The atmosphere in the arena had changed, not physically.

The stone remained the same, the banners still fluttered overhead, and the crowd still filled every seat.

Yet the atmosphere was different, a bit heavier and gloomier.

As though a blade had been drawn and left hanging over everyone’s heads.

All of it because of Donovan Young. His actions turned the atmosphere foul.

The Drevlorn noble rose slowly from the cracked arena floor after the referee released him.

His cheek was swollen, dust was in his hair, and his pride was wounded far worse.

The booing began almost immediately.

It rolled through the arena like thunder.

"Cheater!"

"Go home! Drevlornian bastard."

"Ungrateful trash!"

"Who hits after surrendering? Fuck yourself!"

Even candidates joined in. The insults came from every direction.

Donovan’s jaw tightened, his grip clenched until his knuckles whitened.

But he kept walking. One step, then another.

The noble’s eyes burned with fury, not at the crowd. The crowd did not matter; they were beneath him.

At least, that was what he had always been taught.

What truly enraged him was the humiliation, the disrespect.

The fact that he had been manhandled before thousands.

In Bentram at that.

A kingdom he barely considered worth acknowledging.

His father was a count in Drevlorn, a Six-Lined Blessed, a possible future apex of the continent, the titled general.

A man feared throughout Drevlorn. Donovan had grown up believing certain truths.

One of those truths was that men like him stood above men like them.

Yet today? A referee had grabbed him by the hair. The crowd had laughed at him.

And a nameless nobody had slapped him in the face.

Nobody cared who his father was. The bitterness tasted like poison.

He could not let it go. He would not.

Elsewhere, Etno Kamsi watched quietly. The Krynovan swordsman stood beside his companions.

His gaze followed Donovan for a moment. Then he shook his head. "What a fool he is."

One of his teammates glanced at him. "You pity him?"

Etno shook his head, massaged the hilt of his sword, and said, "No, I pity his father."

The teammate chuckled.

Etno folded his arms. "Arrogance is one thing, but openly disrespecting the nation hosting you?"

His expression turned serious. "That’s stupidity."

The teammate nodded.

Every foreign delegation understood the unwritten rule.

They were guests, and guests carried themselves with dignity.

Donovan had forgotten that. Now everyone had seen the consequences.

Far across the arena, another pair of eyes followed the Drevlorn noble.

Thane’s casually bored demeanor had vanished.

His massive arms were folded tightly, his brow furrowed, and his gaze fixed entirely upon Donovan.

Sky noticed immediately. "You’re angry."

Thane, whose eyes were digging holes in Donovan, replied, "Very."

Rimon swallowed.

The giant was not angry up until now and he beat everyone. What happens when he gets angry?

They did not know about Thane. When he got angry, people generally regretted being nearby.

"He hit Conor after surrender." Thane’s voice was unusually quiet. "He wasn’t supposed to do that."

Sky exchanged a glance with Rimon. Neither disagreed.

Across the arena, Donovan suddenly looked up.

His eyes met Thane’s. The crowd disappeared as the noise vanished.

For a brief moment, only the two remained, two giants. One like a mountain and the other like a siege tower.

Their gazes locked. Neither looked away. Hatred simmered in Donovan’s eyes.

Raw and unfiltered. He blamed many people for today’s humiliation.

The referee, the crowd, and Conor. But above all, Thane.

The giant had become Bentram’s symbol, the crowd’s favorite.

The hero everyone discussed, and somehow Donovan hated him for it.

The Drevlorn noble imagined crushing that stupid smile, breaking that confidence, and watching the crowd fall silent. The thought pleased him.

Meanwhile, Thane’s thoughts were considerably simpler. He only wanted to smash that guy. He found him irritating.

The battles continued. Candidates entered and left.

More teams were eliminated and more victories were recorded.

Etno fought again and won.

Predictably and cleanly.

His team now possessed only a single battle remaining.

The judges continued taking notes, the crowd continued cheering. The trial steadily approached its conclusion.

Meanwhile, Team 243 also continued accumulating victories.

Thane bulldozed another team, Rimon somehow survived, and Sky yelled at both opponents and teammates equally. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Everything proceeded normally. Soon their records stood finalized.

Thane had completed thirteen battles, only two remained.

The giant practically vibrated with anticipation. He sat watching every announcement.

Every match, every pairing.

Hoping and praying. Begging fate. "Please let me fight Donovan Old."

Sky looked concerned, Rimon looked terrified as they saw Thane clasp his hands together. "Please, gods."

The giant lowered his head. "Please. Please."

Then the next pairing was announced. Sky buried her face in her hands, Rimon put his fingers in his ears.

They were certain that Thane would win, but they were also certain they would not survive against the other two elites. So they prayed not to encounter them.

The referee stepped forward. The arena quieted.

Candidates listened, names were read.

One team, then another. The crowd was excited.

Then suddenly, a hush spread. People glanced at one another. Then toward two specific competitors.

The referee continued.

"Team 18."

Donovan looked up.

The crowd instantly became interested. The referee spoke again.

"Versus Team 42."

Etno Kamsi smiled faintly.

The arena erupted. Thousands of voices exploded simultaneously.

The matchup everyone wanted. The matchup nobody expected.

Etno Kamsi versus Donovan Young. The two strongest foreign candidates.

The swordsman of Krynova against the muscleman of Drevlorn.

Across the arena, Donovan’s eyes narrowed as he clicked his tongue.

Etno calmly stepped forward.

Meanwhile, Thane stared blankly. His brain processed the announcement, slowly and painfully.

Then realization struck. His shoulders slumped and his jaw dropped.

His eyes widened. "No."

Sky’s beautiful face lit up with a smile. "Yes, yes, yes." She danced.

"No." The giant pointed accusingly toward the heavens. "No! No!"

Several nearby candidates turned. Thane looked genuinely heartbroken. "I wanted that fight!"

The giant stomped his foot. The ground trembled. "Why?!"

Rimon nearly choked trying not to laugh. Of course, he was second happiest after Sky.

Thane continued glaring upward, as though fate itself were personally responsible.

Now he had to wait another day to fight Donovan, in one-versus-one matches.

Then, in his frustration, he loudly cursed his luck. "Fucking shit."

But then his eyes widened in realization. He slapped his own face. "Oh no, no. Bad breath, what have I done! Cussing gives bad breath, my breath."

He breathed on his palm and smelled it. He did that more than once.

Max’s influence was already on his tongue without him knowing it.

The words echoed far louder than intended. Several judges heard.

Half the crowd heard. Even the referee looked over.

Thane finally settled after checking his own breath and asking forgiveness from the gods and promising them not to cuss again.

The giant slowly looked around. Thousands of people stared at him.

"...Uh." He scratched his head. He did not know what else to say. So he uttered what came to his mind. "I’m... sorry."

The crowd erupted with laughter.

Even Etno laughed. However, Donovan had no smile on his face. This made him even angrier somehow. He looked ready to murder someone.

And somewhere high above, Principal Zoases laughed so hard he nearly spilled his tea.

Principal Athenok, true to his stern nature, simply smiled at Thane.

For despite all the tension, all the rivalries, all the ambition and pride.

Thane remained completely, hopelessly, and wonderfully Thane.