"Well, looks like there's no mistake."
After saying this, Don Quixote immediately stood up, vigorously patting Nearl on the shoulder, a smile plastered on his face.
"No, I know it's definitely correct. Rather, running into each other only at the semifinal is already pretty low-probability…but, I mean, what are we going to do about this match?"
Seeing Don Quixote's carefree expression, Nearl stumbled over her words for a moment, asking nervously.
"What else can we do? We fight, obviously. Don't you think, in our line as Fixers, that a battle where a junior disciple trained by their senior faces that very senior to prove themselves—doesn't that sound incredibly cool?"
Don Quixote tilted his head toward Nearl, grinning broadly.
Nearl froze for a moment, then covered her face with one hand, lowering her head.
Oh no, I forgot he's Don Quixote.
This guy never takes anything seriously at times like this!
"But this means one of us has to be eliminated…"
Finally, Nearl helplessly pointed out the obvious. But at that moment, Don Quixote gently placed a hand on her head.
"It's alright, Nearl. Don't be afraid… At the end of the day, you're just worried you won't reach the finals, unable to complete your mission, right?"
"But since it's a duel between knights, let's do this properly, just like a knight should."
Don Quixote spoke softly. Nearl raised her head, staring blankly at him.
"So come, either as a knight or as a Fixer—let's decide this match honorably."
Don Quixote smiled warmly at Nearl, continuing: "No retreating. You need to carry the resolve to win."
Nearl slightly lowered her head, pressing her lips together, and finally whispered a quiet, "Mm."
Then she suddenly straightened, legs snapping together as she placed her right hand solemnly over her heart and declared:
"Then…I, Margaret Nearl, will fight you with my full strength in this match, to prove my worth as a knight."
"Hahaha…now that's more like it."
Don Quixote laughed heartily, then placed both hands behind his head, calling out toward the doorway:
"Hey, Hai, it's about time… I'm in a good mood today, so now—take us to the Knight Tournament!"
Thus, Hai stepped in from the doorway, bowing slightly, smiling as he spoke:
"In that case…please follow me."
About half an hour later, the three arrived at the arena. Standing in the long passageway at the arena entrance, Nearl took deep breaths, continuously encouraging herself in her heart, and then started walking forward.
The other semifinal should have no suspense…that Blood Knight would most likely win easily.
Such thoughts flickered in her mind, then she continued forward. Suddenly, she sensed someone following behind her in the shadows. Turning her head, she saw Don Quixote.
"No need to be so tense."
Don Quixote glanced sidelong at her, speaking softly:
"Just treat this normally. I'll be waiting up ahead—make sure to catch up soon."
"Don't keep me waiting too long, okay?"
With a playful wink, Don Quixote strode confidently toward the center of the arena. Nearl stood in a daze for a moment, but shortly after, determination returned to her eyes as she quickened her steps.
"I'll catch up immediately…"
Murmuring quietly, she paused her footsteps. At some point, she had reached the edge of the bright light—about to step through this corridor.
Thus, she took that step forward.
Activating her Hemomancy, a lance of blood formed instantly in Nearl's grip. Striding forward, she saw Don Quixote waiting calmly for her ahead. All around in the stands, cheers rose loudly for Don Quixote.
Over these past days, he'd conquered every gambler with his overwhelming strength. Right now, most had bet on him to win.
"Come."
Yet, toward Nearl, Don Quixote said only this.
He rose gracefully from his seat, beckoning her forward. In his other hand, an identical lance of blood appeared.
Nearl exhaled slowly, adjusted her stance, and lunged forward swiftly, thrusting her lance toward Don Quixote. He neither dodged nor evaded, merely blocking her attack with his own lance. Nearl instantly felt an insurmountable strength blocking her strike…she couldn't even move forward another inch…
At that moment, she remembered something Hai had once told her—how he'd fought Don Quixote and assessed him as "a person currently unbeatable in the City."
Now, when she herself had to face Don Quixote, Hai's evaluation inevitably surfaced in her mind.
She exhaled deeply, expression growing even more serious, and swept her blood lance again. Don Quixote's eyes seemed to show some slight approval, yet he easily parried her strike.
"Again."
Don Quixote raised one hand casually.
Nearl steadied her breathing and attacked again. This time, Don Quixote seemed to fight slightly more seriously, sweeping his lance to break her attack before lunging forward—forcing Nearl to dodge hastily.
As he closed in, Don Quixote whispered softly to Nearl:
"Tell me…if you win this fight, what will you do?"
"…I'll reach the finals and then do what I must do."
Nearl crouched slightly, responding quietly. Forming a shield through Hemomancy, she surged forward for a powerful bash. Don Quixote easily dodged with a nimble step, smiling faintly as he asked again:
"Your mission?"
"My mission."
Nearl answered solemnly.
To declare her return to the Kazimierz Chamber of Commerce.
To announce her return to all of Kazimierz.
To tell those infected still suffering that they deserved rights too.
To use her own strength—to do something for this rotten nation.
Then Don Quixote stopped moving, wearing a brilliant smile on his face. Suddenly, he charged forward with lightning speed. Nearl's pupils shrank—this time, she didn't even see Don Quixote's movement clearly.
By the time she reacted, Don Quixote had already appeared right before her. Stunned, she felt something fall at her feet—it was her mask.
At this very moment, Margaret Nearl's face—the Radiant Knight's face—was once more revealed before Kazimierz. The entire stadium fell abruptly into dead silence. Nearl stood frozen. Only Don Quixote continued smiling.
He took Nearl's hand, raising it high into the air, whispering quietly to her:
"Then…go on and do it! I'll be right behind you."
Then he raised his voice louder, calling out boldly toward Greatmouth Mob, the commentator:
"I concede!"