Javier Franco.

Maxime vividly recalled that knight's brutal skill, seen in the preliminary rounds and previous main matches. His sword strikes showed no mercy. Each time one of his duels ended, the arena floor was smeared with the blood of his opponents.

The referee remained silent even as flesh was sliced by Javier’s blade. While the wounds he inflicted weren’t large enough to aim for his opponents' lives, they were never targeted in a way that suggested he was intentionally trying to cripple them either.

"Guess this is perfect timing since I didn’t like him anyway."

Dennis’s lips curled up in a smile as he tapped the tournament bracket with his fingertip, but his eyes held a chilling coldness. Maxime looked at Dennis with concern. Although Dennis's skills were not noticeably inferior to Javier Franco’s, Maxime knew that with equally matched opponents, one could never be too careful.

"Why are you looking at me with that worried face? It’s creepy."

Dennis frowned, waving his hand dismissively at Maxime, who couldn't help but retort with frustration.

"Wouldn’t you worry too if that guy were my opponent?"

"Hey, worrying about juniors is a senior's privilege, kid. Who do you think you are, worrying about me? I should be the one wondering if you’ll even make it to the semifinals."

Dennis grumbled but then grinned. The cold look he’d shown upon seeing Javier Franco’s name had already vanished.

"Whatever tricks that guy tries to pull, I’ll beat him. I’m stronger than you think."

Dennis tapped the lily emblem sewn on the inner pocket of his coat. As a royal guard, he had the confidence to face anyone in the kingdom without fear. His voice held a trace of wounded pride, making Maxime feel a bit apologetic.

"So stop looking so gloomy unless you want to weigh down someone about to fight."

"...I’m sorry."

Trying to lighten the mood, Dennis stretched and turned around.

"Let’s go grab a bite. We can complain about the bracket that’ll have us face each other in the semifinals."

Maxime glanced once more at the tournament bracket, nodding slowly. This arrangement was likely due to Bening's manipulation. A bracket designed to send Theodora straight to the finals and eliminate troublesome knights early. As Maxime clicked his tongue in frustration, Dennis shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter.

"If we meet in the semifinals, don’t expect me to hold back. I may have entered under suspicious circumstances, but as long as I’m here, I want a shot at winning."

Dennis looked at Maxime seriously, and Maxime realized that the emotion in his eyes wasn’t a desire to win but a competitive spark directed at him. Smiling lightly, Maxime replied.

"It won’t be easy, senior. Practice and actual combat are two different things."

"Such confidence from someone who’s never even experienced my blade. That confidence might as well pierce the sky."

Dennis laughed, quickening his pace.

"Let’s go get some meat. Before anything important, you need to eat well."

"Are you paying?"

"Do you think you’ve done something worth me treating you? Beat me in the semifinals, and I’ll buy you a meal. Win the whole thing, and I’ll buy you one more."

With that, Dennis walked ahead, and after watching him for a moment, Maxime shook his head and hurried to follow.

==

"How did it go?"

Leon Bening asked, turning to the witch. Lilia, wearing a bored expression, lightly prodded Javier’s temples as he sat, nearly lifeless. Javier’s head bobbed back and forth like a pendulum under her touch.

"As you ordered, I broadened the curse’s range and reinforced his body with dark magic. He’ll feel no pain, and mana won’t run out. His body will operate beyond human limits."

Stepping away from Javier, Lilia turned to Leon Bening.

"Was all this really necessary? Spells like these aren’t ideal unless it’s for disposable pawns."

"He’s a disposable pawn. This puppet’s skills fall short of Dennis Amber’s, so I’ll use any means necessary to ensure victory."

Leon Bening’s cold gaze fell on Javier Franco. Javier's nature, combined with the magic Lilia used, had turned him into a killing machine.

Ten years ago, he had been an infamous pleasure killer, a rogue knight who eventually landed in Leon Bening’s clutches, becoming nothing more than a puppet with the name Javier Franco. After being used for various unsavory tasks, Javier would be disposed of following this tournament.

Despite his skills, he was a liability; keeping him around could eventually expose Leon. Bening gripped Javier’s head, his eyes devoid of any emotion as he looked down at him.

Eliminate Dennis Amber, the royal guard.

A fatal accident in a duel was always plausible. Any deaths within the tournament were considered the individual’s responsibility. While his own reputation might take a slight hit, he could afford that. It was a perfect chance to sever ties cleanly.

No, what mattered was the next part.

Upon hearing of Dennis Amber’s death, Arsen Bern might react. And if he did, that would open the opportunity to eliminate him as well. Taking out two promising royal guards in one swoop would be a worthwhile gain.

