Chapter 37

Back in the arena

The spectators buzzed with conversation, their voices blending into a chaotic hum of excitement and disbelief.

"That match was insane," one man said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I mean, the Bandit Lord against some complete nobody, and the nobody won? What kind of madness is that?" another replied, still trying to wrap his head around it.

"And don't forget that sudden arena shift in the middle of the fight," the first man added. "That's never happened before. Took me by surprise."

"Yeah, yeah," his companion muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Speaking of surprises... I believe you owe me coin. You bet on the Bandit Lord winning, and, well—" He gestured toward the battlefield, where Ulrich had fallen.

The other man sighed, reaching for his pouch. "Fine."

Meanwhile, in another section of the arena, the leader of the Stormclaws let out a long, deep exhale, arms crossed as he stared down at the ring.

"I guess I win either way, huh? Got to see you get your ass kicked, you bastard." His lips curled into a smirk before it faded into something more pensive. "Still… kinda bitter, knowing you beat me and then lost to some nobody."

In one of the VIP stands, Tianteng turned toward the Emperor of Aeruna, her expression poised. "Was that an entertaining bout, my Emperor?"

The Emperor gave her a brief glance before returning his gaze to the arena. "It was… decent." His tone was flat, unimpressed. "Nothing noteworthy. But decent entertainment."

Tianteng nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "See? I told you that you'd enjoy coming here, my Emperor."

She turned her attention back to the arena, but the Emperor's expression remained unreadable.

Elsewhere in the VIP section, Prince Mark leaned back in his chair, arms folded as he spoke without even looking at his sister.

"That was a fun fight," he said casually. "Though it's pretty shameful that some complete nobody fights better unarmed than you do."

Zara flinched, but she had expected the jab. Her brother never missed a chance to remind her of what a disappointment she was.

"I… know," she said quietly. "I'll train harder."

Mark didn't respond, his attention already elsewhere.

In another VIP stand, Samwell Mathers gave a bored sigh, swirling a drink in his hand as he leaned against the armrest. "That went about as I expected. Not the winner, mind you, but the fight itself—dull and uninteresting."

Matthew, seated beside him, shifted slightly. "The unexpected victor wasn't at least somewhat exciting, Father?"

Samwell scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. "No, it wasn't." He said it like it was a fact, not an opinion.

Matthew stiffened slightly before nodding. "Of course, Father." His voice was quieter now.

Samwell barely acknowledged him, his attention shifting toward the ring. "Now, the next fight," he mused, his fingers tapping idly against his chair. "That one might actually be worth watching."

Though, of the two fighters, there was only one he was interested in.

High above the arena, Quincy hovered with a satisfied nod, her wings carrying her effortlessly through the air. The chatter from the audience below filled her ears, and she grinned, baring sharp fangs.

"Yes, yes! People are still enjoying the tournament!" she squealed to herself, folding her arms for a moment before quickly flapping her wings again to stay aloft. "Thank you, Even and Xain, for your ideas!"

She tapped her chin in thought. "I should definitely find a way to reward them," she mused. Then, an idea struck her, and her grin widened. "I'll bite them! They'll be happy about that, I'm sure!"

With her gratitude plan decided, she cleared her throat and dove down toward the arena.

"Everyone!" she called out, her voice carrying over the excited murmurs of the crowd. "I'm so glad you all enjoyed that last match, but now it's time to begin the second and last match of the day!" She spun in the air, her energy infectious.

In the stands, Clara practically bounced in her seat, clapping her hands excitedly. "It's happening! He's really going to fight!"

Beside her, Elsa arched a brow, smirking. "With how excited you sound, someone might take that as affection, Clara."

Clara blinked in confusion, looking at Elsa, who simply chuckled and shook her head. "Never mind. Let's just focus."

In another section of the stands, X leaned forward slightly, rubbing the jaw of his skull mask. "This is definitely going to be interesting."

"Learning how Ercale's host battles is more than just interesting," Sarandel replied, her gaze sharp.

X merely shrugged. "I'm just saying what comes to mind."

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the stands, Zee clasped her hands together tightly, her eyes filled with worry. "Okay, it's his match. His first match. Oh, I'm so worried."

"He'll be fine," Larkin reassured her, though there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice. "As long as he ain't goin' up against someone monstrous, he's got this. And there's Cain, too. He's gonna be fine."

Next to Zee, Nori sat stiffly, gripping his seat. His heart was racing. The idea of Xain getting hurt gnawed at his mind, and he had no clue who this Cain person even was.

Quincy, still in the air, spread her arms wide. "This match is another interesting one!" she declared. "A battle between a kind-hearted boy and a hardened criminal!"

Gasps rippled through the stands.

"Yes, you all heard me! Another criminal! Not quite as infamous as the Bandit Lord, but a criminal nonetheless!"

With that, she swooped down to the center of the arena, snapping her fingers.

The ground trembled. Jagged lines cracked across the battlefield as the earth shifted and morphed. Towering stone walls shot up, forming narrow streets and winding alleys. Buildings of rough stone and weathered brick emerged, some stacked precariously upon one another, while others had crumbling rooftops and open archways. The design mimicked a sprawling cityscape—one with plenty of places to hide, ambush, or take the high ground. Despite the complexity of the terrain, the stands remained positioned high enough for the audience to see the action unfold.

As the dust settled, Quincy raised her arms once more.

"Now, it's time to introduce the fighters!"

Just as before, she turned toward the east wall, where the towering stone wall rumbled open. She extended her hand.

"On one side, we have the kind-hearted boy and youngest fighter of the tournament—Xain!"

A wave of cheers erupted from the crowd. Xain took a steady breath as he stepped forward, his fingers instinctively checking the straps of his angelic armor. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to stay calm.

"Okay, this is it. Time to fight, Xain."

In the stands, those who called him a friend cheered loudly—some shouting his name, others clapping, and in Nori's case, signing as quickly as his hands would allow.

Quincy, still hovering midair, gestured toward the west wall as the wall slid open once more.

"And on the other side, we again have someone I didn't get the chance to introduce earlier!" she continued, her voice carrying through the arena. "A hardened criminal who has walked the streets of Arcadicia for years! Give it up for—Mellow Wilde!"

The man with shaggy black hair and a beard strode forward, his simple robes hanging loosely over his frame. He didn't wear anything fancy, just practical clothing, a dagger strapped to a belt across his chest.

He rolled his shoulders, grinning to himself. "Time to make some coin."

Quincy raised her hand high above her head. "Who will win?" she called out. "The youngest fighter here—or the hardened criminal?"

Then, with a swift, sharp motion, she brought her hand down.

"BEGIN!"