The Aizen Arena was more chaotic than ever.
Sitting in the stands, Athera continued listening to a story she never got tired of hearing.
“No matter how they analyze it, most say it’s going to be a landslide victory for Valient.”
“Did you fall for something some so-called experts said again? They’ve already been wrong twice. Better to ignore their nonsense.”
Wherever there’s big money involved, there are always so-called experts.
In the case of Aizen Arena, there were even people who sold information collected by each faction.
But even those people knew nothing about Frostheart, and that’s how this whole mess started.
‘Valient has always been famous and occasionally showed up in official duels, so anyone could easily gather info if they wanted to. But Frostheart is a different story. Our academy’s security is tight.’
Thanks to that advantage, they had made it to the finals, but Athera figured this was the end of the line.
“But now that information has accumulated, it’s a different story. At this point, hasn’t Frostheart’s full power been revealed? I heard even analysts said the matchup favors Valient.”
“The matchup? Oh, right. The final round is always publicly announced. Tch, maybe I should’ve bet some money this time?”
In the end, it was the same atmosphere.
Just like during Everblaze and Wisdom’s matches, no one predicted Frostheart would win.
The only difference now was that all their cards had been revealed and several unfavorable circumstances were working against them.
‘Those guys must’ve figured out how to counter everything. But what’s up with this lineup? They should’ve at least planned that better.’
Some opponents could have been beaten by brute force, even if they were faster.
In that case, they should’ve paired Leana against them, but instead, they put Aslay in—who only knows grappling.
It was the same with Silla and Saila, who used Lionheart’s swordsmanship.
They should’ve matched someone else against Silla, whose physical traits give her an advantage.
‘Lionheart’s swordsmanship was designed for people with large builds.’
There were plenty of other questionable decisions, but this one made the least sense.
‘Why on earth did they… put Mircel in that spot?’
Mircel was practically a guaranteed win.
Unless he was up against someone like Ares, who could neutralize his impact.
If that was the case, then the smart move would’ve been to secure at least one solid win with minimal losses.
‘If it were me, I would’ve matched Limberton—our weakest—against Ares. I would’ve let Mircel handle Roan.’
Anyone would agree that was the most logical strategy.
Wondering if there was some deeper plan, Athera glanced at Hersel, but he was leisurely reading a book as if he didn’t care about the tournament.
Athera sighed in frustration.
“Don’t tell me… he’s given up?”
At that moment, an annoying voice chimed in beside her.
“What a thoughtless lineup. Is he overconfident because he beat me?”
It was Kerndel.
Athera ignored him nonchalantly.
Makdal, however, couldn’t hold back.
“You lost every match last year and still act all smug?”
“If it weren’t for my opponent’s cowardly tricks, I would’ve won at least once.”
“...Pretty sure I remember you getting beaten fair and square.”
Kerndel shamelessly changed the subject without flinching.
“The first match is Ricks Don Orian, right? He’ll win. That ponytail guy’s got some solid skills.”
At the mention of Ricks, Makdal perked up.
“That’s true, right? He’s grown so much! Feels like just yesterday he was doing everything he could to beat me, but now he’s left me in the dust.”
Nodding along to Makdal’s proud comment, Athera agreed.
Watching him grow while staying at the Schlaphe Pavilion had been impressive.
And since graduating, he’d become even stronger.
“Hmm, Ricks was always better against knights than mages, right? So one win is basically guaranteed?”
Instead of Athera, a deep voice replied.
“Not necessarily.”
It was the ragged-looking man who always appeared whenever Frostheart had a match.
By now, Athera found his presence almost comforting.
“Oh, you’re here? But what do you mean, ‘not necessarily’?”
“I’m saying the magic division will lose every match.”
“What?”
Just as Athera was about to react, Kerndel jumped up in outrage.
“What do you mean by that?! How dare you doubt my analysis?”
Looking down at the ragged man, Kerndel scoffed.
“Hmph, judging by your appearance, you look like a third-rate noble. Did you sell your clothes to gamble? Looks like you bet everything you had just to be here.”
