Bermuda

Wooooah!

The crowd’s roar filled the main stadium.

The opening performance taking place in the center of the ground dazzled both eyes and ears. Multicolored gem lights and a pipe-organ–style sound system combined with majestic acoustic rigs and magical stage devices drew wave after wave of excited reactions. The cascading waterfall spray vibrated into fine mist under the influence of the soundwaves.

One of the main features of the Fifth Preliminary main stadium was that the water level flowing along the ground’s sides could be controlled. A performance staged on water that lapped at the instep was decorated with white froth choreography, and the orchestra-like melodies swelled by echoing off the water’s reflective surface.

Dreamlike and explosive energy traveled across the spectators’ skin and spread excitement. In that tumultuous scene, Hugo was busy receiving VIPs arriving one after another before the main event. VIPs meant high-ranking officials of various institutions and politically entangled nobles — the investors who funded the stadium’s construction, retainers of families who supported hosting the event, and other dignitaries the Duke and Legion Commander needed to maintain good relations with.

“I’ve seen many League arenas, but I’ve never seen one with such a unique yet beautiful character. The crowd’s fervor speaks for me. Congratulations on a successful opening, Your Grace.”

“You flatter me. Your presence makes this occasion shine even more.”

“Duke, though it’s early, I sincerely congratulate you on your birthday. I feared there might be no banquet this year, so I worried we wouldn’t be able to visit, but adding this grand event to the New Year makes it a truly auspicious day.”

“Thank you. You’ve had a long journey; please enjoy yourself. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I am grateful for your kindness.”

Hugo shook each guest’s hand with Flynn and his personal attendants at his back. Today his face looked exceptionally handsome, a faint smile spreading across it, and those who met him could not meet his eyes easily — and yet, once they had, they could not look away.

The military officers who were on poor terms with the Council behaved the same. They offered formal greetings and sat down, but kept glancing at the Duke and whispering among themselves. The topic and tone were mostly the same: whether praise or criticism, astonishment mingled with their voices.

“Commander—”

As the VIP seats were nearly filled, Hugo turned his head at a voice not far off. Normally Andreas, the Fourth Battalion Commander, would stroll in with one hand in his pocket, but today his expression was strangely rigid.

Momentarily puzzled, Hugo nonetheless greeted him and the other battalion commanders from the Central Branch who had appeared behind him with easy courtesy. Because the opening ceremony was being held simultaneously at two venues, only half the usual attendees had come here. The other half were probably handling things well with Loren’s help over there.

Hugo tapped Andreas’s shoulder and checked his wristwatch. It was a little later than scheduled, and Hugo had been about to tease him lightly.

“Andre, why are you only now—?”

“Commander, behind you. The councilors.”

Andreas gripped Hugo’s hand and gave it a brief shake, aware of where Hugo was looking. Hugo followed his gaze. Council members were entering the spectator stands en masse along the stairs leading from the internal corridor.

It was not surprising the councilors would attend the opening, but Hugo’s eyes hardened upon seeing the figure at the front. He had assumed she would not come because she disliked noisy places.

Gladi as Agrizendro ascended the stairs slowly, escorted by the family’s knights. Hugo’s lips moved; he murmured.

“...Councilor.”

He hurried down the stairs to greet Gladia. Flynn, who followed, started and bowed at a sharp ninety degrees.

When Hugo offered his hand politely, a blue eye peered slowly from behind the veil. Her chillingly cold gaze swept him from head to toe. She moved the hand she had placed on her knight onto Hugo’s ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) palm.

“If you had sent word earlier, I would have accompanied you myself.”

“What good is ordering the busy commander here and there.”

“There is always time to escort a councilor.”

“You have not shown your face since the disciplinary committee was convened.”

The matron’s hand, held gently, was ice-cold. Hugo felt a subtle pressure in that hand. He held back words and supported Gladi a’s shoulder as they climbed the stairs.

The disciplinary committee she mentioned concerned the allegations that the Legion Commander had abused power by altering the contents of a verdict regarding Leonardo Blaine’s release.

The committee convened twice during the investigation into the Pentagov Party House explosion. In the first review Hugo was stripped of his investigative command and was to have his duties as Legion Commander suspended for several months. The person who fiercely opposed that was Councilor Gladia Agrizendro.

Though they belonged to the same family, the two often clashed politically. Within the Council many speculative stories circulated: that he leaned on family ties, that some deal had been struck. No one truly understood her intentions, but four days before the final briefing on the explosion case, Hugo regained most of his authority at the second review. Part of that outcome was the emperor pressuring for Hugo’s reinstatement because Hugo had promised to cover up peninsula secrets; in truth, Gladi a’s power had been the decisive factor.

Hugo had visited the matron’s mansion to offer his thanks, yet even then he could not fathom her motives. He reasoned she valued family honor and had acted to preserve the duchy’s prestige. After promising to refrain from reckless acts that would harm the family, there was little further discussion between them. Hugo thought there was nothing else to discuss.

