The crowd's cheers still echoed even after Leonel left the arena. I walked beside him, carrying his sword, now covered in scratches. Each of his steps was firm, though I could see how heavy his body felt after the fight. Sweat dripped, small wounds adorned his arms, but his eyes remained calmly ablaze.
Outside the arena, servants from other families watched us with shocked faces. Some whispered, others glanced with disbelief. Kaelthorn, the family long considered weak, was suddenly in the spotlight.
"Young Master… you really won," I whispered, my voice choked.
Leonel glanced over, a faint smile on his lips. "Did you doubt me, Rian?"
I quickly shook my head. "No. I just… am proud."
The smile widened slightly. "Then don't stop believing."
We walked through the corridor towards the participants' rest area. There, several young nobles who had already fought or were waiting for their turns looked at him sharply. Some showed disbelief, while others began to regard Leonel with a different look.
In the corner of the room, the young man with dull brown hair who had caught Leonel's attention yesterday watched expressionlessly. His gaze was brief, then returned to the floor. But I felt there was something behind his eyes.
Meanwhile, Kael Ignaros was led out of the arena by his servants. His face was filled with rage, his eyes red like embers, but he couldn't say anything. His defeat was on everyone's lips, and the Ignaros family's pride was clearly tarnished.
The atmosphere was noisy, but in my heart, there was only one feeling: the world was truly beginning to change.
The subsequent matches proceeded. Some were quick, some were grueling. Some won with spectacular techniques, others lost due to small mistakes. I only paid attention to the important ones.
The silver-haired girl from the Frostbane family entered the arena against a warrior from the west. The air instantly froze, and every step she took left a trail of ice on the ground. Her opponent tried to close in, but a wall of ice suddenly appeared, cutting off his path. The match ended quickly, victory for Frostbane. The crowd cheered, both amazed and intimidated.
Then it was the turn of the desert youth from the Sandveil family. His movements were light, almost invisible to the eye. Every dagger slash was like a dry wind sweeping through. His opponent didn't even have time to fight back before collapsing, knocked unconscious by the relentless attacks. Sandveil waved casually to the crowd, as if the victory was trivial.
I noted them in my heart. Frostbane and Sandveil. Opponents not to be underestimated.
But the one that made me hold my breath the most was when the young man with dull brown hair stepped into the arena. The audience initially didn't pay much attention, thinking he was just an ordinary participant. But when the match started, the atmosphere changed.
He didn't use flashy techniques. No fire, no ice, no bright aura flashes. Just simple movements, his sword moving with a certain rhythm. But every time his opponent attacked, his sword was already there, blocking precisely. Every small opening was immediately exploited with a single, swift slash.
His opponent finally surrendered, sweat pouring, face pale as if he had faced an unshakable steel wall. The audience fell silent for a moment, then cheered louder than before.
I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. That young man… was far more dangerous than he appeared.
Leonel watched with a serious gaze. "He will be a problem."
I nodded slowly, not daring to say anything.
The first day of the tournament ended with 32 names remaining. The arena rumbled as the list of advancing participants was announced. Leonel Kaelthorn was there, and that name echoed among the noble families.
At the inn, Patriarch Kaelthorn came to see Leonel. His face, usually full of pressure, was now hard to read. He looked at Leonel for a long time, then said, "You have exceeded all my expectations."
Leonel bowed respectfully. "I only did what had to be done, Father."
The Patriarch patted his shoulder. "Tomorrow will be harder. Take care of yourself, Leonel."
After he left, I looked at Leonel with mixed feelings. There was pride, but also fear. I realized the path the Young Master had chosen was no ordinary path. This was a path that would shake the world of knights and mages.
And I… could only walk beside him, trying to remain loyal until the end.
That night, Leonel sat cross-legged on the bed, a thin blue aura circulating around him. I sat in a chair, watching him. There was no more doubt in his eyes. No more trace of the spoiled Young Master I once knew.
What remained was a new Leonel, a knight rising towards the world's grand stage.
And tomorrow, the next round would begin.