Leon released his grip on Javier’s head. The clarity returned to Javier’s eyes, and he looked at Leon with a twisted expression.

"You called for me, Count?"

The Count, in a flat voice, issued his command to Javier Franco.

"Kill Dennis Amber in the quarterfinals. Inflict a fatal wound on him before he can even think to surrender."

Not that he would likely surrender anyway.

Leon Bening smirked darkly to himself.

==

"-The winner! Arsen Bern of the Second Guard!"

Despite Dennis’s warning that his opponent wouldn’t be easy, Maxime dispatched the knight without much trouble. The knight from the Fourth Guard, Alphons Kiermayer, seemed to have studied Maxime’s fighting style and charged in with aura blazing, but Maxime evaded his attacks with the ease of a matador, leaving Alphons defeated and frustrated.

"Is he really cruising to the semifinals this easily?"

"Yeah, he’s defeated aura-wielding opponents without even using aura himself. If he keeps this up, he could win the whole thing."

As the audience murmured in admiration, they carried their chatter into the next match.

"-The winner! Theodora Bening of the Crow Knights!"

While Arsen Bern’s fight felt like a casual victory, Theodora Bening’s was a display of overwhelming power. Each swing of her blade released aura the same shade as her platinum hair, and her opponents couldn’t even think of resisting before being swept away.

Spectators looked at Theodora’s overwhelming victory in the quarterfinals and muttered amongst themselves.

"It feels like the champion’s already decided. Has there ever been a knight this dominant?"

"Arsen Bern doesn’t seem like an easy opponent either…."

"But skill-based fighters like Arsen Bern have limits. True knights are all about the power of aura."

Of course, that chatter wasn’t lost on the spectators Christine and Charlotte—or on Arsen Bern himself.

"Senior, they’re really underestimating you."

Christine frowned as she looked at Maxime, who nonchalantly shrugged and raised an eyebrow.

"Honestly, this is better than having everyone expect me to win. It’d be hard to hold a sword under all that pressure."

Christine stifled a laugh, amused by his humor.

"As if you wouldn’t handle it just fine."

"I mean, who needs all that support anyway?" he quipped, glancing at Charlotte seated beside Christine. She stared silently at the arena, her mind clearly elsewhere. Maxime could tell what weighed on her.

"I told you he’d be fine and that he’d win. No point worrying and making things harder for him."

Charlotte turned to look at him, a shadow of concern under her brown eyes. She mulled over his words before smiling faintly and nodding.

"You’re right. Worrying won’t help. Dennis has always done things his way."

Despite her words, Charlotte's gaze remained fixed on the arena. Maxime understood her concern, so he said nothing more and joined her in watching. The arena buzzed with anticipation after Theodora’s crushing victory in the quarterfinals. Excited voices debated the upcoming match.

"Now, the real match begins."

"Up until now, it’s felt too one-sided."

As the arena settled, the referee stepped forward, and the crowd, on the edge of their seats, roared with anticipation. The referee, looking around, announced the start of the third quarterfinal match.

"Next up—the Third Guard’s Dennis Amber!"

Maxime watched Dennis enter to thunderous applause. His face showed no sign of tension; it was the same relaxed Dennis as ever, with neatly arranged blond hair and calm blue eyes filled with determination.

"Crescent Knights’ Javier Franco!"

The crowd's volume surged as some cheered wildly while others booed. Javier Franco’s ruthless fighting style had left many in the audience horrified yet captivated.

"Kill him, Javier!"

"I bet my whole fortune on you!"

Though some fans cheered, Javier showed no reaction, his focus solely on Dennis. The two knights locked eyes, their icy glares clashing in the air.

"Dennis…."

Charlotte murmured with a hint of desperation. The referee stepped back, maintaining the distance between the knights. A tension unlike any of the previous quarterfinals swept over the arena like a cold wind. Maxime, looking more tense than in his own match, fixed his gaze on the arena.

"Both knights, ready!"

Dennis sized up his opponent. Javier stood a head taller than him, making him even taller than Maxime, who was already tall. His lanky frame made him appear even larger. Maintaining distance would only give Javier’s long sword an advantage. He wielded a slim blade that matched his lean physique. As Dennis measured him up, Javier’s cold voice broke the silence.

"I’m certain."

Dennis turned, momentarily caught off guard by Javier’s statement.

"You will not defeat me."

"Can’t tell if you’re talking like a person or barking like a dog."

Javier’s expression remained unfazed, ignoring Dennis’s taunt entirely. Then, his lips twisted into a grotesque grin, one that sent a chill down Dennis’s spine.

"How brutally must I kill you to drive Arsen Bern mad?"

Dennis’s face turned cold. Javier’s twisted smile suggested he might break into a maniacal laugh at any moment.

