Up on the auditorium, Cycelia watches a young and handsome man enter the arena, his long golden hair flows behind him. Cycelia begins clapping quietly, politely. She's surprised by the reaction of the female audience, nearly all of whom stand up to give the blonde-haired man a standing ovation.

He spreads his arms as the women squeal and shower him with the clapping of their delicate hands. He turns to one side of the arena, bows with his free hand across his torso, just under his ribs, gracefully extending his arm and pointing his narrow longsword to the side.

He straightens out, and repeats the bow to the other side, to the glee of the female spectators there. Cycelia is still clapping, albeit mildly confused by the reaction. A man sitting beside her spits on the floor, and with his arms crossed, scowls at Ulrick below. He glares at Cycelia, and she anxiously slows her clapping to a stop, and looks away from his glare.

「Fuckin' pretty boy piece of shit. Can't believe I'm rooting for that boring bastard…」

Cycelia hears the man grumble. She looks around, and finds the reactions of most men to be the same, as Ulrick the Fencer walks to the center of the arena with a confident smirk, sweeping strands of his golden hair back onto his head after his bows. The women cheer again.

《…Why is everyone going crazy for him? I thought he was nothing special before… And where is Straf? He's going to miss the fight… Again!》

Cycelia pouts as she looks around for Straf, who still hasn't returned. Her shoulders slump as the announcer re-introduces the fencer to the audience.

「…Who has quickly become the fan favorite among the ladies, Ulrick the Fencer! Both contestants are quick on their feet!」

The announcer lightly pokes fun at Sturm, with an obvious reference to the previous matches. The audience murmurs softly with a desynchronized chuckle, coming mostly from the female spectators. Sturm tilts his head beneath his cloak a little, as Ulrick seems to attempt a conversation with him. The fencer shakes his head and shrugs, and points his longsword with a bent elbow at his wolf-masked opponent.

…

Meanwhile, in the private booth…

The old man watches Sturm and Ulrick closely as the match is about to begin. He rubs his pointy and narrow beard, giving it a gentle tug at the end of each stroke.

「Well then, ladies and gentlemen! It seems the audience is split between the ladies, and the gentlemen! Will the duel master be victorious, owing to a significant time he spent trading sword blows outside of the arena!?」

The announcer points his palm at Ulrick the Fencer, who blows kisses to the audience with a huge grin on his face. The women scream in glee.

「…Or will the antihero Sturm be the unlikely hero of the gentlemen in the audience!? No matter who wins, the stakes couldn't be higher! This is the essence of the quadrennial summer martial tournament, ladies and gentlemen! Combatants! Prepare yourselves!」

The announcer moves his palm across the arena towards Sturm. The female audience jeers, and some shout at him to lose. The announcer raises his hands, and Sturm unexpectedly copies his opponents stance, his sword tip sticking out directly at the Ulrick from beneath his cloak…

「Fight!」

Gonnnnnnnnngggg…

「Hmpf. Let's see if you have any more surprises in you, Sturm…」

The old man grumbles to himself as the gong sounds out. The golden-haired man steps forward towards his enemy, in no apparent rush.

「It seems Sturm is not intent on running this time, ladies and gentlemen! Moreover, it looks like this bout will be a fencing duel! What did Sturm mean by this!? Does he want to challenge the ladies' favorite for a place in their heart on an even footing!?」

Ulrick scoffs, although he also smirks, amused by the announcer. Sturm has not taken a step since the battle started, and is content simply pointing the tip of his blade at his opponent. Ulrick lunges in, holding his weapon pointed at Sturm at a level just beneath his mask, and… Flashes a quick, diagonal overhead slash.

Crrrrrrk!

Sparks fly as Sturm harmlessly guides his opponent's blade to the dirt with the flat of his sword. The fencer jumps back, his hair trailing behind him as it catches up to his rapid move. Ulrick's smirk is replaced by an ever-so-slightly nervous, serious stare. He quickly regains his composure, and along with it, his smug smirk.

Sturm returns to the fencing position he was holding a moment ago, and so does Ulrick. Ulrick once again walks Sturm into his weapon's range, and starts stabbing away at where his vitals should be beneath his cloak. The handsome fencer's eyes go wide when he realizes none of them hit their mark, and his sword is knocked away from his cloak by just a tiny flick of Sturm's sword.

Willow in his private spectator booth is watching closely. Something makes him tilt his head and squint in suspicion. He forces his eyes shut, and after a brief moment, snaps them open. They glow with a colorful light which only his fellow mages can see, the color of which, is also only known to the mages.

