The first match ended at six in the evening, right as the sun was setting. Visiting someone after sundown was considered rude, but Henya, with a grave look on her face, didn’t care. She went straight to the room where Keter was staying. Standing guard outside the room was Didos, who stepped forward to block her path. “Lady Henya. I am Didos, captain of the Fifth Division of the Order of the Galaxy.” “Keter’s inside, right? Bring him—no, I’ll speak to him myself.” Henya was curt to Didos, who had greeted her naturally while blocking the way. “Have you come on a personal matter, or an official one?” “Why would I tell you that?” “Lord Keter gave strict instructions to ask every visitor this question. I ask for your understanding.” “What difference does it make?” Henya didn’t know the reason, but it was clear that depending on her answer, she might not be allowed in. Without hesitation, she replied, “Both. I’ve come to speak about something personal and official.” Didos smiled faintly and opened the door for her. “Lord Keter is already waiting for you in the drawing room.” Led into the sitting room of the guest room, Henya felt something strange. There was no one inside. On the table sat two teacups, still steaming. The tea was hot, as if freshly brewed. The sound of Henya’s boots echoed softly. She approached the sofa and touched the cushion with her fingertips. There was no warmth on either sofa, meaning that Keter wasn’t waiting for her in the room. “So he said he was waiting for me, and this is how he treats me? Is he looking down on me?” Having studied royal etiquette, Henya immediately understood what Keter was doing. “He’s saying I’m the one who should wait, not him.” Henya had been caught associating with a commoner. On top of that, she owed a debt. This kind of treatment seemed like Keter’s way of holding that over her head and trying to control her. Her emotions had driven her to come here, but now her mind was quickly cooling into rationality. Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Keter stepped out, drying his hands on a towel. “Oh, you’re here? You took longer than I thought, so I went to the restroom. Have a seat.” Realizing it had been a misunderstanding, Henya sat quietly on the sofa, not showing her embarrassment. “You probably know why I’m here. It’s about the Sword of the South Tournament. I didn’t expect you to join as an independent,” Henya said. “You looking for Gyro, too?” “Gyro? I don’t know who that is. More importantly, I owe you a debt. Even without a contract, I planned to repay it. But I can’t afford to go easy on you in this tournament. So…” “You’re saying you won’t help me or go easy on me in the tournament?” “Why would I need your help in the first place?” “Well... I thought your goal was to become the Sword of the South.” “That’s true. But what does that have to do with you helping me or not?” “Because I’m aiming to become the Sword of the South. No matter what, I’ll make it happen.” Henya was serious, but Keter crossed his legs, still with a puzzled look on his face. He took a sip of tea, then began pouring sugar cubes into it. “Sorry, I’m just trying to understand. Did you come here to ask for help? For me to help you win?” Keter asked. Henya blinked, completely baffled. “No. I’ll become the Sword of the South with my own strength, not with my father’s name.” “Well, that’s obvious. No need to make it sound noble,” Keter said, stirring the mountain of sugar with a silver spoon. “I wasn’t planning to ask you for anything. In fact, it’s the opposite. I hope you give it everything you’ve got—go beyond your limits.” “That’s a lot of confidence. I know you’re strong, but I’m not like you, Keter. I’m not here out of curiosity or fame. I have to win this tournament.” Henya wanted to become independent from Eslow; that was the only way she could protect Wid. “Hmm. How are you different? Why do you want to become the Sword of the South?” There was no reason for Henya to answer. But Keter was the only person she felt she could be honest with, so she chose not to hide it from him. “...For someone I love.” Henya blushed, but she didn’t avert her eyes. Keter took a long sip of his sugar-saturated tea and said, “Ah… Sweet, so sweet.” “You think it’s funny?” Henya asked. “Not at all. I’m actually relieved. Now I know you’re not entering just on a whim. You won’t give up easily.” “So you’re not just doing this for fun either. Sorry for assuming.” “Oh no, I am doing it for fun.” Keter set down his empty teacup and grinned. “I’m going to win regardless.” It was a playful smile, but Henya could tell it wasn’t empty bravado. She stood and said, “Be ready tomorrow. I’m going to make sure you don’t get a single badge.” It wasn’t a threat; it was a declaration—one that acknowledged Keter as a worthy opponent. Keter stood as well and held out his left fist. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a customer.” “I’ve heard ‘I won’t go easy just because you’re a woman’, but that one’s new. What’s with the fist?” Henya stared at Keter’s outstretched hand. “A greeting from the neighboring Kingdom of Adeus. You bump fists so that we fight with no regrets.” Hearing his explanation, Henya smiled faintly and bumped her fist against his. It was the second day of the tournament. The arena stands were packed so tightly that not even a foot of space remained. On the first day, there was at least room to pass through, but now, no one could move an inch. Even the commoners who couldn’t afford to watch Group A's match due to financial burdens had scraped together everything they had to see Group B. And for good reason—Group B's participants were on another level entirely. