NOVEL NEXT Chapter 182: Tournament Continues
"Alright, let's get going. Let's head into the mansion," Nolan said, leading the group forward.
They walked toward the enormous white-bricked mansion that stood opposite the royal palace, its marble pillars gleaming under the morning sun.
As they stepped inside, the scent hit them first—rich, warm, and mouthwatering. A long dining table stretched across the grand hall just beyond the entrance, covered from end to end with luxurious delicacies: golden omelets, steaming rice, roasted meat glazed with honey, and cakes that sparkled under the chandelier lights.
Lyra's eyes widened. Her mouth literally started to water as she stared at the feast.
Without a second thought, she began tiptoeing toward the table, hands twitching like a thief about to strike.
Just as her fingers brushed near a piece of cake—
Nolan's hand shot out, grabbing the back of her clothes. "Oh no you don't."
"Wait—! Master, leave me! Just one bite! One tiny bite!" Lyra squirmed, trying to reach the food.
"No, leave me!" she protested again as Nolan dragged her backward across the hall, even while she kicked lightly at the air. He kept pulling her until they reached the stairs.
Finally, Lyra stopped struggling and straightened her clothes, pretending to regain her dignity as they walked upstairs. "Master, why didn't you let me eat? There was food down there! You guys already had plenty before, but some of those dishes—I've never seen them in my life! I just know they're delicious!"
Nolan sighed, giving her a small glare.
"Yes, same here," Damian added calmly. "It hasn't been long since I took on a human form, but I must admit—being human has its perks. Especially when it comes to food. The scent alone was… distracting."
Linda chuckled quietly, shaking her head.
Nolan turned to them. "The both of you don't even have any manners. That food isn't for us—it's for the royal guests. Most likely a celebration. Tomorrow's the continuation of the tournament, so they're probably preparing a feast for that."
"Maybe," Linda said softly as they continued climbing the grand staircase.
Lyra pouted. "Still… it looked so good."
Damian nodded, expression completely serious. "I agree."
Celia sighed behind them. "And this is the team that's supposed to win the Empire's tournament…"
"Yes, surely—it's us who's going to win this tournament," Nolan said confidently, his voice calm but filled with quiet determination.
They'd reached the second floor of the mansion. The golden lights above shimmered off the marble walls, and the faint echo of their footsteps carried down the corridor.
"I know that, professional asset," he muttered under his breath, a small smirk curving his lips.
He stopped in front of his door and pushed it open. The room inside was elegant—polished wood floors, tall glass windows with silk curtains, and a wide bed that looked untouched since their last visit.
Nolan stepped closer. There, lying neatly on the bed, was his sword.
The silver blade gleamed faintly in the dim light, a faint aura humming around it. He reached for it slowly, his fingers brushing along the cool metal.
"I haven't actually used this sword in combat," he murmured. "But tomorrow… I hope the first person to step into that arena is me. And I want it to be a swordsman. I want to see just how far I've come."
Celia leaned against the doorway, arms folded. "Master, are you that good with the sword? I haven't seen you use that one before."
Nolan gave her a slight grin. "Good? I'm not sure… I know I am."
He turned the blade in his hand; light rippled across its edge like a silver flame.
As the others watched, Nolan's eyes softened for a moment. When I first came to this world… I was trained by one of the best swordsmen this world has ever seen—Malric, the demi-human.
He didn't say the words aloud, but the thought filled him with pride and gratitude.
Celia's expression softened. Linda, standing behind her, listened silently, her curiosity and admiration written on her face, though she didn't know what was going through Nolan's mind.
Nolan rested the blade on his shoulder and looked out the window toward the Empire's coliseum glowing faintly in the distance.
The room was quiet. Celia and Linda sat by the edge of the bed, their eyes wandering curiously over the finely decorated chamber—the silk curtains, the golden lamps, the crystal vases that glittered under the light of dusk.
Nolan stood by the window, his gaze fixed outside, lost in thought. The faint glow of the setting sun spilled across his face.
Then—
Clack… clack… clack.
A man in royal attire walked down the corridor, holding a small, rune-inscribed device that hummed with magic. When he pressed it, his voice echoed loudly through the entire mansion.
"Attention, all participants. By 9 p.m., everyone is to gather in the grand hall. The King himself has something important to announce."
His voice faded. He turned sharply and walked away.
"Who was that?" Celia asked, tilting her head.
"That's the emissary," Nolan replied. "He delivers official messages from the royal palace. Whatever this is about, we're part of it."
The waitress who had been quietly refilling their cups bowed and hurried out, leaving them alone.
Nolan sighed softly. "It's already getting late. You should all get some rest. The night guards are stationed in front of the mansion. They'll show you to your rooms."
Lyra blinked, looking around. "But I don't even know where my room is. I don't have one!"
Nolan chuckled. "Go to the knights outside. They'll take you to your quarters. It's right in front of this mansion—you can't miss it."
"Oh. Alright!" Lyra said, hopping to her feet. Damien followed silently, his calm presence filling the space as they both stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.
Linda stretched. "Master, I'll head to my room too. There's something I want to check."
"Same here," Celia said, brushing back her white hair.
Nolan nodded. "Go on."
When the door finally closed behind them, the room fell into deep silence.
"Finally… some time alone," Nolan muttered, exhaling.