They were here to travel, sightsee, and experience the culture and magnificent scenery of this world; there was absolutely no need for a direct, bloody confrontation with an entire nation. However, when the other party starts pushing their luck and overstepping boundaries, showing one's fists becomes an absolute necessity. After all, in many cases across reality, if your fists aren't hard enough, arrogant people won't listen to a single word you say.
Seeing Remilia calmly agree to the sport, Flandre and Hong Meiling walked out of the inn's front doors hand in hand.
Outside the building at this exact moment, dozens of fresh mounted police were cautiously closing in, their armor clanking loudly.
"Listen, those inside! You are completely surrounded! Surrender immediately..."
Although this specific district was remote and tucked away from the main streets, as a sector of the capital city, there were still many ordinary citizens coming and going. The onlookers all hid curiously inside the windows of the surrounding shops, watching the mounted police deploy and wondering which unlucky soul had provoked someone they shouldn't have.
Just then, two figures, one large and one small, emerged casually from the inn.
Seeing they were merely two females, one of whom looked like a young child, the onlookers' gazes toward the mounted police became even more disdainful and full of pity. But those mounted police didn't dare relax their guard in the slightest. After all, they knew from the urgent radio reports that the person in front of them, dressed in a traditional Yan-style outfit, had single-handedly knocked out an entire squad of armed guards just an hour prior.
While the police were tensely holding their shields, the two figures who had just emerged from the doorway abruptly vanished from where they stood, leaving only faint ripples in the air.
In the blink of an eye, they appeared on either side of the tight formation, one to the left and one to the right. Before the guards could even react to the sudden blur, Flandre and Hong Meiling struck simultaneously. Accompanied by a sudden, chaotic chorus of startled screams, those mounted police fell to the hard cobblestones like a row of collapsing dominoes.
A single minute later, only the two mansion residents remained standing in the middle of the street.
"Thirty-two on my side," Flandre asked Hong Meiling as they met in the center of the road, dusting off her hands. "What about your side?"
Hong Meiling triumphantly raised her fingers in a proud gesture. "Thirty-three!"
Flandre's little face immediately slumped into a heavy pout. "That's not fair at all! I was already moving incredibly fast."
"But my fists were clearly just a tiny bit faster than yours this time."
The two walked back toward the lobby, smugly bumping their shoulders together, completely ignoring the utterly dumbfounded, jaw-dropped crowd of citizens staring from the windows around them.
As for the poor innkeeper hiding behind the front counter, he was almost in tears by now. He had originally thought it was a wonderful blessing from the heavens that some wealthy foreign tourists had finally come to stay at his empty property. But he never expected in his wildest dreams that such a massive group of trouble would arrive at his doorstep. He desperately wanted to ask them to pack their bags and find another place to stay, but he simply didn't possess the courage to speak to monsters who could flatten an army.
After returning to the upstairs room, Flandre dejectedly threw her entire body into Remilia's arms, hiding her face.
"Sister, I lost the game~~"
Remilia and the others inside the room had seen every single detail of the brief scuffle outside through the glass. She reached out her hand, dotingly stroking Flandre's soft blonde hair.
"Just win it back next time! Let me think of a clever way to help you win... I've got it! Next time, tell me a full day before the competition. I'll have Sakuya completely starve Meiling for twenty-four hours to make her weak and dizzy. What do you think of that plan!"
The moment Remilia finished speaking, Hong Meiling's eyes widened to the size of saucers, her horrified expression clearly saying, 'Boss, how could you do this to me? Starving the loyal gatekeeper is terrible behavior!'
Flandre thought about the proposal seriously for a brief moment and then shook her head firmly. "No, Flandre wants a completely fair match! Winning that way would be totally dishonorable..."
Of course, she had another cheeky sentence left unsaid: being starved for just a single day was actually no problem at all for Hong Meiling's ridiculous Youkai stamina.
Only then did Remilia turn her attention back to the physical stadium tickets Hong Meiling had purchased. Learning they were for tomorrow's grand event, she asked, "Are there absolutely no tickets available for today's matches?"
"They've been completely sold out for ages," Hong Meiling replied, pulling the slips from her pocket. "I asked the clerk when I bought them; today there are only one or two scattered seats left across the venue that aren't even inside the same arena plates. The only major match we can all comfortably attend together is tomorrow afternoon's clash between the Blood Knight and the Ice Sword Knight."
