Bermuda

"Sorry, but you are already carrying one magical tool, so you may not enter while carrying any other items."

"Excuse me?"

Leonardo Blaine asked back, baffled. At his incredulous reaction, a member of the operations staff held a detector up to the area around his throat.

The device, whose purpose he did not know, beeped and its red light flashed. Looking down, Leonardo sighed and groped at his neck.

He gave the staff a look that said Is it really this? The staff ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) nodded as if the answer were obvious.

About forty minutes earlier, participants escorted by staff began filing into the multipurpose hall on the southeast side of the main stadium. The vast hall matched the size of a parade ground, and as soon as he stepped in Leonardo felt breathless from the heat emitted by the crowd.

White Council tents stood in rows like a solid barrier in the center. Under staff control, participants entered the white tents one by one. From the buzzing ahead and behind, it sounded like the pre-registration procedure for “match support equipment.”

Among them someone carried a two-handed sword twice his height on his back. The blade emitted a crimson aura like blood piercing a heart—a fierce presence. A hot gust of wind swept past; that fellow seemed to be the cause. Participants murmured one to another around the man who had already achieved clear psychological dominance.

"Hey, look at that. He brought something monstrous."

"What is that?"

"You don’t know Phanontos? One of the nine-weapon collection crafted by Aras’ master."

"...Bringing that as a weapon isn’t cheating? If I had one of those I’d make it to the finals."

Is that an expensive weapon? Leonardo wondered indifferently as he craned his neck to look at the gathered participants.

Outside had looked like a ragtag crowd, but here real strong contenders began to stand out. Beyond threatening builds or weapons, some emitted an inherently chilling aura.

They mostly kept their faces covered like him, letting only their eyes flash from the shadows.

One of them stood shirtless with only a hood and cloth wrapped around his head. His muscles and veins bulged, but what caught the eye first were the large scars across his abdomen and back. New flesh had grown through darkened skin, leaving the surface lumpy and grotesque.

Leonardo could guess how that wound might have happened.

Was his abdomen pierced through? He survived somehow.

Judging by the scar’s breadth, it was not a simple wound from a sword or spear. It looked as if another human arm had passed through and flailed out the other side.

As he silently assessed the man’s condition, the red-glowing fellow’s eyes suddenly rolled toward him.

Their eyes met for a moment, but Leonardo did not look away— not out of pride but because he was surprised the man had recognized his gaze so quickly. Fortunately a staff member nearby ordered him forward and the staredown ended awkwardly.

Will I meet him in the finals? Leonardo watched the tent the man entered for a while, then shifted his gaze to where the man had been standing. Other figures hidden in the rear came into view. The first to draw his eye was a woman striking an arrogant pose with her chin high.

Surrounded by others, her outfit was baffling. Her top consisted of a palm-sized metal plate, and her skirt was made of sand with sand shoes. The bronze skin suited it, but the look seemed wildly out of place here, as if she’d wandered into the wrong showroom. The overly daring attire threatened to overshadow even her abilities.

Leonardo quickly looked away, embarrassed, but she seemed to relish the attention as if it were natural.

The bystanders dubbed her the “Nefertiti of the Desert” while critiquing her appearance. She held a golden staff shaped like two heads entwining each other.

"That woman’s here too."

"Oh, a likely finalist."

Following the whispers, Leonardo turned his gaze and saw another woman standing motionless with long white hair. It was her face, not her clothing, that unsettled him—scars crossing beneath one eye and along a cheek, stitched marks encircling her neck. Her corpse-pale skin and large, icy eyes gave an uncanny impression.

She looked either dead or near death. Bandages wrapped about her body made her even more chilling.

That ribcage and triceps size... she’s not ordinary either.

Called a likely finalist, Leonardo stored her image in his mind. Since his goal was victory, it would not hurt to identify potential obstructive opponents in advance.

Finally, he studied a figure in a mask and cloak. There were many, but the mask that caught Leonardo’s attention resembled the beaked medical masks of the old plague era. The presumably male figure sat with his back against the wall as if the waiting area were his home.

