The ultimate tournament of suffering
Henry regretted everything.
Not just being here. Not just existing in this absurd fantasy world where women were willing to kill each other over him. No. He regretted ever waking up this morning.
He stared down at the tournament arena, where at least a hundred fierce-looking women were already in the middle of a full-blown war.
Swords clashed. Spells exploded. A catapult—a literal catapult—had somehow entered the mix.
And all of it was for him.
Henry groaned. I should have just let the universe delete me instead of reincarnating here.
Seraphina, of course, was loving this.
Standing beside him on the royal balcony, she sipped from an ornate golden goblet, watching the chaos unfold with the smug satisfaction of a villain who had definitely planned this entire mess.
"This is quite the spectacle, isn't it?" she mused, taking a slow sip. "Nothing like a good old-fashioned war for your hand in marriage."
Henry wheeled on her. "Oh, you don't get to act innocent! I KNOW you had a hand in this."
Seraphina gasped, placing a delicate hand over her chest. "Me? Oh, Henry, you wound me."
Henry pointed at her accusingly. "You're smirking while you say that."
Her smirk widened. "I simply find this situation… amusing."
Henry groaned and turned back to the battlefield.
Down below, a particularly vicious duel was happening between a seven-foot-tall warrior woman and a sorceress who was shooting lightning out of her hands.
For the love of—
"WHO DARES TO CHALLENGE ME?!"
Henry flinched as a voice like rolling thunder rang through the arena.
A new fighter had entered the fray.
A woman clad in full golden armor stomped forward, a giant war hammer slung over her shoulder. Her long red hair flowed like fire, and her eyes burned with deadly intent.
Seraphina raised a brow. "Ah. That's Lady Morgana."
Henry tensed. "Who?"
Seraphina took another sip of wine. "A warlord from the northern regions. She once single-handedly crushed an entire rebellion."
Henry paled. "...And she's here?"
"Oh, absolutely." Seraphina smirked. "She's been wanting a husband for years."
I am so, so doomed.
Lady Morgana swung her war hammer like it weighed nothing, sending three women flying across the battlefield.
Henry let out a dying animal noise.
Seraphina chuckled. "I do hope you're ready to be a blushing bride, Henry."
"I WILL JUMP OFF THIS BALCONY."
Seraphina leaned in, her lips dangerously close to his ear.
"If you do," she purred, "I'll catch you."
Henry almost did it anyway.
---
Round One: Henry's Public Humiliation
To Henry's absolute horror, the tournament was progressing quickly.
One by one, warriors, mages, and assassins eliminated each other in spectacular fashion.
By noon, only twenty women remained.
Henry sat on a grand throne at the edge of the arena, miserably picking at a fruit platter while the announcer rattled off his so-called "desirable qualities."
"LORD HENRY IS A MAN OF ASTOUNDING BEAUTY!"
Henry winced.
"BLESSED WITH SOFT GOLDEN HAIR, EYES LIKE STARS, AND A BODY MOST PERFECT—"
Henry choked on a grape.
Seraphina, sitting beside him, was shamelessly enjoying every second.
She leaned over, whispering, "A body most perfect, huh? Maybe I should inspect that claim myself."
Henry died inside.
---
Round Two: Physical Trials (or Absolute Torture for Henry)
Henry had thought the fighting was bad enough.
But no. The second round of the tournament was somehow worse.
Because now, instead of just fighting each other…
The contestants had to impress him.
Seraphina personally designed the challenges.
And they were all terrible.
First was the strength test, where the women had to lift boulders and break trees with their bare hands.
Henry didn't know whether to be impressed or terrified.
One woman punched through a steel wall. Another bench-pressed a horse.
Then came the intelligence test.
Seraphina smirked. "This should be fun."
Henry's soul left his body.
A line of women sat before him, each trying to flirt their way to victory.
The first contestant, a silver-haired sorceress, gazed at him with burning intensity.
"If you choose me, Henry," she purred, "I'll show you real magic."
Henry leaned away. "...I'd rather not."
The next contestant stepped forward—a battle-scarred warrior with an entire arsenal of swords.
"My love," she whispered, voice husky, "do you prefer to be held… or pinned?"
Henry made a strangled noise.
Seraphina, dying of laughter, clapped her hands. "Oh, I like this one."
Henry shot her a betrayed look.
The flirting only got worse.
One woman tried to write him poetry on the spot. Another offered him an entire kingdom.
By the end, Henry was one bad pick-up line away from screaming.
Seraphina, wiping away tears of laughter, patted his shoulder.
"Having fun, Henry?"
Henry glared.
"I hope your pillow is cold on both sides forever."
Seraphina just smirked.
---
Round Three: Seraphina's Grand Power Move
By evening, only three women remained.
Lady Morgana. The silver-haired sorceress. And a mysterious hooded assassin who hadn't spoken a word all day.
Henry was numb to reality.
Then… the final announcement came.
"For the last round… THE PRIZE HIMSELF SHALL DECIDE!"
Henry's brain short-circuited.
"I'M SORRY, WHAT?!"
Seraphina stifled a laugh. "Well, Henry? Who's the lucky lady?"
Henry turned to her, wild-eyed. "I CAN'T JUST PICK SOMEONE—"
Seraphina leaned in.
"Oh?" she whispered. "Then perhaps… I should claim the prize myself?"
Henry froze.
The entire arena went silent.
The warriors stared. The nobles gasped.
Then… absolute chaos.
"LADY SERAPHINA CAN'T PARTICIPATE—!"
"She rigged the tournament!"
"I KNEW IT! SHE WANTS HIM FOR HERSELF!"
Seraphina just smirked.
Henry, 1000% done, stood up. "NOPE. I'M LEAVING."
Seraphina grabbed his wrist.
"Oh, Henry," she murmured, pulling him close. "You didn't really think I'd let you run away, did you?"
Henry's brain shut down.
The crowd erupted.
"WAIT—IS THIS A LOVE STORY?!"
"DID SHE PLAN THIS ALL ALONG?!"
"SERAPHINA, YOU SNEAKY—"
And just like that…
Seraphina kissed his cheek.
The crowd lost their minds.
Henry… fainted.
---
To Be Continued…