"Of course. In fact, If you wouldn't do it, I'll do it myself," replied Ativ, struggling to rise so that he could bow. Yet, although his heart had fully regenerated, the backlash of the Shadow Enhancement still left his body weak and unsteady, preventing him from moving properly.
Seeing the sincerity reflected so clearly in Ativ's eyes, Caesar allowed himself a faint smile. "Perfect. Then, Ativ, I welcome you to my party," he declared in a regal, commanding voice.
He extended his hand, and Ativ accepted it at once. Caesar pulled him up and lent him his shoulder, supporting his weight so that he could walk.
"Thank you very much, Hero Caesar, but you'll need to help me walk as well," Ativ admitted, his tone half-grateful, half-ashamed.
"Do not trouble yourself, Ativ. It is a general's duty to ensure his men remain healthy and ever ready for battle," replied Caesar with quiet elegance.
"You are absolutely right," said Ativ, a faint but genuine smile softening his face.
Together, the two left the arena floor.
Once within the shadowed corridors of the stadium, Ativ, still reflecting on the just ended fight, turned to Caesar with another question. "Hero Caesar, was my strength insufficient to force you to use your History Magic? My initial goal was to test you. I truly intended to draw it out, to understand its nature," he asked, bitterness lacing his voice.
"No, Ativ," Caesar replied calmly. "The issue is not your strength. My History Magic requires certain conditions to be fulfilled, and the match ended before I could complete them. But do not worry—given the caliber of the participants in this tournament, you will almost certainly witness it soon." A confident grin, carrying a spark of excitement, touched his lips.
"I never imagined a former general of the Demon Kingdom would join the party tasked with slaying its current king," said Luvrio thoughtfully as he watched the two men disappear from view.
"There is nothing unusual about it, Luvrio. Ativ loved King Eleba, likely more than the kingdom itself. The only reason he did not seek vengeance earlier was that he knew he lacked the power to succeed. But now, after witnessing Caesar's strength, he must believe that with his aid, defeating Oniac is possible. He may not have won today, but I am truly glad he has found a new path," Sequoria explained, a gentle smile warming her face.
Lucas also smiled, moved by his new mother's expression. Throughout Caesar and Ativ's fight, she had appeared unusually tense and worried, unlike the passion and excitement she displayed in all the other matches. Considering her friendship with the former Demon King, her concern for Ativ had been only natural. Yet now, seeing her relieved and satisfied, Lucas felt reassured as well.
His thoughts were interrupted when Chiacchera's voice echoed across the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen, luck smiles upon you today! For the warrior about to enter through the right gate is none other than one of the most highly anticipated participants of this entire tournament!" she cried, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. "The rival of the legendary Fortore—the strongest knight in the kingdom— winner of several editions of this tournament, and the personal bodyguard and sister of our grate queen, the beautiful yet hard as an iceberg Aislyra Elenlora!"
With a confident, radiant grin, Aislyra strode proudly into the arena.
The response was thunderous. Applause erupted, equal to—or even greater than—that which had greeted Caesar earlier. Across the stands, groups of elves, both men and women, lifted banners emblazoned with her name, each accompanied by a sigil of a heart of ice
"And now, the challenger to this renowned celebrity of our kingdom! A newcomer to the Rangers, yet already a rising star. Soon after his induction, he nearly single-handedly defeated one of the mutated Over Beasts that have plagued Yggdrasill's forests of late… Ginno Legnoro!" Chiacchera announced, his voice soaring above the cheers.
With that signal, one of the gates on the left side of the arena creaked open.
But even after several long seconds, no one emerged.
Lucas noticed his little sister's expression shift, settling into one that could be summed up in a single word: "Again!"
The crowd waited another five minutes in mounting anticipation, but the gate remained empty. Finally, a guard—one Lucas recognized from earlier patrols—stepped through. He crossed the arena to Chiacchera, whispered briefly into her ear, then slipped back the way he had come.
"I'm sorry, everyone, but I have some unfortunate news. It seems that when Ginno was informed his opponent would be Aislyra, he immediately chose to forfeit. The staff tried to persuade him otherwise, but they failed, and Ginno has already left the arena," Chiacchera announced.
The audience sighed, disappointed but hardly shocked. As soon as they learned Ginno was a fellow elf of the kingdom, most had already expected such an outcome.
"Since his opponent has surrendered, I declare Aislyra the winner of this match!" Pinusal proclaimed.
Aislyra's expression darkened. Clearly annoyed at being denied her first battle of the tournament, she exhaled a heavy sigh before leaving the ring with composed grace.
"Poor girl. It gets worse every year. By now, aside from the ministers, Katerina, and Fortore, hardly anyone in this kingdom dares face her," Sequoria murmured sadly.
"I can't really blame them," added Luvrio with a wry tone. "Last year, on the very first day of preliminaries, she fought a new palace guard recruit. Being in her most competitive phase, she terrified him so badly during the match that he wet himself in front of the entire arena. He resigned immediately afterward and fled the country altogether."
'What in the world did I just hear!?' Lucas shouted inwardly, stunned.
"Yes, you're right, Uncle Luvrio. When she wants to, my sister can be truly frightening," Lucas said aloud, straining to hide his shock.
Meanwhile, the next match had already begun. Unfortunately for Lucas, it was dull, so he watched passively, his mind wandering. That was, until midway through, when his little sister entered the booth.
"Hi, Aislyra. I'm sorry your opponent didn't show up for your first match," Lucas said.
