Maxime, his face slightly stiff, offered a brief nod toward Leone, who stood opposite him with a piercing gaze. They had crossed paths a few times when he was in the guise of Arsen, making it hard to feign complete ignorance. Along with the usual intense stare from the First Prince, two other sharp gazes caught Maxime's attention, prompting him to turn his head slightly.

“Give it your best,” mouthed Paola from the left side. Her words conveyed a mixture of encouragement and curiosity, her arms crossed, her expression alight with anticipation. Maxime sighed lightly and shifted his gaze to the right.

‘…So it wasn’t by chance that our eyes met.’

The other stare came from Theodora. As their eyes locked again, Theodora quickly averted her gaze, seemingly realizing she had been too overt. A faint blush crept over her face as she returned to a more reserved expression.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” Leone Becker was the first to speak, her tone tinged with familiarity. Maxime, unsure how to respond, simply nodded. Despite the familiar faces and voices, he felt the hostility he’d held upon entering the arena beginning to soften. But it wasn’t time for that yet. He couldn’t afford to let the spark of animosity in his heart die out.

“Both contestants, prepare!”

At the referee’s command, Maxime drew his sword. A blue glow emanated from Leone’s hands, reminding him of her previous bout with Christine. Though months had passed, the memory of their encounter returned to him clearly.

“If I forfeited here, would you grant me a request?” Leone’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. Maxime, slightly taken aback, raised an eyebrow but shook his head, conveying his refusal.

“Even if you forfeit, I don’t think I could agree to your request. It would be better to fight with full effort.” His voice was calm, and Leone, letting out a small sigh, shrugged her shoulders.

“Honestly, I would’ve preferred if we’d met in the finals,” she said, beginning to circulate her mana. A gentle breeze stirred her long orange hair.

“…To be frank, I don’t think I can win against you.”

“At least you’re aware.” Maxime’s reply was deliberately curt, carrying an air of arrogance. Leone’s cheeks reddened at his response. Her reaction suited Maxime just fine.

‘Arrogant… and yet, it suits him.’

Unbeknownst to Maxime, Leone had interpreted his tone in an unexpected way. Oblivious, Maxime gripped his sword firmly, preparing himself for battle. Despite her role as a mage, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Noticing his shift in demeanor, Leone steeled her expression, completing her preparations for spellcasting.

“Match, start!”

As the referee’s voice rang out, Maxime lowered his stance and leaped toward Leone. She frowned as he closed the distance with zero hesitation. Most mages preferred to let their opponents come to them, luring them into their prepared defenses. But his lack of caution implied he saw no need to hold back.

Gritting her teeth, Leone unleashed her magic. The floor of the arena lit up, and spears of light erupted from the ground. Maxime didn’t slow his pace, jumping into the air. Leone immediately targeted him with a second spell. Chains of light, similar to those he’d seen before, lunged at Maxime like snakes, seeking to ensnare him.

‘I’ll take that opening, thank you.’

Leone expected him to invoke his aura, which would render her spells useless. But seeing no immediate sign of this, she pressed forward with her attack, hoping to at least force him into a defensive stance.

With chains above and spears below, Maxime found himself caught in a layered trap. He focused his mind, attuning himself to the flow of mana and the movement of the air. Time seemed to slow, the world around him becoming clearer. He saw the path of the chains, the gaps left by the spears below, and adjusted his body mid-air.

Bang!

With a sound like a popping balloon, Maxime vanished from the air as if weightless, leaving the chains flailing through empty space.

‘Where did he—?’

Leone’s eyes widened as she strained her senses. Losing sight of her opponent, even for a second, was deadly. She withdrew her active spells and channeled all her mana into physical reinforcement.

In the span of a second, her sharp senses detected Maxime’s presence.

Behind.

“Damn—”

Maxime appeared in a rush of wind, his sword extending toward her. Leone spun around without retreating, engaging in close combat. Her right leg swung through the air like a whip, but before she could fully commit to the strike, Maxime grabbed her leg, immobilizing her in mid-kick.

“Diving into close combat so readily is a good approach,” Maxime said, meeting her eyes. She looked up at him, her face flushing red again. She might be angry and embarrassed, but his advice would likely prove useful. To show a bit of kindness to an old comrade, he leaned closer and continued.

“However, that should be a last resort. When you sensed my presence, it would’ve been better to create distance and prepare another spell.”

Watching Leone’s face turn even redder, Maxime felt a pang of guilt. While it was still the preliminaries, here he was, offering advice to someone who was effectively his political opponent. Her anger was understandable.

