Theoden and Constantine lingered for just a moment before turning back toward the Advanced Division grounds. Their matches weren’t over yet—and their turn would come soon.

  “He’s good,” Theoden said, calm as ever. “But not quite where we are.”

  “True,” Constantine added with a smirk. “You two should swing by our matches ter—might pick up a trick or two.”

  Trevon and I remained behind for a moment longer.

  After witnessing Lucien’s match, something shifted.We didn’t speak of it—didn’t need to.But somewhere between the silence and the tension in our shoulders, we understood the same thing: None of us should lose.

  And so, we did what needed to be done.

  Match by match, we held our ground.Pushed forward.Built momentum.

  Some opponents fell easily. Others put up more of a fight. A few even made us sweat.

  But in the end—we won.

  Our rhythm sharpened with each round.And maybe the other competitors sensed it too.They met our pace, matched our intensity.And the crowd? They responded in kind—on their feet, voices rising, finally getting the show they’d come for.

  So far, neither Trevon nor I had been paired with Lucien. Maybe it was the organizers pulling strings. Or maybe… fate just wasn’t ready to let us meet. Not yet.

  By the time Trevon and I secured our spots in the semifinals, we finally had a moment to breathe. Just a brief one.

  That was when we stepped away from the main arena—just long enough to catch a glimpse of Theoden and Constantine’s matches in the Advanced Division.

  They were competing not far from us, in the Advanced Division.Their matches were held separately, away from the main crowd.Fewer cheers. Smaller audience.But the air there felt different—heavier.

  Not because there were fewer people.But because most of them were veterans.

  Knights. Retired champions. Quiet nobles who didn’t cheer, but observed. Judged. Calcuted.

  It was a different kind of pressure.

  The organizers had structured the tournament that way on purpose. They’d learned from past years—fresh faces drew more excitement early on. New blood. New stakes. People didn’t flock to watch seasoned elites win again. They came to see who would rise next.

  Still, the final match of the Advanced Division would be held in the main arena—just like ours.

  Because once you reached the top, everyone was expected to watch.

  With their semifinals in motion, it made sense to get a closer look at who we’d be sharing the final stage with.

  So we made our way over—

  And just as we slipped through the edge of the crowd, the next match was called.

  We stepped into the roped-off area reserved for competitors, the space already tense with focus.

  We saw Theoden already standing in the ring, a broadsword in hand—its full length reaching nearly to his chest. It was the kind of weapon that looked like too much: wide, heavy, almost theatrical.

  It should’ve been overkill. But somehow, it wasn’t.

  Maybe he picked it for the challenge. Or maybe it just didn’t matter—because he could make anything work.

  He stood still, calm, almost casual. Like the bde wasn’t something to carry, but something that moved with him.

  And even if I didn’t fully understand how—

  I knew enough to recognize that wasn’t normal.

  Now, all eyes were on him.

  The crowd hushed. The announcer’s voice rang out once more.

  Theoden shifted his stance—measured, composed, almost too perfect.

  This wasn’t the start of a spectacur match.

  It was the beginning of something subtle.

  Something you’d only notice if you were paying very, very close attention.

  ? 2025 baobaochong – All rights reserved.