The old man looked about the same age as Old Man Rom. Deep lines carved across his weathered face, each one a testament to decades of hard living.
Reinhard's gaze lingered on the pair, especially the elderly man. Something stirred behind his eyes, brief and carefully contained, before his expression settled back into its usual composure.
"Lady Crusch."
A polite greeting, nothing more. Beside him, Julius took the initiative this time, stepping in to explain the situation.
"Sounds like fun," Felix said, tongue poking out between his teeth in a playful grin. "Too bad there's not much in it for me." He glanced toward the arena. "I could help patch them up afterward, though."
Crusch studied the fighting with a furrowed brow, her tone measured and cool. "Using the knight order to build a reputation, demonstrate strength, and turn a profit all at once. Clever."
She didn't look at the old man beside her when she spoke next. "Wilhelm."
"Lady Crusch."
"Go and test her when the time comes."
"As you wish."
"Need help exchanging Holy Gold Coins?" Anastasia chimed in, a teasing lilt in her voice. "The Hoshin Company offers very reasonable conversion fees."
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary."
Crusch shook her head, her reply clipped and distant. Her eyes never left the training grounds.
Or more precisely, they never left Gojo.
The calculus was straightforward. Among the current Royal Candidates, Felt's faction possessed the most formidable open strength by a wide margin. Not only did they have Reinhard, the kingdom's strongest, but also Betty, a Great Spirit of Yin, and Gojo himself.
Reinhard's power was beyond question. But paradoxically, he was the least threatening piece on the board. Years of consistent, unflinching integrity had made him predictable. Everyone knew what Reinhard van Astrea would and wouldn't do.
The competition between candidates forbade direct violence, at least officially. Which meant Reinhard's overwhelming combat ability mattered less than it appeared. His value lay elsewhere.
Gojo was a different equation entirely.
This so-called Spirit Arts User bore no resemblance to knights like Reinhard. He was someone who treated rules and institutions as suggestions he hadn't bothered to read.
At the assembly, he'd attacked two members of the Council of Wise Men in front of every senior official in Lugunica without a shred of hesitation. If he'd do that in a formal gathering, what would he do once the real competition began?
Failing to understand him now meant having no answer when he showed up at your door. And if he did eliminate a rival candidate, the kingdom's leadership would never punish him for it. If only Felt remained standing, would anyone seriously strip her candidacy over "unsportsmanlike conduct"?
The idea was more absurd than the Witch of Envy rising from the dead.
No one understood better than Crusch just how deep this nation's blind faith in the Divine Dragon ran. The Dragon Tablet had chosen these candidates. That was sacred. Untouchable.
This was a golden opportunity. A legitimate, public chance to probe the man's abilities.
She hadn't said as much aloud, but Crusch was certain Anastasia harbored the exact same intent.
The catch was getting past the Great Spirit first.
On this point, the two women shared an unspoken understanding. Neither voiced it. Neither sent their champions forward immediately. They simply watched, and waited.
Their arrival hadn't gone unnoticed. In the center of the grounds, Gojo tilted his head toward the newcomers, and Felt followed his gaze.
"Looks like your audience just got bigger."
"Sure did. Though the most annoying one didn't show."
Felt's expression soured at the memory of yesterday. Priscilla's towering arrogance had left a bad taste that hadn't faded overnight.
"Why don't you go charge them admission? You're just gonna let them watch for free?"
Gojo's tone was light, clearly joking.
"You're right! Why didn't I think of that?"
Felt's eyes lit up, and she was already moving before the sentence ended.
"Wait, you're actually going to do it?"
He caught her arm before she got three steps.
"Why not? They shouldn't get a free show."
She planted her hands on her hips, defiant.
"Easy." He kept his grip loose, his expression unbothered. "You're a Royal Candidate now. Act the part. Besides, what if they want to participate?"
He shrugged. "Instead of charging them to watch, charge them more to fight. That's the real money."
"They're our rivals, after all. No reason to give them a discount."
Felt considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. You're right."
"And if they don't want to fight?"
"Then what, you're going to force them?"
Gojo gave her a flat look. This girl had money on the brain.
"Whatever. I'm going to tell Reinhard about the price hike!"
She turned to sprint off, and he grabbed her arm again.
"Relax. We'll handle that in a bit." His voice was easy, unhurried. "Besides, the person they're really interested in isn't Betty. It's me."
"Even if they've never seen a Great Spirit of Yin before, they can guess what she does. Yin-attribute magic. Debuffs, spatial tricks. Nothing beyond imagination."
A grin spread across his face. "But me? I'm a complete unknown."
"Well, they're going to be waiting a while." Felt watched Betty dispatch another cluster of knights without breaking stride. "She doesn't look like she's slowing down."
And Betty didn't disappoint.
Even as Gojo's Mana proved insufficient for sustained combat, Cursed Energy filled the gap beautifully. Once her Mana reserves ran dry, she stopped pretending otherwise and switched to her Cursed Technique without hesitation.
Rectangular frames materialized in the air around the arena, hovering in the empty space like windows into nothing. The knights, who'd never seen anything like it, faltered mid-charge, confusion written across their faces.
When the first cautious group edged closer, a deafening explosion ripped through the training grounds.
Betty watched the lead knight sail through the air with cold indifference, then flicked her wrist to send his companions tumbling after him.
The knights had just begun adapting to her Yin-attribute magic. They'd huddled together, workshopped strategies, built something resembling a plan.
None of it mattered. Before they could test a single theory, her new arsenal blindsided them completely.
