Kays Translations

Chapter 56: Ingenious Arts and Devious Skills

The sudden transformation of the once sweet, charming little fox girl into a bloodthirsty, predatory huntress sent a palpable jolt through the air. Madam Clarissa — who, only moments ago, had seemed rather intent on charming and possibly ensnaring Marlon — was instantly sobered by the surge of killing intent radiating from Amy, now revealed as the demon-hunting vixen, Elisa. Sensing the shift in power, Madam Clarissa wisely chose the only path that would not end in disaster: cooperation.

Under her enthusiastic persuasion, the two officials — the Deputy Chief of the police and the Director of the Patent Bureau, both hopelessly enamored with her — yielded almost immediately. They agreed, without hesitation, to postpone the “Honorable Duel” for two days and to settle the matter later through a virtual duel simulator — the “Glory Combat Machine.”

Marlon found the situation somewhat puzzling. Madam Clarissa’s reputation for boldness and flirtatious confidence made her sudden fear of Amy’s “demon-huntress” persona seem out of character. Still, for Marlon, the outcome was convenient. At least he wouldn’t have to keep arguing.

But of course, things rarely ended so smoothly.

Just as Inspector Bernard — the arbiter of the duel — took Marlon’s enchanted crystal amplifier and announced the postponement to the massive crowd of over ten thousand spectators, a new voice thundered forth. A voice filled with outrage and authority, belonging to a man who had, until now, stood silently on the sidelines.

“As a barrier mage who has cast the Shield of Honor over more than a hundred duels,”
the old man began, his tone like steel scraping across glass, I have never once heard of a case where, after a formal prayer to the gods of Quine, the duel’s time or form was changed at the whim of outsiders!”

The speaker was an elderly man with a mane of white hair and beard, clad in the ceremonial robes of a Barrier Mage. His words carried the weight of tradition and sanctity.

“Carlton Bennison, Isolde Arvey,” he continued, voice rising with righteous fury, “as Vice-Chairman of the White Sand City Barrier Mages’ Association, I could perhaps forgive your decision to alter the time of the duel without permission… but have you considered the gravity of what you’ve done? Your actions border upon— blasphemy!”

Moments ago, the old mage’s tone had been measured, almost courteous. But now, as he addressed the duelists, his voice took on a chilling edge, his face contorted with anger — the righteous wrath of a zealot.

Marlon felt it immediately — that suffocating hostility. Even though the old man’s cloudy eyes merely brushed past him, the sensation was unmistakable. That glare wasn’t just stern disapproval — it was personal animosity, sharp enough to cut.

Why does he hate me so much? Marlon wondered, puzzled.

Before he could dwell on it, Isolde Arvey, the blunt and outspoken Deputy Chief, spoke up, brow furrowed.

“Master Benjamin von Stein,” he said dryly, “there’s no need to be so worked up. Don’t worry — the five hundred Lant appearance fee we promised will be paid, you have my word.”

The jab was deliberate. Isolde clearly resented being accused of blasphemy — even in an age when divine power had waned, that charge could still ruin a man’s life. Some overzealous fanatic might take it upon himself to “avenge” the gods, and assassination would be the least of the troubles that followed.

So, with that simple remark, Isolde twisted the blade back toward the old mage — implying that his outrage had less to do with divine devotion and more with personal greed. In one breath, the accusation of blasphemy became a farce, the words of an old man fretting over his paycheck.

Ah… I see now, Marlon thought, amusement flickering in his eyes. The old mage’s real concern is his fee. Typical.

But then — a detail clicked. Wait. Von Stein? Did he just say his name was Benjamin von Stein?

That surname was familiar. Wasn’t von Stein the same ancient family to which Ivna’s pompous fiancé, Descartes, belonged? One of the old money houses of White Sand City?

If that were the case, then this Benjamin von Stein must be related — perhaps Decart’s uncle or grandfather. And if so… well, no wonder the man’s glare carried such venom. Marlon had, after all, thoroughly humiliated Decart not too long ago.

“Ridiculous!” The old mage’s face flushed crimson, his beard trembling. 

“Do you think I would concern myself with five hundred Lant? I, Vice-Chairman of the Barrier Mages’ Association? You—Isolde Arvey—should go at once to the Temple of the Lord of Radiance and beg forgiveness! To malign others with such petty suspicion is an insult to the Lord of Light Himself!”

The “Lord of Radiance” — Hopp-Sansi, the Immortal King of the Quine Pantheon, the god of eternal daylight and undying brilliance — was not a name one uttered lightly.

And then, as if to ensure no one else was spared his wrath, the old mage turned his glare on Marlon.

“And you! You who would profane tradition with your so-called invention — this projected duel machine! Do you think that, because you’ve written a few popular books, you can defy a thousand years of sacred custom recognized by the gods themselves?!”

Marlon had expected as much. Ah, there it is, he sighed inwardly. The part where I get shot even though I wasn’t in the duel.

But he didn’t panic. He had already anticipated this kind of reaction on the way here. So when Benjamin von Stein’s fury reached its peak, Marlon merely smiled — calm, polite, almost amused.

“Master Benjamin von Stein,” he said mildly, “I’ve long had a question that confuses me. May I ask… before the invention of the airship, who ruled the skies?”

The question hung in the air like a spark before a storm.

Of course, everyone knew the answer: the dragons.

Once, the dragons had declared arrogantly, “The sky belongs to the dragons. The wingless worms shall crawl only upon land and sea.” The Dragon God Aranra himself had sanctioned those words. But now, mankind — those very “wingless worms” — sailed through the heavens aboard warships of steel and flame, armed with cannons that could slay even wyrms.

And when the first fragile airships trembled before the might of dragonfire, it was the Quine Pantheon that had boldly declared their support for humanity’s conquest of the skies — and joined them in the legendary Three-Hundred-Year Sky War, which ended the dragons’ dominion forever.

So if Benjamin admitted that dragons once ruled the heavens, Marlon could then twist the argument with merciless irony: That airships too were once branded as “profane inventions.” That progress had always begun as heresy.

But Benjamin von Stein was no fool.

“Hmph! Ignorant boy!” the old man sneered. “The first airship was built by a goblin engineer named Glikrit, a devout follower of the Lord of Radiance! It was because of his faith — his piety — that the gods blessed his work and granted mortals dominion over the sky!”

He had sidestepped the trap perfectly. His eyes gleamed with sharp triumph as he pressed on.

“So tell me, boy. Which of the Quine gods do you serve? Which god’s blessing rests upon your so-called ‘projection duel device’? Or perhaps, failing that, does it bear even the favor of an allied god from the Ilocogon pantheon?”

Marlon froze, caught off guard. Wait… there’s such a requirement? He hadn’t heard a word about divine blessings being necessary for innovation.

For the first time, his brow furrowed slightly. And the crowd — silent until now — leaned in, waiting to see how the young inventor would answer the priest of tradition who stood before him.

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