Since the tickets were firmly set for tomorrow afternoon, what should they do with the rest of today's free hours?
"How about you guys go out and play in the city? I'll just stay here and relax," Patchouli replied softly, noticing Remilia's questioning gaze.
"That won't do at all..." Remilia countered, her tone shifting to a protective one. "Your physical constitution is far too weak, and I am not comfortable leaving you resting here all alone in an unfamiliar city. I know exactly how to arrange it. Meiling, you've always been on excellent terms with Flandre, so you accompany her to go play outside."
Remilia looked over at Flandre, who was already in a much better mood and playfully tugging at Hong Meiling's long braids.
"Just the two of us out there?" Hong Meiling pointed a finger at her own nose.
"Patchy has traveled so far with us these past few days; she genuinely needs to rest her body. Sakuya and I will stay right here to look after her. Flandre wants to run around the city again, so you are naturally the most suitable person to keep her company."
After Remilia finished speaking, she glanced out the window, subtly implying that since they were the ones who had caused the public scene outside, they had to deal with any arriving mess themselves.
Outside on the street, the local authorities' reinforcements had finally arrived in massive numbers. Seeing their seventy-odd colleagues sprawled unconsciously across the cobblestones, the arriving officers couldn't help but gasp in sheer disbelief. After asking the terrified civilian witnesses for the exact details of the brawl, they looked up at the quiet inn as if it were a dark den of mythical monsters.
After all, daring to openly thrash the police force in the very capital of Kazimierz was an act that couldn't be described merely as 'audacious.' But they didn't dare rush the front doors blindly. Because according to the store owners, over sixty of their trained colleagues had been knocked unconscious by the two female opponents within a single, brief minute. The guards hadn't even managed to put up a decent resistance.
After checking the fallen guards' physical injuries, the medics found that everyone had been taken down in a single, flawless move; the opponents' strikes were incredibly precise, knocking them out instantly without causing any permanent structural damage or broken bones. In other words, if the mysterious visitors had truly intended to slaughter them, the arriving squad would currently be looking at a horrific field of corpses instead of unconscious comrades. So, they cautiously called for even heavier backup while loading their colleagues into ambulances.
Meanwhile, the higher-ups of the Commercial Federation received the urgent incident report and immediately pulled up the local street surveillance footage. Watching the crystal-clear recording of the two easily dismantling scores of mounted police with casual sweeps, the executives quickly passed the files up to the highest management.
Interestingly, the Commercial Federation's very first thought wasn't anger, but rather corporate greed—could they perhaps convince the powerful fighters in the video to sign contracts and become commercial knights in Kazimierz? With such overwhelming combat skills, if they could be properly packaged as knights, they would surely recreate the massive financial glory and stadium hype of the former Black Knight.
As for whether these newcomers would completely dominate the championship for several consecutive years like the Black Knight did—which would lock the title in place and potentially lower the betting and entertainment value of the tournament—the executives weren't worried at all. After all, if their corporate machinery could successfully drive away one legendary Black Knight in the past, they could naturally drive away a second one whenever they pleased.
"I recall the Bloodboil Knight Club is currently stationed in that nearby sector. Have them send someone over immediately to test their true mettle," one of the high-ranking directors of the Commercial Federation ordered coldly over the line.
Soon, the corporate directive was carried out.
Within the fortified base of the Bloodboil Knights, a rough-looking combatant stepped forward after receiving the alert on his screen.
"The higher-ups' true meaning is for us to go out there and utterly crush those two. Since this isn't the official stadium arena, there's absolutely no need to hold back our weapons, right?!" His tone was completely full of raw bloodlust, and the surrounding squad members looked over to find him laughing arrogantly, gripping his weapon tightly.
"Olmer, remember your current position," the team leader warned firmly, glaring at the eager youth. "You are currently an active participant in the official Major Knight Tournament, a public star under the gaze of millions of fans, and the proud owner of the title 'Brassrust Knight.' If you behave in a savage way that doesn't fit your corporate celebrity status in public, the Federation will disqualify you from the bracket."
"So what if they do? A private street brawl isn't a formal match," the arrogant youth said with an air of complete indifference, tossing his gear into his bag. "If the opponent's resistance turns out to be too fierce, it's only natural that I might not be able to hold back my lethal strength."