The ragged man didn’t even look at him.
“Well, I suppose a mere gambler like you wouldn’t understand. I’m a real expert—my analysis is spot on.”
Athera clicked her tongue internally, watching Kerndel’s arrogant behavior.
‘To me, he looks like someone trying to hide his identity for a reason. Maybe Kerndel’s poking a hornet’s nest without knowing it. He seems like someone important.’
There was no way that man was just some broke noble obsessed with gambling.
‘He doesn’t look noble, but he also doesn’t look ordinary. There’s something… off.’
Curious, Athera discreetly sniffed the air, and when the scent hit her, her eyes widened and her mind momentarily blanked.
‘Huh? What is this? Why does it remind me of the most special day of my life? This scent... it’s the same as that unique fragrance I smelled at the imperial palace. It’s faint, like perfume worn days ago...’
Though she kept thinking about it, Athera couldn’t identify the exact perfume.
All she knew was that it would cost more than a mansion.
Still, she was convinced she needed a safety net, so she addressed the ragged man politely.
“He’s not my friend. Just someone I know.”
“I never assumed that guy had friends in the first place.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Good for you, Kerndel. Guess it’s obvious you don’t have friends.”
Kerndel smirked.
“You’re not wrong. I was never meant to have friends. They’re all just subordinates under my feet.”
Makdal chimed in again.
“Oh yeah, your former Ten Elites? Didn’t they ditch you right after graduation?”
Kerndel shamelessly deflected again.
“But saying the magic division will lose every match… You clearly don’t know much about Frostheart. They took down the strongest Ten Elites in history. They were like a storm—of course they’re a threat to Valient.”
Athera twitched with irritation at Kerndel’s shamelessness.
‘You lost to them, and now you’re hyping them up so it boosts your own rep if they beat Valient?’
As she leaned away from Kerndel out of embarrassment, the ragged man said something that made her freeze.
“Did you forget that Valient had been preparing for a fight with Wisdom?”
"Ah..."
The level of magic from Wisdom was so high that, without a bit of luck, they might have lost.
Valient had trained specifically to defeat such opponents.
Even Athera didn’t think Frostheart’s magic division stood a chance.
'To be honest, Wisdom was better than us in magic. And Valient beat them. So why the hell did I think we might win at least one or two matches?'
Maybe it was because she’d gotten carried away by all the dramatic turnarounds.
Anyway, Frostheart had four members in the magic division.
That meant four losses were pretty much guaranteed.
Which also meant the knight division could only afford to lose once—everything else had to be a win to take the championship.
'That’s impossible. Those guys fought their way up through brutal competition between elite geniuses. And you expect to win six out of six sword duels against them?'
While anxiety crept in, Ricks stepped onto the dueling platform.
***
The book I’d been leisurely reading was closed.
Even though the outcome felt predictable, I decided to watch.
It wasn’t because of the series of upsets so far.
I just felt like I had to watch, remembering how hard Ricks had worked.
The referee called Ricks first, then loudly announced his opponent’s name.
"Arg Tin Osna."
As the tall woman brushed back her hair, a cheer full of anticipation erupted from the crowd.
While Ares was the face of Valient, that didn’t mean the others were unknown.
Every main member had a reputation, built up over time.
Still, Ricks wasn’t intimidated and greeted her cheerfully.
“Let’s have a good match.”
Arg, who stood nearly two meters tall, lowered her head slightly to meet his gaze and smiled.
“You’re kind of cute.”
The referee immediately cut off the chatter and signaled the start of the match.
At that moment, Ricks’s body floated into the air, wrapped in chains.
He was being pulled back by chains coming from the arena wall.
It was all to avoid a close-range fight, which was a mage’s weakness when facing a swordsman.
“...We saw it against Wisdom too, but the range at which he can materialize form-based magic is insane now.”
As I mumbled, Dorosian replied from beside me.
“He kept failing, so I dropped him off flat cliffs a few times. When he tried to hang on with a pickaxe or something, I erased it with magic.”
