Chapter 58

As expected, Prince Frey completed the fourth round without any trouble and the final match was against Sir Percival.

For the final match, something special seemed to be happening. All the knights who had participated so far came out onto the Colosseum's arena, lined up around the fighting area, and held their swords with one hand, pointing them to the center of their heads.

The swords, gripped at the chest, did not move an inch. The 28 knights who had been defeated today stood in neat rows to witness the final match, tightening the atmosphere of the entire Colosseum.

It seemed that no matter who won, they were showing their willingness to fight fairly, accept defeat, and follow the victor. Incidentally, none of the knights were wearing capes.

The person who would lead the team would indeed be hard to determine in a one-on-one duel. Perhaps that's why Sir Percival gave it his all today, and Prince Frey also took up the challenge against Sir Percival.

This was a battle to see if Prince Frey had the ability to lead people. For Sir Percival, it was a battle to defeat the prince he was supposed to protect and show his strength and leadership.

I poured iced tea into my dry throat in one go. This time, I wanted to cheer loudly.

"The final match of the martial arts tournament, Prince Frey versus Knight Percival. The match begins!"

The referee's voice rang out loudly.

At the same time, Sir Percival and Prince Frey, facing each other, took off and discarded their helmets as if they had decided to do so. Their golden hair, shining in the sunlight, and their silver hair, tinged with blue like burning flames, were both drenched in sweat.

But I don't think it was just that. I think they wanted to see each other's eyes while fighting. Between the two, standing straight with their swords, the air, the gaze, and something more than words must have been speaking.

For a while, they stood facing each other without moving. The audience was silent. Perhaps it was because the defeated knights who were watching the duel were silent.

Sir Percival was the first to move.

Now, Sir Percival held his sword with both hands, the tip of the sword pointing diagonally to the ground. He had his left shoulder forward and his knees ready to move at any moment. Suddenly, he bent his knees and lunged forward, slashing upward from a diagonal angle.

Prince Frey, on the other hand, had been in a similar stance to Sir Percival. The difference was in how he held his sword. Instead of holding the blade forward, he held the sword backward, with his fist touching the tip, as if ready to strike with one thrust.

If Prince Frey had moved first, it might have been different. But Sir Percival moved first.

I don't know much about swordsmanship. However, I think both were in a stance to respond to the other's first and strongest strike.

Prince Frey, who had been leaning forward, used his legs to lean back and fly backward to avoid the upward slash while maintaining his upper body stance.

As Sir Percival continued the upward slash and brought the sword down, the prince, holding his sword with both hands, deflected it with a diagonal blade. A high-pitched metallic sound was heard.

Sir Percival was not the type to drop his sword. He maintained his stance, deflecting the sword and engaging in a clash.

"Let's see if you'll acknowledge me, Your Highness!"

"Percival! You've never really seen me! But today is different!"

"That's my line! I'm grateful that you saw me as more than the child I used to be!"

As they clashed, the two of them shouted at each other in loud voices. Their true feelings echoed in the silent Colosseum, where the audience and the other knights were silent.

"I have pride as one who protects you and the country! So, I will defeat you!"

"Protecting the country is also my duty! Prove it to me, Percival!"

With a dull sound, the two separated. They were still not far apart, clashing swords repeatedly, making dull sounds, and fighting with desperate expressions.

From here, I couldn't see their faces, but I imagine it was like that. Neither of them showed any sign of backing down in terms of skill or spirit. It was a battle between the last remaining knight and the prince, evenly matched.

I shouldn't interrupt. I was told to watch, so I must watch.

No matter how much I told myself that, I wanted to encourage Sir Percival.

"Mimosa?!"

"Percival, please win!!"

I heard my stepmother's surprised voice as I suddenly stood up, but in the silent Colosseum, where only the sound of sword clashes echoed, I shouted desperately.

The two of them were not distracted by my voice. However, my encouragement acted as a catalyst, and in the Colosseum, cheers for Sir Percival, cheers for Prince Frey, and cheers that were hard to tell who they were for, spread like ripples.

Suddenly, the arena was filled with cheers. In the midst of the cheers, the two of them clashed, deflected, and struck again, drawing the attention of everyone in the Colosseum.

It was almost five minutes. I didn't know how the judges would rule after such a fierce battle, but I wanted Sir Percival to win.

I clasped my hands as if in prayer, but I didn't take my eyes off them. At that moment, something unexpected happened.

Sir Percival, who I thought would clash head-on as usual, suddenly crouched down.

Prince Frey's sword, intended to clash, cut through the air, and Sir Percival, using the momentum of standing up, deflected it and sent it flying.

The prince's sword, completely caught off guard, fell to the ground with a dry sound. At the same time, the tip of the sword, slashing upward close to his face, caused Prince Frey to lose his balance, and Sir Percival struck the flat side of his sword into the prince's armored torso with all his might.

A heavy, dull sound of metal. Prince Frey fell to the ground.

"The winner is Knight Percival! Therefore, the champion of this tournament is Knight Percival!"

Standing on the ground, Sir Percival held his sword hanging in the air, and the prince, lying on the ground, stared at him. For a while, they seemed to be breathing heavily, as if the announcement hadn't reached their ears.

The prince, who had once looked down, took several deep breaths to steady his breathing, then raised his head and laughed loudly. His face and voice reminded me of the queen. If the queen was a cold, passionate, and fierce rose, Prince Frey was like a young lion.

Then, the prince extended his hand to Sir Percival, who took it and helped him up.

Watching the two of them shake hands firmly for a while, I slumped into my chair and finally burst into tears, my vision blurring.