As Lucy was meticulously preparing to participate in the coliseum, those left behind in the Allen Knight Order slumped on the training grounds, taking a rare moment of rest.
To an outsider, they might look disgracefully unfit for noble heirs, but nobody criticized them for it. The harsh reality around them made noble dignity a luxury they couldn't afford.
"Once lunch is over, we’re back to being worked to the bone until dinner, I suppose."
"...Prince Arthur, was that really necessary to mention?"
"Lady Patran is right. Let's at least have some peace during our break."
Arthur barely finished speaking before he was chastised by the heirs from the Patran and Borrow families beside him. But he didn’t back down.
"Since dawn, we’ve been running until we nearly retched, and after breakfast, we pushed our bodies to the point of collapse. What fresh hell awaits us after lunch, I wonder?"
"I don’t want to think about it, so please, keep it to yourself."
"And after dinner, I already know what’s next: sparring with the knights until we drop, and they’ve even graciously decided to ‘consider our youth’ by allowing us three whole hours of sleep! Three hours! Such heartwarming generosity!"
"Prince Arthur, will you only stop if someone pierces you with a spear?"
"And meanwhile, Lucy Allen, the one who threw us into this cursed hell, has conveniently ducked out, saying she has her own matters to attend to. That damned girl!"
Arthur’s frustration burst forth, but neither Jakal nor Joy could bring themselves to reprimand him. His anger was perfectly justified in everyone’s eyes.
Finally, Joy spoke up cautiously to calm Arthur down.
"In a way, isn’t it a relief she left? If Lady Allen were still here, it would be even worse."
"...That’s true."
Arthur nodded in agreement.
If she’d been there, hurling insults and forcing them up whenever they faltered, they wouldn’t even have the energy to talk.
Thinking about it again, it’s better if she doesn’t return anytime soon. It wouldn’t hurt if she stayed away until training was over.
Not that it would make much difference if she were here training with them. If Lucy Allen, accustomed to the Allen Knight Order’s grueling regimen, were here, she’d be pushing them to their limits while she trained twice as hard herself.
"Joy, where did she say she was going again?"
"The coliseum in the Teresia Empire. She’s planning to participate there."
The coliseum in the Teresia Empire, huh?
Arthur recalled visiting there once as a child, accompanying diplomatic envoys.
The nobles, willing to risk their lives to demonstrate their strength. The defeated and victorious alike shaking hands, laughing, in honorable combat. The cheering crowd, vowing they too would one day stand in that arena.
And now, Lucy Allen would be joining them.
'Hey, hey! How does it feel to get beaten to a pulp by a girl half your size?'
"...Her opponent’s in for a hard time."
Imagining Lucy’s potential taunts, Arthur pitied her future opponents.
What would a coliseum participant think after enduring relentless insults from a girl seemingly hiding behind her shield? And how would they feel, their pride shattered after failing to even scratch her?
"I just hope it doesn’t cause a diplomatic incident."
Hoping that Lucy wouldn’t end up humiliating any high-ranking nobles, Arthur slowly rose as he heard footsteps approaching in the distance.
"Prince Arthur."
"What is it, Frey? Are you finally here to rest?"
"No, break time is over."
"...Already?"
"Nooo..."
"Oh, gods..."
Unlike the others drowning in despair, Frey, who enjoyed the Allen Knight Order’s intense training, simply didn’t understand why her companions looked so defeated.
In the Teresia Empire, strength is revered above all.
Regardless of social status, if a person is strong enough, they’re treated with respect. But just as they honor strength, they despise weakness.
They expect anyone weaker than themselves to show respect, and if that respect isn’t shown, they make sure there’s a price to pay.
Mercy doesn’t exist here. Laughing off disrespect isn’t a sign of kindness but weakness. A strong individual must always ensure the weak face consequences, lest they be dragged down alongside them.
Having been raised to honor noble values from birth, Baron Bardronel understood this better than anyone.
So while he respected the power of Benedict Allen enough to overlook minor slights, he quietly tracked Lucy Allen’s movements.
He wanted her to secure a place in the coliseum to pay for her disrespect.
And just moments ago...
Lucy Allen had secured her place, just as he’d hoped.
"My son."
"Yes, Father."
"I believe you know what to do without me saying it."
"Don’t worry. I won’t disappoint you, Father."
Once his son had left the office, Baron Bardronel leaned back, smirking as he gazed up at the ceiling.
"Now to consider how best to pacify Lord Allen’s wrath."
He had no doubts his son would win.
Leaving a half-dead Benedict to recover, I returned to a shop managed by the Newman family to check out the competition for this round of the coliseum.
If I were doing this just for experience, I’d dive in without a second thought. But with a noble mission from the esteemed Armadi, I can’t afford to act recklessly.
I absolutely have to win the coliseum to get a look at my stats!
Not only do I want to know how strong I am, but there are also certain things that require a minimum stat threshold. I need to know how much more I have to grow to accomplish them, so I have to complete this mission.
"Here’s the list of noteworthy opponents for you, my lady."
As soon as I asked, the Newman attendant handed me a document.
"Would you like a description of each participant?"
"No need."
"Not necessary. Just disappear already, you decrepit old man."
"...Understood."
