The matches dragged on.

One pair after another was called, the announcer’s voice booming through the stone halls, followed by the roar of the crowd above. The waiting room became a place of restless pacing, whispered strategy, and sharpened nerves. Time seemed to stretch, each bout taking longer than the last as eager young nobles threw everything they had into their first chances to impress.

For Ludger and Viola, it meant waiting. And waiting. Nearly two hours passed before their names even came close to being called again.

Viola didn’t sit still once. She paced, flexed her grip on the dulled sword, and leaned against the wall with her foot tapping in a rhythm that grated against Ludger’s ears. Her eyes never stopped burning, even as other pairs returned battered, sweaty, or pale from defeat. She wasn’t nervous—she was impatient, already itching for her next fight.

Ludger, meanwhile, leaned back on the bench, watching her with a steady gaze. Six matches. That’s the path to the top. Not easy, but not impossible either. Still…

His eyes flicked down to the crest-etched armguards gleaming faintly under the torchlight. It’s a little early to be planning on winning, isn’t it? She’s already thinking about the finals, maybe even a podium. And me… He smirked faintly to himself. I guess I’m not much better if I’m counting matches instead of just focusing on the next one.

He flexed his fingers against the new armor, remembering the weight in Lord Torvares’ eyes when he handed them over. The steel was solid, enchanted, priceless. More valuable than anything Ludger should have been wearing at seven years old.

If he went that far to trust me with these, I can’t afford to stumble. Whatever happens, the old man deserves to see a result that makes the expense worthwhile.

The announcer’s voice thundered again, another pair returning battered and bruised. Viola snapped her head up, grin returning as she adjusted her stance like she’d been called already.

Ludger closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. One match at a time. That’s all I’ll allow myself. Six steps or none—it doesn’t matter if I don’t walk the first one properly.

The rumble of the crowd above continued like a distant storm, the stone walls carrying every cheer and groan from the arena floor. Ludger sat with his elbows on his knees, eyes half-lidded, watching the torchlight flicker against the gleaming crest on his armguards.

Strategies, huh? he thought. Maybe it’d be worth cooking some up. Set plays, traps, ways to cover each other’s blind spots.

His gaze flicked toward Viola. She was stretching her arms with the dulled sword in hand, pacing like a caged wolf, fire practically leaking from her grin.

If— Ludger’s lips twitched faintly. —she can actually follow my instructions. That’s the catch. Giving her a plan is one thing. Making her stick to it when her pride’s burning too hot? That’s another.

He leaned back against the wall, smirking softly. Maybe it can wait. Let’s see if her raw strength and skill can carry the early rounds. If she can bulldoze through the first few opponents, that’s enough to keep Lord Torvares proud and happy. He didn’t hand me this gear expecting brilliance—just results.

The thought of the old man’s stern face, cane slamming against stone, made Ludger sigh inwardly. Besides, Viola showing off on her own is exactly what he wants. She’s the star. I’m the insurance. No point in overcomplicating things before we know how tough the competition really is.

From across the room, Viola glanced at him, still smirking. “What’s with the serious face? Already scared?”

Ludger arched an eyebrow. “No. Just deciding how much rope to give you before you hang yourself with it.”

She scoffed, waving him off. “Please. I’ll cut down whoever they throw at us.”

Ludger shrugged, hiding his amusement. Fine. Let her swing first. If things get hairy, then I’ll step in with a plan. Until then… I’ll sit back and let the fire burn.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the waiting hall once more.

“Next match—Viola Torvares and Ludger, step forward!”

The words snapped Viola into motion instantly. She spun her dulled sword into her grip, practically vibrating with excitement. “Finally,” she muttered, striding toward the tunnel with a sharp grin.

Ludger rose more slowly, rolling his shoulders, the red-and-silver armguards gleaming faintly under the torchlight. Round two. Let’s see if brute force still carries the day.

The corridor opened into sunlight, and once again the roar of the crowd crashed over them. Viola strutted ahead, basking in it, while Ludger trailed at a measured pace, his gaze fixed on the quadrangular stone ring.

On the far side, the gate creaked open, and their opponents stepped into view.

This time, it was a pair of girls.

They looked to be way above Viola’s age, almost fifteen and built like amazons. With matching uniforms embroidered with a family crest stitched in pale gold. Both carried dulled spears, their stances already firm, grips practiced. Their hair was tied back tightly, their expressions calm and focused, like they’d been trained to keep their emotions buried under discipline.

The crowd buzzed with interest, cheers shifting into curious murmurs. Boys versus girls—nobles always loved the spectacle of a clash that broke expectation.

Viola’s smirk only widened, emerald eyes flashing. “Perfect. Let’s see how they handle this.”

Ludger, however, narrowed his eyes, studying the spears. Long reach, steady grips, no wasted motion. They’ve trained together, too—probably drilled to move in sync. This might not be as simple as the last round.

The referee stepped forward, raising his arm.

