The contents of the letter could be summed up as follows... "I heard there's going to be a martial tournament. They say it's the stage to determine the continent's strongest—shouldn't we be sending someone too? There are plenty of people willing to sell their soul for power. I've picked out a few and sent them over. You won't be disappointed!" "How vulgar. Tsk tsk." Caron scowled as he reread the letter. He'd expected some kind of interference given the scale of the tournament, but he hadn't thought they would issue such a blatant challenge. Still, there wasn't much he could do at the moment. All he could do was stay alert and give it his all. "The match is starting," Leon said quietly while seated beside him. They were at the Second Special Arena—one of the preliminary stages of the martial tournament held in Leo's honor. Caron was watching Leo's match from the best reserved seats, with Leon at his side. Regardless of Laia's warning, the tournament was running in full swing. Elite warriors from all over the continent were clashing with their full strength. As if to prove the old saying that nothing was more exciting to watch than a good fight, the crowd remained glued to the matches, breathless. The rules were simple: Anything was allowed as long as it didn't kill the opponent outright. Even the Holy Kingdom had sent their paladins, dispatching a sizable priestly contingent that included two cardinals. On top of that, the Grand Saintess Seria was present, making it possible to heal almost any injury as long as the participant wasn't killed outright. Of course, since these were fights with real blades, fatalities were always a risk—but thankfully, by the second day, not a single contestant had died yet. That was probably thanks to Seria's tireless efforts. "How far do you think Leo will get?" Leon asked Caron in a casual tone. She was now officially betrothed to the emperor. Caron considered for a moment, then replied with a chuckle, "I think he'll make it to the finals at least." "Only to the Round of Thirty-Two?" Leon asked. "'Only? Do you know how hard it is to be one of the top thirty-two fighters on the entire continent, Leon?" Caron asked, then gazed leisurely at the arena. There, a young man stood in armor bearing the blue wolf crest—it was Leo. His face was stiff with tension; there was no doubt he was nervous. "Look at him frozen up like that. I wonder if he can even swing his sword properly," Leon said, clicking her tongue. "He does look unnecessarily tense," Caron agreed. "Maybe he's not confident in his skills?" Leon asked. "Well, he hasn't won a single sparring match against me recently. I suppose that'd rattle anyone's confidence," Caron said, shrugging. Just then, the announcer for the Second Arena shouted loudly using a magically amplified artifac. "Up next—match number five! Leo Leston of the Ducal Family of Leston versus the commander of the Karkas Mercenary Corps, Karl Karkas! Let the match begin!" Leo wasn't as famous as Caron, but he had built a name for himself. He was Caron's older cousin and one of the Golden Generation of the Ducal Family of Leston. Though he was often overshadowed by Caron's brilliance, Leo's fame was nothing to scoff at. "That Karl Karkas guy—he's pretty well-known," Leon remarked. "More than the Mercenary King?" Caron asked. "Not quite at that level... but there are rumors he's defeated multiple 7-Star knights. I think he made a name for himself during the wars between the southern kingdoms," Leon answered. "Then I probably would've seen him when I went to the Neon Kingdom," Caron said. "He wasn't a Neon mercenary. I think he was from the Zion Kingdom? Anyway, the guy's notorious," Leon explained. "Looks like it too," Caron added. The mercenary's bald head was covered in scars, and a dragon-shaped tattoo stretched across his exposed right shoulder. The mana and killing intent radiating from him made it clear—this was someone who had killed more than a few people. "Isn't that opponent a bit much for Leo? He's got less real combat experience, and in a lot of ways, he's at a disadvantage," Leon remarked coolly, analyzing the matchup. Caron let out a quiet chuckle, the corners of his mouth lifting as he said, "That might've been true... three years ago." "What's changed since then?" Leon asked. "Why don't you watch and find out for yourself?" Caron asked. "You just said he hasn't won a single sparring match recently," Leon replied. "That's true," Caron admitted, "but watching it will explain things better than I ever could." As the two continued their conversation... The gong rang, signaling the start of the match, and the hulking mercenary Karl Karkas charged at Leo. The sword Karl wielded was as massive as Leo himself. The sword was designed for brute