Leon's Arena Debut
It was my first time in the imperial capital. Everything in the capital was enormous—the circus performances, the bakeries, the plazas, even the fountains.
"Father."
I pointed solemnly at something with my hand raised. It was food I'd never seen before: something cloud-like with a stick stabbed into it.
"......"
Leon's face lit up with pure delight as he held the cotton candy.
"Do you know who your opponent is?"
"....Ah."
I didn't. But I felt like I should say I did anyway.
"...Y-yes, I do."
"....Tell me their name."
"......"
...Damn it.
".....I'm sorry."
"I told you not to get arrogant. I guarantee you, the capital is crawling with monsters like you."
".....Yes, sir."
"....Well, I won't belabor the point."
"....!!"
Color bloomed on my face, which had been buried in the cotton candy. Normally, that would have kicked off a two-hour lecture, but lately, Father's stern demeanor had softened just a touch.
"It's your path to carve out. I'll be watching every moment from the stands tomorrow."
"Me? I've never lacked confidence!!"
Himmel chuckled, unable to resist his son's brimming self-assurance. He looked just like Himmel in his youth—so much so that scolding him would be like spitting in his own face. All he could hope was that when Leon faced someone stronger, he wouldn't crumble too badly.
"I'll bet a thousand francs on that knight over there."
"Hey, more beer over here!!"
The swordsmanship tournament was traditionally a proving ground for noble sons to demonstrate their worth, worshiping the blade as they did. But at the duchess's request, this year's event had been made special, allowing commoners to participate as well.
Of course, with most commoners barely scraping by, few had advanced to the finals.
Even so, natural talent existed among them. Out of sixty-four finalists, fourteen were commoners, driving Colosseum ticket prices through the roof in a bizarre frenzy.
The reason stemmed from the tournament's unique twist this year.
"Ha, so crude. Practical swordsmanship crumbles before true traditional technique."
"Hah?! Did he just... roll forward...?"
The tournament had devolved into a showdown between practical combat styles and noble traditional swordsmanship.
The world of victory was merciless; losers had to accept defeat. And every action in the arena required no accountability.
I peered through the crack in the arena door at the chaos outside. The cheers echoed deafeningly.
The next fighter was none other than Crown Prince Cedric, personally trained in swordsmanship by Swordmaster Reinhardt von Saint.
The crowd erupted in applause and cheers at the prince's entrance; he waved grandly, owning the moment.
"Subjects of the empire, welcome your crown prince...!!"
...A bit flashy, isn't he?
Of course, I didn't say it aloud. That would cost me my head.
Cedric basked in self-admiration, scanning the crowd for a while before spotting his opponent and hastily returning to form, extending a hand for the ritual shake.
...Surprisingly, the crown prince's skill wasn't bad at all. He'd have advanced even through qualifiers—a solid expert.
But his opponent wasn't pushover enough for such a one-sided beatdown. There must have been some backroom dealings...
Cedric returned to the VIP seats in high spirits and struck up a conversation with the duchess beside him. She was icy as a glacier, but he believed no woman could resist his looks. Weren't thorny roses the most beautiful?
Her enigmatic killing intent and barbs felt oddly appealing. Perfect status, perfect appearance—no fiancée could suit him better.
"Lady Ariel von Saint, what did you think?"
"......"
Ariel stared blankly at Cedric's smug words.
"It was... adequate. Better than I expected."
"......"
Cedric briefly wondered if that was praise or insult, then decided on praise and sidled closer with a pouty grin.
"....Step back. The filth from the arena will stain my dress."
"Tsk, and you're to be the crown prince's fiancée? Such harsh words."
As he finished, Cedric glanced at Ariel's expression. No sharp retort came as expected.
"......"
".....?"
Puzzled by her sudden change, he scanned around. Ariel was staring laser-focused at the arena.
Her next opponent was... a commoner she'd partied with before, the only son of the Simon Marquess family.
"He wields his sword like a spear brilliantly."
"......"
"....Lady Ariel?"
"Pleased to meet you. Leon Chris."
"....Tch."
Look at this guy. He scowled at my offered handshake, then, mindful of the crowd, extended his own—still gloved.
My eyes narrowed into triangles at him; he stared back like what's the problem?
"Simon Marquess family. Daniel."
Stiff tone, laced with condescension. I'd been drilled since childhood to bow and scrape before nobles, but...
"....U-ugh...?!"
"You alright?"
"....M-my, my hand.... You filthy commoner...!!"
"....If your hand hurts so suddenly, shouldn't you see a priest? Should we delay the match?"
".....You damn bastard...."
Daniel clicked his tongue at this unflinching foe. He'd toy with him using elegant technique, no doubt. The tournament was about proving skill, after all—he'd resolve to humiliate thoroughly.
I'll repay the embarrassment tenfold. Drag it out, make him look pathetic.
Daniel raised his sword, pointing it at me. The Simon Marquess family specialized in spear arts. The dueling ring didn't suit spears, so he wielded a long sword like one.
Three thrusts whistled past my head. Each refined, flowing perfectly.
I stepped back, creating distance.
...He's strong.
As expected, the finalists were a cut above my backwater pond. Endless thrusts poured in; I didn't counter, just kept retreating.
"....Ha...!! Running like a rat."
".....Maybe you're just missing every swing?"
His thrusts doubled in speed, emotion fueling them. I kept backing up. The ring was smallish, but dodging drained his stamina plenty.
Daniel's attacks were slowing.
".....Urk...."
[Exhaust the opponent's aura first. Veteran knights never waste mana.]
These were my father Himmel's words, drilled into my skull. Fight hot-headed without pacing, and you'd wither.
".....Huff, haa....!!"
His thrusts clearly slowed. Holding my breath, I slowly ignited my body. Mana surged from toes through my mana heart to my head—a euphoric rush of power.
Clang—!
Daniel's sword spun away, embedding in the ground far off.
I strode to the unsteady Daniel and brought my flat blade down on his crown, claiming victory.
The crowd's roar was thunderous. A commoner felling the marquess heir— a top contender—in one strike. The underdog uprising ignited the arena's fever.
...Nobles' stands were sour grapes, naturally.
"....Tch. Dodging like a coward instead of facing head-on. Typical commoner—no knightly spirit."
"Right, unlike Your Highness... Real men clash directly, no?"
"......"
.....Huh?
Ariel sat motionless. But the air had shifted.
Her usually emotionless face vaguely signaled anger.
"Narrow-minded. Imperial subjects aren't beneath anyone—such outdated thinking from the crown prince."
"....It's not outdated—"
"I must prepare. Excuse me."
At her words, Saint Ducal House knights bowed in unison. The Red Rose Knights, one of the empire's three great orders, in perfect formation. It showcased Ariel's standing in the Saint family and the house's prestige as one of the two dukedoms.
Ariel took her sword from Red Rose Knight Captain Rachel as if it were routine and descended toward the Colosseum floor.