“Competitors ready?”

Viola lifted her sword, fire already crackling faintly along its dulled edge.

The two girls lowered their spears into practiced guards, feet braced.

Ludger raised his forearms, steady and silent.

The referee’s hand dropped.

“Begin!”

Both girls surged forward at once, spears leveled like arrows loosed from a bow. Their steps were in perfect sync, heels striking the stone in the same rhythm, the sound of their charge echoing across the ring.

Ludger’s brows furrowed. They’re mirroring each other. Same pace, same angle. They’ve trained for this—two halves of one attack.

The crowd leaned forward, a ripple of excitement running through the stands as the pairs closed in. Viola let out a short laugh, charging to meet her opponent head-on.

Ludger stayed grounded, eyes sharp as the first spear thrust snapped toward him.

Shff! Shff! Shff!

The girl’s strikes came fast, one after another, a relentless barrage of thrusts that tested his guard from every angle—low, high, chest, shoulder. She was fast and precise, her movements drilled, nothing wasted.

Ludger’s armguards rang with each impact. Clang! Clang! He shifted, deflecting each strike with sharp, efficient motions. His boots scraped back an inch, then another, the reach of her spear forcing him to give ground.

So that’s the plan, he thought, jaw tightening. One keeps me pinned with constant pressure while her partner goes after Viola. And they’ve got the rhythm down to a science.

Across the ring, Viola swung her dulled sword in wide arcs, her grin fierce. Sparks flared as her blade clashed against the second girl’s spear, the air crackling with the clash of flame-tinged steel and disciplined thrusts.

Ludger’s focus snapped back as his opponent lunged with a sudden, harder thrust. He caught it on his forearm guard, the impact jolting his wrist. His frown deepened. She’s got power behind it, too. Not just speed.

The crowd roared as the ring split into two duels, the synchronized rhythm of the sisters’ assault holding the audience captive.

And Ludger, steady but pressured, realized this fight wouldn’t end as quickly as the last.

The rhythm shifted.

At first, it was subtle—the girl in front of Ludger pressing harder on his right side. Thrust after thrust angled there, sharp and insistent, her spearhead darting toward his ribs, his shoulder, his guard.

Ludger adjusted, boots scraping as he was forced to shift left to keep her from slipping past his defenses. His frown deepened. Why the obsession with my right?

Then it clicked.

With a single, sharp step, both girls pivoted at once. The switch was seamless, practiced. The one pressing Ludger’s flank slid away, spear arcing toward Viola, while her partner stepped in to take her place.

And suddenly the rhythm had changed.

This new girl came at him differently—less thrusts, more sweeps. Wide arcs that forced him to keep his guard high and low, his armguards ringing as they deflected each heavy swing. Each sweep dragged at his stance, testing his balance, trying to open him for a clean hit.

Across the ring, Viola found herself harried by the first girl, her spear jabbing in a rapid barrage of thrusts that kept even her fiery offense pinned. Viola’s grin only widened, her mana sparking hotter against her dulled sword as she threw herself into the clash.

Ludger gritted his teeth as another sweep cracked against his shin guards. The strength in it made the steel hum. He stepped back a pace, boots dragging against stone, and narrowed his eyes. So that’s their trick. Trade places, shift pressure. One overwhelms with thrusts, the other with sweeps. They rotate to keep their opponents from adapting.

The crowd gasped as the sisters’ tactics unfolded with sharp precision. From above, it looked like a dance—two spears moving as one, their attacks complementing each other perfectly.

Ludger steadied his stance again, deflecting another sweeping blow with his forearm guard, sparks flashing. Alright… So the question is: do I break their rhythm, or let Viola burn through it first?

Viola’s grin sharpened as she pressed harder against her opponent. Sparks cracked where dulled steel met mana-coated blade, and for a moment, her wild offense actually began to push the spear barrage back. The girl in front of her stumbled half a step, and Viola’s eyes lit up. “Got you—”

But then the rhythm broke in the worst possible way.

From the corner of his vision, Ludger caught a flicker of movement. His opponent shifted suddenly, muscles coiled, and then—

Fwshhh!

The spear left her hands like a javelin, whistling through the air with terrifying speed. Ludger’s instincts screamed. His arms crossed just in time.

CLANG!

The weapon slammed against his forearm guards, the impact rattling up his bones even through the enchanted steel. The force ripped the air from his lungs, the weapon spinning back into the air above the arena.

Before he could lower his arms, a shadow loomed.

The girl was already on him.

Her shoulder drove into his chest like a battering ram, the impact booming across the stone ring.

“Gh—!”

The world jolted sideways. His boots scraped harshly against the floor as he slid backward, shoved several meters before he managed to dig in. His guards glowed faintly, the effects of [Iron Guard] flaring just enough to hold his stance. Without it, he’d have been flat on his back.

The crowd roared at the audacity, voices rising in disbelief.

