TOPWL 123

But there was no one nearby but the guards and the weapon smith.

‘Must’ve been my imagination.’

As Yudit tilted his head in doubt, the referee once again signaled the start of the match. Yudit turned his eyes back to the arena. This time, in a rare outcome, a commoner emerged victorious. Though his swordplay was rough, it had a sharp edge—he was likely a mercenary rather than an ordinary man. A roar erupted from the crowd—perhaps he was somewhat famous among the common folk. The man with a scar near his eye grinned broadly as he looked out at the audience.

Several more matches passed, and then a familiar figure entered the arena—Wadiram. His opponent was a man in his mid-thirties, a seasoned mercenary.

“He doesn’t look like he’s from our country…”

“Is he from Herut? His skin looks like milk poured into black tea.”

Comments about Wadiram rang loud and clear, even reaching Yudit on the second floor. There was no way they hadn’t reached Wadiram himself, but he maintained a calm demeanor. Just then, the weapon shop owner cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs—as if mustering every ounce of courage he had.

“Go, go Wadiram—!”

People turned not to Wadiram, but to the weapon smith. His face flushed beet red from the attention, yet he didn’t stop his cheering.

“You can do it—!”

“Win, Wadiram—!”

Yudit chimed in from beside him. The weaponsmith looked at Yudit with teary-eyed gratitude. Yudit gave an awkward smile. His involvement stirred the crowd.

“Prince Yudit is cheering for him?”

“Don’t tell me that Herutian is the Prince’s proxy?”

“The Prince sent a Herutian out as his champion?”

“Is he some famous mercenary?”

Misunderstandings began to pile up. Yudit hadn’t meant to draw this much attention. He glanced at Wadiram with a troubled expression. Then Wadiram waved both hands wildly and beamed.

“Thank you for cheering—! I’ll win for sure!”

He bounced up and down like a puppy in the snow, and his harmless demeanor softened the crowd’s skepticism.

“He’s kind of cute.”

“I’m cheering for him.”

“But he’s Herutian.”

“He’s good-looking though.”

Thankfully, the mood in the arena turned favorable. Yudit felt a wave of relief wash over him. The referee signaled the match to begin. Wadiram’s opponent drew twin swords from behind his back.

Usually, twin swords were thin like rapiers, but his were thick, the kind used to carve through monsters. He licked the surface of his blade and gave a sinister grin before charging at Wadiram. Wadiram blocked one of the swords, and the man immediately thrust the other toward his temple. A short gasp rippled through the crowd—but Wadiram narrowly twisted away in time.

“Dear heavens…”

The weapon smith had his fingers clasped like in prayer, trembling all over. After a few exchanges, Wadiram smiled faintly, as if he’d figured something out. From that moment on, the opponent began to falter. Wadiram started blocking his attacks up close as if he had seen through every move. Perhaps feeling insulted by this, the man snarled and began slashing wildly with both swords.

One of the blades grazed Wadiram’s side. Fortunately, his armor held firm, and the blow had little effect. Still, the man managed to leave several scratches on the armor through persistent attacks.

“That bastard… he’s doing it on purpose…”

Huyan sighed and ran a hand over his face, clearly embarrassed. The man, now thoroughly provoked by Wadiram’s elusive, almost playful defense, spun one of his blades and took a new stance—holding the tip with his thumb, clearly preparing to thrust rather than slash.

Yudit, realizing something was off with Wadiram’s movements, gripped the stone railing with his sweaty hand. Once again, the twin blades came at Wadiram with fierce momentum. Wadiram deflected the one aiming for his neck—but took the stab to his side head-on. The weapon smith shot to his feet, clinging desperately to the edge of the railing.

“Wadiram—!”

His voice was so full of emotion one might mistake them for lovers from a past life.

“Keep quiet. His Highness is present.”

At Huyan’s warning, the weapon shop owner held back further outbursts, though he looked on the verge of tears. Then Wadiram yanked the blade from his armor in one swift motion and tossed it out of the ring. A few knights frowned at his irreverent treatment of the weapon.

What followed made it clear that Wadiram had been holding back all along. He pressed the attack. With only one sword left, the opponent couldn’t keep up with Wadiram’s longsword. He could have aimed for the man’s neck or sword, but instead, Wadiram relentlessly targeted the armor.

Eventually, the thick leather armor reinforced with cowhide tore along the sword’s path. The force of the tear knocked the man backward. Smiling brightly like someone who had achieved their goal, Wadiram brought his sword to the man’s neck in the blink of an eye.

The man, breathing heavily from where he sat, glared at him—then slowly raised both hands. He conceded. The referee declared Wadiram the victor.

“What kind of swordsmanship was that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That was incredible. He was toying with the guy. He could’ve ended it way earlier—why didn’t he?”

Sweat-soaked, Wadiram waved to the stands. The cheers were louder than before. As the crowd began to quiet down, Wadiram turned to his opponent and held out his hand.

“It was good armor, but it seems it wasn’t enough. Come to District 3 of Bern. I’ll introduce you to a fine armor shop!”

With that, Wadiram puffed out his chest, proudly showing off his armor. He was fluent—clear enough for everyone to understand. Only then did Yudit realize that Wadiram had dragged out the fight on purpose, all to promote the monster hide armor. Huyan, mortified, buried his face in his hands.

“Not all Herutians are like that. Wadiram… is one of the more peculiar ones,” Huyan said, as if offering an excuse to Yudit.

Yudit nodded awkwardly. If people like that were truly common, Huyan would’ve long since defected to another country. The man gave a faint chuckle, then clasped Wadiram’s hand and stood up.

“Well fought.”

The warmth of the scene brought smiles to the faces around the arena.

“Mister—! I won—!”

Wadiram waved at the weapon smith. The man flailed his arms in response, as if returning a lover’s call. His face bore the expression of someone being proposed to, and a rosy flush bloomed on his wrinkled cheeks. Yudit had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“There’s all sorts of fun stuff in District 3 of Bern! Make sure to visit—!”

Wadiram waved his arms enthusiastically. The sight of a foreigner promoting his adopted country brought laughter from the crowd.

“That’s it. I’m rooting for him.”

“Me too. He’s too adorable. Think he has a lover?”

Though the match had been a bit flashy and transparent in its motives, Wadiram’s skill and exotic looks more than made up for it. He winked at Yudit, then exited the arena with the man he’d fought. Servants quickly began tidying the grounds.

As soon as the servants cleared out, the next contestant entered. Since this was still the preliminaries, the matches seemed to be running quickly, without much pause for reflection.

This time, the person entering the arena was someone Yudit knew well—Khalid. Yudit fixed his gaze on him. Just standing there on the field, Khalid exuded a formidable presence. The spectators, too, appeared tense without quite knowing why as they looked at him.

Khalid’s first opponent was the eldest son of a knightly house. Judging by his youthful face, he couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He likely wasn’t here to win but to gain experience. Hearing that his first opponent was Khalid had clearly rattled him—his shoulders were stiff with tension.

Before the boy had a chance to relax, the flag was raised. The match began.

“Hyaaah!”

Unable to bear the mounting pressure in the silence, the boy shouted as he charged forward. Khalid stood his ground, watching calmly as the boy approached. In the face of that unshaken stillness, it was the boy who grew frightened. Right before striking, he hastily pulled back. It seemed something had spooked him. Khalid smiled.

“Good instincts.”

The boy, having backed away, couldn’t bring himself to charge again. He lingered at a distance, circling.

“Not coming?”

“……”

“Then I will.”

It looked like he only took a single step—but in the blink of an eye, the distance between them vanished. It was almost too fast to believe. Khalid’s blade shot toward the boy’s side.