「Heh. Heheheheheeheheh… I see…」

Willow cackles, his cackling only grows in intensity as he watches the fight. At the same time, Sturm moves from defensive, to offensive. Ulrick barely dodges a stab aimed at his throat, cutting off a large band of hair that was lagging behind his head.

He narrowly deflects a stab aimed at his chest, receiving a shallow cut to his free arm. He continues backpedaling as the blows come flooding his way, and the next could very well be his last. The female audience gasps, and the males in the seats begin clapping and cheering.

「Ladies and gentlemen! It seems Ulrick no longer has the upper hand! Has Sturm decided to play the hero, or has he decided to show us his true power!?」

The announcer waves his arms about frantically, screaming into the magic circle in front of his face. Willow sighs, staring at the mage-colored mana diffusing away from Sturm, like steam rising out of a hot mug.

「You sly little weasel. You conniving little bastard. Ha ha ha… Why didn't I think of this earlier? It's so obvious now…」

Willow closes his glowing eyes with a very amused grin, squeezing his eyelids together with some force. He lets out a discomforted grunt as he opens them again, the mage-colored light gone. Sturm continues stabbing away, giving Ulrick no respite as he takes more of the minor nicks and harmless cuts.

「…Wearing a mask, and hiding your identity, so nobody recognizes you if you are caught cheating. It is only natural, a little haste spell could give you so much advantage here… It's worth the risk, given the reward…」

Willow sighs, staring at the fight with disappointed eyes. He grimaces a little, watching Ulrick the Fencer desperately trying to hop away from Sturm with his life. Sturm stops in his tracks, confusing the audience, the announcer, as well as his opponent, who despite the confusion, is very grateful for the opportunity to regain footing and return on the offensive.

「Still, that's disappointing. Or, maybe it's for the best. Klaw is dead, Sturm is just a fraud… Hmm…」

Willow thinks to himself out loud, watching the fight absent-minded. Ulrick walks up to Sturm, flashing a lightning-quick stab followed by a slash. Ulrick isn't surprised at all, by the completely and utterly effortless way his thrust was deflected by the masked man.

Clank!

But, when Sturm blocks the slash aimed at his neck as well, in the same low-effort manner, the fencer's expression twists into mild panic. A fist shoots out from underneath the green cloak, smashing Ulrick's pretty mouth and sending him flying backwards. The female audience gasps in shock.

Ulrick wriggles on the ground in pain, spitting blood. He lifts himself up to his knees and elbows, and spits something into his hand. His head recoils back as he stares at it, his face shocked and despondent.

His face twists into pure fear when he realizes Sturm is walking towards him, no longer in his fencing pose. The tip of Sturm's sword points downward, just barely sticking out of his cloak, next to his boots.

Ulrick drops the shattered, bloodied chunks of something in his hand on the sand, and shoots upwards, backpedaling in effort to outrun Sturm. Sturm keeps walking straight at him, and the wolf keeps staring in his eyes.

「Still… Isn't this a little too much? He's not fighting just to win at this point. What are you after, Sturm? Fame? You're not going to get any, with a masked face. Gold? You're making the way to it longer… Cheating and humiliating his opponent… That's just in poor taste.」

Willow shakes his head and sighs.

…

Meanwhile, in the audience…

「…Isn't that a little too much?」

Cycelia's brows furrow in pity as she thinks out loud, watching the golden-haired man outright run from Sturm in the arena.

「Huuuuuuuuh!? You one of his fuckin' fangirls!? Hope Sturm fuckin' kills him! Fuck him!」

The man with crossed arms beside her hears her mumbling, he turns his scowling face to Cycelia and screams furious questions at her.

「Ah! No- I just- I- I'm just here to appreciate the swordsmanship-」

She waves her hands in front of her face, leaning back and away from the man. He turns his scowling face to the arena.

「Kill his fucking ass, Sturm! Slash his fucking neck open! Gut the scrawny fucker! Kill him!」

The man slams his fist on his thigh as he screams down at the arena, spit flying from his mouth. Some men join him in the shouting. Cycelia's brows rise in surprise at the unveiled bloodthirst.

《…Why do they hate him so much!? And where is Straf!?》

A man comes up behind the announcer, and whispers something into his ear. The announcer seems surprised, and the man nods, then backs away. The announcer seems a little disconcerted, but then raises his arms.