But Ludger didn’t have time to breathe. The girl didn’t linger. She twisted, snatching her spear as it fell, then bolted past him—straight toward Viola.

Viola’s eyes widened, forced to deal with her own opponent while the second girl barreled in at full speed, spear aimed like a lance.

Ludger steadied himself, lungs burning, arms buzzing from the shock. So they’re not just disciplined—they’re ruthless. Throwing weapons, using their bodies like trucks, switching targets at will… this isn’t about testing skill. It’s about breaking us down by any means.

His jaw clenched, eyes locking on Viola’s desperate clash. If they take her out first, this match is done.

The clash in the center of the ring grew vicious. Viola was now facing both spear girls at once—one thrusting fast and sharp, the other darting in from her flank. Her blade sparked with mana as she parried and slashed, but her breathing grew ragged. Sweat clung to her brow, her stance faltering under the relentless pressure.

Her eyes flickered with the dangerous gleam Ludger recognized all too well—she was on the verge of activating Overdrive.

“Damn it,” Ludger hissed, forcing his legs into motion. If she burns herself out this early and shows her stuff, the later rounds will eat us alive.

He charged, boots pounding against stone.

One of the spear girls pivoted to intercept him, her weapon slicing through the air in a wide sweep aimed at his side. But Ludger didn’t raise his guards this time. His hands shot out, palms clamping down on the shaft of the spear. The weapon shuddered under his grip, the momentum halting with a jarring crack.

Her eyes widened in shock.

Ludger pushed, trying to shove her back. She snarled, planting her feet, refusing to give ground. Then she lunged forward, trying to ram him with the haft.

His fingers tightened. The weapon creaked. Slowly, the strength in her arms began to falter, the weapon trembling under his grip.

And then—

With a sharp grunt, Ludger pulled upward.

The girl gave a startled cry as her feet left the ground. For a moment, the crowd gasped as she was hoisted two meters into the air, clinging desperately to her own spear while Ludger lifted her like a sack tied to a pole.

“Let go!” she barked, panic threading her voice.

But he didn’t. She landed on her feet with a stumble when he finally let the weapon drop, but the damage was done—precious seconds had been stolen.

Because in that instant, her partner had closed in on Viola—only to have her strike crash against Ludger’s armguard as he slid between them.

The force rang up his bones, but he held firm, teeth clenched.

“Your turn, Viola!”

She didn’t hesitate. Her dulled blade swept in from the side, slamming into the girl’s ribs with mana-charged force. The spear fighter buckled, falling to her knees with a strangled cry.

Ludger moved instantly, crouching low, hands snapping around her legs. With a sharp twist and a heave, he lifted her clean off the ground and flung her toward the edge of the ring.

Thud!

She skidded across the stone before tumbling out of bounds, landing in a heap. The referee’s flag shot up immediately. “Out of the ring! Disqualified!”

The arena exploded in cheers and shouts, the crowd on their feet. Viola’s grin blazed as she stood tall, sword still humming with mana, while Ludger exhaled slowly, lowering his armguard.

One down. One more to go.

The crowd’s roar hadn’t even faded when the second spear girl snapped her head around, eyes wide at the sight of her partner crumpled outside the ring.

For the first time, her disciplined rhythm faltered.

Viola saw it instantly. Her grin widened, her sword blazing faintly with mana as she advanced. “Now it’s just you and me.”

The girl braced her spear, but there was a stiffness to her grip, her confidence rattled. Viola’s strikes came fast—sharp, heavy blows that crashed against the shaft of the weapon with sparks flying from every impact.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each strike forced the girl back, her boots scraping against stone. Alone, her rotation was broken—no partner to switch with, no rhythm to fall back on. She dug in, face pale but determined, trying to meet Viola’s ferocity head-on.

Ludger stood nearby, arms folded across his gleaming guards, watching carefully but staying out of the way. She’s got this. With only one left, there’s no chance they can hold against her firepower.

Another clash rang out, Viola’s mana-charged sword smashing into the spear’s shaft. A faint crack sounded. The girl’s eyes flicked down in alarm.

The weapon had begun to bend.

The crowd gasped as Viola pressed harder, her strikes hammering relentlessly against the weakening spear. Each hit made the wood bow more, the golden crest on the girl’s uniform shimmering with sweat.

“Not much longer,” Viola said, voice sharp with pride. Her blade flared brighter, one final arc slamming down.

CRACK!

The spear bent nearly in half, the girl staggering under the shock. Viola swept in low, her sword slamming against the girl’s side.

The spear clattered from her hands as she fell to the ground, breath leaving her in a ragged gasp.

The referee raised his flag high. “Victory! Viola Torvares and Ludger advance to the next round!”

The audience erupted again, cheers shaking the stone walls. Viola raised her sword high, basking in the glory, her grin wide enough to split her face.

Ludger let out a slow breath. Two down. Four to go. And if she keeps swinging like this, Lord Torvares might just tear his throat out cheering before the finals.