The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 1226 - 189 - The Semi-Finals Contenders (4)
Leon’s POV
The next day...
The air felt different the moment I stepped outside.
Today wasn’t just another match. It was the semi-finals.
Only four of us remained out of the sea of fighters who had flooded the preliminaries. Out of more than a thousand hopefuls—ambitious knights, seasoned adventurers, reckless brawlers, and prideful nobles—it had narrowed down to this. Four names. Four people. And soon, only two would remain standing.
The venue had changed as well.
The semi-finals were to be held in the Kingdom’s grand coliseum—the same one that had hosted countless battles over the years. Gladiator duels. Execution matches. Legendary showdowns that people still talked about in taverns long after the blood had been washed from the stone.
And now, we were stepping into that same arena.
The stage itself was enormous. The fighting platform stretched wide and solid, built from reinforced stone that had clearly endured more punishment than most soldiers ever would. Surrounding it were layers upon layers of seating, climbing higher and higher until they curved around the entire arena like a massive stone crown.
It could seat up to a hundred thousand people.
At least, that was what I’d been told.
I didn’t really believe it.
Until I saw it.
The place was filled. Absolutely packed. Not a single empty space from what I could see. People were crammed shoulder to shoulder, banners waving, voices overlapping, the entire arena buzzing like a living thing.
The noise hit me first.
Cheers. Laughter. The low thunder of thousands of conversations blending into one steady roar. It felt like the ground itself was vibrating under all that energy.
I’ll admit it—I hadn’t expected this many people. I thought maybe half capacity at best. It was just a tournament, after all.
Apparently, I underestimated how much people enjoyed watching others beat the hell out of each other.
From a raised royal platform overlooking the arena, I could spot several important figures. The seating there was elevated and shaded, positioned perfectly so they could observe everything without obstruction.
Princess Myrcella stood at the center.
Of course she did. She was the one who organized this whole thing.
To her side stood the Commander, posture straight and gaze sharp as ever. Nearby were the King of Bethlan and his Queen, seated with composed elegance befitting royalty. The King was technically a guest in this kingdom, but with his presence here, it was clear that this tournament held more significance than just entertainment.
When royalty attends something personally, it stops being "just a show."
It becomes an event.
With figures like that watching from above, it was only natural to feel that this wasn’t going to be an ordinary match.
And this wasn’t the preliminaries anymore.
This was the semi-finals.
We weren’t random contestants pulled from a crowd. We had fought our way here. Out of over a thousand entries, only four remained. Whether we liked it or not, that meant something. It meant we were considered among the strongest in this tournament.
No more easy matches. No more testing the waters.
From here on out, it was serious.
While waiting in my assigned room beneath the arena, I tried to keep my thoughts steady. The distant roar of the crowd filtered through the stone walls, muffled but still powerful.
Then the door opened.
My eyes shifted toward the sound.
Shredica stepped inside.
Of course it was her.
"It looks like we’re the ones fighting each other in the semis," she said, her tone calm, almost casual.
Like we were discussing the weather.
"Are you scared?" I asked, leaning back slightly.
She tilted her head just a little. "Why would I be? I don’t think I’ve ever been scared of you."
Direct as always.
I let out a faint breath that might’ve been a laugh. "Fair enough."
There was something different about the atmosphere between us today. Not tense—but focused. Sharper.
"Still," she continued, "I didn’t expect you to join the tournament at all. You usually avoid attention like it’s a disease. What happened? Sudden change of heart?"
I crossed my arms loosely. "I was asked by the Princess to participate. That’s all."
"That’s it?"
"Yes."
She gave me a look.
"...You know, that’s kind of a lousy reason."
"You’re one to talk."
Touché.
"Well," she went on, stepping a little closer, "I didn’t come here to explain myself. I came to tell you something."
I waited.
"Don’t hold back," she said. "I want to fight you at full strength."
There it was.
No hesitation. No playful banter. Just a straightforward request.
"I won’t," I answered.
And I meant it.
Holding back in the semi-finals would be stupid. Worse—it would be disrespectful. Not just to her, but to everyone watching. If I was going to stand in that arena, then I’d stand there properly.
This was the time to show what I was capable of.
Not fragments.
All of it.
She looked at me for a moment longer.
Then she smiled.
It wasn’t her usual faint, unreadable curve of the lips. It wasn’t mocking or guarded.
It was warm.
Genuine.
"Good," she said softly.
And just like that, she turned and left.
For a second, the room felt strangely quiet.
Then the door opened again.
"Oh?"
A familiar voice.
I looked up to see the man I’d fought yesterday—the one who used throwing short swords. His expression brightened immediately.
"You’re that young man I fought yesterday!" he said, grinning. "Didn’t expect to see you here again so soon!"
"Yeah," I replied. "Didn’t expect you either. What are you doing here?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "One of my party members made it into the semi-finals. I came to check in. Honestly, it sucks that I lost to you. I wanted to fight them myself."
He shrugged with an easygoing smile. "But well, I couldn’t beat you. So here we are."
"Party members?" I asked. "You’re an adventurer?"
"Nah," he replied quickly. "Mercenary."
He straightened slightly, a hint of pride in his tone. "I’m part of the Leonamon Mercenary Group. A bunch of us signed up for the tournament. It was our president’s idea. It was for good publicity and all that."
Leonamon.
Of course.
"She’s honestly the best leader I’ve worked under," he continued. "Because of her, I’m earning more than I ever did before. Enough to support my daughter and son. I don’t have a wife anymore, so it’s just me providing for them."
There was no self-pity in his voice. Just simple honesty.
"I see," I said.
So this was Charlotte’s group.
Technically, that made it mine too. Though "mine" felt generous. I’d handled advertising, provided funding, helped with some logistics. But the foundation? The structure? The growth?
That was all Charlotte.
She built it from the ground up.
Truthfully, she didn’t even need the Leonamon name attached to it. The group stood strong because of her leadership, not my involvement.
Still, she’d said she was doing it for me.
And I didn’t argue.
"Oh, by the way," the man added, snapping me back to the present. "The one from our group who made it to the semis—she’s strong."
He paused, then gave a small grin. "I don’t think she’ll beat you. And I doubt she’ll make it to the finals. But if you do end up fighting her..."
He folded his arms.
"Give her your best. No holding back."
"...Why?" I asked.
He met my gaze evenly.
"She’s my sister."
Ah.
Well.
That explained the tone.
I exhaled slowly. "Got it."
Between Shredica asking for my full strength and now this mercenary’s sister potentially crossing my path, it seemed like everyone wanted the same thing from me.
No restraint.
No mercy.
Just a proper fight.
I couldn’t help but think—if I lost here, it wouldn’t just be a personal defeat. It would reflect on more than just me.
The crowd roared faintly in the distance.
The semi-finals were about to begin.
Guess I’d better make it worth watching.
