With Chiacchera's announcement, the second day of the Tournament of The Golden Tree preliminaries officially began. The only real difference compared to yesterday was that today's matches were allowed to last twice as long. In practice, however, this change proved almost completely irrelevant.
Nearly all of the matches ended in less than a minute.
One after another, the favorites from the previous day defeated their opponents with one or max two strikes. As a result, most of the matches felt uninteresting to the new queen. The only thing Lucas experienced while watching them was a faint sense of sadness for those participants, who, unfortunately, could only be described as insignificant in a tournament of this level.
However, there were three exceptions—three matches that managed to capture Lucas's attention, regardless of their length.
The first of these, which was the third match of the day, was not particularly noteworthy in terms of the fight itself. Like most of the matches that day, it lasted no more than a single blow. What made it stand out instead was the drastic change in behavior displayed by one of the participants compared to the previous day.
That participant was none other than the winner of the very first match of the tournament: the Minister of Defense, Scuro.
His opponent this time was quite similar to Lars, at least in personality—a young knight from another kingdom who had grown overconfident after his victory the day before. He lacked experience and carried himself with a certain arrogance, but he likely wasn't a bad person at heart.
Lucas fully expected the minister to win. However, just like the day before, he had assumed that Scuro would give the boy a harsh but instructive "lesson," as he had done in his previous match.
Instead, the opposite happened.
Scuro did not even give his opponent the time to make a single move. It was as if, in his eyes, the young knight did not exist at all.
And perhaps that was exactly the case—because at that moment, the only figure reflected in the dark elf's eyes was the detestable vice-captain of the Dark Knights.
The match lasted no more than a fraction of a second: a single strike of his sword, engulfed in flames.
Naturally, the blow did not kill his opponent. But judging from the expression on Scuro's face, one might have expected him to cut the young knight clean in half.
Rather than being impressive, the match only deepened Lucas's concern for the Minister of Defense.
The second of the three matches that caught Lucas's attention, on the other hand, was something entirely different—lighter in tone, yet far more exciting and certainly worth recounting:
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have now reached the match that marks the halfway point of this second day, and we are still in the morning! Today all the matches so far have been extremely quick and one-sided—but will the one about to begin break this pattern!?" Chiacchera announced, her voice brimming with energy.
"We'll only find out if we bring in the two fighters who will face each other in this match!!" she continued, raising her voice even further.
"From the right side, one of the biggest favorites of this tournament is about to enter—a warrior who is absolutely itching to fight, especially considering that her opponent yesterday fled in fear of facing her: the sister and bodyguard of our beloved queen—Aislyra Elenlora!!!"
At Chiacchera's emphatic introduction, the gate on the right side of the arena rose, and Aislyra stepped out, clad in her usual armor.
As she walked toward the center of the arena, she muttered under her breath, over and over:
"Don't you dare run away… If you do, you're dead… Don't you dare run away… If you do, you're dead…"
Her voice was low, but the intensity behind it was unmistakable.
"The one who is about to face one of the strongest individuals in our kingdom is, without a doubt, one of the most formidable participants in this tournament—the strongest minotaur, who yesterday defeated his opponent with a single overwhelming blow: the Unmovable Living Fortress of the Labyrinth City—Mitoros Asteriosse!" Chiacchera announced, pointing toward the opposite gate.
The gate slowly opened.
A few seconds passed.
No one emerged.
Those seconds felt like an eternity—especially for Aislyra. She was ready to fight anyone, regardless of their strength. All she wanted was a proper match. And this brief delay—one that might mean her opponent would not appear at all—was already beginning to ignite her irritation.
But just as her patience reached its limit, after one final agonizing second…
A figure finally stepped through the gate.
Immediately, Aislyra clenched her fist in triumph and exclaimed, "Finally, some action!"
What stood just outside the gate was an enormous "man."
Brasto had certainly been imposing, but this minotaur was on an entirely different level. He stood just under three meters tall—an extremely rare height even among minotaurs, who were already known for their massive builds. The circumference of his chest was close to two meters.
His muscles were both immense and sharply defined, clearly visible since he wore nothing more than a pair of simple shorts. From them protruded a small reddish-brown tail, while a strip of white fabric ran diagonally from his right shoulder to the left side of his pelvis, covering one of his nipples along the way.
His eyes were a deep, dark brown, and his short, unkempt hair shared a similar reddish-brown shade, reminiscent of terracotta.
Two long, pointed white horns—each about thirty centimeters in length—rose from his head. Instead of feet, he had bull-like hooves, and his legs, from just above the knees down to those hooves, were covered in smooth reddish-brown fur that matched his hair.
Resting casually on his left shoulder, held with just one hand, was a massive warhammer. It likely weighed over ninety kilograms, yet he carried it with such ease that it might as well have been weightless.
With long, heavy strides, Mitoros reached the center of the arena in mere moments. From his towering height, he immediately began to observe his opponent.
"So you're Aislyra, one of the physically strongest people in this kingdom…" he began, his voice as powerful as his physique. Then, after giving her a puzzled look, he added, "But now that I see you up close… you're small. Honestly, I expected you to be a bit taller."
