As Elero shambled off the destroyed stage, clothes stained with the blood of her enemy, Thomas's heart tightened. 'When will I have to fight?' he thought. He looked to the tournament bracket for the hundredth time and cursed at his luck. He was scheduled to fight in the fourth round, near the beginning of the tournament.

Alexander stood above the rubble and cursed: "Because the stage was destroyed, we will take a quick break while our mages kindly repair it with earth magic. I apologize for the wait." The mages from the sides of the stage stepped up to the rubble and waved their hands in the air. Piece by piece, the stage slowly reformed under their magic circles.

The noble waiting room was built in the same style as the inn, with cushioned seats, plenty of space, and numerous light crystals. The main difference was the giant orb which sat at the center of the room. Through it, the nobles could see the stage.

As the stage was slowly put back together, it left the nobles time to boil in their own anxiety imagine scenarios if they should lose. They shuffled around the room and talked about other matters. No matter what any of them did to pass the time, every few seconds, their heads would turn toward the stage and they scowled. Thomas was no exception. 'What if my opponent is stronger than me? Will I have to surrender? How will I face Jameson if I lose?' He huddled on his cushioned bench next to the other members of Jackal's group. "So," Thomas whispered to Eugene. "Do you know anything about my opponent?"

"It says his name on the board," Eugene whispered back as he pushed up his glasses. By now there was a red rash on the bridge of his nose from pushing his glasses up so much. He winced and a small portion of mist restored his nose's skin.

"No, not that." Thomas already knew his opponent's name by heart from staring at it for so long. "What's his power level. Can you do the glasses thing on him?"

"By "glasses thing" I think you mean use my artifact. I'm just kidding. I knew what you were talking about. I was merely joking." Eugene gave a half-hearted smile.

'I couldn't tell if any of you were messing with me from the start. How the heck am I supposed to know if you're joking now?' Thomas pushed the thought away and smiled.

"Your opponent has a strength of level sixty," Eugene said as he pointed to one of the fatter nobles in the corner, whose face was as round as a ball.

"And how about me?"

Eugene put a hand on Thomas's shoulder: "It was nice knowing you. Just know that you wanted this information. Your strength level is…" He paused and smirked.

"Tell me damn you!" Thomas shook him around.

"Fifty," Eugene laughed to his new friend's dismay. "Don't worry though, it's just a strength level, only a single factor in a fight. You can overcome it."

"It's by ten points," Thomas put a hand on his forehead and leaned into the soft cushions. "How am I supposed to overcome that? I don't even know what a ten-point difference means and I know that I'm in for a rough time."

"Don't worry, strength isn't everything, much like Elero's fight showed us. Remember that noble fights are different from the peasant ones." Eugene took off his glasses and wiped them down. "I probably have a strength level around thirty, but if my opponent only relied on his strength and he had a strength level of one hundred, I could overcome him with my intellect. Think like me and maybe you can win."

Thomas looked at the glasses. "You aren't curious what your strength is? Don't you want to find out? I can just use the glasses and…" He reached for the glasses but Eugene yanked them away.

"Sorry, I don't let anyone touch my stuff, not even Jackal. Please never do that again." He put his glasses back on, pushing them up so hard that the frames bent a little. His gaze was stuck on Thomas's outstretched hand, as if he was holding a weapon. "Especially not my glasses. Just worry about yourself. How will you fight?"

"Right," Thomas sat up. "I just have to fight differently. Maybe if I can be fast like Elero. Maybe if I trick him or…"

Eugene pushed up his glasses: "Elero wasn't that fast at all. She had technique and precision. It may have looked like she was fast, but that was only because she could change her legs' shape. She didn't move fast, she bent herself around the weapon like her body was a puppet. At every point in the battle, her legs were changing from a spring-like shape to a steady base for her sword swipes. It was quite impressive, although I'm once again surprised you failed to notice something completely obvious."

"Typical," Molly sighed. "Eugene, you're always looking at a girls' legs, aren't you? Of course you would notice. Thomas is just an idiot, so he at least has an excuse for not noticing. Eugene, you were so busy in fact, that you forgot why she actually won: she used the environment. She ran around the edges of the stage to appear to be in a disadvantageous situation, which drew her opponent in and allowed her to use her counters. You both will need to learn this skill in the knights' academy. I don't want any of you dragging me down if we get put on a team."

"Thanks guys," Thomas said. "I'm already learning so much in two days. I wish I left my mansion sooner. There is so much in the outside world and I missed out on it for so long. I'm glad I'm here."

"D-don't mention it," Molly stuttered and turned away.

