The Most Satisfied Reincarnate

Walking towards the grand arena, Desmond's gaze fell upon an unassuming door, leaving him skeptical about the space it led to. "Could they really be fighting in such a confined area?" he pondered, his curiosity piqued.

As he turned to his side, Desmond caught sight of Clementine and Diana, seemingly unfazed by the door's size. However, Alice mirrored his own bewilderment, her expression mirroring his confusion.

With a mere thought, Desmond reached out and slid the door open, revealing a sight that left him utterly astonished. The interior space was a stark contrast to its humble exterior—a sprawling gladiator arena, expansive enough to host a multitude of onlookers.

Almost instinctively, Desmond's attention shifted towards Clementine, who wore an impish grin, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, are you surprised?" Clementine teased, her voice laced with amusement, while Diana directed the same question to Alice.

Desmond swiftly regained his composure, his initial shock dissipating. "Indeed, it caught me off guard. It appears the king had anticipated the need for a grand setting," he replied, acknowledging the careful planning that had gone into this hidden marvel.

Like one who relished a taste of victory after enduring a string of defeats, Clementine erupted into a fit of laughter, her mirth so contagious that she had to stifle it behind an elegantly adorned fan. "I knew it would leave you dumbfounded," she chuckled mischievously.

Despite her harmless demeanor, a surge of inexplicable irritation washed over Desmond upon witnessing Clementine's infectious smile. Yet, he couldn't pinpoint any wrongdoing on her part.

After a few minutes, Clementine finally managed to compose herself. "The king commissioned the construction of this arena specifically for the Tournament of Storms," she revealed, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness whenever the topic of the king arose.

Desmond, recollecting the words of his parents, couldn't help but snort. "True, this venue is befitting of a grand tournament. However, I can't fathom why the king chose to build it in such close proximity to his residence," he inquired, his skepticism apparent.

Waving her hand dismissively, Clementine averted her gaze to the ornate ceiling. "That, my dear Desmond, remains a mystery. The king's intentions have always been enigmatic," she replied, a fleeting glimmer of sorrow returning to her eyes whenever the topic of the king surfaced.

What did I say wrong this time? It seems I should avoid such topics in the future.

"Let us set that matter aside. Why don't you put an end to your daughter's forced marriage? Even she herself is opposed to it," Desmond pressed, his tone tinged with concern, delving into a more delicate subject.

Clementine's delight was palpable when Desmond didn't delve further into her own predicament but instead inquired about her daughter's situation. "I must say, this young man is a prodigy, adept at handling emotions and words just as if they were scripted in books," she mused, admiration flickering in her eyes.

Locking her gaze onto Desmond's, Clementine's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "There exists an unspoken rule that parents should refrain from meddling in their children's affairs unless it poses a threat to their well-being," she explained, her voice carrying a tinge of wisdom.

Desmond nodded, realization dawning upon him. That was likely the reason the king had departed earlier. He must have been aware of the numerous suitors vying for his daughter's hand, unable to bear the thought of it. Desmond waited expectantly for further elaboration, but Clementine fell silent, leaving him perplexed. "Is that all?" he inquired, his confusion evident.

Observing Desmond's puzzled expression, Clementine's smile turned sly. "Indeed, that's all," she responded cryptically.

"I see," Desmond replied, choosing not to probe any further. He brushed off Clementine's seemingly ill-intentioned expression and redirected his attention to the arena. "Ah, it seems the duel is about to commence. Hopefully, Mrs. Clementine won't forget our wager," he remarked.

Clementine, too, shifted her gaze toward the arena, a self-assured air surrounding her. "Of course!" she exclaimed in a confident tone, her voice carrying across the space as she pointed toward Matson. "I shall emerge victorious, and you shall marry my daughter."

The two girls who had been engaged in a lively conversation were taken aback by Mrs. Clementine's words.

Diana, in particular, felt a surge of shock, having just agreed to a challenge to avert her own unwanted marriage, only to discover that her mother had secretly arranged a suitor for her. "What?! I shall never marry a feeble man like him!" she retorted, anger etched across her face as she pointed accusingly at Desmond.

Alice, overhearing the revelation, tightly clung to Desmond's hand, her grip growing stronger by the second, her nails grazing his skin. Worriedly, she gazed up at him, her eyes betraying a hint of fear. Desmond gently caressed her hair, trying to reassure her.

"Don't worry, even if I do get married, I'll always be by your side, sis," he whispered, attempting to provide solace amidst the unsettling turn of events.

"But..." Alice began to protest, only to have Desmond gently silence her by placing a finger on her lips. "Shh, let's focus on the match for now," he whispered, diverting her attention. Alice rolled her eyes but eventually settled down, still holding onto his arm. Clementine and Diana concluded their debate as well and redirected their attention to the impending match.

...

Clark, Matson, and Elizabeth stood together in the center of the arena, discussing the rules of the upcoming duel.

"As customary, Miss Elizabeth shall serve as the judge," Matson declared, flashing a playful wink at Elizabeth.

She nodded in agreement, raising her hand in the air. Suddenly, both Clark and Matson began to emit a faint glow, accompanied by a gentle radiance that emanated from their bodies. The light gradually converged, making its way toward Elizabeth's outstretched palm. "Very well, I have assessed both of you.

You remain conscious and in good health," she stated, her gaze flickering between the two competitors.

"So, should either of you lose, there will be no accusations of mental manipulation using magic!" she clarified, emphasizing the fairness of the contest.

"I shall act as the arbiter, and the victor shall be determined either by the opponent's voluntary surrender or when the opponent can no longer continue," Elizabeth announced, laying out the terms.

"Are we all clear?" She directed her attention toward Clark, concern etched on her face. She observed him nodding in affirmation, accompanied by a thumbs-up sign.

With a press of a crystal button embedded in her palm, the ground beneath them rumbled, as if a massive entity had stirred beneath its surface. The once spacious arena with distant spectator seats transformed into a confined space.

The ground beneath Clark and Matson's feet ascended, forming a circular platform akin to a revolving stage. Two iron pillars emerged from either end, emitting a magical barrier that shielded the combatants from attacks both within and without.

The spectator seats, which were once far removed from the arena, drew closer, now elevated above the battleground. Elizabeth, positioned nearby, found herself elevated even higher than before, like a surveillance room in the modern era. The land surrounding her transformed into a transparent glass enclosure, each pane connected to a corresponding pillar.

Guards became visible, stationed strategically around the arena.

While the others had grown accustomed to this spectacle, Desmond and Alice, experiencing it for the first time, couldn't help but widen their eyes in awe, their expressions providing amusement to the onlookers.