So the matron’s chiding that he had failed to show his face confused him. Adding to that, she had personally attended the League opening, something he had not expected.

“I did not attend to it properly. From now on—”

“Enough. Maintain your dignity. Are there not many watching?”

Hugo matched Gladia’s stride and fixed his gaze ahead under her steady stare. By then everyone in the VIP seats had risen to their feet to receive the highest authority of the Duke family and the true sovereign of Logia. The atmosphere had changed completely.

Clad in a white hat with a veil and a navy cape, Gladia used a cane and, guided by Hugo, took the highest seat among the dignitaries. Many approached her to pay their respects, bending and kissing a ring embossed with the family crest and offering praise and glory.

Gladia returned their deference with a mild smile born of cool eyes, as if playing the role of a domain owner. Hugo did not find it unpleasant; he merely bore the familial pretense with a quiet fatigue at the inscrutable nature of her actions.

***

Leonardo Blaine prowled around the withered Plarinus. Judging there was no reaction, he kicked the closed stalk and snapped it in half. A water-soaked beast slid out of the bud, stunned and limp, and as he peered to assess the situation the half-remaining petal yawned open and bit toward Leonardo.

Up close, the interior of the flower was nauseatingly bumpy. The other participant who had burst out earlier saw that sight and fled into the forest, determined to survive on his own.

Leonardo hastily conjured a flame blade and cut through the flower’s stem and base. The flower writhed on the ground, then went limp and stopped moving. Though he finished it off with brutal slashes, he dug into the stamen’s tip where the crystal should have been with his hands, worried the heat might have destroyed any crystal.

He peeled back layer after layer of petals and detached the thick stamen. Yet the crystal that should have been hanging there was nowhere to be seen.

“What the—where did it go?”

Only sticky mucus smeared his palm. Flustered, Leonardo slammed the broken stamen with his fist like smashing a pumpkin. The blunt tip split in two, revealing an ovary that might have formed a crystal. The ovary was full of a colorless, odorless sticky fluid like the mucus on his hand. No crystal.

Did that thing eat it from inside? Or does a forcibly closed flower look like this?

Questions suggested hypotheses, and he moved to test them. From about 500 meters away he found another withered Plarinus, cut its stalk, and searched for a crystal. Again, none.

It was possible someone else had collected the crystals, but there were no signs of water flow or intense fighting nearby. The hypothesis that intact crystals could only be obtained from blooming flowers gained weight.

Leaving only rough markers, Leonardo began a more earnest search for blooming flowers. Thirty minutes had already passed since the start of the match.

The island’s terrain was diverse: jungle, rocky hills, underwater caves accessible from the coast, and ponds linked to waterfalls. The flowers were mostly found in windy, humid spots, so the pond connected to a waterfall turned out to be an unexpected jackpot. Three small Plarinus were found within a thirty-meter radius.

Two of them were in bloom, and one was a skinny withered flower but surrounded by water. Having often seen participants dragged off by Plarinus and later rescued by staff, he guessed it would leave similar traces.

Please be white, please be white.

Leonardo silently prayed and sent a compressed gust of air toward a blooming Plarinus in the distance. The stamen struck exactly at the midpoint and was severed in an instant. The flower tilted its neck to recover the crystal that rolled and thudded on the ground, but before it could snatch it, the stamen was torn apart.

The snapped stamen fell into Leonardo’s grip.

The blunt tip tried to push the crystal back into the ovary, stretching its skin even after being severed.

The image made Leonardo grimace — it looked as if the foreskin of a glans were inserting something into a urethral opening on its own.

“What kind of plant is made like this?”

Disgusted but accustomed, he slit the sturdy stamen a little. Perhaps he was being overly nervous. He slipped his thumb into the gap and pried the sides apart; about eighty percent of the crystal, buried in the ovary, was revealed.

But the expression he expected to brighten his face was quickly replaced by disappointment.

“Ah—really. Will you just come out?”

From afar it was hard to distinguish white from yellow, so he had to collect first and check the color afterward. He found another yellow crystal in his hand and sighed irritably.

Both crystals he had collected earlier were the same color. Terrible luck.

He gathered his collected crystals and washed his hands at the pond with a face of disgust. Then he sank onto a trunk in the shade nearby.

He emptied his jacket pockets of the gathered crystals. Five yellow crystals and two red. He needed only one white, but that one was nowhere to be found. At this rate gathering seven yellows to pass might be the faster route.

Just then the amplification magic circle that activated at set intervals appeared in the sky.

Leonardo tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes at the number “11.” At the same time, participants across the island seemed to grow anxious; the signs on the wind quickened.

Around then he heard a cry of “Help me!” not far away. Leonardo jammed the crystals back into his jacket pocket, zipped them up tightly, and rose, fully prepared.

With seven crystals bulging in his pockets he looked ridiculous yet tempting enough to be targeted. He had therefore avoided encounters with other participants as much as possible.

But this time he turned toward the direction of the sound. He walked calmly into the forest following the scent of presence.

He was not going to help. From now on, he intended to take.