"I apologize for the wait," Alexander's voice drifted into the room. He stood on a newly reformed stage. "Now that everything is fixed, we will continue to the next round. For our two opponents, we have Molly Kendro against…"

Molly didn't wait for him to finish. She stood up with her head held higher than ever before. Her dress hardened and changed color from pink to a metallic sheen. As she walked, the dress moved as if it were fabric, similar to how Frey's shield worked. "Looks like it's my turn. Try to pick your jaws off the floor." She elbowed her opponent out of the way as she ran onto the stage, showered by endless cheers.

Her opponent rubbed his swollen arm as he walked behind her. His head was downcast, and his steps were slow, as if already accepting defeat. When he got to the stage, the cheering had already stopped. His nails grew to the size of a sword with the help of his blue life essence. Molly pulled a massive hammer out of her spatial ring which was two times taller than herself.

"Isn't that much?" Thomas gasped.

"No, it suits her massive ego," Dag said. Thomas jumped away from the black-clothed youth who had appeared beside him. "Sorry, it is a force of habit to sneak up on people." After Thomas stabilized his breathing, he couldn't help but notice spots of blood on the dagger's blade. Dag must have known what Thomas was about to say because he said, "Don't worry, it is my own blood." He held up his cut fingers.

"Oh it's your own blood," Thomas did a double take. "Wait it's your own blood. How did you cut yourself? I thought you had held a dagger since you were a kid."

"I have," Dag twirled it around his pointer finger. "Sometimes I get bored." Another cut ripped a red line in his flesh.

'These people and their jokes.'

"Match over," Alexander's voice carried over. The stage had been cracked under the force of Molly's hammer. Her opponent had been saved by the mages' magic, but was at death's door. A white robed kid around Thomas's age walked out and dragged the kid away on a stretcher.

'Wait a minute, there are protections!' Thomas thought. 'Even if I try to kill my opponent, I can't with those mages protecting us. But still, my opponent had a strength level of sixty while I only have a strength level of fifty. I'll probably end up like that person and be dragged away. I'll be sent back to father's mansion.' "Eugene, how do I overcome ten units of strength?"

"Any way but strength," Eugene pushed up his glasses. "Speed, precision, your weapon, get creative."

"And does the mages' magic protect against internal attacks?" Dag absently nodded as if he knew what Thomas was thinking. "Alright," Thomas smiled. "I think I know what to do."

"God of Evil damn it!" Alexander's voice echoed in the stadium as the mages fixed the stage, although this time only a few sections had been cracked. "Stop breaking my stage you entitled little shits!"

"Alexander!" A voice even louder than Alexander's rang out. Everyone in the Colosseum, even the nobles, took a bow. Thomas, despite being an outsider, knew very well why everyone was bowing, for there could be only one reason, the king. "If I ever hear you call my third daughter or any of my children "entitled little shits" again, I'll have you beaten! Everyone, get up and continue as you were doing."

"Yes sir," Alexander mumbled. "For our next round," he said even though the final pieces of the stage were still being put back into place. "We have Dag against…"

Dag stood up and took his shirt off. Underneath were layers and layers of leather sheaths, tied around his chest. In each of the sheaths were all kinds of tools for killing a man. Throwing knives, throwing stars, tiny packets of green bubbling liquid, scrolls, needles, made up just a portion of the small armory Dag wore around his chest: "Be right back." As he walked out next to his opponent, his steps were silent.

Jackal leaned back and sighed. "He's going to be doing that again, so get comfortable." Thomas wrinkled his brows as Eugene facepalmed. "Dag fights in a kind of…special way. His family know that the closer to death you get, the more life essence you get from a fight. From that, they formed a nasty habit of extending a fight until they're at death's door. Only then do they finish it, with a single strike. It is not as beneficial as they think it is, but they indulge in the habit religiously."

Alexander started the fight and the two opponents engaged each other. Half an hour later, Dag's opponent was on the floor covered in his own sweat and Dag's blood. His mouth kept forming the words "I surrender", but no noise came out other than his heavy breaths.

Alexander didn't fall asleep, but the rest of the stadium had. The spectators' throats were dry from booing so much. Dag stood over his opponent. Sections of his leather armor had been cut open along with almost every part of his body. His opponent didn't even have a scratch; he had just collapsed from exhaustion.

Dag's dagger called his opponent's throat. Even though his opponent was on the ground, he closed in with a painstakingly slow and silent walk. His eyes held the same look as the day Thomas met him, plain, uncaring. Before he could do anything, however, Alexander got between them. "That's enough, he's down."

Dag stared at the referee. While Thomas couldn't see anything from behind Dag's back, he could almost feel the tension rolling in like a sudden storm, which ended when Dag cursed and walked off the arena. "The winner is Dag!" Alexander's announcement woke the spectators, and some of the nobles back up. "Healer, get up here!" The white robed youth shot up from lying on the ground.

"Yes sir!" The healer ran to the stage and dragged the opponent away.

"For our next round," Alexander pointed to the bracket. "Thomas Virility against Roth Guiler."