「Contestant Ulrick! A decision has been made by the organizers, if you do not face your opponent in the arena, any more evasive behavior will be treated as an intent to surrender!」

「Ha ha hahaha! Yeaaaaah!」

The angry man starts clapping and cheering with a huge grin on his face, other men in the audience react in a similar manner. The women start jeering, not so much at the arena, but at the announcer instead.

Ulrick stops running, looking up at the announcer and then down at his advancing enemy. He takes one more step backwards, glancing up, then down again. Ulrick then re-assumes his fencing pose, with wide-open, fearful eyes, and a bloodied tight-lipped grimace.

The panicking fencer sets his feet wide apart, one in front of the other, keeping his sword directly in front of him to create a sharp barricade between him and Sturm. Sturm is unbothered, and continues walking towards him, the distance between them grows ever shorter.

As Sturm closes in, just a few paces away, Ulrick lunges forward and delivers a powerful thrust towards Sturm's cloak. The blade flies straight underneath the cloak, Ulrick's mouth opens as his head recoils back from the surprise. The audience goes silent.

Sturm and Ulrick are frozen in their poses, with Ulrick's sword apparently well within Sturm's cloak. The women start clapping and jeering, in a very gradual manner.

《…Is that it, then? Just a lucky hit? I guess that's how it goes…》

Cycelia thinks to herself, in silence this time. The man beside her clicks his tongue and crosses his arms again, as he slumps down in his seat. He shoots her an angry, silent glare.

Ulrick grins, his smugness making a hasty return to his face, despite the blood trailing down his lips. He yanks at the hilt of his sword.

「Ladies and gentlemen! It seems Ulrick has finally landed a hit-! Eh?」

Ulrick's grin proves short-lived as he realizes the blade is stuck. He puts his other hand on the hilt, and puts his entire weight into pulling it, but it won't even budge. The announcer is deeply confused by the sight, and the cheers from the women die down as well as, when they see something is wrong.

Ulrick flies backwards, finally freeing the sword. He falls over into the sand, and looks at his blade with confusion on his face, to ascertain just how deep it went into his enemy. He crawls away backwards from Sturm, when he realizes the blade is pristinely clean and not stained with blood like everyone in the audience expected.

Sturm walks forward, and his opponent shoots up to his feet. The fencer flails his sword about in the gap between them, apparently screaming in terror. Sturm waits until one of the swings completes, and steps in. The wolf-masked man blocks the returning slash.

The men in the audience cringe and suck air through their teeth when Sturm lightly taps his boot under Ulrick's groin. The women gasp again, this time louder than ever.

「Sturm! Sturm! Sturm! Sturm! Sturm! Sturm!」

The spectators sans females begin cheering and stomping their feet, as the ladies' pick is crawling around the arena's sandy dirt in agony. Sturm doesn't move, watching his enemy writhe on the ground like a worm. A brief lull in the fight begins, as Ulrick's enemy apparently wants to give him some time to recover.

「Ah… Uh… Well, ladies and gentlemen… How uh, how quickly the tables can turn!」

The announcer is unsure how to fill the space between the clashes, also caught surprised by the sudden developments in the arena.

「Excuse me, does… Does that hurt?」

Cycelia asks the formerly irate man beside her, pointing down at the slowly recovering Ulrick. He turns to her, with a massive, toothy gleeful grin, and happy squinting eyes.

「You wouldn't fuckin' believe. Hope he does it again.」

The man says, and quickly turns his head away to take in more of the blonde man's suffering. Disconcerted, Cycelia looks down at her lap.

《…Maybe this tournament thing isn't for me, after all.》

Down below, Ulrick recovers. He points his sword with a shaky hand at Sturm, who is standing still. He lunges forward, and thrusts his sword into his cloak once more in a desperate attack. The audience goes silent again as they hold their breaths.

Ulrick struggles to pull his sword out from beneath Sturm's cloak again, anticipating what's to come next. His feet slide on the sandy dirt as he tugs and pulls to no effect. Ulrick lets go and jumps backwards empty-handed.

「Ah! It seems the sword is stuck- What is this!?」

The announcer once again can't believe his eyes. The hilt of the sword that was stuck, now turns upwards, the pommel pointing at the sky. The green cloak engulfs the weapon almost entirely, but then it shoots out in front of Ulrick's feet, sliding across the ground. Sturm opts to simply just menacingly stand there.