"Quite the creative trash talk. Ever heard of the tournament’s rules?"

Dennis drew his sword. He knew the risks, but a fighter like this had no place in the tournament. Who knows what was going through Leon Bening’s mind? Javier dismissed his wicked smile and drew his sword. Blood from past opponents was crusted onto the blade, unwashed.

"The tournament’s rules mean nothing."

A chilling bloodlust radiated from Javier’s blade, devoid of any emotion save for a faint sense of pleasure hidden behind it.

I can’t let this guy anywhere near Arsen.

Now Dennis had another reason not to lose. He summoned his resolve, matching Javier’s sinister aura with his own, as if their clashing intent was a silent, invisible duel.

The winter wind blew again, tension rising. As the crowd’s cheers and jeers reached their peak, the referee finally raised his hand.

"Match, begin!"

Boom—

Dennis took the initiative, lunging forward with a strike aimed at disrupting Javier’s stance. Javier’s blade wavered dangerously as he blocked Dennis’s assault.

Don’t let him push you. Use his long sword’s reach against him.

Dennis adjusted his grip, resisting the urge to push, which allowed Javier’s blade to slice through empty air. Dennis waited for the slightest opening and drove his sword in to exploit it.

Crack.

A grinding noise filled the air as Javier's sword clashed with Dennis's, blocking his advance. Dennis’s attempt to follow through was stopped as Javier’s blade rose, aiming to slice his wrist.

Clang!

Dennis managed to block the attempt with a surge of strength, and they reset the distance between them. After just one exchange, the crowd’s excitement burned like a furnace. Dennis shook his wrist, feeling the strain from deflecting Javier’s attack.

"Your face shows… discomfort."

Javier spoke with a voice brimming with twisted enjoyment. Dennis chuckled dryly, raising his sword again.

"At least keep your thoughts to yourself."

Javier smirked, lowering his stance, and sprinted forward. His arms moved like whips, unleashing a sharp strike. This was the technique that had left so many opponents bleeding on the floor.

Clang!

Dennis blocked the first attack effortlessly, but Javier’s sword had no weight. Instead, it swept downward, continuing to carve through the air as he advanced. His sword craved flesh, ignoring whatever counterattack his opponent might attempt.

"—!"

The quick, sinister swordplay showed why his previous opponents had spilled so much blood. Dennis, however, read his moves without retreating. To step back now would only open himself up to Javier’s long reach.

Forward.

Dennis took a step closer. Amused, Javier grinned and thrust his sword. Dennis evaded the attacks narrowly, letting them graze him rather than blocking directly.

Dennis swung his blade from below, targeting Javier’s body, but Javier leaned back, evading with eerie flexibility. His arm moved as if it had a life of its own, relentlessly pursuing Dennis.

"Is this really a duel?"

"Those two won’t realize the danger until one of them gets seriously hurt."

The crowd held its breath as the two knights exchanged blows at close range. Rather than the sound of clashing swords, they could only hear the blades slicing through the air. Javier’s sword missed Dennis, and Dennis’s powerful strikes narrowly brushed past Javier’s legs.

They hadn’t struck each other yet, but every move was a gamble with their lives. Dennis’s cold, focused face contrasted sharply with Javier’s grotesque, twisted grin.

"Senior Dennis is strong."

Maxime murmured in admiration, and Charlotte nodded in agreement, though her face held both hope and worry as she watched Dennis intently.

"Dennis is powerful. He’s one of the strongest in our royal guard."

Charlotte, watching Dennis’s movements, spoke as if in prayer. Even as they talked, Dennis continued his fierce exchange with Javier. Neither of them gave an inch. The razor-edge tension of their duel remained unbroken.

"Please, win, Dennis."

Charlotte whispered, her words barely audible. Then,

Boom!

A jarring sound, unlike anything heard in the duel, echoed. Javier Franco tumbled, rolling across the arena floor, but quickly found his footing and stood up again.

"Did Javier get pushed back?"

"It seems Dennis had the upper hand after all."

As the audience buzzed with excitement, someone’s sharp shout cut through.

"No, look over there!"

The crowd’s eyes shifted from Javier Franco to Dennis.

"That…"

The unusual sound was not from a regular clash of swords, but the unmistakable hum of mana, the sound only an aura-infused blade could produce. A sky-blue aura now enveloped Dennis’s blade.

Drip.

Dennis instinctively touched his cheek. Blood trickled from a cut on his face. His cold eyes bore into his opponent. Across from him, Javier Franco, grinning madly, watched Dennis with a blade now coated in aura and caked with dust, a twisted smile spreading as he spoke in a chilling voice.

"You're bleeding."