"Ladies and gentlemen, another fantastic battle has just taken place, a real spectacle! Even though, unfortunately, we only managed to watch half of it," began Chiacchera. She hugged her shoulders theatrically, pretending to shiver, and added, "Personally, I felt cold, very cold... so I hope the next battle will be so intense that it warms me right up!" she declared in her usual energetic voice.
The stadium responded with shouts full of matching energy, the entire crowd rising to the rhythm of her excitement.
"This makes me think that it's already time to bring in the next participants in this tournament... What do you think?" the elf asked the audience. And they answered her with practically unanimous, powerful cries of anticipation—barely intelligible as individual words, yet unmistakably conveying an enthusiastic yes.
"Well then, turn your eyes to the left gate of the arena to see the first of the two challengers in this match..." Chiacchera said, pointing toward the gate as it began to rise.
"A knight famous for his overwhelming victories in the renowned jousts of the kingdom of Leore has come all the way to our lands, participating in this tournament to prove that he and his loyal companion can achieve triumphs far beyond those of mere jousting tournaments..." Chiacchera exclaimed grandly.
The gate fully opened, and through it emerged a man clad head to toe in polished steel armor adorned with golden ornaments. He rode a magnificent, muscular white mare with a flowing blond mane, equally protected by silver armor decorated with the same gold motifs. In his right hand, he held a long lance whose shimmering ruby tip glinted under the arena lights. The heavy armor obscured the rider's face entirely, but the mysterious air surrounding him only amplified the crowd's curiosity as he galloped toward the center of the arena and greeted the spectators with stately poise.
"Sir Lanc Troyes and his mare Pur!" Chiacchera proclaimed.
'Is it legal to use a horse in a match?!' Lucas wondered, startled. But since no one around him looked even remotely surprised—not Caesar, Sequoria, nor Aislyra—he assumed this was normal enough and refrained from asking aloud.
The audience applauded, not quite as fervently as they had for the ministers or for Fortore and Aislyra, but the knight was evidently well-known in this kingdom as well.
"On the right side of the arena, another pillar of our kingdom is about to enter—the fourth minister participating in this edition of the tournament! Younger brother of the previous Queen Sequoria, uncle of our current Queen Alberia, and the man who governs what many people call the lifeblood of a nation..." Chiacchera announced, her voice swelling with theatrical emotion as she gestured dramatically toward one of the rightmost gates.
From it emerged an elf Lucas now recognized easily. He had long, wildly tousled blond hair and sharp emerald eyes, and he wore something that looked like an eccentric blend of a wizard's robe and a formal suit and tie, all in white and gold. However, the outfit appeared hastily thrown on or treated with careless indifference—the tie looked moments away from unraveling, and the entire suit was full of creases.
"The Minister of Economy, Lucrio Elenlora!!!"
The stadium erupted into a chaotic mix of applause, excited cheers, and scattered boos. Because of his position and the influence he held over matters such as taxes, Lucrio was far from universally popular. Yet the noise gradually faded as people began noticing something undeniably strange about the Minister of Economy's appearance and demeanor.
Although Lucrio was not one to show himself in public frequently, he still considered it essential to present himself neatly whenever he did. But now his expression hovered somewhere between deeply worried, simmeringly angry, and profoundly stressed. Worse, he was muttering furiously under his breath.
"How dare that dog..."
"Idiotic mastiff!"
"...ignore me!!"
He stomped toward the center of the arena with heavy, frustrated steps, each one louder and more agitated than the last.
"Ah… Uncle Lucrio seems angry. I suppose he managed to meet Scuro, but it clearly didn't go the way he'd hoped. Knowing his personality, he probably told Scuro exactly what he said he would tell him, completely unable, as usual, to express his true feelings. And I imagine Scuro, even more serious than usual, simply dismissed him without a second thought. Obviously, Uncle Lucrio didn't take it well at all. I pity his opponent. When Uncle Lucrio is like this, it's absolutely not the right time to face him," said Aislyra as she watched Lucrio approach his opponent with that stormy expression.
Lucas nodded. Even though he had almost never seen Lucrio fight, considering his temperament and the fact that he was close to Scuro's level in strength, his opponent was definitely not in an enviable position.
As soon as he saw his opponent reach the center of the arena, Lanc began speaking from atop his horse, towering over Lucrio as if addressing a subordinate. "Lucrio, one of the renowned six ministers of the kingdom of Yggdora—known for their great competence in governing and their exceptional skill in battle. You are an excellent first opponent to demonstrate our power. Prepare yourself, Minister of Economy Lucrio, for you are about to be defeated by Lanc Troyes, the greatest jouster on the entire continent, and by my loyal steed, Pur!" he declared, his voice overflowing with confidence.
But Lucrio didn't even look at him. He continued muttering angrily to himself, his irritation visibly worsening by the second, though it was obvious that none of it was directed at Lanc.
Lanc, however, disliked being ignored. His expression stiffened with offense, and he too began to heat up, but before the situation could escalate into an argument, Pinusal stepped in.
"Is there anything you would like to say to your opponent before the match begins?" Pinusal asked.
This question stalled Lanc's rising anger. After all, once the match began, he would be able to vent as much as he wished.
"No, nothing else I can say with words. From this moment on, my lance will do the talking," Lanc replied, raising his spear toward the sky as if announcing the start of a glorious duel.
Lucrio, still half-absorbed in his inner storm, recognized Pinusal's voice and responded with a short, irritated, "No."
Pinusal didn't take offense and simply said, "All right, then the match will begin on my signal!"
"Ready..."
