The sunlight hit them full force as they stepped out of the tunnel, and the noise of the crowd rolled over them like thunder. Viola raised her chin high, striding toward the quadrangular ring with her sword resting against her shoulder, looking every inch the heiress she wanted the world to see.

Ludger followed, steady, measured. His boots scraped against the stone floor, the red-and-silver Torvares crest on his armguards catching the light with every step.

That was when the murmurs began.

“He’s so young…”

“Seven, maybe? What’s a child that age doing here?”

“Torvares must be desperate to send him out with her.”

“Or maybe it’s a trick—hiding talent behind a harmless face.”

Ludger kept his expression neutral, but inside his jaw twitched. Fantastic. I walk into the ring, and the crowd acts like they’ve spotted a lost toddler. Do I need to hold a sign that says ‘not a mascot’?

He straightened his shoulders, letting the armor gleam deliberately under the sunlight. If nothing else, he would make sure no one mistook him for a prop.

Beside him, Viola was practically glowing. Every cheer, every whisper fed her fire, and she carried herself like she’d already won. She didn’t notice the skeptical looks aimed at Ludger—or if she did, she didn’t care. To her, this was her stage, her moment.

The announcer’s voice boomed again, stretching the tension as he gestured toward the far side of the ring. “And facing them—”

The crowd shifted, eager to see the next names called. Viola’s grin widened, and Ludger exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as he braced himself.

Alright. Time to see who we’re really up against. Probably random noble boy A and random noble boy B.

The far gate groaned open, and two figures stepped into the sunlight.

A pair of boys, both older than Viola—twelve, maybe thirteen—walked side by side. They were tall for their age, standing almost eye-to-eye with some adults, their shadows stretching long across the stone. Their uniforms bore a family crest Ludger didn’t recognize, stitched in silver thread, and dulled practice swords hung at their waists.

They weren’t hulking or broad-shouldered, not yet. Their builds were lanky, the kind that hadn’t quite filled out with muscle. But there was a confidence in the way they moved—steady, practiced, like they knew how to use their reach to full advantage.

The crowd cheered as they entered, some nobles nodding knowingly, others smirking as if they already saw the outcome written.

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. Tall, calm, walking like they own the floor. Not the type to swing wild. They’ll try to control the distance, keep Viola off balance, and let me tire myself defending. It’s written all over them.

He adjusted the strap of his armguards, lips twitching faintly. Still, I’d be an idiot to underestimate them just because they look lanky. Long limbs can hit just as hard when they know what they’re doing.

Viola, on the other hand, practically bounced on her heels, her grin sharp as fire. “Perfect. They look easy.”

Ludger side-eyed her. “Or they look like the kind who’ll make you pay for rushing in headfirst.”

She only snorted, tightening her grip on the dulled sword. “Then I’ll just hit them harder.”

The announcer’s voice boomed, echoing against the stone walls. “On the left—representing House Torvares: Viola and Ludger! On the right—representing House Nerezza: Alvar and Demos!”

The crowd roared again, stamping their feet as the two pairs faced each other across the ring.

Ludger exhaled through his nose, raising his guard. First match. Time to see if all that training was worth it.

The referee raised his hand, voice booming over the crowd. “Begin!”

A bell rang, sharply.

Alvar and Demos didn’t waste a heartbeat. They split immediately, one angling toward Viola, the other cutting across the ring to close on Ludger.

Ludger’s eyes narrowed. Smart. Divide and test us separately. Viola’s the obvious threat, so one pins me down to keep her from fighting freely.

Viola grinned, rushing forward with reckless joy. Her dulled blade whistled through the air as she met her opponent head-on, sparks of mana already flickering along the edge. The crowd roared at her fiery advance.

Ludger’s opponent—a boy taller by nearly two heads—raised his practice sword in a measured guard. He didn’t rush; his steps were steady, careful, probing for weaknesses.

Ludger lifted his forearms, the new Torvares guards gleaming under the sun. The boy’s smirk twitched, maybe at the size difference, maybe at the thought of an easy win.

Fine, Ludger thought, bracing himself. If you think I’m the weak link, let’s see how long that smile lasts.

Across the ring, the clash of Viola’s blade against her opponent’s rang out sharp and heavy, her fire answering his steel. In front of him, the taller boy’s dulled sword came down in a testing arc, aiming for his guard.

The first strikes had been chosen.

The duel had begun in earnest.

The dulled blade came down fast, a clean vertical cut.

Clang!

Ludger raised his forearms just in time, the polished red-and-silver guards taking the blow. The sound rang sharp, but the impact wasn’t what he expected. His arms held steady, bones unshaken.