“How did he survive?”
“How do you think? He made an extremely long rope to stay alive. The only place to tie it was a rock jutting out at the mountain’s peak.”
Maybe he awakened because he didn’t want to die...
As Ricks retreated all the way to the end of the stage, Arg blinked curiously.
“A mage who creates distance like this—this is new. And fast, too.”
She’d stood still since the match began, but now took a single step forward.
Just as she was about to take a second step, she halted and snapped her fingers in the air.
A metallic clinking sound rang out.
“Wow, totally seamless. Completely invisible, huh?”
“...If that’s true, she caught on way too quickly.”
Thinking his trap had been discovered, Ricks dispelled the invisibility magic.
Chains spread like spiderwebs from the arena wall, now visible.
It must’ve been magic he set while retreating earlier.
He probably hoped the mana from his earlier spells would mask the trap’s presence—but it clearly didn’t work.
True to their reputation, Valient’s members instantly picked up on subtle differences in mana.
Arg glanced over the chains and let out a thoughtful hum before walking forward casually.
“Trying to restrict my movements, huh? This won’t do much.”
Each time her body touched the chains, they broke with a metallic ping.
Faced with that monstrous toughness, Ricks hurriedly began drawing a new spell.
Arg then charged forward at full speed, closing the distance in a flash.
Just then, a smirk formed on Ricks’s lips.
Arg’s eyes widened.
Among all the broken chains, one had held strong and was now blocking her throat.
“This one’s well-made. Pretty strong. But—”
She stopped talking and pushed forward, snapping the chain around her neck with brute force.
Then she scanned the other chains again and grinned.
“Huh? There are more? Some of these weaker chains have strong ones mixed in, don’t they?”
“...You’re saying all this out loud just to mess with me, right?”
“I’m just making conversation. Not the best topic, considering the situation, but anyway—it worked. You restricted my movement. That was your goal, right?”
Arg looked up at the sky.
A massive iron mace was falling toward her head.
The only way out was through the tightly woven chains, back toward Ricks.
Behind her was too far.
So Arg drew her sword and aimed it at the mace.
“Wanna see how tough I really am?”
She didn’t slash—just stood firm.
That alone caused the mace to crack and split with a loud shatter when it struck the tip of her sword.
Arg’s figure emerged steadily from the dust, breaking through the blocking chains.
Ricks began to sweat.
“Not that surprising. I know someone who can do that with a finger.”
“Come on. That’d break your finger. Even with insane toughness, that’s too much.”
The final chain snapped with a ping, and Arg burst through the dust in a flash.
Ricks pointed his staff at her.
But just before he could complete his spell, Arg knocked the staff away with her bare hand, and the magical spear it had formed flew off harmlessly into the air.
In the next instant, Arg was behind him.
“Ugh!”
A rough hand grabbed Ricks’s left wrist, and she quickly subdued his arm.
“Not bad. You were secretly preparing a backup spell with your hidden left hand, right? Looks like you’re destined for greatness. Good instincts.”
“...Thanks for the compliment, but it doesn’t make me happy. You notice everything before I can do anything. I can’t even move—this is a scam, isn’t it?”
“I’ve heard that a lot. Not so much recently, though.”
Arg twisted Ricks’s arm even more.
His face began to twist in pain.
And the horror didn’t stop there.
“Well, since we’ve come this far, I might as well claim my prize.”
She wrapped both arms around him in a tight hug, and cracks echoed from his body.
Ricks clenched his teeth with fierce willpower—but only for a few seconds.
His eyes began to roll back, and eventually, he declared defeat.
“Aaaagh! I—I surrender!”
“Ahahaha!”
“I said I surrender! Let me go!”
And so, Round 1 ended in a forfeit loss.
The clear gap in strength darkened the faces of the others.
Especially Limberton, who trembled and looked like he might cry.
“Lucky bastard. If it weren’t for Selberton, I’d be in that spot right now.”
What a lunatic.
Does he really want to get hugged by a woman even if it means getting his bones broken…?
