It Turned Out She Wasn't a Favored Concubine - Episode 117

Inside his helmet, Loki panted heavily, his breath hot and ragged. Sweat beaded on his eyelids, but he had no time to blink.

Even a momentary lapse would allow his opponent’s blade to strike without hesitation. As irritating as the man was, his skill was undeniable—there was no room for carelessness.

Loki exhaled deeply and stepped forward. His opponent raised his sword in response and charged.

“Haaah!”

The scream accompanied a heavy strike. Loki swallowed a groan and held firm. The dirt beneath him was gouged, but his feet didn’t retreat.

He recalled the time Master Martenal had overwhelmed him with a single blow. Compared to that, this was nothing. Loki steadily pushed back his opponent’s sword.

“Ugh, this is impossible…”

The opponent’s face twisted in disbelief. He tried to apply more pressure, but it still fell short of Martenal’s strength.

Loki stepped forward twice and completely deflected the blade.

“Wooooaaah!”

The crowd surrounding the arena erupted in cheers. Amid the astonishment and admiration, Loki steadied his breath.

“Who is that guy? He’s pushing back the three-time champion of the Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament!”

“Never seen him before…”

“Yeah. I checked—he’s never competed before last year.”

“First time entering and he’s dominating Lord Kephulon in the finals? Unbelievable.”

“He boasted he’d win again this year, but if he loses to a no-name knight on his first try, Lord Kephulon’s reputation will be in shambles.”

Even amid the murmurs, Kanoa von Kephulon could clearly pick out the mocking voices aimed at him.

He wanted to leap into the stands and punch the faces of those speaking so carelessly about him—but first, he had to deal with the brat in front of him.

Barely in his early twenties, perhaps? He didn’t even know the boy’s name. They’d brushed past each other in the group preliminaries, but he hadn’t paid any attention then.

Naturally so. A first-time entrant like that wasn’t worth his notice. The boy didn’t even seem to belong to one of the prestigious noble houses of the capital.

In the capital, powerful families spared no expense to ensure their knights won the Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament. Promising candidates backed by these families were well-known in the palace.

A decade ago, the Autumn Hunt was a bigger event than the tournament. But after an assassination attempt on a concubine during the hunt, it was turned into a quiet ceremony to pray for the next year’s harvest.

The competitive aspect—hunting large, fierce beasts—was removed, making the event dull and uneventful.

As a result, attention shifted dramatically to the Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament.

Noble families with knightly roots pushed for this change.

After the empire subdued the Kingdom of Armatan and the Small Kingdoms Alliance, the borders became peaceful. Knights who had earned glory in war were rewarded, but those who missed their chance had no more opportunities.

Young people no longer aspired to be knights without prospects, and without new recruits, noble houses’ knightly orders began to shrink.

To counter this, they elevated the tournament, offering winners greater honor and rewards than the old Autumn Hunt champions.

Fortunately, this strategy fit perfectly with the increasingly dull social scene.

Originally held every three years, the tournament became an annual summer event due to its popularity.

The winner became the most talked-about figure in high society and received a golden helmet directly from the emperor.

Even finalists earned rewards and recognition, and noble ladies blushed at the sight of competing knights.

Naturally, prominent families began gathering and sponsoring talented individuals to produce winners, and the winning house gained prestige.

After the Great Purge a decade ago, the once-dominant noble houses collapsed, leaving the capital’s social scene in a power struggle among similarly ranked families.

Producing a tournament champion became a strategic way to elevate a house’s name in peaceful times.

Kanoa von Kephulon was a beneficiary of this trend.

His father, Count Kephulon, saw his son’s exceptional physical development and believed he was destined for swordsmanship greatness. He poured resources into making him a tournament champion.

If the champion wasn’t just a house knight but the heir himself, all the better.

Kanoa von Kephulon lived up to those expectations, winning the tournament three years ago and receiving the golden helmet.

The gleaming helmet, the flood of invitations, the admiring gazes of noble ladies, and the bowed heads of rival families.

At twenty-four, he stood at the pinnacle of the tournament and basked in the attention of high society. His pride grew daily.

But he wasn’t a vain man lost in wine and romance. He knew exactly where his privileges came from.

The Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament.

If a new champion emerged next year, all his benefits would be passed on.

Kanoa von Kephulon was greedy. He couldn’t bear to see what he enjoyed taken by someone else.

So he never slacked in his training. Thanks to that, he achieved the remarkable feat of winning three consecutive tournaments. And with each victory, his pride and arrogance grew.

“I am the strongest champion in the tournament’s history.”

“If enemies threatened the empire’s borders today, I’d crush them all in a day and spread the empire’s glory.”

“If I’d been born fifteen years earlier, I’d have made the entire continent kneel before the empire and become a war hero. It’s tragic I was born in such peaceful times.”

He spouted such nonsense freely at banquets and training grounds.

His followers idolized him, forming the Kanoa Knights in his name and cheering his every word.

They spoke of donning shining armor and fighting on battlefields, or punishing small nations that offered meager tributes.

Though utterly unrealistic, these rookie knights created a kind of public sentiment around him.

Naturally, Kanoa von Kephulon led this movement. He encouraged his knights to call him the continent’s strongest.

The strongest knight on the continent—what a glorious title.

To maintain that sweet sound, he trained tirelessly in the summer heat.

To make his dream come true, he had to keep winning the tournament and stir up a small war to become a hero.

But what was this brat in front of him?

Kanoa tried to crush the arrogant boy with brute strength. But the boy dodged and struck Kanoa’s waist hard.

“Gaaah!”

A shock he’d never felt before pierced through his armor. The boy’s slender arms packed serious power.

Kanoa nearly rolled across the ground in pain but held on with the last shred of pride. Behind him, dozens of Kanoa Knights shouted his name.

He couldn’t show weakness. He didn’t know where the boy came from, but his skill was undeniable. Kanoa blamed the blow on his own carelessness. As long as he stayed focused, he could crush the brat.

He clung to that belief and gripped his sword tightly. Then he swung it down toward the boy’s head.

Clang!

A loud metallic crash echoed through the arena. Kanoa felt his hands go numb.

His hands were empty.

“Wooooaaah!”

The crowd’s roar rang in his ears. For a moment, Kanoa didn’t understand what had happened and almost responded to the cheers.

But the cheers weren’t for him. He looked down at his empty hands and saw his massive sword lying at the far end of the arena.

It was his sword—crafted by the capital’s finest blacksmith at great expense—now barely hanging on at the edge.

“The winner is Loki Edman!”

The judge announced the victor’s name. Kanoa glared at the judge with betrayed eyes. That name wasn’t his—it was impossible to accept.

As he stood in shock, Loki approached.

“You couldn’t even beat me, so stop bragging about being the continent’s strongest. And don’t go around encouraging kids to start wars. If, by any chance, our busy Marquis has to draw his sword again, it won’t end this lightly.”

“You… you dare speak so arrogantly? What house are you from to talk like that? You’re not even a captain of the capital’s knight order!”

“I’m from the House of Edelheit, and I serve as a personal guard to the Marquis’s direct family. It’s a duty as weighty as any knight commander’s.”

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