I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 117: I’m Here (1)

The world of dreams and hope shattered.

Anis' jaw dropped, and Taragon blinked rapidly.

Did I mishear that? There's no way Father would tell us not to participate in the tournament...

Reganon, Panir, and Myle were silent as if they already knew.

Even Keter, who had trained Anis and Taragon, should have found this shocking, yet there he was, idly eating grapes.

“F-Father... why?”

Even Anis, who never stammered, stumbled over his words.

“I knew the tournament was a trap to lure Sefira. I knew it would put us in danger. But I still believed that participating would be worth the experience. No matter how much they wish to bring us down, I didn’t think they would dare commit atrocities in front of nobles and citizens gathered from all over the kingdom. That was my miscalculation.”

A heavy silence filled the dining room.

Besil took a deep breath and continued.

“They are serious. Their goal is not just to remove Sefira from the master families—they want to utterly destroy us, leaving no chance for recovery.”

Sefira was weak when it came to information warfare. They had no connections with intelligence guilds, nor any strong ties in the political world. Even if they were vigilant, gathering such information would have been impossible—if not for Panir.

As a former royal judge, Panir had his own network—not Sefira’s, but his own. Using those connections, Panir uncovered the full extent of this conspiracy: the horrific scheme to humiliate Sefira before hundreds of thousands of nobles and citizens.

Both Besil and Panir were furious. Sefira had always yielded, always endured. They had never made enemies of the other noble families. And yet, someone had devised this disgusting plan. Even if the other nobles were greedy and overly ambitious, this was excessive.

If Besil had stubbornly rejected Panir, branding him a traitor, this truth would have never come to light. But despite it all, Anis could not accept his father’s words.

He clenched his jaw and said, “Father, if that is the only reason, then I refuse to withdraw.”

Besil shook his head.

“Over half of the knights participating in the tournament have been set against Sefira. And that’s not all. We have confirmed that the Lord of the South himself will be attending this tournament.”

The Sword of the South Tournament was held in Eslow’s fief, which was under the direct control of Eslow, the Lord of the South. However, Eslow had never once attended in person.

“If you are crushed before his very eyes, he will not see you as victims— he will see you as weak. And his judgment will extend beyond you to Sefira. Your defeat will be Sefira’s defeat. This tournament will determine Sefira’s fate.”

Eslow was neutral in Sefira’s downfall. But after this, his stance could change.

Upon hearing this, Anis and Taragon felt tense, but not shaken.

“Father, even so...”

Taragon gathered his courage to speak, but Besil cut him off.

“Sir Darkin and Sir Brooks have both withdrawn from the tournament. No one will blame you for doing the same—not me, not anyone.”

“...!”

Anis and Taragon’s gaze trembled when they heard that Brooks, the lieutenant commander of the Sacred Order of Sefira, and Darkin, the captain of the second division of the Order of the Galaxy, had already forfeited.

Anis bit his lower lip.

“But Father, if we withdraw, the world will call Sefira cowards. Wouldn’t that be even worse?”

Besil remained firm.

“Avoiding an obvious trap is not cowardice—it is wisdom. If our enemies waste time and effort setting traps, only to fail, then their frustration is our victory.”

“The world won’t see it that way. We will fight, even if it means dying. We will show them Sefira’s will. We will prove that Sefira never backs down!”

For the first time, Anis raised his voice against his father. It was not defiance; it was conviction.

Though Besil was proud to see his son stand firm, he separated duty from sentiment.

“You don’t have to.”

Besil looked at Keter. Anis and Taragon followed his gaze.

“Keter will fight under Sefira’s name.”

“What do you mean, Father? Keter cannot enter the tournament. You know this. The application period ended long ago. Even replacing us is impossible,” Anis questioned.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Basil said.

Keter shrugged.

“It’s more fun that way.”

“Did you fulfill all three conditions?”

Besil already knew the answer from Luke’s report, but he was asking for Anis and Taragon to hear it. Already having realized that, Keter played along.

“I received a recommendation letter from the Seventh Sword of the South. Here is my Diamond-class mercenary tag.”

He pulled a metal insignia from his pocket. It was a mercenary recognition tag plated in diamond, with Keter’s name inscribed.

“As for the noble patron, Lord Panir said he would handle that.”

Keter glanced at Panir, who cleared his throat.

“Ahem, I was about to report on that. I have secured sponsorship. However, after the tournament, the patron wishes to formally invite you to their estate.”

“I have no reason to refuse. That makes three conditions fulfilled.”

The requirements for independent participation: a noble family’s patronage, a recommendation from a former Sword of the South, and recognition as a three-star knight or Diamond-class mercenary or higher. Keter had accomplished all three in less than a month.

“...”

Anis and Taragon were speechless. They couldn’t even think to ask why Keter could participate, as they had seen what he was capable of; they had seen his strength and insanity. Keter was a great ally, but facing him as an opponent... He would be more fearsome than any other enemy.

Taragon and Anis’ spirits sank.

Besil gently said, “I know how much you’ve grown. You endured Keter’s harsh training, and you mastered Heavenly Strength. Your aura has strengthened. It is a miracle how much you have progressed. I am proud of you.”

“Father...”

