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Chapter 209: Tournament: Valeria (2)

Valeria sized up her opponent, her gaze narrowing as she took in the spear he held with a practiced grip. The polished weapon glinted under the sunlight, each movement revealing the sharp, deliberate stance of a trained spearman.

'It's been a while since I last faced a spear…'

she thought, feeling a flicker of anticipation.

She remembered her sparring with one of her family's knights, though those sessions felt like memories from another time. Her opponent today was no ally—this man carried the weapon not for practice, but with the intent to win, to dominate.

Indeed. Even from the start, his face was focused and he did not speak. She thought, most fighters were arrogant, but it seemed this one was not to be the one to speak.

'Careful, Valeria.'

"START!"

The moment the shout of the referee came, the man wasted no time, thrusting forward with the spear in a quick jab, testing her defenses.

'Quick!'

SWOOSH!

She sidestepped, narrowly dodging the strike, her body flowing with the familiarity of her training. His movements were fluid, each strike aimed with the precision and control that came with experience.

'Not an amateur,'

she noted, adjusting her stance, her hands firm on her Zweihander.

He moved with a spearman's grace, his spear striking out in a flurry of quick, measured attacks that forced her to stay on the defensive.

SWOOSH! SWOOSH!

The spear's reach kept her from closing the gap, and she realized that each strike was designed to keep her in place, to restrict her movement.

As his next strike shot toward her, she shifted her weight, sidestepping and swinging her Zweihander in a swift, precise arc to deflect the spear.

CLANK!

Their weapons clashed with a sharp ring, the impact sending a jolt up her arms, but she held her ground.

Her opponent's eyes glinted, a silent acknowledgment of her strength, and he pressed forward, his spear's tip glowing faintly with mana. He lunged again, aiming for her shoulder in a move meant to exploit any opening in her defenses.

'Change the stance.'

Valeria took a steadying breath, her gaze sharpening as she readied herself.

'This one's no joke,'

she thought, recognizing the skill in her opponent's stance and the controlled precision behind each of his strikes. She would need to channel the foundation of her family's teachings.

"Sword of Olarion. Form One—"

she murmured, grounding herself as her body flowed into the practiced stance.

With a shift in her weight, she let her mana channel through her body and into her Zweihander, her grip firm as her aura aligned with the weapon's heft. Her sword moved in sync with her momentum, building the power behind her next swing. The Zweihander, though large, now felt balanced, almost weightless in her hands.

The spearman's gaze narrowed as he sensed the shift, and he lunged forward, his spear glowing as he aimed for her shoulder with a controlled, calculated thrust.

Valeria swung in a wide arc, her sword intercepting his spear with a resounding.

CLANK!

Mana clashed in a visible spark of energy, her Zweihander overwhelming the force behind his weapon. She felt him falter, his stance breaking as his spear buckled under the weight and momentum of her swing.

Without missing a beat, Valeria rotated her body, twisting her sword at a reverse angle, her form fluid as she prepared for her next strike.

The man's eyes widened in realization, and he attempted to regain his ground by throwing a quick kick toward her midsection. But Valeria's sword moved faster, the momentum of her rotation carrying the Zweihander down in a swift, powerful swing that forced him to stumble back.

"Tsk."

The man steadied himself, his stance widening as he channeled mana into his arms, the glow spreading down to his hands gripping the spear.

With a grunt of determination, he pulled the spear back, his feet digging into the ground to regain balance. His eyes met Valeria's, glinting with the recognition of her strength, but she saw his resolve harden as he prepared to meet her head-on.

'Keep the momentum,'

she reminded herself, her own mana pulsing through her Zweihander.

She moved forward with purpose, her body flowing into another powerful swing. The man's spear shimmered with mana as he swept it across his front, a wide arc designed to intercept her approach and force her back.

But Valeria was ready.

–CLANK!

As his spear swung forward, she met it halfway, her Zweihander deflecting his weapon with a sharp clash of mana-infused steel. The impact rang out, but she kept her balance, using her body's momentum to absorb the force and redirect it. The deflection threw his spear just enough off course to prevent him from resetting his stance.

