The Female Knight of Doom - TFKOD 52: Martial Arts Tournament (2)

Alice had not intended to come here at all.

In the days leading up to the official start of the competition, Knight Philo graciously granted her and Kent a brief respite—partly to help them prepare mentally and physically, and partly to ensure their true abilities remained concealed from their rivals during training.

He encouraged them to seize the moment and enjoy some leisure, noting that the nearby villages had never been more vibrant.

With good humor, Alice and Kent set out together into the village.

They spent some time in each other’s company but soon discovered that they felt more at ease wandering alone than in tandem. Ultimately, they parted on friendly terms—Kent heading to the pub for a bitter ale, and Alice continuing her leisurely stroll around the square, each choosing their own path to enjoy the lively surroundings.

The once desolate square had transformed into a bustling marketplace, teeming with a myriad of tents and stalls. Everywhere, tempting snacks were available for mere copper coins, alongside a variety of miscellaneous goods.

She wandered from one end to the other, yet her curiosity remained unsatisfied. Her gaze then fell upon a distant black tent, compelling her to approach.

As she stepped inside, a shiver of unease ran through her; the familiar warmth of a friendly merchant was absent. Instead, she was met with the silent gaze of several individuals cloaked in black robes and masks.

It was immediately apparent that these figures—standing or seated—were all Crows. This was no ordinary stall.

Clearly, Alice had inadvertently entered a clandestine gathering of the Darkness’ family, particularly its Death’s Branch.

Her fear of the Death had waned, at least since she had taken up the life of a mercenary.

She had witnessed too many corpses, too many Crows, to be easily disturbed. There were moments when she had to navigate through hills of fallen soldiers, catching the fleeting gaze of a Crow amid the chaos. Their eyes would meet briefly—an unspoken exchange—before the Crow would tilt its head and turn away, guiding the corpse in a different direction.

It was well known that Crows rarely spoke, their silent communication conveyed through these piercing stares. Cloaked in masks, their eyes remained elusive, leaving Alice uncertain of what they truly thought.

Perhaps, in those moments, the Crow was seeking to draw a fragment of vitality from her gaze—an instinct born of too many encounters with death—or maybe it was merely assessing her resilience, pondering how long she might survive before she, too, became part of their feast.

Legends surrounding the Crow abound, weaving tales both mysterious and chilling. Some claim that gazing upon a Crow reveals the very date of one’s demise, while others whisper that no face resides behind the mask—that beneath it lies only death.

To look upon a Crow, many believe, is to confront mortality itself. Yet, these stories are mere fabrications, much like other legends of the Crow.

She understands that behind those masks, there are real human beings.

While she isn’t as terrified of the Crow as some might be, any visitor who inadvertently stumbles into such a tent would instinctively apologize and swiftly retreat. Yet, before she could turn away, her gaze fell upon a modest table—similar to those used by vendors.

It might serve as a gathering spot for the Crows, but it also functions as a humble stall, offering various items for sale.

The subtlety was striking—could there truly be individuals who purchase offerings from the so-called “Crow” stall?

Alice examined the items laid out on the table, which appeared to be delicate, handcrafted jewelry and small artisanal crafts. The goods—sold by those associated with death—unexpectedly bore an air of simplicity and ordinariness.

Suddenly, Cecilion’s voice whispered softly in her ear, “You might find something here to your liking. These items, blessed by the God of Darkness’ divine grace, could serve a purpose in the future.”

The crowd around them was so dense that she couldn’t pose her questions directly to Cecilion. Though He seemed to notice her confusion, He offered no explanation amidst the bustling scene.

She lingered at the table, scrutinizing the objects more closely.

Some items were truly unremarkable, like the wooden Bacchus bull-head figurine that Lina had once gifted to Hewlett years ago. Only now did she grasp the humor behind their old jokes—though both Lina and Hewlett had long since vanished from her life.

Others, however, sparked suspicion.

Her gaze settled on jewelry fashioned from what appeared to be white bone, the texture reminiscent of human finger bones.

Alice carefully navigated the assortment, avoiding those charms that seemed too frightening or too commonplace, until her gaze settled on a pendant adorned with a black star and moon motif.

Its material was somewhat elusive—uncertain to pinpoint exactly—yet unmistakably not human bone or any other organic substance. The hue certainly diverged from that of bone, and the texture felt entirely different.

Across from her, a Crow’s piercing glance met hers, and it lifted two fingers in silent communication.

She reached into her pocket and retrieved two silver coins, but the Crow’s counterpart shook its head, a brief sneer curling its beak.

Clearly, it was asking for two gold coins.

Surprised, Alice hesitated, about to set the pendant back down when a whisper echoed softly in her mind, “Buy it. The price is right.” Trusting Cecilion’s counsel, she nodded, relinquished two gold coins, and clasped the pendant tightly in her hand.

Unaware of when she had first grasped it, she now held the pendant tightly in her hand, and a sensation of icy coldness surged through her, so intense it seemed to pierce her bones.