Huh. His eyes narrowed slightly, keeping his stance solid. Either this guy’s weaker than he looks, or these guards are really worth a fortune.

The boy didn’t give him time to ponder. He stepped back, then slashed sideways, trying to bait Ludger into overcommitting. Ludger angled his arm, let the guard catch the blade, and deflected it away with a twist of his wrist. Smooth. Clean. Too smooth for gear that had no right to be this light.

“Not bad,” Ludger muttered under his breath, lips twitching faintly. Guess the old man wasn’t exaggerating about the craftsmanship. These things feel like cheating.

Even as he matched the strikes, Ludger’s gaze flicked past his opponent. Across the ring, Viola was already a whirlwind—mana sparking along her dulled sword, her strikes fast, reckless, full of that signature pride. Her opponent was taller too, but he was on the defensive, step by step giving ground under the pressure of her aura.

Ludger exhaled softly. Good. She’s holding her own for now. That means I just have to keep this guy busy without giving him a chance to interfere.

The boy came at him again, stabbing low, then feinting high. Ludger shifted his guard, boots scraping against the stone, and deflected again. His arms held strong, the armor gleaming as it caught the light with each parry.

The crowd began to murmur, surprise cutting through the whispers of doubt. The seven-year-old wasn’t crumbling. He was holding.

Ludger smirked faintly, eyes locking on his opponent. Sorry, kid. I’m not the weak link you were hoping for.

On the other side of the ring, Viola’s fight was already heating up.

Her dulled blade burned with a faint shimmer, mana coursing along its edge. Each swing cracked like a whip against her opponent’s guard, forcing the taller boy back step by step. He tried to counter—thrusting low, sweeping wide—but she met every move with raw aggression, sparks flaring as steel rang against steel.

The crowd roared at the display, their skepticism fading into excitement. Viola’s eyes gleamed with the thrill of it, her grin sharp as fire.

Then, with a sudden burst of speed, she twisted her wrist and slammed her mana-charged blade against his weapon. The impact rang out like a bell.

Clang!

The boy’s dulled sword tore from his hands, spinning into the air before clattering against the stone.

Gasps rippled through the audience.

Viola didn’t hesitate. She stepped in and drove her boot into his stomach.

Thud!

The boy doubled over, eyes wide, air leaving his lungs in a ragged gasp. Before he could crumple, Viola’s dull blade slammed against the side of his head—not sharp enough to cut somehow, but hard enough to rattle bone.

He collapsed to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor.

The crowd erupted, half in shock, half in exhilaration. Cheers and gasps mingled into thunder, voices rising with Viola’s triumphant smirk as she planted her foot next to her fallen opponent.

From across the ring, Ludger deflected another blow, his eyes flicking over to watch her work. Yep. Reckless. Overbearing. And utterly terrifying when she’s in her element.

He shifted his guard, exhaling slowly. Well, that’s one down. Now I just need to make sure mine doesn’t get any bright ideas about running to help his partner.

The boy in front of Ludger pressed forward again, dulled sword flashing in quick arcs. Ludger caught each strike on his armguards, steady and calm, his boots scraping against the stone. He could feel the rhythm of it now—the boy was skilled enough, but predictable. Reach, feints, pressure. Nothing Ludger hadn’t seen before.

Then a new set of footsteps echoed across the ring.

Viola.

She strode up from behind her unconscious opponent, blade still shimmering faintly with mana, eyes blazing with the thrill of victory. The boy facing Ludger froze for a moment, glancing over his shoulder just as she closed the distance.

“Two on one?” he spat, raising his guard. “Cowards!”

Viola smirked. “Winners.”

She struck first, her blade crashing against his with a spark that rattled his grip. Ludger immediately stepped in, pressing from the other side with his forearms, cutting off the boy’s retreat.

Overwhelmed, he tried to backpedal, swinging wildly to create space. But Viola didn’t give him a chance. Her sword came down in a heavy arc, forcing his guard wide, Viola’s boot slammed into his shin, her blade cracking against his side in the same motion. The boy staggered, eyes wide before he dropped his sword and the judge declared the end of the match. The crowd erupted as the referee rushed in, signaling the end of the bout.

Both opponents lay defeated—one unconscious, the other groaning in pain. Viola twirled her dulled sword once and grinned, raising it high for the audience to see.

Ludger exhaled, lowering his guard, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. Well. That escalated quickly. Figures she’d steal the spotlight again.

Still, he glanced at the crest etched into his armguards. At least I kept her from overextending. That’s my job done. For now.