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵※𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮※𝓷𝓮𝓽 There was Henya, Eslow’s only daughter, who was the famed Sword Witch and a five-star Master. There was also Pashian, the Red Wolf, a renowned mercenary who had recently been recruited as a knight under Marquis Galahind. And then, there was Keter, the unprecedented first-ever independent participant in the tournament’s history. At this point, it was also revealed to the public that Keter was affiliated with the Sefira, the Masters of Archery. “Did you hear? That guy Keter—he’s actually an illegitimate son of the Sefira family!” “Why would he compete as an independent instead of using the Sefira name?” “I just don’t get it.” “Maybe because he’s illegitimate?” “What does that have to do with entering independently?” “Whatever. I’m more excited to see how Lady Henya fights. She’s the lord’s daughter, after all!” The commoners’ attention skewed more toward Henya. After all, her techniques were believed to represent the very style of Eslow himself. The nobles were no different; they were more interested in Henya than Keter. But there were a few nobles who had a very different reason for screaming Keter’s name. “Keter! You filthy, stinking commoner brat! I swear I won’t let you go unpunished!” shouted Galahind, who had been relocated to a new suite, as he beat a young man tied to a pillar. Galahind wasn’t a trained warrior, but thanks to the sheer amount of elixirs he consumed, his punches were very strong. After taking a direct hit to the chest, the young man exhaled sharply and slumped his head. “Huff, huff... Damn lowborn scum!” he shouted. Wiping the blood off his fist with a potion, he turned to his assistant and yelled, “You made sure the twenty Rage Potions were delivered, right?!” “Yes, sir. They were handed out to sixteen two-star knights and four three-star knights without fail.” “What? Only four three-stars accepted them? And what about the four-stars?” “Many of them refused after hearing about the side effects, so it was unavoidable…” Galahind struck the assistant across the face. “You idiot! You’re a commoner, too? Why the hell would you tell them about the side effects?! Who told you to do that, huh?! Aaargh!” Even though the assistant was technically a baronet, going against Galahind meant that he could die anytime, like a commoner so he silently took the beating. “Hah... hah... Is everyone around me just useless?” Exhausted by his own tantrum, Galahind slumped onto a couch. There were at least twenty knights standing beside him. One hurried over with a glass of cold water. But just as Galahind was about to drink it, he paused and handed it back. “You drink it first.” Although the knight knew the water was clean, he was a little worried that yesterday’s incident may happen again. The knight took one sip nervously. Galahind glared at him. “N-no, my lord. It seems fine.” “How would you know after one sip?!” A pricey crystal glass shattered across the floor. The atmosphere in the room was like thin ice—dead silent and tense. And the reason for it all was, of course, Keter. Galahind had found out that it was Keter who had brought him the poisoned two-hundred-year-old vintage Sangreal and rigged the bathroom with a bomb. One of his knights had finally come forward to testify that it was Keter who had delivered the wine. “Why didn’t you say something earlier, you traitorous bastards?!” “W-we’re sorry. We thought it was just someone who looked like him…” To be honest, they still weren’t sure if it was truly Keter. A soldier who had seen Keter described his appearance to an artist, who drew a portrait. Galahind and the knights only knew him by this drawing. But who would’ve guessed that Keter, a high noble and an illegitimate son of Sefira, would personally show up, alone, with wine in hand? Moreover, Galahind’s knights didn’t have the usual loyalty found between a knight and their lord. Most of them avoided getting close to him. It was no surprise, as he was stingy with rewards and handed out punishments like it was nothing. Regardless, Keter had shown up, handed over poisoned wine, and planted a bomb. While the use and possession of explosives, even for high nobles, required royal authorization and was punishable by law, Galahind couldn’t take legal action. It wasn’t because of the lack of evidence; this didn’t matter since this kingdom didn’t operate by evidence but by influence. The problem was that Sefira was a master family. Even though Galahind was a high noble, he couldn’t dare punish a master family with the law. It had nothing to do with Sefira’s strength—other noble families simply wouldn’t allow it. They might turn a blind eye to attacking Sefira, but not to attacking its name. And for that, they would never let Galahind off the hook. “Cunning little bastard. Even if it costs me something, I’ll make sure you’re utterly ruined.” Sefira might be the weakest and most isolated noble families, but it was still a master family. To strike a member of such a family, even for the royal family, required just cause. But Galahind had long run out of patience. Keter’s actions were infuriating, but it was Anis and Taragon’s unexpectedly impressive performance that truly pushed him over the edge. He didn’t care if the people praised Sefira. What enraged him was that even other nobles had started looking at Sefira with new eyes. “Group B’s match has begun, my lord.” His assistant, now somewhat recovered, handed him a magic screen. Galahind snatched it away. He saw on the screen Pashian, the Red Wolf, dashing forward as soon as the match started. To make him cooperate, he arranged for Pashian to marry his fourth daughter. The Galahind family gained a Master, and Pashian gained noble status—it was a mutually beneficial deal. “Heh heh... Keter, no matter how skilled you think you are, you’ll never beat Pashian.” And it wasn’t just Pashian. As there were also twenty knights armed with Rage Potions, Galahind believed it was only a matter of time before Keter would be crushed.