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「Sturm! Sturm! Sturm! Sturm!」

The men cheer again, clapping and yelling. Ulrick looks down at the sword in utter disbelief, then looks up at his opponent. Neither of them move a single step.

「Ladies and gentlemen, what a fight! Sturm is uninjured, after seemingly being stabbed twice in a row! We all saw the blade sink into him! How did he do it!? And he even returned his opponent's weapon! Who could have expected that, given his previous matches!? Will Ulrick pick the sword back up!?」

The announcer points at Ulrick, who is staring at the announcer with complete terror on his face. Ulrick shakes his head, his long golden hair is unevenly cut short, and missing more than a few locks. He adds a wave of his hands, rising them above his head as he violently shakes it, backstepping away from the sword.

Gonnnnnnnnnnggggggggg…

The gong sounds out again, but is drowned out by the disappointed female groans, moans and jeering. Sturm starts walking up to Ulrick again, much to his and the announcer's panic.

「Contestant Sturm wins! What a match it was- Ahh! Contestant Sturm! If you attack your opponent-!」

The announcer shouts out quickly and points his finger at Sturm, warning the fighter of the consequences of not heeding the gong. The announcer sighs in relief, when he realizes Sturm is simply standing in front of Ulrick. The defeated fencer hugs the arena's wall with his back, trembling with his hands up and cowering away from Sturm.

Ulrick shouts something at Sturm, shaking his head heavily to add conviction to his shouts. Sturm closes his mask in to Ulrick's face. The cloaked man then turns around, and walks towards the exit with accompanying cheers from the male audience. Ulrick collapses onto his knees, punching the ground in apparent tears, swatting the healers' hands away in a tantrum.

…

With a frown, Cycelia watches the golden-haired man stumble out of the arena, wiping his eyes on his arm and visibly sobbing. Her head recoils back when a sausage is placed in front of her pink, down-turned lips.

「Here. Hope it was worth the wait.」

Straf appears beside Cycelia, holding the hotdog in front of her face. She takes it, albeit jiggling her head involuntarily in disbelief.

「Straf! Where were you!? You missed the whole fight!」

She points at the arena, angrily pouting.

「No I didn't, I saw it while I was getting the hotdog.」

Straf shrugs his shoulders and bites onto his own hotdog, sitting down next to Cycelia with his ankle on his knee.

「Really? What happened, then?」

「There was a really long line-」

「In the fight, Straf.」

Cycelia asks, pouting even more as she asks with an incredulous tone. Straf rolls his eyes.

「The blondie got his ass- Family jewels kicked. Serves him right for being such a prick.」

Straf gives Cycelia a very watered-down rundown of the fight, and shrugs. Cycelia sighs, and puts the tip of the sausage into her mouth.

「You know Straf, I'm starting to suspect something.」

She says, then bites down on the hotdog.

「What?」

Straf asks with a tight-lipped grimace on his face. Cycelia chews her hotdog bite in silence, staring in his eyes.

「…What? Come on, don't do the woman thing. I can't read your mind. Yet, at least. Tell me what's up.」

Straf asks again, and Cycelia lets out a suppressed chortle with her mouth full, almost choking. She swallows hastily, trying her best to reset her expression back to the mildly peeved pout from the amused smile he's currently sporting.

「…I think you just don't want to spend time with me here.」

She says, pouting, and bites down onto the hotdog. Straf sighs.

「Ah. That. Look, I've been here almost the entire day yesterday. You got me, I'm bored out of my mind by the tournament arc. I got exactly what I asked for. The brakes on the plot progression are fucking burning, a bunch of characters we will never see again are showing off, and it's going to end exactly as everyone expects it to. With me, winning.」

Straf counts on his fingers, gesturing with his other hand as he explains himself.

「…As I thought.」

She lowers her eyes sad disappointment, and Straf continues his thought.

「Buuut… If you're actually enjoying this, I don't want to pull you out of it. I'll sit with you here, and caaaaaarefully watch the rest of these assholes do backflips and throw daggers around the arena. Just allow me to skip a match or two. Y'know, so I don't piss my pants, or starve to death.」

Straf looks Cycelia in the eyes with a serious face, as her gaze drifts back up. They lock their eyes together, and Straf shrugs.

「…Okay. But, after what I've heard last match from the other spectators, I don't know if I want to be a part of something like this again. The people here were really cruel to that Ulrick man…」

「That's 'cause he's handsome. You can be handsome and get away with it, but you have to be the man's man.」

Straf declares as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

「But- But you're pretty handsome, too…」

Cycelia attempts to sneak in a compliment, Straf wobbles his head left and right as he searches for a counter-argument, not wanting to agree or deny with it.