SWOOSH!

In a fluid motion, Valeria stepped forward with her right leg, her grip steady as she swung her sword in a seamless arc from the lower right, bringing it up and across with precision and force.

SLASH!

Her blade cut through the air, aimed squarely at her opponent, who struggled to recover from the unexpected turn of her attack.

Her Zweihander's edge gleamed as it swept toward him, carrying all the weight of her movement and the relentless power of her family's technique. The spearman's eyes widened in realization, the speed of her strike leaving him no time to counter.

SPURT!

Valeria's Zweihander cut through the air with fierce swiftness, its edge cleaving through the mana barrier protecting her opponent.

The blade sliced into his chest, the sharp impact breaking his defenses and sending a spurt of blood into the air. Her strike left a deep gash, and he staggered backward, his face twisted in pain as he fought to maintain his stance.

THUD!

He struggled to steady himself, his legs trembling as he tried to raise his spear. But Valeria was already there, her Zweihander poised at his neck, her expression calm yet unyielding.

The man coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and he managed a pained yet resolute smile. "I… admit defeat," he said, his voice rough as he lowered his spear in surrender.

Valeria retracted her blade, stepping back with controlled grace. Her opponent met her gaze, a sigh escaping him as he surveyed his own wounds, the blood staining his tunic.

"You know," he said with a weary smile, "it's my unlucky day, facing a noble in disguise. Had I known, I might have been better prepared… perhaps even brought a sturdier spear."

He paused, glancing up at her with a glint of respect despite his weakened state. "It's truly a pity, little Lady Valeria. I hope the fight was to your liking?"

"….." Looking at the man, Valeria could only purse her lips.

'Was it really that obvious?'

She asked herself, not expecting to be discovered this fast. Still, she felt obliged to answer, as her opponent indeed fought well.

She inclined her head, a hint of respect in her expression. "It was," she replied, her voice steady and calm.

"I am glad then."

Valeria allowed herself a rare, small smile as she looked at her opponent, her appreciation subtle yet sincere. He had fought well, and despite his clear recognition of her skill—and perhaps her background—he had remained resolute. She inclined her head once more, acknowledging him fully before she turned away.

A quick scan of the stands brought her eyes to where Lucavion had been standing earlier, his shadow unmistakable even among the crowd. But now, as she searched for him, he was nowhere in sight. She bit back a faint sigh, half-annoyed by his vanishing act, though something told her he'd be waiting just outside the arena, his familiar smirk already forming.

As she made her way through the exit, weaving past the congratulatory nods and approving murmurs of the other competitors and spectators, Valeria's thoughts returned to her duel.

Despite its intensity, there had been a strange ease in her movements today, a sense of clarity that had steadied her hands and guided each strike. Was it just the buildup of her training—or had Lucavion's words managed to weave into her mind in some unspoken way?

The cool mid-afternoon air washed over her as she stepped outside. And there, leaning casually against a stone pillar, was Lucavion, arms crossed, his expression relaxed and faintly amused as though he had all the time in the world.

"Finished admiring your handiwork?" he asked with a grin, pushing himself off the pillar. His tone was teasing, but there was an unmistakable hint of respect in his gaze.

"Didn't I tell you I don't need pointers from you?" she replied, her voice carrying just a touch of mock disdain as she stepped closer, yet she couldn't help the faint curve of her lips as she looked at him.

"Yep, yep….You don't, you don't." he chuckled, matching her pace as they walked. "Let's grab something to eat, I am hungry."

Valeria rolled her eyes, but the faint warmth of his presence lingered as they made their way down the bustling path, leaving the arena behind with a strange sense of ease between them.

Chapter 210: Dumpling

On the other hand, when Lucavion and Valeria left, the battles continued in the arena.

The place buzzed with the energy of the crowd, a sea of faces blurring together, all waiting to witness the next spectacle.

