The spear shot forward.

The sound of tearing air rang out—

sharper than any clash between the iron and steel in the arena.

Moments before the spear was released, at the same time the raven had just arrived on Matruska's shoulder,

Lucas was driven back.

His body was forced half a step backward by Aldric's brutal slash— an attack with no elegant technique, only raw power, pressure, and murderous intent.

"Kh—!"

Lucas's breath caught.

His legs were barely able to support him anymore.

At the same moment Matruska had just received the report,

Lucas still forced himself to raise his Great Hoe.

He attacked with a reckless, wild swing.

I won't lose… I will win!!! he screamed in his head, trying to convince himself that he could still fight.

At the same moment Matruska glanced toward the Baron and Baroness for confirmation,

Aldric curled his lips into a thin grin.

"It's over," he muttered.

His sword gleamed.

He stepped forward, pressing in with another slash—

deeper.

Heavier.

CLANG—!!

The impact made Lucas stagger badly. Fuck… he cursed inwardly.

At the same moment Matruska took aim at the arena,

Lucas's knee slammed into the arena floor.

He knelt.

His head bowed.

His breathing was heavy.

Blood dripped from the tip of his chin.

Yet his hand— still clenched tightly around the handle of the Great Hoe, struggling not to collapse. I can't lose, he muttered, and suddenly he felt his body growing weaker. Damn it… has the potion's effect already worn off? He ground his jaw.

At the same moment Matruska's spear left her hand,

Aldric lunged forward, ready to finish Lucas with a single slash.

"AGGGHHHHH…!" he roared.

Just as the edge of his blade was about to reach Lucas, Matruska's spear pierced through the arena's barrier sigil.

SLASSSHH—

BRUGGHHH—

Matruska's spear landed between them, purple electricity spreading outward.

Lucas flinched slightly, but his body was far too weak to react. He could only stare at the spear.

The referee at the edge of the arena jolted.

He looked to the right.

Then to the left.

His eyes darted back and forth between the spear embedded in the arena floor and Aldric, who had been forced to halt his slash mid-air.

"W— what is this…?" he muttered in confusion.

The crowd began to stir.

At the honor stand—

Matruska walked toward the arena.

Her steps were firm as she descended the stand.

The mana around her had not yet fully dissipated.

Her voice echoed throughout the arena.

"This duel is suspended."

Silence.

Instantly.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"A violation of Imperial Law has occurred," she continued coldly.

"And I will not allow it to proceed."

The referee swallowed, then nodded quickly.

"T-the duel… is suspended!"

Lucas lifted his head with great effort.

"What…?"

His voice was hoarse.

His head was still ringing.

The evening sky stretched above the arena—

muted orange blending into deep violet.

Beneath that light—

Matruska walked closer.

Her steps were calm.

Authoritative.

Lucas's eyes narrowed.

The world around him seemed to drift away.

His gaze fixed on Matruska's face.

"…that face," he murmured faintly. His body had already lost too much blood, his focus wavering.

Without realizing it,

the corner of his lips lifted, a small smile forming on his exhausted face.

"…why that face is so—"

The sentence broke off as he slumped forward, losing consciousness while still gripping the handle of the Great Hoe.

He looked terrifying to the common folk, but in the eyes of the Highblade of Rosevelt who remained in the honor area —

A tough man. I'm beginning to wonder if those rumors were nothing more than the slander of people who hated your mother, he thought.

----

Lucas's consciousness sank into a dream.

He felt himself swimming.

The water was warm.

Calm.

In front of him—

was himself.

A chibi version.

Short. Round. A wide grin.

They swam side by side, laughing without sound, spinning around like children with no burdens at all.

Then—

the chibi version stopped.

He grabbed Lucas's head with both hands, his expression turning serious.

"It's time to wake up, King."

Lucas frowned.

"Huh—"

The chibi version pushed Lucas's head underwater.

GLURRPPP…..

"A— AHH—!"

—

Lucas jolted awake.

The ceiling of a room greeted his vision.

His body felt heavy.

He lowered his gaze— his body was wrapped in bandages.

Across his chest.

His shoulders.

His arms.

"Aghh…"

He hissed softly.

His wrist ached, like needles stabbing from the inside.

He tried to move—

"Hey. Don't move too much."

The voice came from the side.

Lucas glanced over.

Silvara was sitting on a chair beside his bed. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp, as if she had been keeping watch for a long time.

Lucas swallowed.

"What… happened?"

Silvara crossed her arms.

"Aldric is under investigation," she said flatly.

"For the case of forging a noble seal."

Lucas nodded faintly.

"O… oh."

"Lady Matruska intervened personally," Silvara continued.

"The case has been taken over completely."

The moment that name was spoken—

Lucas's face lowered slightly.

Not in shock.

Not in fear.

Just… quiet.

Silvara caught the change.

She remembered it clearly—

back in the arena,

that gentle smile,

the way Lucas's gaze had been fixed.

Silvara clicked her tongue inwardly.

Has he already been captivated by Lady Matruska's elegance?

Tch… this man…

He really didn't take what happened in the cave seriously at all, she grumbled irritably. What a piece of trash.

Lucas leaned back against the bed.

"Thank goodness," he said softly.

"I almost died."

He turned his head slightly.

"So… that spear was Matruska's spear, right?"

Silvara glared at him in annoyance.

"Obviously. You're still asking? Idiot."

Lucas glanced at her.

"Why are you sulking?"

Silvara cleared her throat.

Her gaze shifted away.

"If you like Lady Matruska, just say it," she said shortly.

"No need to hide it."

Lucas chuckled softly.

"I don't like her," he said lightly, looking out the window where the sky had already turned dark.

"It's just… her face—"

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