Gojo lounged in the afternoon sun, half-listening to the blasts, watching Betty work. Centuries of existence had their advantages. As a Great Spirit, she'd accumulated lifetimes of combat experience, and it showed in how precisely she wielded each new tool.
Take the Cursed Energy. She'd only learned to use it recently, yet her control was already impressive. Every strike was calibrated: enough force to put a knight down, never enough to cause lasting damage.
But that was all it was.
Because as the fights continued, he could feel it clearly. Her Cursed Energy reserves were draining, steadily and irreversibly.
Without the Reverse Cursed Technique, without a domain, her options remained limited. She could only rely on her Innate Technique, and that well wasn't bottomless.
Betty held out until evening.
By the time she'd worked through nearly every knight in the order, her Cursed Energy was all but spent.
"We've been watching all afternoon," Anastasia said, her smile soft and measured as she observed Betty's visible fatigue. "I think it's about time we stretched our legs."
"Mimi wants to try too!!"
The tiny cat-eared girl bounced at Anastasia's side, hand shooting into the air.
"If you want to go that badly, then go ahead." Anastasia stroked Mimi's head, her voice warm. "Who knows? Maybe you'll be the champion who finally takes down a Great Spirit."
"Don't worry, Mimi's definitely gonna win!"
Anastasia handed another Holy Gold Coin to Reinhard. Then Mimi snatched up a staff taller than she was and charged straight at Betty.
"Mimi's gonna beat you!"
Betty glanced at the small figure barreling toward her and pursed her lips. Her remaining Cursed Energy was thin, but dealing with this one wouldn't be a problem.
Several explosions rang out in quick succession.
The enthusiastic little cat-girl came stumbling back, covered head to toe in soot.
"Sorry... Mimi lost." She threw herself into Anastasia's arms, voice heavy with shame.
Anastasia wasn't the least bit surprised. Sending Mimi in had never been about winning. It was a probe, a way to gauge how much fight the Great Spirit had left.
The answer, from what she could tell, was not much.
"I hope you don't mind if we head out first?" Anastasia looked toward Crusch, one hand still resting on Mimi's head. "If we don't leave soon, this little one's stomach will start making demands."
"By all means."
Crusch shook her head, in no particular hurry.
"Julius, I'll leave the rest to you."
"Understood, Lady Anastasia."
Julius, who had been waiting patiently for some time, gave a slight bow, his voice low and steady.
Across the arena, Betty noticed him stepping forward. Her brow creased.
At full strength, she wouldn't have given him a second thought. But with both her Cursed Energy and Mana nearly depleted, if this continued...
"All right, Betty. Mission accomplished." A hand settled gently on her shoulder, and Gojo's voice came from just beside her. "Time to rest. Leave the rest to me."
"They've been waiting all afternoon. It'd be rude if I didn't at least make an appearance."
"This is my fight. I don't need you stepping in."
The words came out sharp, reflexively proud. She meant to handle Julius herself.
Then Gojo scooped her up.
Whatever defiance she'd been mustering evaporated. Her face flooded with color, and she squirmed in his arms, all thoughts of battle forgotten.
"Put me down! Let go of me!"
He'd picked her up before, sure. Grabbed her by the collar, tucked her under his arm like a parcel. But a princess carry? This was new. And it was happening in front of everyone, dozens of eyes locked on the spectacle.
"Don't squirm. You worked hard today, Betty. Consider this a little reward."
His smile was warm and easy, like he hadn't just done something mortifying in front of half the capital's military.
"Who asked for your reward? I'm not some well-behaved child."
The protest came out muffled. Her struggling had quieted considerably, though her face was turned so far away he could only see the tips of her ears, burning red.
In the amber light of the setting sun, it was impossible to tell where the evening glow ended and her blush began.
He carried her to where Felt stood and set her down gently.
"Wait here with Felt. Once I'm done with them, we'll go get dinner."
"Don't forget to raise the price!" Felt called after him as he turned to leave.
"Got it!"
He waved over his shoulder without looking back and strode toward the center of the arena.
Julius, who had been preparing to face Betty, looked visibly caught off guard when Gojo appeared in front of him instead.
"Surprised?"
"I'd imagine you're all more interested in fighting me, though. You've been waiting all afternoon, after all."
"I'll admit, I didn't expect you to step forward yourself, Mr. Gojo."
"Betty pushed herself all day. Making her keep going would make me a pretty terrible Spirit Arts User, don't you think?"
Julius thought of his colleagues scattered across the field and found himself at a loss for words.
"While we're at it, you're here to probe my abilities, right?"
Gojo scratched the back of his head, tossing the question out like an afterthought.
"Lady Anastasia gave me no such order."
Julius drew the sword at his hip, his tone perfectly composed.
"A knight who can't lie, so he dodges the question instead?" Gojo clicked his tongue, then spread his arms wide. "How about this? Let's be honest with each other."
"Let's make a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
Even as he spoke, Julius raised his blade in a formal salute, then launched himself forward.
"You're interested in my abilities. So let's trade. I'll tell you the one you're most curious about, what it does, how it works. The question is: what are you offering in return?"
He stood perfectly still, watching Julius close the distance, sword descending in a clean arc.
"Intelligence of that caliber doesn't come cheap. One Holy Gold Coin won't cut it."
The blade fell.
And the scene from the assembly replayed itself.
Just as it had with Marcos, an invisible barrier materialized between them. Julius pressed harder, poured strength into the strike. The sword went nowhere.
He felt the resistance against his palms, something absolute and unyielding, and his brow tightened. After a beat, he withdrew, stepping back with his blade lowered.
"I'm not certain what you'd want, Mr. Gojo. But perhaps I could relay the offer to Lady Anastasia."
...
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