The young boy stood in the ring, his small frame cloaked in a dark hood, shadows concealing his face from those who watched. Around him, the dusty ground was marked by the footprints of countless warriors who had already fought—and fallen.

Across from him, his opponent, a towering man clad in chainmail and wielding a jagged sword, sneered down at him, lips curling in contempt.

"Heh…..I smell a beast kin here. How dare a likes you show your face here, after all the things you have done?"

The boy's shoulders stiffened at the man's words. His hood had slipped just enough for his ears to peek through—small, furred, with a slight taper that marked him unmistakably as one of the beast kin. A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd, the familiar rumble of resentment and disgust bubbling up as they recognized what he was.

The man sneered, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "A filthy beast kin here, of all places," he spat, his voice thick with disdain. "You creatures crawl through the dirt, and yet you think you can stand here? Among humans?"

The boy's hands clenched at his sides, but he remained silent, his eyes darkening as he fought to keep his emotions hidden. Beneath the quiet obedience, though, his thoughts seethed.

All the things we've done?

He thought bitterly, his jaw tightening.

It is you, humans, who turned our homes to ash, who forced us to fight to survive.

But his lips remained sealed. His orders were clear: do as he was told, follow the plan, and make it through each round. He could feel the weight of those orders, as heavy as chains, binding him to silence. All he could do now was fight.

The man laughed, his voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. "Look at you, too scared to even answer. But I'll make sure you never show your face here again." He raised his jagged sword, the blade glinting menacingly in the arena's light. "After all, no one will miss a beast kin."

The boy's face remained blank, betraying none of the anger he felt. He inhaled slowly, centering himself as he had been taught, pushing down his rage and letting only focus remain. This was not a battle of pride. He was here because he had to be, not because he wanted to prove himself to any of them. His master's voice echoed in his mind, reminding him of what awaited if he failed.

With a slow, measured movement, he lowered into a stance, his small frame deceptively still, his balance poised and unwavering. The man, his towering figure blocking out part of the crowd's view, scoffed at the sight, mistaking stillness for fear.

"Ready yourself, beast," the man sneered, charging forward.

The boy's eyes sharpened. He knew he could not afford a mistake. Not now, not with everything at stake.

He waited for the man's approach, every step vibrating in the ground beneath his feet, every sound amplifying his senses.

As the man swung his sword down, powerful but unrestrained, the boy moved. He sidestepped swiftly, evading the blow as the blade struck empty ground. He pivoted, closing the distance, and delivered a precise kick to the man's knee, forcing him to stumble.

The crowd gasped, surprised by the boy's speed, but the boy didn't react. He was locked in his own focus, his silent determination driving him forward, his thoughts a steady, unyielding rhythm.

I can't lose,

he reminded himself.

For them, I have to win.

*******

As Valeria and Lucavion strolled along Andelheim's lively streets, a rare quiet lingered between them.

Some spectators chattering about the tournament, and musicians striking cheerful chords filled the space around them, yet neither seemed compelled to break the silence.

Valeria's thoughts flitted back to her recent duel, her opponent's unexpected respect evident in his parting words. She hadn't anticipated her identity being discovered so quickly, and his respectful surrender had been a surprise.

Was she that obvious?

Or was there something more subtle that betrayed her, some mark of nobility she couldn't conceal? Her gaze drifted to the people thronging around them, unaware of the inner questions that shadowed her thoughts.

Beside her, Lucavion maintained his usual calm, but his silence hinted at an uncharacteristic restraint. He seemed content to let her mind wander, with no prodding remarks or playful comments to interrupt. It was odd—and, truthfully, Valeria wasn't certain how she felt about it.

His usual banter often forced her to defend herself or reevaluate her perspective, something she had begrudgingly begun to value.

A fleeting image of him leaning against the arena pillar drifted into her mind—relaxed, entirely unfazed by the intensity of her duel. She couldn't help but recall the knowing glint in his eye as if he'd already known how the fight would end.

That infuriating confidence of his, so reckless yet unshakable, somehow worked in his favor more often than it should.

Just ahead, the warm scent of spices and roasting meats wafted from a food stall, interrupting her reflections.