「Yeah. But I'm humble and down to earth.」

「…I guess so.」

Finally, Straf relents and shrugs. Cycelia nods and slowly slides the hotdog into her mouth with furrowed brows, as Straf watches on.

「You know, I've said this before, but you really shouldn't eat things like that while staring into someone's eyes.」

「Why not?」

She asks, then chomps down on the hotdog and tilts her head.

「Then again, you're biting into it, so I guess you're good. I think. I hope.」

Straf shrugs with his free hand, and looks up at the clear blue sky. Confused, Cycelia tilts her head even harder, squinting with one eye. Straf's forehead wrinkles as he thinks, and he throws the remainder of the hotdog into his mouth. Their attention is drawn back to the arena as the next combatants are being announced.

「Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen! If you thought the last match was intense, then prepare for the next one! We have only a handful of fighters left, and the betting period will be extended considerably, so please do not rush, and do not push!」

The announcer wags his finger for the emphasis. Straf sighs.

「Next up, is… Roland the Wall! Versus! Trollborn Jom!」

「Ugh. More like guy with a shield versus guy with a fucking club. What a spectacle.」

Straf groans as he throws his head back.

「Some of you may already know Roland the Wall…」

「Yeah, I do. I just think he's fucking boring.」

Straf bemoans the lineup as the announcer speaks with his index finger out, delivering trivia.

「…But for those joining us today, Roland says he never leaves his home without his trusty shield! He served in the city guard, in the army, had a short stint as an adventurer, and even a mercenary! All appreciated his protection!」

「How much juice can you squeeze out of a character whose main gimmick is a fucking shield?… Anyway, Lia, who do you think will win this?」

Straf turns to Cycelia, who shrugs her shoulders.

「I'm not quite sure. They're both about evenly matched. I guess it'll be down to luck.」

「Wow. It's that much of a toss-up? Fuck. The club guy won pretty easily last time though, what happened to that?」

Straf asks with crossed arms, slumping back in his seat.

「Yes, but that was against a weaker opponent. He never had a chance, really. The wall-」

「Oh come on, don't call him that. It's just a guy with a shield.」

Straf rolls his eyes, and Cycelia anxiously twiddles with his thumbs in response.

「Well, Roland… He's a tough nut. He's not that good when attacking, but I don't think anyone here is better when defending-」

She glances at Straf and corrects herself. Straf's eyebrows shoot up, and he nods in approval with a grimace.

「…Other than you… When defending themselves.」

「So what you're saying is… The club guy will be banging away at the shield until one of them goes to sleep from exhaustion?」

「Well, I'm fairly sure one of them will get impatient, or slip up…」

「Oh yeah, I'm certain I will get impatient.」

Straf comments as an absolutely massive man with a simple wooden club walks into the arena. The announcer points his palm to the man.

「And here he is! Trollborn Jom! It may surprise you, ladies and gentlemen, but neither of his parents were actual trolls! He is just that big! Jom has said, that he made his club out of a tree! He just chipped the log away with a rock!」

The crowd cheers, Jom doesn't react, and keeps taking heavy, heavy steps towards the center.

「And there is his opponent! Roland the Wall! The bets will close momentarily, but there's plenty of time left, ladies and gentlemen! Remember! Don't rush, don't push!」

The announcer moves his palm to Jom's enemy. A man of similar stature as Jom walks into the arena, with massive metal tower shield in hand. Armored head to toe in plate armor with chainmail filling the gaps, he walks to his spot in the center, and slams the heavy shield down, resting his gauntlets on top of it.

Jom spits in the dirt as he stares down at his opponent. Roland stands with his chin high, waiting for the signal to begin. Straf sighs as he glances at the people flowing up and down the stairs to the betting tables. A few minutes pass, and the men in the arena still are staring down at each other.

「Ladies and gentlemen, the bets will be now closing! Only one of the two giants will be left standing! Roland the Wall! Versus! Trollborn Jom! Combatants, prepare yourselves!」

Jom takes his club into both of his hands as the announcer raises his arms. Roland picks his shield back up and readies it, bracing it against his shoulder. The spectators leave the betting tables and settle into their seats. The announcer throws his arms down.

「Fight!」

Gonnnnnnnnggggggggg…

Even the gong has a mighty ring to it…