In the very heart of the Kassakchel Kingdom lies its bustling center, teeming with people. Normally, an endless stream of merchants and travelers throngs the area, but today the square is even more packed, with crowds pressing close against one another—a truly shoulder-to-shoulder throng.
Right in the middle of the square stands a magnificent fighting stage. Flanking the stage are two statues: the one on the left symbolizes the God of War, Gargantuer, while the statue on the right represents the current strongest shield of the kingdom, the hero Sutton.
Alice and I squeezed into the rear of the crowd amid a din of noisy commotion and public discussion. I gripped Alice’s hand tightly, terrified that if I let go, she would vanish into thin air.
"Hey, did you hear? The young master of the Sarich family is entering the knight selection this year too!"
"Really? Aren't the other kids in his group in for some serious bad luck? A guy born with that 'magic power affinity' constitution is just too unfair—how is anyone else supposed to win against that?"
"Heh—don't speak too soon. I honestly wouldn't bet on it. That little lord has been pampered all his life; look how scrawny he is, he's probably just a half-baked amateur. I'm actually putting my money on the young lady of the Philier family. Now *that* is a ruthless contender who excels in both pen and sword!"
"Oh, come off it! No matter how good she is, could she possibly beat young master Jonathan of the Joestar family? I had the privilege of watching that young master practice his strikes, and that is absolute, genuine martial arts skill!"
...
Listening to the chatter of the people around me, I thought to myself that the waves of the Yangtze River truly push the ones before them. There certainly are plenty of talented participants this year—even a once-in-a-century "magic power affinity" constitution has turned up. Competition is bound to be fierce.
Still, today's knight selection falls far short of what it was back in my day. In our era, we all went through a massive free-for-all of several dozen people to decide the top twenty Junior Knights, bypassing the Apprentice Knight stage entirely. The remaining participants then had to endure a second chaotic brawl until only thirty competitors were left on the field to advance as Apprentice Knights. The battles back then were far more difficult than they are now; a chaotic melee tests a person's situational responsiveness and combat experience in a way that dividing so many people into separate groups for one-on-one duels simply cannot match.
"Silence!" shouted the High Priest on the stage, holding the knightly oath scroll. Faint currents of magic power swirled around his body. Theoretically, his voice alone would never have been enough for so many people to hear, but that is where the utility of magic shines—"Echo Magic," a harmless, specialized magic that transmits the caster's words directly into the minds of those affected, creating a continuous reverberation. It is considered quite a practical piece of everyday magic.
The previously clamorous street instantly fell silent, and everyone looked uniformly toward the center of the stage, waiting for what the High Priest had to say next.
"History is written by great men, and great men are born right here! In accordance with tradition, today we shall identify the heaven-sent pride of the kingdom. These proud talents will contribute their lifelong devotion to our empire, adding their own stroke to the grand enterprise of the kingdom!" The High Priest spoke at a leisurely pace; members of the clergy always love to put on a mysterious facade to keep people in suspense. I don't hold much fondness for people in that profession. These fellows constantly call themselves "envoys of the gods" and loudly proclaim that they are here to guide all living beings through their confusion, yet in the end, they are nothing more hypocrites. They boast of how merciful they are, but ultimately, they still rely on the slaughter of the living. In my view, they are merely pompous clowns.
His speech was truly lengthy, rambling on for quite a while before finally returning to the main point. "Ahem, next I will announce the competitors for this selection. Will all participants please stand in your respective group zones upon receiving your instructions? Our selection is about to officially begin!"
I straightened my collar and looked at Alice, who was gripping my hand tightly beside me. The little one looked extremely nervous; her palms were covered in sweat, and her expression was indescribably solemn. Her eyes remained glued to the High Priest without blinking, which I found somewhat amusing.
I felt no particular nervousness toward this kind of selection. In truth, when I participated myself, I felt nervous at first too, but after trading a couple of casual blows with my opponent to save face and knocking them down with a single strike, the feeling vanished entirely. My matches always went like that. Over time, once I realized no one could fight me to a standstill, the nervousness naturally disappeared, replaced by an indescribable sense of ease.
"Group seventeen: Ivankov versus Quiss!"
"Group eighteen: Marcani versus Philier Noren!"
A poised young woman stepped out from the crowd, though her face carried an unspeakable, extraordinary arrogance, as if she looked down on every opponent. Her upright posture truly conveyed a strong sense of power, but her mindset was a bit too arrogant; without correction, she likely wouldn't make it very far in a dangerous jungle.
"Group nineteen: Sarich Quill versus Alice Greyrat!"
When the priest called out Alice's full name, I lowered my head, shook Alice's hand, and encouraged her: "Alice, go up there and thoroughly beat that guy back! Daddy supports you all the way!"
Alice looked up at my face, furrowed her brow, and nodded resolutely. "Mm-hmm! No matter who it is, I will definitely defeat them! Because I am Daddy's daughter!"
Alice walked with resolute steps into the group nineteen zone, while young master Sarich, blessed with the "magic power affinity" constitution, was already waiting there. He stood with his arms crossed, not even lifting his eyelids, and spoke as if completely ignoring Alice: "How unlucky for you to run into me. Even I think you're utterly pathetic. I advise you to just give up on the match right now, go home and practice for another year before coming back. Maybe next year you'll happen to draw a weak opponent."
Alice ignored him entirely, simply standing quietly five or six paces away from the brat, and smiled as she waved a greeting to me.
"Hey! Didn't your father teach you that not replying when someone speaks to you is a very impolite... thing... to do?"
When the young master named Sarich received no reply from Alice, he grew angry instead, opening his eyes and roaring at her. But once he caught sight of Alice's exquisite little face, the boy stood frozen in place, staring blankly as if he had lost his mind, and muttered, "So... so beautiful... absolutely stunning, she's practically a work of art!"
"Didn't your mother teach you that if you want respect from others, you have to respect others first?" Alice finally retorted, her tone entirely devoid of fear. Her composure far exceeded my expectations. Should I say she truly is my daughter?
"You... well, seeing as you're so lovely, I'll forgive your discourtesy. Tell me your name! I might consider granting you the opportunity to serve me."
The brat's arrogant tone was a blatant desecration of Alice. Down below the stage, I clenched my fists until they popped, my gaze cold and furious as I glared at the upstart.
"Heh, it's still anyone's game, 'Young Master' Sarich, though I'd advise you to wash out your mouth first. Young Master Sarich eats delicacies from land and sea every day, and the flavor is a bit on the heavy side."
Alice deliberately emphasized the words "young master," her gaze carrying mockery and the triumph of a successful counterattack. Watching her filled my heart with joy.
That's my daughter!
"The grouping is finished! The first selection will begin in five minutes!"
The priest finally finished reading the list. A full fifty-seven groups stood upon the stage before stepping down a moment later to prepare to observe the first battle.
"You were amazing just now, Alice! Daddy is so proud of you!" I reached out and high-fived Alice as she stepped off the stage, praising her.
Alice smiled, basking in my petting and praise, revealing a sweet grin.
Meanwhile, Young Master Sarich's face had turned the color of a pig's liver. Ever since stepping off the stage, he kept staring at Alice's retreating back, his eyes filled with fury.
"Just you wait, Alice Greyrat! I'll make you regret what you just said to me!"