She caught Lucavion glancing in the same direction, his casual demeanor not entirely hiding his interest in the food.

But it was a little different.

He was glaring—not at anyone in particular, but at the food itself, as though it had personally offended him. She blinked, studying him more closely. It was strange to see him this way; he was usually so relaxed, his smirk ever-present, his eyes light with mischief. But now, there was nothing of the usual playfulness in his face. His eyes had narrowed with an edge that almost startled her.

'Hmm?'

Following his gaze, Valeria looked toward the stall to see what had so fully captured his attention. Her eyes landed on a tray of steaming, delicately spiced dumplings, served with a side of tangy sauce.

Lirith Dumplings

—a rare delicacy from the Loria Empire.

It was a dish known for its tender meat filling, aromatic with spices native to Loria. And even though some people would make it in the Arcanis Empire, it was not a cultural thing to do.

But the main point was, that it wasn't exactly the kind of thing that would normally evoke such a reaction. She frowned slightly, her curiosity deepening.

"Is there… something wrong with the dumplings?" she asked, attempting a casual tone as she observed his unusually intense glare.

"Ah…." And then, Lucavion seemed to come into his senses once again, as he looked into her eyes.

His gaze softened slightly, and he scoffed, though it felt like a cover. "Nothing wrong," he replied lightly, but his eyes lingered on the food a moment longer before he turned back to her, his familiar grin resurfacing as if nothing had happened.

"Really?" She tilted her head, not quite believing him.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

"Yep. Just remembered something, that's all."

Valeria held his gaze for a moment, scrutinizing him with the same sharpness she might have reserved for a sparring partner. She doubted his nonchalant reply; the intense reaction had been far too visceral to be dismissed so easily. But, as always, Lucavion met her glare with unbothered ease, a faint smile playing at his lips as if daring her to press further.

Finally, she let out a small, resigned sigh and stepped forward, intending to join the queue. If he didn't want to talk about it, fine. But the dumplings had clearly triggered something, even if he was loath to admit it.

Just as she took her first step, his hand closed firmly around her arm.

"Don't," he murmured, his tone low but steady.

She raised an eyebrow, glancing down at his hand on her arm. "Hmm?"

Lucavion released her with a quick nod, and she noticed a flicker of something unguarded in his expression, gone almost as soon as it appeared. "Let's go and see Miss Iron Matron," he said, his voice regaining its usual casual lilt. "Suddenly, I feel like eating some real meat."

Valeria narrowed her eyes, processing his abrupt change in direction. He hadn't spoken of the innkeeper since they'd visited days ago, but now, it seemed he had decided on her tavern as their next stop.

With a slight huff, she relented. "Lead the way then. But we're not leaving before you tell me what all that was about."

Lucavion chuckled softly, brushing her off with his usual ease. "Ahaha… it really is nothing to worry about," he replied, the lightness in his tone betraying none of the sharp intensity she'd just witnessed.

Valeria scoffed, crossing her arms as they walked. "Nothing to worry about? Then why did you react like that—as if you'd seen a ghost?"

He shot her a sidelong glance, an almost mischievous gleam returning to his eyes. "And what if I had seen a ghost?" he asked, his tone teasing yet with an undercurrent of something more enigmatic. "Then what, my Lady Valeria?"

She took a subtle step to widen the distance between them, giving him a wary look. "Then I'll start worrying about your mental health," she replied with a faint smile, her voice edged with mock concern.

Lucavion's lips quirked into a smile, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Maybe you should," he replied with a shrug, his tone both dismissive and oddly sincere.

Valeria raised an eyebrow, searching his expression. His usual banter felt different today—layered, evasive. She matched his casual stride, keeping her suspicion tempered for now, though her curiosity simmered beneath the surface.

Chapter 211: First Title

Just like that, the tournament continued, the days slipping by in a blur of cheers, strikes, and fierce clashes of steel.

Lucavion watched, keenly attuned to the rhythm of each match, his own and Valeria's, as their respective paths wove through the week's endless surge of contenders.