The referee’s signal hadn’t even finished echoing before the arena erupted. Cheers rolled through the stands like thunder, the roar of thousands washing over the stone ring. Viola basked in it, her chin high and grin wide, every bit the conquering heiress she believed herself to be.

And then, above the chaos, came a voice that cut through like a war horn.

“YES! WELL DONE!”

Ludger didn’t need to look to know who it was. Lord Torvares was on his feet in the noble’s gallery, cane raised high, his aura blazing so fiercely it made the people near him flinch. For a heartbeat, it sounded less like cheering for a duel and more like celebrating a military victory.

The old man wasn’t alone. Beside him, Arslan and his party were just as loud. Harold was pounding his fists against the railing, shouting until his voice cracked. Aleia was laughing, clapping sharply, while Selene even allowed herself a sharp nod of approval. Cor—ever the calm one—was clapping in rhythm, but there was no mistaking the pride in his eyes.

It looked—and sounded—like their homeland had just won the world cup.

Ludger lowered his guard, exhaling slowly. Great. Subtlety clearly isn’t in the family vocabulary. Why stop at making a scene when you can declare victory to the entire capital?

He glanced up at the gallery, catching a glimpse of his father whooping like a fool at Viola's grandfather’s side, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

Viola, of course, only raised her blade higher, basking in the storm of cheers as if they belonged solely to her.

Ludger shook his head, fighting the urge to sigh outright. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. This family doesn’t just win—they make sure the entire city hears about it.

The stone corridor back to the waiting room felt cooler after the furnace of the arena, the roar of the crowd fading to a distant hum behind them. Viola strode ahead, sword resting against her shoulder, grinning so wide she could have swallowed the sun. Ludger followed at an even pace, his armguards gleaming faintly, his face far less impressed.

When they pushed open the door, the chatter inside cut short. Dozens of eyes swung their way.

It wasn’t the same as before. The smug looks, the half-hidden smirks—they were gone. In their place was a tension thick enough to touch.

Some kids whispered, darting glances at Viola like she might set them on fire if they stared too long. Others eyed Ludger, their expressions wavering between disbelief and unease. A boy who’d just been dismissed as “too young” had stood his ground, blocked clean strikes, and walked back without a scratch.

Ludger felt the weight of it pressing down, like the air had grown heavier. So much for being invisible. Thanks, Viola. Couldn’t have just won quietly, could you?

A pair of older girls in academy uniforms nudged each other, whispering sharply. One boy who’d laughed earlier now sat silent, fists clenched tight on his knees. Even those who didn’t look directly at them stole sidelong glances, sizing them up.

Viola reveled in it. She strutted past the benches, chin high, her grin practically daring anyone to speak. “What’s wrong?” she said, loud enough for half the room to hear. “Didn’t expect Torvares to put on a show?”

No one answered. The silence was its own kind of respect. Or fear.

Ludger sighed inwardly, sliding onto a bench near the back. Perfect. Now they’ll either avoid us or make us their priority. Exactly what I wanted—more attention.

He leaned back, crossing his arms. Well… at least they’re not underestimating me anymore. Small victories, I guess.

The silence in the waiting room stretched, thick as tar. Viola soaked in every second of it, smirking like she had just crowned herself queen of the competition. She leaned her dulled sword against her shoulder and muttered, just loud enough for others to hear, “Too easy.”

Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned his head toward her. “Viola.”

She glanced at him, still grinning. “What? They’re scared. That’s good.”

He exhaled sharply. “No, that’s reckless.” His voice stayed low, but the weight behind it made her straighten slightly. “Bragging like that? You’re just proving to everyone that you’re still a kid who doesn’t know better. And worse—” He swept his gaze around the room, catching the eyes that had fixed on her like wolves in tall grass. “You just painted a giant target on your back.”

Her smirk faltered. “A target?”

“Think about it,” Ludger said, tone clipped. “Before, people might have underestimated us. They’d hold back, test the waters. We could’ve used that to our advantage. But now?” He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “They won’t. They’ll come at you with everything they’ve got from the first second. Because you’ve already shown them how dangerous you are.”

Viola tightened her grip on the sword, her expression shifting as she glanced around. The whispers had quieted, but the eyes hadn’t. Every noble child in the room was studying her now—not as another competitor, but as prey worth taking down to prove their own strength.

Ludger leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “You wanted respect, you got it. But respect comes with pressure. No more easy rounds. No more mistakes. You’ve made yourself their first priority.”

For a moment, she stayed silent, the fire in her eyes flickering. Then she muttered, quieter than before, “…Fine. I’ll shut up.”

Ludger’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Good. Now maybe we’ll survive long enough to make it interesting.”