Lanc tightened the reins with one hand and pointed his lance with the other. Pur immediately sensed the shift, lowered her head, and prepared to charge the elf standing before her.
"Start."
"GO!" shouted Pinusal, quickly moving away as if he already knew what was about to unfold.
"Rays of Light: simultaneous casting," said Lucrio before his opponents could even twitch. Less than a second after the minister's words, a dozen extremely bright yellow magic circles appeared three meters above Lanc and his mare. Immediately, they began firing a massive barrage of golden light beams, practically all of which struck their targets before Lanc or Pur could react.
The assault continued relentlessly for at least ten full seconds, until Lucrio commanded, "Turn off!"
A thick cloud of dust filled the area where the beams had struck, but as the wind dispersed it, Lanc and his horse were revealed lying unconscious beside each other, their armor shattered and their bodies marked with burns.
"Why did I have to waste my time on such a match?" Lucrio muttered to himself, clearly still in a foul mood, even though venting his frustration on poor Lanc had calmed him slightly—at least enough for him to stop muttering.
Then, without even waiting for Pinusal to formally announce the result, he turned and began heading toward the exit.
"But if we meet in this tournament, you stupid dog, I'll prove how true my words are!" he barked just before disappearing through one of the arena gates.
"Sigh..." Pinusal exhaled at his friend's behavior, then finally declared, "The winner of this match is Lucrio Elenlora!"
The crowd didn't quite know how to react. Even though this was already the third match of the tournament to end in an instant, the Minister of Economy's attitude left a strangely bitter taste in the air. But after a few moments of hesitation, applause rose once more for the minister—despite the fact that he had already left the arena.
An hour passed, during which several matches unfolded—real matches, but unfortunately nothing remarkable. This was the perennial disadvantage of the preliminary rounds in a tournament open to absolutely anyone: not all who registered were exceptional fighters. Still, the audience remained patient, because one of the contestants in the upcoming match was someone practically virtually everyone had been waiting to see.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have finally reached another match featuring a person I imagine most of you are very eager to watch in action! After all, he has already been mentioned by quite a few participants throughout this tournament..." Chiacchera exclaimed with infectious excitement.
"So I would say it's time to bring him in..." she continued, dramatically gesturing toward one of the right-side gates of the arena.
The gate opened, revealing a boy with dark brown hair and a long tuft covering his right eye. His visible left eye, also dark brown, retained the slight but noticeable dark circles he'd had the last time he appeared. He wore the same anachronistic clothing as before, but this time, with the hood of his sweatshirt down, another detail stood out even more: sleek modern black headphones rested around his neck, adorned with the images of two stylized white dragons.
Lucas was thoroughly confused. Was there a hero who was summoned to this world and decided to spread an invention such as headphones? But if so, why headphones specifically meant for listening to music? Without a cell phone or anything similar to connect them to, they were practically useless. Unless… perhaps it was a necklace designed to look like headphones? Yet if that were the case, why would such a bizarre accessory even exist?
"He is the last member of the party of the new Hero of the Kingdom of Leore participating in this tournament! A mysterious individual about whom very little is known—he joined the adventurers' guild in the capital of Leore only a few months ago, and in just two months climbed to the top of all Leore's adventurers, dethroning the legendary adventurer Brasto, who had held that title for more than forty years! He then received the honor of serving as the personal bodyguard of the new hero. The name of this enigmatic yet undeniably powerful adventurer is..." Chiacchera began her dramatic introduction.
And as the boy reached the center of the arena, she concluded, "...Enea Draghi!"
A wave of applause swept through the stadium, though there was an unmistakable current of curiosity mixed with it. Practically everyone knew Brasto—the man was practically a living monument and easily the most famous adventurer on the entire continent. The fact that someone had surpassed him was astonishing, almost unbelievable. Now, finally, the crowd was able to see the person responsible for Brasto's dethronement.
Enea did not look imposing in the slightest. He wasn't particularly tall, nor did he appear muscular—nothing at all like Brasto's intimidating presence. But the spectators had heard enough rumors to understand that appearances could be deceiving. Many of them felt a slight sense of intimidation simply looking at him, even though none of them could explain why.
"Challenging Leore's strongest new adventurer is another member of the Royal Knights! Third in command after Lucrio and Gilciso, personal assistant to the vice commander, and considered by many to be an even better candidate than Gilciso to become the next commander of the Royal Knights after Lucrio. An honorable and proud knight..." Chiacchera announced while gesturing toward one of the left-side gates.
From it emerged an elf with short blond hair and sky-blue eyes, wearing classic, unmodified knight armor—except for the absence of a helmet. His face bore a stern, uncompromising expression, and he strode toward his opponent with a mixture of discipline and passion.
"Orlando Resinuo!"
The moment his name echoed across the arena, several high-pitched screams erupted from the stands. Soon, banners with his name and symbols associated with him appeared scattered throughout the audience. Clearly, Orlando had quite a fanbase of his own.
Orlando quickly reached Enea. Once they stood face to face, the knight measured his opponent with sharp, analytical eyes.
A couple of seconds passed, but neither spoke. Enea maintained a relaxed, almost lazy expression, while Orlando's stern gaze remained unbroken.
Pinusal approached the two fighters. "Is there anything you would like to say before the match begins?" he asked.
"No, Mr. Pinusal," replied Orlando, his voice reflecting clear respect.
"To tell you the truth, yes," Enea said calmly.
Orlando raised a brow in mild surprise.
"Orlando, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I advise you to withdraw," the mysterious adventurer said, maintaining his relaxed, and for Orlando, irritating expression.