His control over his strength was just right, enough to incapacitate an opponent without causing serious injury.
"Look at him! That Nymph lad, I've never seen such a valiant warrior in twenty years!" Foltest leaned forward, his eyes gleaming.
Now, only Karl and five opponents remained on the field.
They looked at each other, then suddenly spurred their horses simultaneously, charging at Karl from different directions.
A gasp rippled through the stands; this was clearly an unfair, outnumbered tactic.
Triss's hand gripped the railing tightly, her knuckles white.
Facing the combined assault, Karl merely scoffed.
"Clang!" With a deafening crash, a knight's shield was heavily struck by the halberd head.
The iron-clad wooden shield split in two, and the terrifying force passed through it.
The arm holding the shield suffered a bone fracture! The knight screamed and fell from his horse.
Another knight's spiked mace was rapidly swinging towards Karl's back.
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Karl swept his halberd back, precisely striking the knight's breastplate with the end of the shaft.
A small dent visibly appeared in the knight's plate armor, and he was instantly sent flying backward.
When a knight attempted to rein in his horse and circle around, Karl threw his halberd with one arm; the halberd streaked through the air like lightning.
The crescent blade precisely hooked onto the knight's saddle pommel, and with a burst of strength, both man and horse were yanked off balance, crashing sideways to the ground!
The remaining two knights exchanged glances, then suddenly spurred their horses and charged at Karl simultaneously.
This was not a tactic, but a desperate counterattack born of despair.
Karl calmly met them, his halberd swinging in his hand, first deflecting a shield-sword, then parrying a spiked mace.
Finally, he swept the halberd shaft across both opponents' heads at the same time; their helmets clanged together with a crisp sound, and then both men fell from their horses.
The last opponent was the vice-captain of the Erlend Squad.
He looked at his groaning teammates scattered on the ground, then at Karl, and suddenly threw down his weapon: "I surrender!"
In the blink of an eye, the renowned Erlend and Maribo Squads were completely wiped out!
Karl sat on his horse, his breathing still steady, only imperceptible beads of sweat on his face, his halberd pointing diagonally to the ground.
His "defeated" opponents lay sprawled across the field, while he alone remained seated upright on his horse.
The entire arena fell silent, then erupted in deafening cheers.
"Karl, Karl, Karl!" The shouts roared through the arena like thunder.
"He won! One man! He defeated everyone by himself!"
"Oh my god, Nymph! The Nymph Team won!"
"Karl? Yes, that knight is called Karl!"
"It's incredible, is his strength god-given?"
Cheers once again swept through the arena; the noblewomen forgot to fan themselves.
Their faces were flushed with excitement, their eyes fixed on the figure in the arena, who resembled a god of war.
All previous disdain now transformed into fervent curiosity and admiration.
Many noblewomen stood up, scattering petals towards Karl, and handkerchiefs fluttered down like snowflakes.
"Woo woo woo!" At the same time, the Herald blew the horn signaling the end of the match.
On the high platform, Foltest stood up and slowly began to clap, one clap after another, a look of undisguised admiration on his face.
"Splendid! Truly unexpectedly splendid! Advisors, note down this name: Karl."
Foltest beckoned a servant: "Invite that young man to tonight's banquet; I want to personally congratulate him at the dinner."
Fikat's eyes narrowed slightly, unable to hide his astonishment, and he murmured, "This kind of strength... purely by strength... how many could withstand it on a battlefield?"
Triss finally breathed a sigh of relief, a mix of pride and worry swirling in her heart.
Kaira, however, had a complex expression, both surprised and unwilling to admit her misjudgment.
In the arena, Karl dismounted and walked towards Aitorc and the others who had been "captured," helping them to their feet.
He did not celebrate his victory but first checked on the condition of his companions.
This action further endeared him to the audience, and the cheers grew louder.
"Hmm, not only brave but also understands honor. Such a young man deserves better opportunities," Foltest nodded in praise.
Triss looked at Karl in the arena, complex emotions welling up within her.
Karl had caught the King's attention, but this was just the beginning; once something hidden is revealed, it cannot be taken back.
And Temeria's court was far more dangerous than any battlefield.
Karl looked up towards the VIP stands, his gaze meeting Triss's.
He smiled faintly, his eyes bright as stars at this moment, and Triss returned his smile.
The dust settled on the team melee, but the clamor in the arena did not subside.
Karl's astonishing performance was like a huge stone thrown into a calm lake, its ripples spreading to every corner.
The cheers and exclamations of the audience and noblewomen were mainly for him.
The rest of the defeated knights, mostly supported by their companions, limped off the field.
Some showed shame, others a mix of reluctance and awe as they glanced at the figure holding the halberd, who had become the center of attention... After a short break at halftime, the Herald loudly announced the next event—the mounted lance jousting competition was about to begin.
This traditional event required knights to wear heavy armor and wield blunt-tipped lances, using skill and strength to unhorse their opponents.
However, when it came to drawing lots to determine opponents, the atmosphere became subtle.
Karl carefully wiped the jousting lance he was given; although the lance was not made of steel, checking and maintaining his weapon was his habit.
It was also to prevent anyone with ill intentions from playing tricks on him.
For example, by giving him a weapon that was already damaged or had subtle flaws.
As he walked onto the stage towards the bronze basin for the draw, the surrounding competing knights instinctively stepped back slightly, creating an invisible vacuum around him.
Only Aitorc and Fenmier smiled, enthusiastically patting his shoulder and back, giving him thumbs up in admiration.
Over the years, the Nymph Team had seen new members join and others leave, but they had never had such a dazzling performance.
The attention they were now receiving was largely due to Karl, and the few of them couldn't express how grateful they were to him.
And as happy as Aitorc, Fenmier, and others were now, those knights who had been swept off their horses by Karl in the melee felt just as miserable.
Their bruises still ached, and the contempt in their eyes towards Karl had vanished, replaced only by awe and apprehension.
As for the drawing process, it was even more dramatic.
When Karl reached into the bronze basin and pulled out a wooden token engraved with an opponent's name, the knight he drew would often instantly turn pale.
In the first round, Karl's opponent was a burly man from the Erlend Squad.
This man had been struck on the shoulder plate by Karl's halberd shaft during the team melee, and the armor in that spot was still somewhat dented.