“Enough, alright? Let me go… I forfeit!” Leone’s voice trembled, and her expression was oddly pitiful. Maxime released her leg, and Leone wobbled briefly before regaining her balance, her face still beet red.

“…The victor, Arsen Bern of the 2nd Guard.”

The referee’s voice sounded almost deflated as he announced the outcome. His expression showed a mix of discomfort and confusion.

“My mission was to make it to the finals,” Leone muttered, her voice hollow.

“You can’t succeed in every mission,” Maxime replied in a firm tone. To his surprise, Leone approached him, extending her hand for a handshake. Despite her apparent anger, she reached out with remarkable composure, and Maxime found himself impressed.

“Well fought.” Her grip lacked strength, and her face flushed once more as they shook hands. As Maxime moved to release her hand, she tightened her grip, causing him to awkwardly continue the handshake longer than expected.

“Until next time,” she murmured before quickly descending the podium. Watching her retreat, Maxime shrugged and followed her down. Paola, having finished her second preliminary match, greeted Leone with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Bang!

A loud sound made Maxime turn to another podium. He saw Theodora’s platinum hair swirling in a mana-fueled storm, her stance more intense than in her previous match.

Perhaps Theodora had found her own motivation.

Maxime observed her defeated opponent, who wore a dazed expression and shook his head, looking utterly drained.

“She’s terrifyingly strong. Did she really end the match with less than three exchanges?”

“So it seems that she’s the frontrunner…”

As the crowd murmured, Theodora descended the podium with a dignified air. Maxime, sensing her irritation rather than her fighting spirit, cocked his head slightly. As she felt his gaze, Theodora glanced in his direction before turning away, a cold expression on her face.

‘…Maybe I was too hard on Leone.’

Maxime sighed, wondering if he should have simply ended the match quickly without involving an old comrade. The day’s matches concluded, and Maxime steeled himself once more. There was still much to accomplish.

“Arsen!”

As Maxime was about to leave the arena, a familiar voice called out. It was the First Prince, Louis, his face lit with a wide, welcoming smile. Seeing Louis’s delighted expression, Maxime couldn’t help but let a small smile slip.

“It’s an honor to see you, Your Highness.”

Louis tapped him on the arm in approval. “I never imagined you’d enter as a contender yourself. I thought you’d participate as a representative of the First Guard.”

“I apologize, Your Highness, for not informing you in advance.”

Louis chuckled, waving it off. “No need to worry. In fact, if I’d known, you’d likely have faced more interference in these preliminaries.”

After a moment’s pause, Louis looked over the dispersing crowd of knights with a sigh. “But it feels as though I’ve burdened you with too much. If only the marquis’s knights had arrived safely…”

His voice trailed off, laced with regret.

“Your Highness, a knight always bears a weight upon their shoulders. No matter how heavy it may be, it will never dull my sword.”

Maxime’s voice was resolute, as much a vow to himself as to Louis.

“If victory is your command, I will serve without hesitation.”

Louis relaxed his tense expression slightly and nodded. “…Yes. I’m confident that, regardless of the opponent, you will carry our banner high. Perhaps you should take a break from our lessons during the tournament? This way, you can focus more comfortably.”

Maxime shook his head at the suggestion. “Unless you are too tired for lessons, Your Highness, our training time is valuable to me as well.”

His words were firm, and Louis, with a soft sigh, responded with a grateful smile.

“You honor me with your words. Yet, I feel as though I’ve left my temporary knight with too few benefits…”

Louis glanced at Maxime’s sword, a simple iron blade worn and battered from countless battles. The weapon seemed on the verge of breaking. For the remaining preliminary rounds and the finals, it would likely be difficult to continue with such a worn sword.

“Your sword… Isn’t it time you replaced it?”

Maxime looked down at his side. The weapon had already shown its age by the time he had delved into the depths of the Magic Tower, as Aron had noted. He was only using it out of necessity, and it could snap at any moment.

“…Yes. It’s time to lay this one to rest.”

Hearing his answer, Louis smiled brightly and offered a proposal.

“In that case, let’s do this. Arsen, I’ll cover any costs—go to the capital’s finest forge and commission a blade suited to your hand. Whatever materials are needed, it should be far superior to what you’re using now.”

Maxime’s face lit up at the offer, and Louis felt a deep satisfaction in finally fulfilling his role as his knight’s lord.

“If they start on it tomorrow, it should just be ready by the finals.”

“I will engrave Your Highness’s kindness into my bones and never forget it.”

Louis nodded, a smile lingering as he replied, “Repay me with victory—that is the duty of a knight, isn’t it?”

Maxime could only respond with a hearty laugh at Louis’s playful answer.