As it came into contact with her Covenant Ring, a faint hissing sound echoed—a subtle signal that piqued her curiosity.

Could this mysterious artifact have the power to tame the flames of the Covenant Ring? If it truly possessed such an ability, its value would far exceed the cost of two gold coins, perhaps even twenty.

Yet, she had no intention of betraying her promise to Earl Rachel, rendering its potential effectiveness moot to her. She was convinced that Cecilion understood this as well.

Still, the pendant must serve some other purpose; otherwise, He would not have permitted her to pay for it.

As Alice departed from the tent, clutching the pendant close, she heard him remark, “The pendant crafted by the Nightkin can emanate their aura.”

“And then?”

“The God of Light harbors an intense aversion for the God of Darkness. Should he detect even a faint trace of darkness around you, he will lack the opportunity to discern whether you also bear the subtle aura of the God of the Future. In this way, the pendant of the God of Darkness serves as an exquisite concealment—an invaluable disguise I recommend you wear at all times for your personal safety.”

While this may seem mundane, it is undoubtedly prudent.

As Cecilian wisely remarked, “Maintaining good relations with the Crows isn’t a bad idea. Sooner or later, we will cross paths with their master.”

Alice was uncertain whether this “master” referred to the actual necromancers or the god who reigns over the realm of the dead.

Even for someone as accustomed to death as she, the mere thought of these beings sent a shiver down her spine. Yet, this step was likely necessary for awakening Cecilion.

“How did things go with the God of Agriculture and Herding?” she deliberately changed the subject, avoiding mentioning those fearsome servants of Death. “Did you receive the prayers of those farmers?”

“Yes,” for some reason, He didn’t seem too pleased.

“What’s wrong?”

“Let’s put it this way, the prayers of the followers of the God of Agriculture and Herding have given me magical power I hadn’t expected before. It’s a bit different from the direction I expected… His aura is too heavy,” Cecilion’s tone was gentle, but what he said didn’t sound strange.

“Does this sound… good?” she asked with some hesitation.

“It is good,” He admitted reluctantly. “Anyway, the power has increased. I just have to adjust a bit… before I can truly awaken. There are too many restrictions.”

It was rare for the god to display human-like emotions, and it seemed kind of cute. The thought was decidedly disrespectful, but the impression of “cute” wasn’t so easy to dismiss.

Cecilion said nothing, obviously pretending not to notice her thoughts.

Oh no, that only made him more endearing.

During the tournament, the castle wasn’t locked at night, so Alice could return a little later. She hung the pendant around her neck and went to the tavern to find Kent. He had drunk several glasses and was slightly tipsy.

When he saw her approaching, he raised the glass in his hand to her, “Come and have a drink?”

Alice looked at him, “How much have you had? Are you fit for tomorrow’s game?”

He held up a finger, “It’s the last glass, it’s okay.”

The gentle ale was so light that she felt no concern about Kent overindulging, and she poured herself a glass as well.

Tomorrow marked the day of the archery competition, and both of them needed to find a moment of respite.

Kent’s innate mastery of archery was undeniable, yet he had never before competed in such an event, leaving him somewhat anxious.

Alice’s skills had only recently begun to develop, and she was enjoying a fleeting period of “beginner’s luck”—though she wondered how long it might last once the contest was upon them.

Nonetheless, her mind was often preoccupied with myriad thoughts, and she didn’t approach the competition with the same seriousness that Kent did.

She sipped the final pint of bitter ale alongside Kent, and together they strolled back toward the castle.

The second day’s competition offered little to remark upon. All forty-five participants were tasked with shooting ten arrows each.

Kent’s flawless aim—striking the bullseye with all ten—earned him the distinction of the day’s top contender.

Knight Philo secured a commendable nine bullseyes, while Alice managed six, with one of her remaining four arrows missing the mark—her best effort yet.

Though modest in comparison to others, her performance was nonetheless respectable, aligning closely with the efforts of her fellow knights.

The archery competition stands as the most challenging of the three to conquer, with the majority of knights possessing comparable skill levels—exceptional archers like Kent being notable exceptions.

Thanks to the outstanding performances of Kent and Knight Philo, they have now secured the top position in the overall standings, and their ranking on the square prediction list has ascended two spots to sixth. While victory in the championship still appears elusive, they have firmly established themselves within the upper half of the leaderboard.

Among individual knights, Alice’s position has slipped by two places, yet Kent’s remarkable performance has propelled him to ninth place, elevating him as a strong contender in the upcoming knights’ tournament.

This victory gave him, who had previously been very nervous, a lot of confidence.

Even though the next match was fencing, which he wasn’t good at, he still shouted enthusiastically, “Let them come!”

Knight Philo was much calmer than Alice and Kent.

He looked at the agitated Kent and then turned to her, “Tomorrow depends on you.”

Alice nodded, “Don’t worry.”