The first fight of the day was a best-of-three match between Veronica and the person my opponent from yesterday had ntioned which was coincidentally his sister.
Just hearing that already made things more interesting. Family pride always made these kinds of matches a little heavier than usual, like there was sothing more than just victory on the line.
Veronica’s opponent stepped onto the platform with a sword already resting comfortably in her grip. She was a swordswoman, and not the kind you’d mistake for a hobbyist. From the way she stood, from the way her eyes scanned the arena, it was obvious she had real experience. Her posture wasn’t stiff, nor was it relaxed. It was balanced. The kind that only ca from repetition, from muscle mory carved into the body through countless battles.
This wasn’t soone who picked up a blade because it looked cool.
She looked like soone who lived with it.
She also seed well aware of where she stood in the tournant. This wasn’t the preliminaries anymore. This was the semifinals, where mistakes were punished instantly and hesitation could cost you everything. There was a weight to the air, a quiet tension that made even the crowd’s murmurs feel restrained.
Veronica walked onto the platform from the opposite side, calm as ever.
The two stopped a fair distance apart, neither rushing and neither posturing. Just standing there, eyes locked and waiting.
An umpire stepped forward, standing between them. He looked from one to the other, making sure both were ready before explaining the rules. His voice was firm and practiced as he reminded them—and everyone watching—that this was a best-of-three match. Two wins would decide everything.
Simple rules.
"Oh? You’re here again. What a surprise."
I heard the voice beside and didn’t even need to turn my head to know who it was.
"I’ve been seeing you a lot lately," he continued. "Maybe it’s fate?"
It was my opponent from yesterday, sounding just as casual as before.
I glanced at him. "Yeah, we really are running into each other a lot," I replied. "Almost suspiciously so."
He chuckled lightly.
When I looked past him, I noticed soone standing close at his side. A woman dressed like a mage, her outfit almost comically large on her slender fra. A big hat sat low over her head, and she clutched a long staff tightly, pressing it against her body like a lifeline.
She was trembling. Not subtly, either.
"Ah, this is one of my party mbers," the man said, gesturing toward her. "She applied to the tournant too. Believe it or not, she made it through the preliminaries."
The mage flinched slightly at the attention.
"She could’ve made it to the semis," he added, "but she gave up right away."
"I-It’s because my opponent was scaryy...~" the mage said, her voice wavering as she stared at the platform while looking directly at Veronica. "I saw her fight before, and she flattened her opponent like pancakes! I knew I’d be gone before I even realized what was happening."
She hugged her staff tighter, like it might sprout legs and carry her away.
Honestly, I couldn’t bla her.
This was Veronica we were talking about.
I hadn’t personally witnessed her fight yet, but her reputation alone said enough. Becoming a Vice Commander at our age wasn’t sothing that happened by accident. That position wasn’t handed out for being decent—it was earned through ability, discipline, and results. Or perhaps because she have connections with Commander Lilia. One of the two, or maybe even both.
And just like , she was Lilith’s fragnt.
That alone carried weight, I guess.
"Well," the man said, eyes on the platform, "we’ll see how good she really is once this starts. I’m sure my sister can handle her."
It was a confident statent.
It didn’t age well.
The mont the match began, Veronica disappeared.
Not moved—disappeared.
For a fraction of a second, there was nothing but empty space where she’d been standing, and then she was suddenly right beside her opponent, blade already mid-swing.
The swordswoman reacted on instinct alone. Her sword ca up just in ti to block the strike, tal crashing against tal with a sharp, violent sound that echoed across the arena.
But that was as far as her defense went.
The force behind Veronica’s attack was overwhelming. It wasn’t wild or reckless—it was controlled, compressed, and brutal. The swordswoman’s feet dug into the platform as she was shoved backward, her body skidding across the surface.
And then her sword snapped.
Not bent. Not chipped.
Broken cleanly in two.
"Uh-oh... that’s bad, ain’t it?" the man beside muttered.
There was no humor in his voice this ti.
"She’s not good at anything other than sword," he added quietly. "Which ans this is practically her defeat now."
He wasn’t wrong.
The mont his sister realized what had happened, her eyes dropped to the broken blade in her hands. There was a pause. Then she raised one hand, signaling her surrender.
At least for this round.
"That woman... is good..." he admitted.
"I-I told you... she’s terrfying..." the mage whispered, sounding like she was about two seconds away from passing out.
The crowd reacted, but the outco already felt decided.
This fight was effectively over.
Veronica had completely seized control, and unless sothing miraculous happened, the next round wasn’t going to look any different.
There was a short break before the second round began. During that ti, I scanned the area and noticed Charlotte nearby. She stood with confidence, watching the matches with a composed expression. She was probably there to support her employees. Business always seed to suit her. I an, she had that natural ability to read situations and make the right moves.
Ella stood with her, the two of them looking like they belonged exactly where they were.
From the way things were going, their efforts were clearly paying off.
Even if this didn’t end in a massive win, it would still bring attention. Publicity like this mattered, especially in a setting like the tournant.
When the second round finally started, there was no dramatic shift.
Veronica won again.
She didn’t make a show of it. There was no flashy movents. No unnecessary flair. Every action she took felt efficient and deliberate, like she was simply checking sothing off a list.
It almost felt like she just wanted it done.
And with that, it was official.
Veronica had secured her place in the finals.
The next fight would be mine.
Against Shredica.
***
It was the second day of the semi-finals—the day after Veronica’s victory had officially made her one of the finalists.
I stood above the platform, looking down.
Shredica was already there.
Ayuru was pointed directly at her.
She looked stunned, her expression frozen sowhere between disbelief and confusion, like her mind was still trying to catch up with what had already happened.
I didn’t say anything.
I just stared at her, cold and unmoving.
"Winner!" the umpire announced, his voice cutting through the silence as he pointed at .
And just like that, I won the first round.
She never even realized when or how it ended.
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