His third opponent had been a swordsman, an early 3-star. The man held his ground well, skilled in blade techniques meant to parry and counter, but Lucavion had dispatched him with minimal effort, relying more on speed and precision than strength.

The bout was over in moments, his opponent unable to keep up with Lucavion's swift footwork and confident, almost mocking, ease. Lucavion left the arena that time with hardly a drop of sweat, his amusement barely contained as he flashed the crowd his signature smirk on his way out.

For Valeria, though, her third opponent had been a step up—a mid-3-star fighter, wielding a heavy ax and an even heavier aura. Lucavion noted her cautious stance, every move deliberately controlled as she faced him.

The ax-wielder was unrelenting, his strikes coming down in massive arcs that shook the ground with each miss.

But Valeria held her ground, her form graceful and precise, meeting each of his strikes with a calculated maneuver that kept her just a breath out of reach. By the end, as she delivered the final, decisive blow, Lucavion could see her confidence had grown, her tension melting as she adapted to the rhythm of the match.

And between the matches, the two continued spending time together. Lucavion himself had changed the inn that he was staying in and started staying in the same inn that Valeria was staying.

At the start, Valeria did not like that fact and felt like he was being clingy.

Or at least, that was how she had shown outside, though inwardly she had already gotten accustomed, maybe even becoming overly familiar, with his presence.

And then, his fourth opponent came.

A mid 3-star from a reputed Adventurer Party, took the field, Lucavion's smirk widened. The fighter, more accomplished and visibly cautious, took his time with each move, assessing Lucavion's casual stance and underestimating his intent.

The duel stretched longer than Lucavion expected, but he enjoyed it, enjoying the thrill of each blocked strike, each feint that led his opponent into another trap. When he finally bested him, the crowd erupted, some clearly surprised by how swiftly he'd handled someone of such rank.

On the other hand, Valeria's fourth match, however, was more challenging. Her opponent, an early 3-star, looked to be an easy victory—at first. But she quickly realized that his cultivation level belied a mastery of technique that was uncommonly sharp. Her swordsmanship was fluid and unpredictable, shifting patterns in mid-strike with a swiftness that tested her ability to anticipate.

She blocked and dodged, moving with increased speed, but her opponent's strikes only seemed to grow more complex, weaving attacks that forced her into the defensive.

Lucavion, watching from the stands, saw the frustration simmer beneath her otherwise steady movements.

She was learning, each deflected blow adding to her rhythm, adjusting to his unpredictable style as she found openings she hadn't noticed before.

Eventually, with a decisive parry and a pivot, she brought her sword down in a single, clear strike that ended the fight. She'd won, but he could see she wasn't satisfied with herself, her lips pressed into a thin line as she left the field.

*******

The crowds had begun to dissipate as evening draped itself over the city, casting warm light across cobbled streets and the faint glow of lanterns flickering in shop windows. Lucavion walked beside Valeria, his usual lightheartedness barely concealed behind a curious glance her way every few steps. She, however, was quiet, her gaze fixed forward, her lips pressed into that familiar tight line he'd noticed after her match.

As they left the arena together, Lucavion walked beside Valeria with an easy stride, glancing at her tense expression, lips pressed in the same way they'd been since her fourth match ended. The sunset bathed the city in a golden glow, but it did little to soften the determined set of her jaw, her gaze fixed forward.

After a few beats of silence, he leaned closer, his voice light with a teasing edge. "Now, now, Valeria, don't tell me you're sulking over today's match. You really did put on quite a show." His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was a hint of genuine admiration beneath it.

Valeria shot him a sideways glance, her eyes narrowing just slightly. "I'm not sulking," she muttered, though her tone betrayed the edge of irritation. "I just... could have handled that differently."

"Could have?" Lucavion raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "You practically danced around that guy. Had him right where you wanted, didn't you?"

She looked ahead, her expression not softening. "He was sharper than I expected, that's all. His skill caught me off guard, which shouldn't have happened."