Under normal circumstances, those words would have been enough to ignite Aislyra's temper instantly.
But the sheer joy of finally having an opponent kept her emotions in check.
With an excited yet slightly provocative smile, she replied, "Compared to you, I'm pretty sure almost everyone—regardless of species—would seem small. You're not the first minotaur I've met, but you're definitely the biggest."
"That's fair. I've never met anyone taller than me either, not even in my hometown. Now that I think about it, though, you're quite tall for an elf woman…" the minotaur responded in a friendly tone.
Aislyra paused for a brief moment before answering honestly.
"Yes, I suppose I'm slightly above average. I'm taller than both my sister and my mother—"
She suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
She had just realized she was wasting time—precious time she could have already spent fighting the opponent she had been waiting for.
Especially since she fully understood how lucky she was to be facing someone like him in the preliminaries.
Aislyra had already heard of Mitoros. For nearly a decade, he had been regarded as the physically strongest minotaur in the kingdom of Micerinto. More recently, he had claimed victory in the Red Thread Tournament, held in the labyrinthine capital of that same kingdom—a tournament in which only minotaurs could participate, and where the use of magic or weapons was strictly forbidden.
That victory had made his reputation official.
And because none of his opponents had ever managed to move him even a single step from his starting position—combined with his overwhelming stature—he had earned the nickname:
"The Unmovable Living Fortress of the Labyrinth City."
"But that's not important! I can assure you that my height doesn't matter. Simply being bigger than me won't give you any advantage in defeating me—on the contrary, I consider it a handicap necessary to give you even the slightest chance of winning," the elf replied, her voice filled with defiance.
A matching smile finally appeared on Mitoros's face.
"Well said, woman. I couldn't have expected anything less from the rival of the famous Fortore," the minotaur replied in his deep, powerful voice. Then, without hesitation, he assumed a fighting stance.
Lucas watched with intense curiosity the massive figure who was about to challenge his sister Aislyra. He didn't recall seeing him fight the previous day, which meant he must have participated in one of the matches Lucas had missed while he was not in the royal box.
'So this is a real minotaur!' Lucas thought, his eyes shining with curiosity and wonder.
Technically, this was not the first time he had seen a member of the Minotaur race. After drinking Macro's white potion, he had seen his own reflection transformed into that of a minotaur in the mirror of the training room more than once. However, this was the first time he had seen a real one in person, and he was completely fascinated.
Beyond the obvious difference in height between the body he had assumed through the potion effect and the minotaur Aislyra was about to face—likely due to the natural tendency for males to be taller than females, as well as the possibility that Mitoros himself was unusually tall even for his species—what truly caught Lucas's attention were the man's legs.
They were covered in thick fur and ended in hooves.
Those features didn't change drastically when Lucas used the White Potion. Was it a limitation of the potion? Or perhaps another example of sexual dimorphism between male and female minotaurs?
Lucas didn't know the answer, so he decided to ask the person he trusted most to explain it.
"Mother, is having hooves and hairy legs an exclusive trait of male minotaurs?" Lucas asked curiously.
Sequoria, seated beside him with a gentle smile, replied with clear interest, "No, both male and female minotaurs can be born with legs covered in fur and hooves like those of a cow. It simply depends on the individual's genetics. That said, it is more likely that a minotaur born from a mixed heritage will lack those traits. However, even two pure-blooded minotaurs can occasionally have a child without hooves or thick fur on their legs."
"I see…" Lucas replied, nodding thoughtfully.
Then he suddenly paused, his expression shifting as a new realization struck him.
"But wait… does that mean different intelligent species in this world can reproduce with each other?!" he asked aloud, surprised.
"Yes, generally speaking, most intelligent species on this continent can mate and have children together. This is a gift bestowed upon all inteligent beings by Amotto, the god and goddess of love, lust, kindness, fire, and sweetness, regardless of which deity originally created them. Of course, there are some exceptions. But, my son, I'm afraid this is not the right moment to go into detail. I would be more than happy to explain it thoroughly at another time, but the match is about to begin," Sequoria replied, a slight hint of regret in her voice.
Lucas nodded and returned his attention to the arena, focusing once more on his sister and her imposing opponent.
The two fighters stared at each other with such intensity that it almost seemed as if sparks were flying where their gazes met.
Pinusal observed them for a few seconds before asking his usual question.
"Is there anything you would like to say before the match begins?"
Neither of them responded. They simply continued glaring at one another, completely ignoring the referee.
Pinusal let out a small sigh.
"I'll take that as a no," he said, before beginning the formal start of the match. "The fight will begin on my signal."
At that, both challengers gave a slight nod.
"Ready…"
Aislyra gripped Ice Burn firmly in her hand.
"Go…"
Mitoros tightened his grip on his massive warhammer, now holding it with both hands.
"GO!!!" Pinusal shouted.
In that very instant, both fighters lunged at each other almost simultaneously.
The moment their massive weapons collided, a powerful gust of wind erupted from the impact—strong enough to send any ordinary person flying. But Pinusal himself barely seemed affected, though he still took a few steps back, giving space to the two fierce combatants now clashing at the center of the arena.