CHAPTER 78: FIRST DAY OF THE GRAND SPRING TOURNAMENT

With the quick victory, the crowd was crazier than ever. Meanwhile, in the upper reaches of the colosseum, where the great families and high-ranking members of the Medici Clan were seated, the atmosphere was very calm.

"Hoho~ What a gem you’ve found, Abraham. Such a promising young man. How... interesting." A member of the Peridot family spoke with a cold smile, playing with the rim of their wine glass.

"Without a doubt, such talent will raise the prestige of your house. Although, of course, one wonders... how high can they fly before the wind plays a trick on them?" said another, but this time it was a member of the Boleoti family, with a calculated nod of the head. His eyes slid toward the Medici, seeking complicity.

"Congratulations, truly. Although... I hope the Kingdom is prepared for such... changes."

The elder of the Abraham family laughed heartily, but his eyes were cold as steel, resting on the Medicis.

"Bah! Such courtesy almost makes me think you fear for your own homes. Although... some don’t even bother to feign interest."

Everyone turned their gaze toward the members of the Medici Clan, who had their eyes fixed on the foggy screens as the final battle of the day approached.

At that moment, the announcer’s voice echoed throughout the arena:

[Today was an epic day! Fierce battles, surprises, and feats that will remain etched in everyone’s memory... But the show isn’t over yet. One last battle awaits us, and it won’t be just any battle! One of the combatants... is none other than one of the representatives of the hosts of this great tournament!]

The announcer paused dramatically, letting the anticipation build, before raising his voice with excitement:

[The match that will close out the first day of the Grand Spring Tournament... is KAEL MEDICI... VS. LEWIS!]

Under everyone’s gaze, Lewis, a tall, burly man, stepped onto the platform with a steady gait. The weight of his axe rested on his shoulder, and his expression was a mixture of arrogance and hunger for glory.

This was his moment. If he defeated a young master of the Medici Clan, his reputation would skyrocket.

In front of him stood Kael Medici.

A fifteen-year-old boy with waist-length black hair, dressed in black.

In his hand, he held a long sword with a chain hanging from it like a useless ornament.

Kael did not look at him.

His eyes rose to the stands, where the great families were seated. He smiled slightly. The hubbub of the crowd crashed against his impassive face like an insignificant breeze.

Lewis clenched his jaw.

"Don’t get cocky, you brat!" he roared and charged without warning.

The ground shook with his footsteps.

Kael lowered his gaze, focusing on his opponent for the first time. At that moment, he took a single step to the side.

The axe swung wide.

Lewis spun around, looking to strike back, but Kael was already inside his guard.

The chain on his sword uncoiled with a soft click.

A twist of the wrist. A flash of metal. And Lewis fell to his knees.

The chain was around his neck.

His axe lay on the ground, his arm trembling.

Kael pulled on the chain, causing Lewis to struggle to break free, but he couldn’t, and slowly his vision darkened completely, and he fell heavily to the ground.

After that, Kael released the chain with the same indifference with which he had entered the fight.

"We’re done," he said, turning away without looking back.

The crowd was silent for a moment.

.

And then, the roar was deafening.

The presenter, still stunned by what had happened, managed to compose himself instantly and raised his voice loudly, announcing to the entire audience:

[And so ends, with a flourish, the first day of the Great Spring Tournament!]

And so ended the first day of the Grand Spring Tournament, with 52 participants eliminated.

...

After finishing the fight, Kael left the coliseum without haste.

He could have lingered a little longer, but he considered it unnecessary. A waste of energy and time. There was no point in prolonging something that had already been decided.

The bustle of the crowd remained behind him, still euphoric from a fight that for him was nothing more than routine.

In addition, he was somewhat expectant about what would happen in the coming days. Because the various people who had infiltrated the mountains at the start of the tournament had begun to move.

And he had been waiting for this for many months. His eyes were on the clan’s vault; there were too many valuable things to take just one.

Above all, there was the mysterious Zu, whom the system had told him to talk to.

As his thoughts slipped like shadows through his mind, Kael was already approaching the center of the city.

The activity was constant. Merchants, nobles, families... everyone moved through the clean streets, unaware that all this tranquility was only temporary.

Kael stopped in front of a somewhat discreet but busy restaurant. From outside, he could smell wine, freshly served meat, and the sweat of tired men. He entered without saying a word.

He chose a table by the window. From there, he could watch the flow of people without being disturbed.

A waitress approached him shortly after. She was young, with a friendly face, although her eyes revealed the fatigue of long days.

"What would you like, sir?" she asked in a respectful voice.

"Meat. And sweet wine," Kael replied without looking up.

It wasn’t a request. It was an order disguised as courtesy.

The woman nodded silently and walked away immediately, as if her instincts warned her that she was not dealing with just another customer, but something... different.

After about five minutes, several plates of meat were placed on the table with sweet rice wine. Everything was arranged neatly.

Kael began to eat calmly while watching the flow of people passing by on the street, oblivious to all the commotion he had caused in the coliseum with his quick fight.

Back in the colosseum.

In the raised chamber where the members of the great families gathered, a thick silence reigned.

All eyes were fixed on the fighting platform, but not on the outcome. What mattered now was not who had won, but how.

After watching the final confrontation, the representatives finally understood why the Medici clan’s high command had not taken their eyes off him.

"And who is that boy?" asked one of the visitors, his voice tinged with suspicion and attention.

An elderly member of the Medici clan—one who had always kept quiet—responded calmly, without pride or haste:

"Kael Medici. The seventh young master of the clan. Rank S talent."

No one replied immediately.

The name slid through the room like a steel blade. Some repeated it quietly, not out of respect, but to engrave it in their memory.

Kael Medici.

A name that, from now on, would carry more weight than before.