Lucavion couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. "Valeria, that's called adapting. You adjusted, found an opening, and won. Don't beat yourself up just because it wasn't perfect."

Valeria's lips pressed even tighter, but she didn't answer right away. There was something in his words that struck at her usual armor. The silence stretched between them as they wove through the bustling streets, the city alive with the energy of the tournament's ongoing thrill.

They walked on in silence, Valeria's thoughts churning beneath her composed exterior. Though she tried to shrug off his praise, the truth of it made her uneasy. Watching Lucavion in his matches over the past days had unsettled her in ways she hadn't expected. His effortless precision, his unfazed smirk as he dismantled his opponents with a confidence that bordered on arrogance—it was a reminder, again and again, of the gap between them.

And that, she thought bitterly, was why she was not happy.

After a beat, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, and the casual way he seemed to move through the world. He walked as if every street, every shadow, and every opponent he faced was just another piece of his playground.

'Sigh…..Like, why am I even competing with this guy?'

When she asked this question to herself, she could find the answer. She just wanted to beat him, be better than him. To not look down on him, but she just saw him as a rival.

Was there supposed to be a reason for that? She did not know.

Though Lucavion alone was not the case. The disciples of the well-known sects and some others also caught her attention quite much.

They were all strong and she was slightly feeling anxious at this point, feeling like she could lose a fight at any moment and she would lose this chance to prove herself and her name.

As they continued down the bustling streets, the city's evening glow cast a warm hue over the crowd filtering around them. The murmurs grew, faint at first, just threads of conversation weaving through the noise, until a few words caught their ears.

"…did you see the Pink Knight today? That last match—she was incredible. They say she's the Olarion heir, you know, from the noble family."

"Yeah, Valeria Olarion. It's not just her looks with that pink hair—she has skill, too. She's got a reputation to uphold, after all…"

Valeria's shoulders tensed slightly, her jaw set as she kept her eyes fixed ahead, yet it was clear the talk hadn't escaped her. Lucavion, catching her change in posture, smirked, his own attention drifting as he caught snippets about himself.

"…heard about him too—the one from Rackenshore, right? Took out those bandits single-handedly, or so they say. Bit too smug if you ask me, but that man fights like a shadow—no wasted movements, no mercy."

"Yeah, they've started calling him the Phantom Blade—all finesse, no hesitation. It's like he's barely putting in effort…"

The corner of Lucavion's mouth curved up as he absorbed the new moniker, clearly amused, yet he kept his attention on Valeria, who seemed to ignore the whispers about herself. He leaned a bit closer, lowering his voice, his tone as teasing as ever.

"So, the Pink Knight, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Quite the title. Seems you've made quite the impression."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Valeria's lips despite herself. She'd been waiting for this, hadn't she? Recognition. She was no stranger to expectations, but hearing her name pass through the mouths of strangers, seeing the respect gleam in their eyes as they spoke of her skill—it was a different feeling entirely. She'd finally begun to make a name for herself, one she was building with her own two hands.

But alongside that warmth, an unmistakable weight settled on her shoulders. The mention of her family name brought with it a heavy reminder. Now, her every step in this tournament would carry the legacy of the Olarion family. She couldn't afford missteps or near-victories; each win had to be decisive, unmistakable. Anything less would cast doubt, not only on her but on her family's reputation.

She glanced over at Lucavion, catching his smirk. "The Pink Knight," she murmured, almost to herself. "It does have a certain ring to it."

"Doesn't it?" Lucavion's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I'd say it suits you quite well—though 'Olarion's Heir' certainly adds a nice layer of weight, wouldn't you say?"

Valeria's lips pressed together, the hint of a smile faltering. "Yes, I'm sure that's the part people will be most interested in. Valeria Olarion, heir to the Olarion family, the duty-bound knight who simply must live up to the family's prestige." Her voice held an edge of dry humor, though her shoulders had tightened once more.

Lucavion shrugged, unconcerned. "And what's wrong with that? Isn't that why you're here in the first place? To make sure everyone knows you're more than just a name?"