With an awkward smile, the Newman servant withdrew, leaving me to scan the list.
Many names on it were familiar.
Naturally, the Teresia Empire’s coliseum had been a feature in Soul Academy’s game. While I didn’t have every NPC’s name memorized, I remembered those who would pose a significant challenge.
For example...
There’s a guy named Baut on the list. He wields a massive greatsword that most people wouldn’t even attempt to lift.
He isn’t fast, but each attack is powerful and has a wide reach, making him a pain to deal with.
The strategy?
Stay calm. His attacks are powerful, but they leave huge openings, so as long as I keep my cool, he won’t be hard to defeat.
In the game, anyway. Reality might be different.
There’s also Dyal, another tricky opponent.
He uses spirits to harass his opponent, earning him the nickname “Shotgun Maker.”
Facing him is infuriating—he strikes like a hit-and-run player, making you want to curse aloud.
The strategy for him? Charge through his attacks and close the gap.
His individual hits aren’t strong, so if I go all out, I can overpower him quickly.
Then there’s Park, Gav, Ham, Arsha, Hanan...
"So, even this guy is participating?"
While recalling the notable names, I was startled by a voice from beside me.
"My apologies, Lucy. I happened to spot a familiar name among your opponents, and it slipped out."
Having yet to recover from my “Papa, I hate you” incident, Benedict quickly apologized the moment our eyes met.
But I’m not ready to forgive him just yet.
After I explained things so kindly, he still refused to listen. If the tavern patrons hadn’t stepped in, I would’ve been completely misunderstood.
Considering how unfair that was, forgiveness can wait.
Should I tell him to back off?
Hmm. No, that’s too obvious.
Better to just turn my head away in silence.
I was right. When I gave no reaction and turned back to the list, Benedict’s imposing form seemed to shrink.
"This father has erred. Please, forgive me."
"..."
"Lucy, my dear."
Feeling pity for the once-unbeatable giant groveling so pitifully, the bald knight behind us cautiously spoke up.
"Um... My lady, the lord meant well."
"Shut up, Baldy."
"Quiet. That lack of awareness is probably why even your hair abandoned you."
Though the knight fell silent, Karl and Erin soon jumped in to defend Benedict.
"My lady, the lord sincerely regrets his actions."
"Yes, my lady, wouldn’t it be generous of you to forgive him?"
Ugh... Normally, I’d brush it off, but with two people who are endlessly supportive of me saying the same thing, it’s hard not to listen.
After chewing on my lip for a moment, I turned toward Benedict, who was practically in tears.
"Papa ♡"
"...Lucy."
"If you pull a stunt like this again, I really won’t forgive you, no matter how much of a silly, silly...”
"Lucy!"
Benedict cut me off, sobbing openly, tears streaming down his face as he pulled me into a hug.
Initially, I struggled to escape his clinginess, but his monstrous strength left me no choice but to give up and pat his back until he calmed down.
"Sniff... Forgive this foolish father, Lucy."
"Enough already."
"Stop it. It’s not the first time you’ve acted like a fool, so get over it."
"Sniff... To have misunderstood such a sweet daughter... I’ll never be able to show my face."
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Sigh. Consoling him further clearly isn’t going to work. I might as well change the subject.
Talking about something else should help him settle down.
"By the way..."
"Anyway, silly Papa, you mentioned you’d faced one of these weaklings before, right? Go on, I’ll humor you and listen to tales of your past blunders."
On the day of the coliseum matches, after delivering a congratulatory speech, Baron Bardronel settled into his seat in the VIP section, observing the various fighters with satisfaction.
This year’s coliseum has a higher quality than usual. Benedict Allen’s presence in the city has certainly influenced it.
It’s only natural for fighters to want to prove their strength before a legend recognized across the continent.
"Oho! It’s finally Lucy’s turn!"
Following the excited tone of Benedict Allen, Baron Bardronel turned to observe Lucy as she stepped out onto the field.
Her equipment was exceptional.
The shield gleaming in the sunlight radiated a sacred aura reminiscent of past legends, and the mace she wielded was not only beautiful but deadly enough to command the respect of any true warrior.
However, her armor was lacking in comparison. Though not poor quality, it fell short of the brilliance of her shield and mace.
What confidence. Of all things, armor should be a warrior’s priority on the battlefield.
Regardless of his thoughts, she was undeniably captivating.
Simply appearing captured the gaze of the audience and even seemed to rob her opponent of his composure.
If she advances, this coliseum will be one of the most exciting in years.
Though, unfortunately, her first opponent is not an easy one.
Baut, who wields that massive greatsword, is not a man who would lose to such a young girl.
It’s unfortunate she won’t make it to face my son, yet somewhat satisfying.
As Baron Bardronel convinced himself of Lucy’s impending defeat, Baut finally steadied himself and moved toward Lucy.
"It’s an honor, Lady Allen. May we have a fair and honorable fight."
Baut’s greeting, fitting for a clear warrior, prompted the crowd to applaud his graciousness.
However, that applause was short-lived.
"Sure thing, Baldy. Though I doubt this will be a good match since there’s no way your clunky, pathetic axe could even graze me."
Lucy’s response turned the coliseum into a silent library.