force. Swords like that weren't about finesse. Their wielders used sheer strength to overwhelm their opponents. Even if one managed to block the blow, the shock alone would wear them down. It was never wise to take such a weapon head-on. Once an opponent lost initiative, they usually never got it back. And Karl Karkas knew how to capitalize on his weapon's advantages. A veteran of countless real battles, he stepped in aggressively, exploiting his superior reach for a decisive first strike. His bastard sword, brimming with compressed mana, glowed white-hot as it came crashing down toward Leo. It moved with terrifying speed; it was far too fast for a man of his size. "That looks dangerous—" Leon began, frowning. But in the very next instant... Leo stepped forward, not back, and swung his sword. His blade, glinting like fresh snow, shimmered through the air. It took less than five seconds to end the match. "Gyaaaahhhh!" Karl screamed. His right arm had been severed as if it were made of paper. A trail of frost followed in the wake of Leo's sword. The wound froze instantly, preventing even a drop of blood from spilling. A hush fell over the entire arena. But what made it even more surreal was the fact that Leo himself looked just as shocked as everyone else. He glanced around with wide eyes, clearly trying to make sense of what he'd just done. "...What just happened?" Leo murmured. Only when he spotted Karl's arm lying on the ground did realization finally hit. Then he looked up awkwardly, flashing a sheepish grin toward the VIP seats where Caron sat. "W-Why was that so easy?" Leo exclaimed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Leo Leston! That was incredible!" "He really is one of the Golden Generation of the Ducal Family of Leston! He took down a notorious mercenary with a single strike!" Cheers erupted from all directions, and the flustered announcer quickly jumped in, "The winner of match five is Leo Leston! Ah—he's just broken the record for the shortest match in the tournament! Absolutely incredible!" Only after the crowd had finished roaring did Leo finally smile brightly and wave to them. Leon stared at him with her mouth slightly open, then asked, "Didn't you say he lost every recent sparring match?" "I did," Caron replied. "But that's the thing—his recent sparring partners have only been either our uncles or me. He's been beaten to a pulp by 8-Star knights for the past three years. If he couldn't handle someone like Karl, we'd have a problem. There'd be no point taking him to the Demon Realm." Leo had been on the receiving end of the wrath of their uncles, who were regularly thrashed by Caron themselves; and the same applied to Hugo Leston. While Caron had stayed at Azureocean Castle, Hugo and Leo had trained relentlessly, without a single break. Now, that training was beginning to show its results. Caron nodded with a satisfied smile, then said, "That's why you never let your guard down." Karl Karkas's attempt to dominate from the start was a good tactic in theory. But his strike lacked one crucial thing—respect for his opponent. He had never imagined that Leo would meet his blow head-on. "Hugo entered the tournament too, didn't he?" Leon asked. "Yeah, he's in Arena Four," Caron answered. "...Maybe I should've joined as well," Leon said. Caron knew full well that Leon hadn't taken a single day off. He'd even heard that she sparred with Sir Mason, an 8-Star knight and personal guard of Revelio, on a daily basis. "When we've got some time, I'll be happy to test your swordsmanship myself," Caron said. "Not that you need much help—you're doing just fine on your own." "Thanks for the compliment. But Caron..." Leon trailed off. "Maybe it's time we dragged that idiot off the field. He's embarrassing the family all by himself," Leon said as she pointed toward Leo. He was strutting around the arena, chin held high, waving triumphantly to the audience. His expression was so smug it was almost painful to look at. Caron chuckled softly and replied, "Let him have his moment. Might as well enjoy it while he can." After all, when Leo faced Caron in the Round of Thirty-Two... Caron fully intended to beat the arrogance out of him. The week of preliminary matches passed in a flash. Leo and Hugo, known as the Golden Generation of the Ducal Family of Leston, secured their places in the Round of Thirty-Two without much difficulty. Thanks to their impressive performance, the preliminaries drew more attention than anyone had anticipated and concluded with great fanfare. Several upsets occurred along the way as well—noble knights from the southern kingdoms lost to nameless swordsmen, and a famed paladin was defeated by an orc warrior from the Rahal Mountains. These unexpected twists only added to the