September 5.

The final, which took place on the fourth day, ended in Mute's unbeatable victory.

Because Holoro, who was badly drained in the game with the first void, abstained because he wasn't going to be able to play the game with great satisfaction.

The audience and tournament operations were sufficiently convinced by the fact that the first injustice became public in conjunction with the arrest of Jorzev for the crime of Cialisa imprisonment.

Not to mention those who endured that menace of injustice and finally spent a rare amount of time in brilliant vaporization were revealing dissatisfaction and frustration only during the game, but by now, they had no choice but to seem satisfied.

After crossing such a day, around sundown of the day.

A closing ceremony had been held to close the selection competition for Westerian swordsmanship delegates.

On the other hand...

"Oh, Django, you're up, aren't you?

"... Holoro, this is the infirmary... well, did I lose to Void"

I hadn't woken up in two days on the infirmary bedroom. Django followed his memory with a still blurred consciousness.

And then I found out that Holloro was lying on the next sleeping table, just like me.

"Oh, you game, why are you sleeping here!?

And there it is. I wondered if he had been wronged and defeated the same way he was.

However, the fact that it is not, I see and know what Holoro pointed at in the grin.

A sleeping area across the aisle, a boy with a bandage all over his body, was groaning.

"Though it was dangerous. My school instructors helped Lunaquin..."

"Well... well, he's a big guy, not at all... hahaha-"

Django laughed as long as he could speak, weakened.

As someone who had experienced the same situation, I was strongly impressed by the hollows that had created that situation that could not be overwhelmed with defeat. I was also proud of my witty eyes that the man I admitted was so much.

"Are you going to wake up?

"Oh, when I saw that thing about Void, I felt better."

"Right now, he's doing a closing ceremony, and he wants me to come if he's going to wake up. Go?"

"Right...... at the end, stand on your feet properly and finish beautifully...... let's go"

The two of us flaunt each other shoulders and leave the infirmary behind with the patient clothes.

The host's voice sounding all over the arena with the loudspeaker on.

As the closing ceremony progressed, the enthusiasm of the still uncooleable audience was transmitted as a cheer. Aware of the extreme difference in back length, they stepped on the cobblestone of the corridor with unbridled footsteps, and the two felt the hustle and bustle on their skin that grew.

"Django, you must be tall."

"That's what you are. You're small. Where in the body is all that photon stuck?

"That must be a mystery of human scale, I can't answer that. What's a photon, huh?

"... you've vaporized brilliantly, haven't you?

"Oh, you know what?

"Oh, you look like a man."

Through the dark passage of Usu, which leads to a place of struggle, eventually raises the sun of the cedar.

When the students of each school aligned inside, officials of the tournament, or 30,000 spectators noticed this, after the big twist, a round of applause rolled up.

Drinked by momentum, Django stood flabbergasted with Hollor.

For there were countless men in Holoro that cried out gladly for the horns, and the names of the losers.

"Oh, Holloro-Fiodiante, Django-Scadania, I've been waiting for you"

The closing ceremony was in the process of being presented by the Westerian swordsmanship representative, by the man who was the chief executive of the operation.

A mute of the winners came forward from the line of students, just, wrapping around words of recognition and appointment. The man's announcement went on without the two of them being aligned as they were.

It seemed a shame to crush this exuberance with a rough announcement.

"The tournament will appoint Holoro-Fioziante as second place and Django-Scadania as third place, both names as Westerian swordsmanship representatives...... I look forward to the martial arts festival"

Django completely lost his word.

He had lost and lost consciousness in World War II and had become a swordsmanship representative as third place if he woke up. I had no idea how it happened.

My neighbor Holoro told me, "You did it, Django," but it doesn't go well into my ear.

As a matter of fact, Void, who participated in the first injustice, was disqualified unconditionally. At last, the match against Django in World War II had also been nullified.

Django, who ranked well, was given the position of third place because of his ability to compete with other students from the operation.

It was then that someone jumped from the guest seat.

Django was embraced to jump and found out for the first time that someone was Cialisa. Altogether, he also felt the impression that the trembling voice around the whimpering he had been called contained relief.

"Django...... oh, good. I have made such wounds upon thee as I am not worthy. I'm so sorry, really..."

"Teacher Cialisa...... that's okay, you're safe more than anything. It was worth the patience...... apparently, I could be a swordsmanship rep, keep it up."

"Yeah... of course... of course..."

Touching Cialisa's heart, Django was finally accepted now.

"And Lunaquin-Custev, Third Knight Training School. As a result of the discussions in the operation, you shall be appointed alternate swordsmanship representative. Together with the three delegates, we look forward to the Martial Arts Festival. '

In conjunction with the progression, there were additional announcements.

Lunaquin, who was mixed up with the aligned students, nearly lost his hips on this.

"Yeah, why, I lost World War II, didn't I? It's just that when there's a sixth person..."

'The Martial Arts Festival is a congress of prestige as a single nation, regardless of the boundaries of Confederation, Empire or Neutrality. I've decided you have all that power.'

"Seriously...?

If it were proper, the alternate would be the sixth Tor to have gone into the third round.

Nevertheless, what is most important in the selection competition is the strength that individuals actually have. He was judged to have more strength in Lunaquin than Tor, who was overwhelmed by mutes.

Once again, the first Heinello also rose to the candidate as having the experience and corresponding strength to compete last year, but when he lacked credibility due to this fraudulent disturbance, he was summarily rejected.

A voice calling the nickname Raging Bull in a fully settled arena is thrown firmly from the guest seat. That somewhere laughing cheer was reminiscent of the high popularity of being a knight.

"It is hereby declared that the Games management has selected Mute-Schhalv, Holoro-Fiogiante, Django-Scadania, Lunaquin-Custev and the four above as delegates, thus completing the entire schedule of the Westerian Swordsmanship Delegates Selection Games. Thank you all for your hard work.

At the end of the ceremony, the chief officer proclaims aloud and labors the athletes.

Thus the selection competition saw the end of it all. The fever in the arena had been in the evening breeze for some time, and eventually, by sundown, it had been exposed somewhere far away.