As the date of the match against Valient drew closer, more and more people began to gather.
Most of them were either those who came early to secure a seat before the crowds arrived or upper-class individuals who preferred to wait in the provided lodgings since they weren’t confident they’d arrive on time.
Limberton sat by the fountain, ears perked, listening closely to the chatter of passersby.
“It’s scary now. I’ve lost way too much money.”
“You’re not the only one. Who could’ve predicted it? Two comeback wins?”
“...They wouldn’t do that in Valient too, right?”
“That would be truly impossible.”
“I lost money last time believing that exact line.”
They were still predicting Valient’s victory, but not with certainty.
Limberton couldn’t quite grasp that reality.
‘I’m a starting member, and it still feels like a dream. Me, in the Aizen Arena. In the finals, no less?’
He, who was always ignored and ridiculed, was now standing here.
By now, the news probably would’ve spread even to his faraway hometown.
‘It feels good, but I’m scared. I don’t know if I deserve this. If I get exposed as a fraud, they’ll just laugh at me again…’
His sharply rising fame only made him more fearful.
His head was full of doubts—had he really grown step by step, or were the footholds he stepped on during his climb strong enough not to collapse?
After wrestling with those thoughts for a while, a voice echoed in his mind.
—Still worrying about pointless things, I see.
A voice that rang deep within his heart.
Limberton wasn’t even surprised anymore.
He had grown used to the ragged man who occasionally appeared and spoke to him.
“Well, of course I’m worried. It’s not like this match is just about me.”
If it were a solo event where only he bore the cost, that might be different.
But having watched his teammates giving it their all, Limberton feared he might end up being the one holding them back.
—Everyone feels the same.
“So it’s a natural reaction then?”
—But not everyone overthinks it like you do. The goal remains the same: we must win.
“Even if I don’t want to, I can’t help but overthink... is that even possible?”
—Just focus on winning. That will push all those worries beneath the surface.
Limberton let out a grunt and began visualizing a mock battle in his mind.
He didn’t know how much Selberton had grown since joining Valient.
But even as a child, that guy was already a monster.
On the day they went out to hunt fish with harpoons, he dragged the carcass of a shark-like beast back to the beach.
And during sparring matches, he would take down arrogant noble heirs twice his size using just a stick.
He defeated children who came from noble houses, raised on fine elixirs and trained by famous swordsmen, even though he himself was under ten and from a humble family.
‘Honestly, Selberton back then could’ve easily beaten me. But now… I’m not so sure.’
For some reason, it felt like even if Limberton threw everything he had at him, Selberton would block it all.
He couldn’t gauge Selberton’s strength, making him feel even more distant and overwhelming.
“Ugh. The more I imagine the battle in my head, the worse it gets. My confidence is plummeting.”
—That’s actually a good thing.
Limberton was taken aback.
It was the first time he’d ever heard someone spin such an obvious flaw into a positive.
“What are you even saying? I’m losing confidence here.”
—You’ve always had a tendency to overestimate your opponents.
“Did I?”
—And then, when you overcame that fear and took a step forward—how did it feel?
Limberton pondered the question.
When his hands and feet trembled from nerves, when he was backed into a corner and had no choice but to release the bowstring...
“I think the trembling started to stop.”
—Exactly. Each time, you found the enemy wasn’t as fearsome as you imagined, and that spurred you into action. You judged that if the imagined monster was worse than the real one, maybe you could win. And thanks to that, you could use your full potential. That’s how you mentally prepare yourself. Being able to go all in for each battle—that’s a valuable talent.
The unexpected compliment lifted Limberton’s spirits.
But that was as far as his reflection could go.
The person he was supposed to meet at the fountain today was approaching.
“Over here, over here.”
It was Leana.
‘Why is she asking me about Silla? Does she really think I’ll say anything good?’
After a brief greeting, Leana got right to the point she had mentioned in advance.
“So, why are you asking me why the sisters don’t get along?”
“Well, I’m an only child, so I wouldn’t know.”
Limberton reflected on the past.
It was when he was learning swordsmanship at the Lionheart estate as a child.
“Those two didn’t get along badly at first. Silla was kind to her little sister, and Saila followed her around. Back then, Silla was so good at everything that even among kids, she was one of those damned elites.”
The memory of being bullied by those damned elites was painful, but Limberton kept his mouth shut and focused on the conversation.
“They really were close. Silla would trip me, and Saila would sprinkle feed on me to make the chickens chase me.”
“They were awful kids, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, totally. Those brats got along scarily well. But what can you do? They were bad kids. And bad kids can’t stay friendly forever, right? Eventually, it all explodes.”
Leana furrowed her brow slightly and asked,
“You’re going on a bit. So what was the turning point?”
“Height.”
“Height?”
“You know, it was during that big growth phase. But as you probably noticed, Silla didn’t grow at all, while Saila shot up.”
“You’re saying their relationship fell apart just over height?”
Limberton blinked at her question.
Well, someone with a figure far superior to the average person would never understand how she or Silla felt.
“Of course, it’s true that height alone isn’t enough to break up a good relationship.”
“But if the family head position is at stake, it’s a different story.”
“The family head position?”
“Yeah. The swordsmanship of the Lionheart family only shows its true value when used by someone with a fairly large build. And the strongest among the bloodline becomes the head of the house.”
