Frey, Lanqi, and Hyperion walked along a path through the School of Knights.
The three chatted as they went.
"Frey, do you know the rules for the match?"
Jacaranda trees lined the path in picturesque patterns, lending this corner of the campus an air of mystique and serenity, proudly flaunting blossoms that had not withered even in the heart of winter.
"It's roughly the same as the contract we signed last time. Just treat it like fighting in a Shadow World. Also, this public match won't be held in an artificial Shadow World; instead, it'll be an actual duel directly inside the School of Knights' Arena."
Frey answered. When he had accompanied the president to the School of Knights earlier, he had been listening in on their discussion the entire time.
Since their own club room had been demolished, the few fighters remaining on the Soul of the Fighter team had made an appointment with Monaster to await the student council's instructors in the arena.
"They're making it that grand?"
Lanqi remembered that colossal arena, steeped in classical charm with its pointed arched windows. It could seat an enormous audience, and its dueling platform was equipped with defensive magic barriers capable of protecting lives.
Usually, when officially opened for public events, it hosted large-scale spectacles to justify the operational costs and publicity.
"Yes. The day after tomorrow happens to be Friday, so hyping it up in advance makes it a rather nice celebratory event," Frey continued.
After all, a defining trait of Ikerite's students and residents was their love of a good spectacle.
Every year, Ikerite Academy would occasionally put on a bit of a show to satisfy the public's thirst for entertainment.
Of course, sometimes they took things too far—such as the previous incident that got the Dean of the School of Alchemy sent straight behind bars.
"By the way, Lanqi, who do you think will win?"
Frey asked on a rare impulse of curiosity.
"I'm not sure..."
Lanqi rested his chin in his hand, thought about it for a moment, and ultimately shook his head.
"Then I'll go place my bets once you're sure."
"..."
Beside them, Hyperion was left speechless.
The pair's motives were so straightforward yet utterly bewildering.
Ignoring the two beside her, she looked up. The most conspicuous structure of the School of Knights—the arena—had already entered their view.
Seen from afar, the magnificent edifice was constructed primarily of red brick and white stone. Most striking were its uniquely designed window lattices, varied in size yet all brimming with classical elegance. Colored crystals set into the panes cast a dreamlike mosaic of hues across the interior, even on an overcast day, adding a touch of warmth to the arena's cold stone walls.
The three proceeded along the wide corridor behind the main entrance. Because preparations and maintenance were underway for the event over the next couple of days, the arena was on the verge of temporarily closing to students, leaving only a few scattered figures inside.
Soon, as the light and shadows at the end of the passageway brightened, the three student council members stepped through an iron gate entwined with climbing ivy. A gust of howling wind whipped up the hems of their coats.
When their vision cleared, a massive dueling plaza lay before them. The center of the raised platform was paved in white marble cut as cleanly as if sliced by blades, and rings of ascending spectator tiers stretched far into the distance, capable of holding thousands of people.
However...
What drew their attention was not the sight of the grounds, but a burst of wanton laughter. Looking into the distance, a group of burly youths stood on the dueling platform. Light scratches marked their faces, but none were in any real distress.
"How did you get even weaker? You couldn't even last a few minutes this time!"
"Ikerite Academy's martial fighting spirit is truly pathetic."
"Do you even have any balls? A bunch of ball-less trash! You'd be better off calling out your boss to trade blows with us!"
In stark contrast, all the fighters of Ikerite Academy lay collapsed on the ground, bruised and battered, their noses bleeding freely. They seemed to lack even the strength to stand.
"You bastards... aren't anywhere close to Big Sister Cervini's match..."
Blood continuously dripped from the lower lip of the burly vice-captain of the Soul of the Fighter team. His voice trembled as he tried to push himself up, but a heavy boot swiftly came down on his back. A wet cough of blood choked him into stillness.
"Then let her come! We'll make sure she has a grand time, too."
The man leading the Aloran Royal Academy contingent bent down, sneering.
Immediately, the fighters behind him burst into uproarious laughter.
"What is going on here?"
Lanqi was the first to step onto the arena floor, asking in bewilderment.
The fallen, defeated fighters on the ground seemed intensely ashamed, averting their gazes. Their lips quivered, unable to speak—or perhaps their final ounce of strength and morale had been thoroughly stripped away.
"These guys couldn't take a few taunts and agreed to another little warm-up bout with us. The result is just as you see."
The tall man leading the group, who had a faint scar near the corner of his eye, clicked his tongue and addressed Lanqi.
"I see."
Lanqi gave a small nod. He recognized this man: Kuse, a tier-six fighter in the Aloran Royal Academy's academic delegation, renowned for his formidable strength and noble standing in the Aloran Kingdom.
"Then the outcome of this friendly bout has clearly been decided. Please return the day after tomorrow for the official match."
Lanqi spoke in a brisk, businesslike tone to the fighters led by Kuse.
"They haven't surrendered yet. I'd advise you not to interfere, or else we won't be held responsible if you end up hurt by mistake."
Kuse let out a cold smirk, rolling his wrist.
He had originally planned to torment these Ikerite fighters a bit longer, hoping to provoke Cervini into personally stepping onto the stage the day after tomorrow.
After all, Cervini was one of the core members of the Soul of the Fighter team. By the rules, she was eligible to fight—or rather, they had deliberately preserved her chance to enter the fray.
If this kid in front of him wanted to ruin the fun, Kuse wouldn't mind putting him down as well.
"Kuse, that's Lanqi,"
a fighter behind him whispered a reminder.
A young noble with black hair, emerald-green eyes, and a student council badge—there was only one person fitting that description.
Hearing that, Kuse froze slightly, squinting his left eye to scrutinize Lanqi.
"Lanqi? You're the guy who lost to Adams first, lost to Karen second, and yet still got hyped to the heavens?"
Standing nearly two meters tall, Kuse sneered disdainfully, looking down his nose at Lanqi.
Among the three student council members, the one with ash-white hair was undeniably strong; even though he was only at tier five, Kuse couldn't quite fathom the feral edge radiating from him.
The tall, silver-haired girl was middling, neither strong nor weak, someone he could easily dispatch in a few moves.
And as for this black-haired, green-eyed kid... he was shockingly, absurdly weak.
"Looks like that Saintess of Destruction was nothing special after all. If you could take her down, I'm thinking I could take her down too... If you're going to stick your nose in other people's business today, want to try losing to me as well?"
Kuse spoke with cold contempt, not taking Lanqi seriously in the slightest—and visibly itching to test him with a punch at any second.
Chapter 220