She sighed softly, letting his words sink in. "True."

Since she could not refute it.

CREAK!

Just like that, they entered the same inn that they had been eating in for the past few days.

The tavern belonging to Iron Matron.

Chapter 212: Lucavion! Come with us!

As they stepped inside, the familiar creak of the Iron Matron's heavy wooden door swung shut behind them. The warm, cozy hum of the inn embraced them, the smell of roasted meats and herbs mingling with the low murmur of voices from other patrons.

Valeria glanced around, instinctively scouting for an ideal seat and, spotting one by the fire, made her way to the left side of the inn. Meanwhile, Lucavion drifted toward a different corner on the right, drawn to the quiet and slightly secluded booth by the window.

"Perfect spot," "This place seems fine," they both muttered under their breath, their voices overlapping as they looked at each other, realizing their divided choices.

Lucavion's lips twitched with amusement, but instead of speaking, he turned and crossed over to where Valeria stood. He gave her a small nod, then sat down at the table she'd chosen, placing his arms leisurely on the table, watching her with that faintly knowing smirk. Valeria, after a brief hesitation, took the seat across from him, her gaze shifting between the spot she'd originally noticed by the fire and the table they now occupied.

"Second thoughts, hm?" Lucavion murmured, eyeing her expression as if reading her thoughts.

Valeria straightened her posture, waving off his comment with a flick of her hand. "I made my choice," she said, lifting her chin, though her gaze darted again, almost unconsciously, to the warmer spot she had reluctantly given up.

"Ah, but I don't think you're entirely satisfied with it," Lucavion observed with a grin, stretching one arm casually over the back of the chair. "We could always sit there instead."

"No," she replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I'm fine here. This spot is just as good as any other."

Lucavion chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, I can't have you sitting there, pouting over a better choice. Come on—follow me." He stood, gesturing with a lazy sweep of his arm toward the fireside table.

Valeria opened her mouth to protest, but the faint smirk on his lips said he'd already won. Huffing softly, she rose and strode to the fireside table, determined to sit without a hint of hesitation, though the faintest hint of color rose to her cheeks.

Once settled, Valeria felt the warmth of the fire settle around her, and she glanced over at Lucavion with a glint of appreciation, though her expression remained composed. "Happy now?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Lucavion's grin only grew. "Very."

On the other hand, as Lucavion and Valeria settled by the fireside table, a familiar figure approached them—Jorkin, a stout man with a calm, dependable demeanor and a knack for remembering patrons' preferences.

He was one of the more seasoned workers at the Iron Matron and had already marked both Lucavion and Valeria as distinguished guests, owing to their frequent visits and, more importantly, the Iron Matron's unofficial endorsement to treat them well.

"Well, well," Jorkin greeted them, his voice a low rumble as he stopped beside their table. "I see our favorite fighters have found the best seat in the house tonight." He cast a quick glance between them, his eyes twinkling with a kind of knowing amusement.

"…." Valeria nodded curtly. She was still not comfortable with the hospitality that they were receiving, since she couldn't quite understand the reason.

It all happened even before when her name was spread, as when she followed Lucavion here, suddenly the treatment was different. She asked him what this was about, but she didn't get an answer as usual.

Lucavion leaned back, his usual grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, Mister Jorkin, you make it sound as if we're royalty," he drawled, glancing over at Valeria. "Or perhaps you're just thrilled we're keeping your inn in business with our 'fighting spirit,' eh?"

Jorkin chuckled, unfazed by Lucavion's teasing. "Well, you indeed bring a certain light to this place. But mate, you seem to get yourself a new alias. Phantom Blade?"

Lucavion's grin widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying Jorkin's comment. "Ah, the Phantom Blade, is it? Seems I'm collecting titles these days," he remarked, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "Though you know how these things go—titles come and go as fast as the next fight."

Valeria's gaze flicked to him, arching an eyebrow. "Dramatic," she murmured, her tone laced with an edge of skepticism.

