the situation.
For Duke Edelgard, this level of veiled insult must be routine—his expression remains unchanged as he responds.
Duke Boltlinde smiles. Duke Edelgard remains impassive.
And caught between them is His Majesty the King.
...Ah, he just clutched his stomach for a second.
Yeah, now I get why he's so gaunt.
Being stuck between those two would stress anyone's stomach to the point of ruin.
"If my word alone is insufficient, then let hers serve as further testimony."
"...How unusual for you to be acquainted with such a rare individual."
Though it might seem simple to dismiss it as a battle of stares, the aura they exude is so thick it becomes pure pressure.
Every word is measured, each one surely carving another wound into the king's stomach.
Thinking about it, I can understand why he'd be desperate enough to summon me like this.
Whether I forgive him or not is another matter, but at least I get why I was called.
When your workplace is this toxic, you'd cling to any straw of hope too.
"Priestess Claudiah, do you also recognize this commoner child as a hero?"
"Regarding that matter, I would say judgment is still pending."
Once again, it's not me but Claudiah—renowned as a priestess of the Church—who rises smoothly to speak.
Duke Boltlinde stares directly at her, and she meets his gaze head-on.
"I see. So someone of your stature believes this boy possesses the makings of a hero?"
As someone who already has a hero under his command, my existence must be a thorn in his side.
The icy glances he keeps shooting my way make that clear.
Would it be more childlike to drop the poker face and act startled or scared?
The nobles' stares around me are equally grating.
Being scrutinized like livestock is honestly the last thing I want.
"Then by all means, let us witness his prowess for ourselves! Wouldn't you all agree?!"
And now he's setting up a stage to test me.
Great.
"How about it, Your Majesty? As you can see, everyone—myself included—is curious about this 'hero candidate's' abilities. I propose we assess his skills, just as I once demonstrated mine."
From my perspective, being made a spectacle is expected, but I'm not exactly thrilled.
Showing off player skills is like revealing your hand.
It's not something to celebrate.
Even if it means gaining the king's favor, I'm not interested.
That said, holding back and being underestimated would disgrace Duke Edelgard, so I can't do that either.
"Hmm. What say you, Duke Edelgard? I'm inclined to accept Duke Boltlinde's proposal."
For the king, this is a godsend—he, too, wants to gauge my strength.
"I see no alternative. I assume Duke Boltlinde, as the proposer, will provide the opponents?"
"Oh? You're fine with that?"
"Would you be satisfied if I arranged the opponents instead?"
"No, no. In that case, I'll gladly accept your offer. I have no shortage of subordinates eager to test themselves against a dragonslayer. Consider it a learning experience."
I'd already been warned this might happen.
That's why I can watch the proceedings unfold with resigned detachment.
"Listen well, Liberta. There will undoubtedly be interference during the audience."
We'd arrived at the castle in Duke Edelgard's carriage.
There, with a grave expression, he'd explained how things would likely unfold.
"Nine times out of ten, Duke Boltlinde himself will appear. He's the only one brazen enough to challenge my word. Even if delayed, he'll show up—I'm the biggest obstacle to his plans of promoting his own hero."
Though his face had twisted in clear disgust, Duke Edelgard wasn't one to let emotions dictate his actions.
"He'll likely demand proof of your strength. While verifying your dragon-slaying is part of it, his true goal is to assess your capabilities for himself."
Calmly, he'd outlined Duke Boltlinde's motives and methods—all of which aligned with what I knew of the man's patterns.
"What I need from you is to conceal as much of your true strength as possible while still overwhelming your opponent. More than that, you must leave an impact greater than his so-called 'hero candidate.'"
"That's quite the demand."
I understood the logic—giving Duke Boltlinde more information than necessary was unwise.
But asking me to hold back while making a strong enough impression to be recognized as a hero?
Bold.
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't believe you could do it."
"I'm not saying it's impossible, but let's be clear—it's unreasonable. That said, it sounds fun, so I'll play along."
First and foremost, I should avoid using my signature skills.
Likewise, weapons that might be seen as underhanded are off the table.
That leaves only one option for something flashy yet effective.
As I reminisce, Claudiah and I are escorted by knights to the castle's training grounds.
Used by the royal guards, the facility is well-equipped, with ample seating for noble spectators.
From a security standpoint, there's no better location.
"...Are you certain about that weapon?"
"Yes, this will do."
Since we're before the king, all weapons are, of course, wooden.
The training area boasts an impressive array of mock weaponry.
I pick up the one I'd eyed earlier, giving it a few test swings to gauge its weight. The knight who guided me watches with visible concern.
Ideally, I'd prefer a spear, but Duke Edelgard explicitly instructed me to avoid it.
In that case, why not go all-in with a meme weapon for once?
"That's... quite a large weapon you've chosen."
"Originally, it was meant for breaking walls and gates, I hear."
"And you can wield such a thing?"
"One-hit KOs are the stuff of legends. Consider it a required course in my training."
The weapon I've selected is a greathammer taller than I am.
Sturdily built, its weight is substantial, with a satisfying heft.
Thanks to my stats, I can swing it without issue.
My past self wouldn't have been able to lift it, let alone use it—attempting would've wrecked my back.
"Anyway, if I just knock out all the opponents in one hit, that should satisfy them, right?"
"That would be ideal, but don't get careless."
"I don't plan on losing, so no worries there."
It's been a while since I've used this, but it feels good in my hands.
A full-powered swing produces a satisfying whoosh.
"Yeah, this'll work."
A glance at the knight reveals his face has gone pale.
"Just to be clear, try not to get hurt."
"If anything, I'll need to hold back to avoid turning them into paste."
The greathammer is the definition of a one-hit kill.
Imagining what a direct hit would do isn't hard.
The contrast between a child and this weapon should also catch them off guard.
"If you're this confident, I suppose there's nothing to worry about."
"If someone on Claudiah's level shows up, I'm running for it, though."
"Oh? You'd flee?"
"Against opponents I can't beat while holding back, yeah. I'd at least want my trusty spear."
"Fair enough."
My goal is simple: instant victory.
I solidify that image in my mind.
"It seems your opponents are ready. Are you prepared?"
"I'm ready."
With the other side set, I follow the knight's instructions and step forward.
"...Huh."
The sight of my opponents makes me audibly react.
I'd expected one, but there are ten.
All armed, too.
I see how it is.
"Well then, it seems holding back won't be necessary."