Leana let out an “Ah” sound, as if it all made sense now.
“The rest of the story is predictable. The expectations that had been on Silla shifted to Saila, and Silla had to watch her little sister take her place. That must’ve caused a lot of hurt feelings.”
“So that’s why she was so sensitive about the height issue...”
“Exactly. Well, that answer your questions? Can I go train now?”
“Thanks for answering, Limberton.”
Limberton was just getting up to go train.
“But why is it that you get along so well with your younger brother? Isn’t your situation similar to Silla’s?”
At Leana’s question, Limberton stared into the air for a moment, then grinned.
“We both don’t want to take over the family.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not like the land’s particularly prosperous. Even if you become the head, you still have to do fishing work. And I’ve got zero talent for that. Anyway, I’ll be going.”
As he walked away, Limberton thought to himself.
If his and Silla’s positions in the family had been more alike, would he and Selberton have ended up on bad terms?
‘No, maybe not. For some reason, we’ve always tended to back away from responsibility.’
The coastline was Selberton’s domain, where he lived like a fish in water.
The forest, where he hunted with a bow, was Limberton’s.
As if by mutual agreement, they never crossed into each other’s specialties.
That was probably more of Selberton’s consideration.
The guy could thrive anywhere—mountains, sea, you name it.
‘Even as the younger brother, he was always more mature than me.’
And that’s why, just this once, he wanted to show him what he could do as the older brother.
---
It was noisy even at night.
The sound of swords clashing and arrows flying drowned out the cries of the insects completely.
“Everyone’s really working hard.”
At Selli’s comment, I made a displeased face.
“Feels like reporting them for noise complaints.”
“Even if you did, it wouldn’t change anything. But aren’t you a bit too relaxed, sir? Everyone else is training like their lives depend on it.”
Selli said that while gazing out the window.
In the courtyard, Aslay was doing squats while holding a massive boulder—no idea where he got it from.
At first, everyone had gathered to watch in amazement, but after several hours, most people had gotten tired and left.
“Oh, and about young master Mircel. He looked like he was completely fired up this time. Shouldn’t you stop him? His bandages were soaked in blood.”
“I’d like to, but it’s not like he’d listen. He’s extremely stubborn when it comes to the sword.”
That’s how I replied as I sank deeper into the backrest of my chair.
Selli kept giving me sharp glances, clearly displeased, but I calmly ignored her.
I intended to contribute by doing nothing—just observing.
There was nothing I could do, after all, since the emotional turmoil the main characters were supposed to experience years later had come much too early.
So, I had decided to let things run their course without interfering anymore.
What happens after is not my concern.
Whether they win, or whether the rushed storyline deepens emotional wounds—that’s something to think about when it happens.
Still, if one side’s narrative had to collapse, I found myself hoping it would be Valient and not Frostheart.
Because blood always favors its own.
---
On the day of the finals, the Pathfinder Headquarters was abuzz.
In the courtyard sat a giant communication orb.
Around it, staff members had gathered, eagerly waiting for the broadcast to begin.
“Is it really true they’re halting all work today?”
“It’s the elders’ orders. Only essential personnel remain; everyone else is to listen to the broadcast.”
“Never thought I’d see those stiff old men act like this.”
“That’s how special this is.”
They had made it this far by taking down Wisdom.
Perhaps this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment in history, and the Pathfinders at HQ were thrilled.
“Hey, there’s Lord Arental.”
As Arental took his seat, everyone started whispering.
Rumors that he’d predicted this outcome long ago had grown so much that his prestige was practically through the roof.
One high-ranking official, unable to contain his curiosity, approached him cautiously and asked,
“Greetings, Lord Arental.”
“Good to see you. Looks like everything’s been prepared nicely.”
“Hehe, thank you for the compliment. May I ask just one thing?”
“Hmm?”
“Is it true you predicted Frostheart would win the championship months ago?”
Arental looked off into the sky for a moment.
“I did say that... though at one point, I thought I’d gotten it wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“Judging by your reaction, you must’ve placed quite a big bet.”
“Ahem, well, it’s just a senior showing faith in the juniors. So... how do you see the outcome of the finals?”
Arental closed his eyes.
After a few seconds of silence, he answered with a hint of resignation.
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Pardon? Then what’s your predicted probability?”
“I’d say about an 80% chance of losing?”
The high-ranking official turned pale.
When Arental had said “I don’t know,” he’d assumed it was something like 40-60 odds at worst.
“Dorosian didn’t show up. That was unexpected.”
Arental waved a piece of paper.
It was the match roster for the finals.
The official who received it scanned the names one by one, then widened his eyes in disbelief.
“What is this? It looks like they picked opponents completely at random. Are you saying Valient didn’t reveal the bracket first this time?”
“You must’ve bet a lot. Knowing which matchups are good or bad... says a lot.”
“Well, I did bet all my emergency funds.”
The official was quietly freaking out, but Arental just gave a good-natured laugh.
“They say the roster was revealed according to tradition. And Hersel Ben Tenest still accepted it, even after seeing how the bracket turned out. That’s what I heard.”
Tears welled up in the official’s eyes.
The staff nearby, who had been eavesdropping, also began to tear up.
And just at that moment—cruelly timed—the orb began to deliver its message: the impending loss of their savings was about to commence.
“Now commencing the glorious finals of the Aizen Arena.”