Lucavion shrugged, entirely unbothered. "Dramatic, maybe, but it keeps things interesting. People love a mystery, after all. And if it gives them something to talk about while they sip their ale, who am I to disappoint?" He shot her a sidelong glance, clearly anticipating some jab from her.

Valeria didn't disappoint. "Interesting how you talk about 'titles' as if they're little favors you're granting the public," she replied, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Maybe you're just enjoying it more than you let on."

"Now, now, I'd hardly call it enjoying," he drawled, though the amusement never left his face. "More like... adapting. I find it practical to let people's imaginations do the work for me. Easier that way."

She shook her head slightly, unable to hide the faintest smile as she leaned back. "Adapt all you want, Lucavion, but you'd better be ready to live up to this 'phantom' business."

"Why should I? If I don't live up to that name, people will find a new one for me. Eventually, I will get a title that will be fitting for me."

"Humph. You have an answer for everything."

"I tend to think a lot to myself."

Seeing the two talking to each other, Jorkin just sighed and returned with their orders, setting down the steaming bowls of venison stew along with Lucavion's ale and Valeria's water. "Enjoy your meal, Phantom Blade," he quipped with a grin, clearly amused at the moniker's growing popularity.

Valeria's gaze tightened, her hand instinctively drifting toward the hilt of her sword as she watched the approaching figures. The Cloud Heavens Sect disciples moved with a calculated poise, their gazes steady as they cut through the bustle of the inn. They hadn't approached her since the last incident, but their presence now seemed anything but casual. Her jaw set, ready for whatever confrontation they might bring.

Across the table, Lucavion remained unruffled, casually lifting his ale to his lips as if completely oblivious to the tension thickening in the air. But Valeria knew better; his relaxed demeanor was a facade. His eyes held a faint glimmer, taking in the group with a calm sharpness that belied his outward ease.

The lead disciple stopped just a few paces from their table, bowing with a shallow respect that felt almost perfunctory.

But contrary to what she had expected, this time their words were different.

"You, Lucavion. Come with us, we need to talk."

This time, their target was Lucavion.

********

Over the past few days, the disciples of the Cloud Heavens Sect had been closely observing Lucavion, their eyes trained on his every move.

Initially, their interest had been sparked by his unexpected interruption during their first encounter with Valeria, a disruption they had dismissed as little more than arrogance from an upstart.

But as the tournament continued, and as word of Lucavion's prowess spread through the city, their perceptions began to shift. What they had brushed off as bravado was now revealing itself as something else entirely—skill, precision, and an unsettling ease that only deepened their wariness.

At first, they'd tried subtle ways to undermine him. Knowing Lucavion's next opponents, they had discreetly arranged for those challengers to receive high-quality weapons, each imbued with mana to give them an edge.

But despite their careful meddling, Lucavion had dismissed his opponents with effortless precision, not once allowing them to push him past a few calculated moves. Their tactics, which had worked countless times before, had failed against him, fueling both frustration and unease among the disciples.

Each victory he secured in the arena only solidified his reputation, whispers of his "Phantom Blade" moniker filling the city's taverns and streets.

It was only after a few particularly swift victories that they began to recognize the true threat Lucavion posed.

His opponents left the arena visibly shaken, muttering of an almost supernatural finesse—of how he seemed to predict their moves before they even struck. Lucavion's skill was becoming more than a rumor; it was proving a barrier between them and their intentions.

The Cloud Heavens Sect disciples, each accustomed to power and respect, found themselves grappling with a growing sense of inadequacy as they watched him dominate the tournament.

And…..the final blow to their patience came when the tournament's top thirty-two competitors were announced.

Their sect had only six disciples left in the tournament, which was not bad considering its scale, as more than five hundred people were rumored to have joined.

It was normal for each of their sect's six disciples who had advanced would face off against a formidable opponent, but for one disciple, the name they'd drawn was what brought them here at that moment.

–Lucavion.

And that was why, now they were facing them here.

Zerah who had been somehow the person who was in charge of matters regarding him now stood here.

"You, Lucavion. Come with us. We need to talk."

And she ordered.