Combat Trial persisted throughout the day, under Thane’s increasingly bored gaze.

From morning until afternoon, and from afternoon toward the golden hours of sunset, the battles continued without pause.

The arena floor became a place of triumph and disappointment alike.

For that was the nature of competition, it didn’t care about reputation but might strip one of his entire future entirely.

The judges observed every match, the format was merciless and could be said to be unfair even for some.

There were two hundred and forty-three teams. Each team would participate in fifteen randomly selected battles in an attempt to allow fairness, considering the privileges that were given to some against others.

Victory mattered as equally as defeat, but the judges were looking beyond simple records. They sought out adaptability, leadership, skill, courage, and potential.

A candidate who lost could still advance, a candidate who won repeatedly could still fail, which would wash away the sense of unfairness they might have suffered, as well as the teams that might have dragged them down.

Though not a single aspirant knew about this, they all fought like there was no tomorrow for a chance... They all believed one failure would result in turning everything into nothing, and that ensured they all gave their all without holding a single thing back.

Everything was being watched and measured by the very keen eyes of experts.

As the battles accumulated, certain teams began separating themselves from the rest.

Their names spread throughout the arena, spectators spoke of them, candidates studied them. Even the judges marked them carefully.

Six teams in particular drew attention.

Two hailed from Krynova.

Two from Drevlorn.

And two from Bentram.

Among the Bentram representatives stood a familiar name. Conor Fury. His performance surprised many.

Though he had suffered defeat against Etno Kamsi, his spirit had not broken.

Instead, he seemed stronger and sharper. He came back with more confidence and edge against other aspirants, like a mythical bird reborn from ashes.

The lessons learned from the Krynovan swordsman had borne fruit.

In one particularly fierce battle, Conor led his team against an elite group from Krynova Kingdom.

Expected to be defeated, yet, against all odds, they witnessed a completely impossible to believe result. His single-sword style flowed like water.

Gone was the hesitation-clingy child Etno had pointed out.

Gone was the uncertain left hand, gone was the sword that did nothing but hold him back.

The fallen noble fought with conviction, and victory became his.

The crowd cheered loudly that day.

A talent tempered through failure was often more valuable than one untouched by adversity.

Meanwhile, Thane continued doing what he did best. He kept winning with his bull-like strength.

The giant’s second battle ended much like the first. His opponents charged.

Thane pushed one out of bounds and carried another outside as if he was a child.

And the fortunate third was automatically eliminated.

It was significantly easier than his first match.

Mostly because there was no agile girl darting around his ankles.

After the battle, Rimon proudly approached him. "We won again!" Now looking smug, unlike his burdened-with-worries self from a few hours ago.

Thane grinned. "This isn’t much." He poked his nose with one index finger and pointed with the other somewhere.

Rimon followed where he was pointing. "See that guy? I was going to beat him up into a grandson," Thane declared.

He flicked away his new harvest, feeling bored, hungry, and tired of sitting all day.

Sky looked at him. "Hey, big brute, don’t belittle others so casually. It’s just... you are too strong. You threw a man into another man." She exclaimed.

Thane laughed. "It was funny, he was very only skin and bones."

Neither Rimon nor Sky could argue anymore. In a way, he was... compared to Thane himself. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Meanwhile, records emerged and whispers spread as predictions formed.

The leading teams stood clear now.

Donovan Young’s team had won twelve matches.

Etno Kamsi’s team had won thirteen matches.

Conor Fury’s team had won twelve and lost one.

And Team 243. Thane, Sky, and Rimon had accumulated eleven victories. They had to fight four more battles.

An impressive result considering two members had originally failed the first trial, under special circumstances of course.

The crowd’s respect for Rimon and Sky steadily increased.

Though everyone knew who carried the team.

And now it was time for the next pairing. The referee stepped forward.

The arena quieted as numbers were announced. "Team 243."

Cheers erupted immediately. Thane stood quickly. "Ah gods! It’s tiring. I wonder how Max is doing." He scratched his head while walking toward the ring.

Rimon followed him, as did Sky, before stretching her shoulders as if she would carry the team this time.

Then came the opposing team. "Team 77."

The crowd became louder. For Team 77 belonged to none other than Conor Fury.

The fallen noble stepped into the arena, his two companions followed.

The audience leaned forward. Many anticipated an exciting battle.