"Don't worry, I'm used to it by now. These are only the preliminaries. Once the real tournament begins, no one will withdraw," Aislyra replied with a confident grin. Then, her expression sharpened. "Still, I'll need to have words with Scuro about this so-called 'promising' recruit. There shouldn't be anyone in our army willing to quit just to spare themselves a little pain."
'I don't know… considering the story Luvrio just told, maybe that boy made the right choice,' Lucas thought, though he wisely kept it to himself. Instead, he asked something that had been on his mind for some time.
"Aislyra, you participants wait in the changing rooms until you're called, right?"
"Yes, why?" she replied.
"I was wondering—can you actually see the matches from there?" Lucas asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"Yes. You might recall, a couple of years ago, Macro invented a magical tool. It uses Light Magic to record whatever happens in a given place and then projects it onto a special enchanted sheet in real time. That way, those of us waiting in the changing rooms can watch the matches before our turn. The only limitation is that Macro's tool can't transmit sound, so from our side everything is silent," Aislyra explained matter-of-factly.
"Oh, right, I'd forgotten," Lucas "admitted". Then he leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. "So, what do you think of the matches so far?" It was, after all, a question few others could answer with her level of insight.
"I knew you'd ask me that," Aislyra replied with a grin. "Of course, I'll only mention the ones that caught my attention at all—three in total.
The first, between Scuro and Larc, was more of a lesson than a battle. Scuro dominated from start to finish, using it as a teaching moment. Larc has potential, but he wasn't ready to stand against someone of Scuro's caliber. Still, I'm glad to see Scuro has sharpened his speed since last year—clearly preparing for a possible duel with Lucrio.
There's not much to say about the match between Emeralda and that idiot of an opponent. Emeralda's growth is obvious—her time in Leore served her well—but her adversary was utterly useless.
As for the fight between Caesar and Ativ… without doubt the best match so far. But I'm convinced Caesar has yet to reveal his full arsenal of soldiers or his History Magic. Honestly, after watching that, I'm not sure I even want to face him. That many magical soldiers seems a nightmare to deal with, and I don't think the ones he summoned against Ativ are the max he can command. The way each one was replaced instantly, the moment another fell—it suggests he can sustain far more."
"Really!?" Lucas exclaimed, unable to contain his surprise.
"Yes, you probably didn't notice because you were too focused on Ativ, but Caesar never let his soldiers fall below two hundred. Damn, he really does have a ridiculous amount of mana." Aislyra explained matter-of-factly. "Still, I think that's enough of my analysis for now. Look, Chiacchera is about to announce the next match."
At those words, the attention of everyone present—including the members of the royal family—shifted back to the center of the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the participant about to enter through the right gate is a member of the most exclusive and formidable military force of our kingdom. Serving as vice captain, he is renowned for his extreme severity… and his equally great—perhaps disproportionate—pride!" Chiacchera declared with theatrical flourish.
The gate creaked open. From it strode an elf clad in the gleaming armor of the Royal Knights, though without a helmet. His long sky-blue hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, trailed down his back. Framed by white-rimmed glasses, his sea-green eyes glittered with a mix of arrogance and confidence.
"Gilciso Lapis!!!"
Unlike the thunderous cheers that greeted most participants, his entrance received only sparse applause. Much of the crowd appeared indifferent, even displeased. The exceptions were a handful of female elves swooning over his looks and several pompously dressed nobles who clapped with stiff approval.
As Gilciso reached the arena's center, Chiacchera turned once more to the other gate. "And from the left side—" he began, but stopped short as the gate opened and a guard stepped inside. The guard hurried to him, leaned in to whisper, then retreated.
A ripple of disappointment ran through the spectators, many assuming this would be yet another match without a proper fight.
"Attention, everyone," Chiacchera quickly reassured them, "it seems the challenger is merely late. There is no word of his withdrawal. In fact, this participant was seen entering his assigned room early this morning, and no one has witnessed him leave. He is being summoned as we speak, so I must ask for your patience. The match will be delayed just a few minutes."
"Whoever my opponent is, he'd better have an excellent excuse for keeping me—the vice captain of the Royal Knights—waiting," Gilciso said through clenched teeth, his irritation palpable.
Fifteen long minutes dragged by with no sign of his adversary.
"Referee Pinusal, disqualify my opponent at once! Such insolence is an insult not only to the sanctity of this tournament but also to me personally," Gilciso demanded, his temper fraying.
"I'm sorry, Vice Captain Gilciso," Pinusal replied calmly but firmly, "but as you well know, the rules state that participants have thirty minutes from the moment they are called to present themselves. That time has not yet expired."
Gilciso's jaw tightened. He said nothing further, only glaring venomously at the referee before folding his arms and turning away with a huff.
Another thirteen minutes crawled by. Just as Gilciso's rage was about to boil over, Chiacchera spotted a guard at the gate giving him a confident thumbs-up.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, it seems our second participant has arrived at the very last moment!" Chiacchera cried, his voice brimming with excitement.
The restless audience immediately perked up, anticipation reigniting.
"From the left gate now enters another hero from another world! Exiled by the kingdom that first summoned him after he rejected their request, he has wandered our lands for over four years—a vagabond adventurer devoted solely to the art of the sword..."
The gate swung wide. Out stepped a man Lucas and Aislyra recognized instantly: the wandering samurai they had encountered the day before in the weapon shop. His tattered red-and-blue kimono looked just as shabby as it had then, yet on his shoulders it carried an air of unshakable dignity.
"Shinmen Musashi no Kami Fujiwara no Harunobu or as he told us he is better known as..... Miyamoto Musashi!!!" Chiacchera announced at the top of his voice, his words echoing across the stadium.