A metal gauntlet covered the hand revealed beneath his robe. In fact, much of his body seemed concealed.

Among all the demon, beast, and fiend masks, a beak mask might seem negligible, but to Leonardo it was more distinct and unpleasant than any other.

If someone took the trouble to hide their skin that thoroughly, they probably weren’t honorable. Perhaps a strategist type who preferred to remain hidden and observe rather than reveal themselves.

For now, about four who stand out.

"Next in line, please enter."

Just as he finished roughly scanning competitors, it was his turn. Following the staff’s instruction, Leonardo parted the white tent flaps and stepped inside.

The tent’s size matched the hexagonal large tent he and the Legion Commander had used on the peninsula. Three staff members were inside and there were no other participants. Various measuring devices, open artifacts, and boxes stuffed with bands lay piled to one side.

He scanned the interior and walked to the mark on the floor indicated by a staff gesture. Stopping at the right spot, one of the two seated staff members spoke.

"You have your registration slip issued at application, right? May I have that along with your identification?"

He immediately took out both items from his inner pocket and handed them over. Each staff member took one. Then the remaining staff member who had been standing back stepped forward holding a club-shaped detector.

"Please take out the single support item you will use during the match. We will verify it now."

***

This is supposed to be a match support item? Are you kidding me? This does nothing. Rather than amplifying it handicaps me—

By regulation, all items except clothing are classified as match support equipment.

...They said accessories are allowed. Don’t they know what a choker is? A damn choker like a dog collar.

This choker has been detected as more than a simple accessory. Any item affecting mana operation—whether amplifying or suppressing—will be classified as match support equipment without discrimination.

"Damn...." Leonardo bit his lip and let out a wry laugh at how absurd the situation had become.

"If you do not wish to register it as support equipment, you may deactivate it yourself right here."

"If it were that easy to remove, do you think I’d still be wearing it?" he retorted.

Recalling the ridiculousness of the situation, he ruffled the back of his head as if his plan had been derailed. The hat jolted off and dropped to the floor; his flattened blond hair fluttered in the humid sea breeze.

Worried someone might notice, Leonardo picked up the fallen hat with a sigh, dusted off the fine sand, and pressed it down hard on his head. The salty sound of waves tickled his ears.

The item he had intended to carry during the League was a ruby ring to assist mana use—a tool named Dominentis. It hid his aura while allowing finer control of output; he had found it after much searching and modified it with Judy’s help.

Because he believed the strongest weapon was himself, Leonardo had intended to hide his identity, use his abilities minimally, and focus solely on claiming the prize.

Yet others paraded weapons crafted by Aras’ master or carried a taxidermied two-headed staff, while he would have to brave this god-awful dog collar rather than a magical tool.

The more he thought about it the more irritated he became, and he glared at a nearby rock. Strange letters, not likely natural markings, were engraved on it.

[Do not move beyond a radius of 10 m until instructions are given.

If you leave the designated area you will be disqualified immediately.]

It had been almost thirty minutes since they were told to wait for instructions. Yet there had been no news.

Tired of waiting, Leonardo kicked the rock hard.

But the rock—real, not a prop—did not budge, leaving only a throbbing pain in his toes. Its surface crumbled slightly but showed almost no visible damage.

Instead of a scream, he sank onto the sand with veins standing out on his neck and emitted an annoyed groan.

"Aah, really...! What on earth are we supposed to be doing here?"

To his right the waves slapped the sea; to his left a lush jungle spread atop high cliffs. Under the clear sky, the blazing sun scattered Leonardo’s voice in all directions.

The appearance of a temporary portal immediately after exiting the tent was unexpected. He followed the instructions and leapt into the portal, guessing it would lead to an external match site—but he had not expected to drop on such a remote island.

This was the First Sub-Arena for participant testing within Agrizendro territory.

Exhausted on the sun-heated ground, Leonardo flopped onto the fine sand. Staring at the boundary between sea and sky, the netlike barrier reflected light and revealed its outline.

At that moment, a massive amplification magic circle unfurled across the blue sky. A buzzing noise accompanied a voice announcing the start of the actual test.