Some wished to see how Conor would perform against someone of the same level as Etno.

Others wanted to witness Thane finally face meaningful resistance.

The teams stood against one another. Conor looked at Thane.

Thane glanced at Conor with a bright smile. "You are the guy from last night, Conor Jury, right?"

Conor’s eyes twitched as he gave a fake chuckle. "Conor Fury." He rubbed his temples, trying to swallow the Jury part.

"Yeah, I said the same, man," Thane replied.

"You said Jury, not Fury," Conor reminded.

"Huh, who the hell is Jury?" Thane was confused. He didn’t know he had a thing for not remembering names.

Conor sighed and stopped whatever he was trying to do.

The referee raised his hand and the match was about to begin.

But something happened. Conor’s swords slipped from his fingers.

The wooden weapons landed upon the arena floor. The crowd blinked.

His companions immediately followed suit, their weapons dropping beside his.

Silence swept across the arena. The referee frowned. "What is the meaning of this?"

Conor stepped forward, his voice echoed across the arena. "I surrender."

The silence deepened before the chaos erupted.

The spectators immediately began shouting.

"What?!"

"Why?"

"Is he serious?"

Even the judges looked surprised.

Thane’s face twitched. "Huh!?" He scratched his head. "What are you doing?" he asked, with genius confusion.

Conor turned toward him, a smile appeared upon the young face. "Listen, man."

Thane squinted his eyes as he listened.

Conor continued as he turned his voice up to address the arena.

"I am a son of Bentram." His voice carried clearly. "And so is he."

The crowd gradually quieted. Conor continued. "I haven’t fought him, but I’ve watched him, and that is enough."

The young noble folded his arms. "There are candidates from Drevlorn and there are candidates from Krynova. There are talents from everywhere."

His gaze swept across the arena. "But if Bentram wishes to stand proudly among them..."

He pointed toward Thane. "Then our strongest should be supported."

Thane blinked, wondering what he was talking about. He wasn’t someone who would shy away from fighting nor someone who would bully others...

Conor smiled. "I’m not strong enough to represent our kingdom," he pointed at Thane before shouting, "but he is strong enough to lead this trial in our stead."

Thane seemed to understand those words, as they were simple and more to the point.

Several spectators cheered, others booed.

Some agreed, many thought the surrender was shameful. The opinions divided immediately.

Conor cared little. He simply shrugged his shoulders. "If someone is better than me, then I would rather see him crush foreigners than waste energy crushing me."

Thane calmly looked at him. He understood that now there was a burden on his shoulders, and he must win.

The burden he felt when he fought against Tooda was similar. There were few supporters back there.

But now, he currently had the entire kingdom on his side.

Thane looked at him and nodded. Conor nodded as well.

But then the giant continued. "But couldn’t we just fight a little?"

Conor rubbed his forehead. "No, sir." He looked at Thane, who, not even once till this moment, had picked a weapon or desperately tried to attack anyone.

"Just a little?"

"No."

"What if I punch softly?" Thane spoke, rubbing his fists together.

"No."

The laughter grew louder, even several judges failed to suppress smiles.

Finally, the referee declared the result. "Victory. Team 243."

The crowd applauded. Conor and his companions departed the arena.

Their expressions carried no regret, yet fate possessed a strange sense of humor.

Barely had Conor left the battlefield when the next match was announced.

The referee glanced down at the roster, his eyebrows rose slightly.

Then he spoke. "Team 77."

Conor froze, the crowd laughed.

The young noble had barely sat down. Slowly, he turned around. "Who is this now?"

The referee continued. "Versus Team 18."

A hush spread across the arena. Everyone knew Team 18, almost everyone.

Because standing from his seat was a tall young noble of Drevlorn.

Donovan Young. His cold eyes settled upon Conor.

A smile slowly appeared, not a pleasant or friendly one.

But the sort of smile wolves showed before feeding. The arena suddenly became very interested.

Conor sighed deeply, then picked up his sword. "Gods, save me," he prayed softly in his heart before stepping back into the ring he had just left.

He rolled his shoulders. "Let’s beat this asshole."

The crowd roared with anticipation. Thane looked at them. His instincts made him worry. Something was not right. His guts told him.

The giant got closer to the arena.

The battle between Bentram and Drevlorn was about to begin.