“In three months, the three-star knight promotion exam will be held. That is what you both will have to face. Starting today, prepare for that. Forget about the tournament.”

Anis and Taragon both wanted to advance to three-star, but neither were backing down.

A heavy tension filled the room. Besil was also adamant on persuading his two sons.

“Are you going to disobey your father?!”

The situation worsened as Besil began to shout. If persuasion didn’t work, he was going to force them to submit. Anis and Taragon knew that although Besil was usually a calm man, he was unstoppable when angry.

Anis and Taragon flinched as Besil shouted.

“Listen to me. You are not ready to represent Sefira. That is the truth. Stop your childish defiance.”

Anis trembled with frustration, while Taragon bit his lip until it bled.

Then, Myle, who was watching the situation, spoke, “My brothers. I, too, stand by Father’s decision. It is not because we disregard your hardships or because we think you are weak. We are stopping you because your choice is reckless. You both understand that the difference between courage and folly is only a hair’s breadth, do you not? Anis. You are wise. You must see reason. Taragon. You have always been a good younger brother who listens well, haven’t you?”

His gentle reassurance and compassionate words seemed to be enough to move Anis and Taragon.

Myle placed a comforting hand on Anis’ slumped shoulder.

“Raise your head. You are a proud archer of Sefira. You are no coward. Choosing not to fall into their schemes is an act of wisdom, nothing more.”

“Myle...”

Slowly, Anis lifted his head. Myle flinched when he saw the look in his eyes: ablaze with determination and defiance.

“Myle, please stay out of this.”

“... You...”

Anis, who pushed away Myle, held his head up and turned his unyielding gaze to Besil, looking him straight in the eye.

“No matter what you say, I will go.”

His voice did not waver. Every syllable was clear, and every word carried weight.

Besil’s presence grew heavier—like a beast growling in the depths. His voice was low but powerful.

“I am telling you not to go.”

Yet Anis took a step forward, breaking through the forceful presence pressing upon him.

“This is not about the time I have invested, nor is it about proving my strength. I want to show those who scorn Sefira the truth. I want to show those who belittle archery what it truly means!”

His desperate voice rang through the room—

“‘What the bow shoots is not an arrow; it is my conviction.’ That was the teaching of our founding patriarch. I do not seek to show them Sefira’s arrows; I seek to show them Sefira’s will!”

“...”

Besil stared at Anis in silence.

Then, Taragon, who had been crushed under the weight of the moment, finally broke free.

He shouted, “I do not have a noble cause like Anis does! I am driven by a cruder and filthier desire: to humiliate those who mocked Sefira. I want to show them the true power of our archery. I will prove with my very life that no matter how many times we are stabbed, cut, or trampled, Sefira does not yield!”

Two sons stood before their father, begging to be trusted. What father could ignore such a plea?

The overwhelming pressure that had filled the hall dissipated.

Besil slowly closed his eyes and spoke, “Are you prepared to endure everything?”

“Yes!” loudly answered Anis and Taragon at the same time.

There wasn’t a hint of hesitation. Their resolve was clear.

Besil slowly sat back down.

“I understand your determination and conviction well. As a father and as the patriarch, I will no longer stop you.”

“Then that means...!”

Just as Anis and Taragon’s faces began to brighten, a voice cut through their excitement.

“Not everything in this world can be solved by words alone,” Panir said.

“...?”

Anis and Taragon were confused. It sounded like Panir was going to give them advice, but his tone felt strange.

Panir rose from his seat.

“You say you are ready and that you are confident... Anyone can say that. I do not believe in words; I believe in action.”

“Granduncle, you mean that...”

“Prove you are truly worthy of competing in the Sword of the South Tournament. Show me that you are worthy of carrying Sefira’s name.”

Panir reached for the wall, where three ceremonial bows were mounted. He plucked two from their places and threw them toward Anis and Taragon.

This was no personal dispute. This was a public challenge—a matter that concerned the very fate of their family. Arm wrestling was no longer an option.

Besil did not stop Panir. This meant it had already been agreed upon.

Even Keter popped another grape into his mouth, watching with keen amusement.

Anis and Taragon hesitated, glancing at each other with uncertainty.

Panir roared, “What are you waiting for? Do you not understand me, or are you afraid? Come. Both of you may attack me at once.”

There were no arrows. This meant that if they could not use Aura Arrows, they had no right to participate in the tournament.

“Or are you looking down on me because I am an old man?”

Buzz!

Three thick, powerful Aura Arrows formed in Panir’s right hand simultaneously.

Before he was a royal judge, he was once the lieutenant commander of the Order of the Galaxy—a prodigy who reached five-star Master at just thirty. Though he had chosen not to ascend to Grandmaster, his strength had never dulled. The arm-wrestling match with Keter had already shown that he had never stopped training even as an elder.

If Besil’s presence felt like an unmovable mountain, then Panir’s presence was like a raging storm, which made Anis instinctively step back.

Taragon moved first, ready to step forward, but Anis silently raised a hand, stopping him. Instead, he took a step forward himself.

“Please guide me, Elder Panir.”

Something flashed in Besil’s eyes.

Anis did not simply speak. As Panir had said, he proved it. As soon as Anis was finished, he fired an arrow, signaling that the battle had begun. The Aura Arrow he created was flawless.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l