spectacle. Of the thirty-two who made it through, twenty were human and twelve were from other races. There were two giants, three dwarves, three elves, and four beastkin. Those unfamiliar with the beastkin were forced to acknowledge their formidable strength through this tournament. They weren't to be underestimated. Three days after the preliminaries ended, the matchups for the Round of Thirty-Two were drawn, and the main tournament began. The long-awaited first match arrived. "Haaaahm." Caron stood in the arena and let out a wide yawn. He had been selected to open the Round of Thirty-Two. From this stage onward, the emperor himself would be watching the matches in person, so all games were held in the grander Arena One, specially built for such a prestigious audience. Naturally, the spectator stands were packed. But people weren't just here to see Caron Leston fight. They came for a glimpse of the emperor himself. Some had paid exorbitant prices just to get a ticket, and the scalpers were making a fortune. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵※𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾※𝙣𝙚𝙩 Across from Caron stood the Royal Knight Commander of the Kingdom of Zion, teeth clenched in anger. "To yawn in the middle of a sacred duel between knights—how disgraceful!" Zion had suffered humiliation at the second summit—first, their crown prince had been assaulted, and then the king himself had been publicly insulted. Sir Zech Hyon, the Knight Commander, had entered the tournament to redeem that disgrace with honor. He was a knight on the verge of reaching 8-Star, considered the strongest among all the knights from the southern kingdoms. Although he had been eligible for a direct spot in the main tournament, Zech had deliberately fought through the preliminaries to demonstrate his strength and restore his nation's dignity. Now, the silver-haired veteran stood before Caron, criticizing his lackluster attitude. "You clearly weren't raised properly. That must be why you carry yourself with such irreverence." "Oh, come on. A man your age slinging insults at someone's parents? That's just pathetic. If we're talking about bad upbringing, shouldn't we start with the royal family you serve? A crown prince who spews filth and a king who eggs him on instead of stopping him? Wow. Truly inspiring," Caron retorted. He never hesitated to return vulgarity with vulgarity. At his blunt rebuttal, Zech's face turned crimson as he glared at Caron. He exclaimed, "You dare insult the lord I serve?" "Oh, I get it. When you do it, it's loyalty, but when I do it, it's insolence? Sir, with thinking that outdated, I'm amazed you're still alive. Tsk tsk. If you're that old, maybe it's time to retire," Caron answered. "Y-You insolent little...!" Zech cried. Zech had lost his composure, trembling with fury, while Caron smirked. Round one had been won. After all, those who started a battle with their tongues usually lost by them too. Unfortunately for Zech, he was no match for Caron—not verbally, and certainly not mentally. Insulting his family wasn't going to break Caron's focus. "Honestly, I like it when people insult my family," Caron said. "...What?" Zech asked. "Sir, do you know what my dream is? To disgrace my family's name. So when you go around bad-mouthing them, you're actually helping me make that dream come true," Caron explained. "You're insane..." Zech said. "That's the sad part, isn't it? You came all this way thinking you could restore your kingdom's honor, and now you have to face me in the very first match of the Round of Thirty-Two? Guess they're right when they say you meet your true enemy on a narrow bridge," Caron added. He smiled slyly as he drew Guillotine, continuing, "Let me ask you one thing before we begin. What exactly gives you the confidence to stand there so proudly? If it were me, I'd be too embarrassed to show my face after serving a lord like yours." "Go ahead and speak your nonsense while you still can," Zech said through gritted teeth. "I'm not joking. I'm genuinely curious. Isn't a true knight someone who has the courage to tell his lord when they're acting like a fool?" Caron asked. He smirked to himself in bitter irony. Zech drew his sword and barked, "You've got quite the tongue for a brat who knows nothing of knightly virtue." "That's serious advice I'm giving you, old man. When your lord acts like a moron, you have to say so. If you don't, you're just the fool's fool. You'll regret it in your next life. Trust me—I speak from experience," Caron said. Caron was a notorious troublemaker, known for having not even a speck of courtesy or decorum. "Did you at least pre-order your coffin?" he asked with a grin. He had no hesitation whatsoever about striking down an old man.