Lancer and Honest took their lunch in a side chamber, while the Emperor ate alone in the dining hall. Throughout the meal, a single thought nagged at Lancer: What if the Emperor gets the brilliant idea to sneak out incognito?
Yet, contrary to his expectations, Honest boldly suggested after lunch that the Emperor appear openly at the arena as a "special guest," emphasizing his earlier speech about "inspiring the Empire's citizens."
After a brief moment of hesitation, the Emperor agreed. Watching Honest flash him a friendly smile, Lancer couldn't shake the uneasy sensation that something was deeply wrong—as if an invisible trap awaited him, though he couldn't grasp what exactly it was.
When their entourage, escorted by the Imperial Guard, finally arrived at the arena, the stadium erupted into a tidal wave of cheers. The crowd's excitement surged even higher when the Emperor waved graciously, and silence returned only after he gestured gently for calm.
At that moment, Lancer fully understood the immense influence this Emperor held over his people.
Under Honest's direction, the "Imperial Selection" officially began. Four contestants had fought their way through yesterday's preliminary rounds and this morning's matches to reach today's finals. Surprisingly, two of them were women.
It wasn't that Lancer doubted women's abilities—he simply hadn't expected to see women competing in such a brutal setting. More intriguingly, something about the blue-haired girl among them felt oddly familiar.
"Sir Lancer, who do you think will win today?"
The Emperor's sudden question startled Lancer, who was busy scrutinizing the fighters.
"Well… it's difficult to say for sure. Although that warrior from the Imperial Fist Temple looks formidable, victory depends on many factors during combat. If I had to guess…"
After hearing Lancer's vague reply, the Emperor didn't press further, simply nodding as if nothing significant had happened. This reaction left Lancer thoroughly confused.
In reality, the Emperor's mind had wandered back nearly twenty years, to when he was still a young prince attending the arena alongside Budo. Back then, they'd sat in the common stands, watching two famous gladiators. He'd asked Budo the same question, and while Budo's answer differed in wording from Lancer's, its essence remained the same.
At the time, he'd challenged Budo's response: "Aren't you incredibly strong yourself? Father and the generals always say you're unmatched among your peers, so how could you not know?"
Budo had replied calmly: "Nothing in this world is certain. That's why I always fight with everything I have."
All four contestants today were undoubtedly talented, yet to an Emperor who had witnessed Budo's strength firsthand, none of them seemed truly exceptional. He thus treated this rare moment as an opportunity to reminisce about his youthful days—until sudden murmurs from the crowd jolted him back to reality.
In the arena, the blue-haired girl who had caught Lancer's attention had just driven her sword cleanly through her opponent's heart. Her ruthless finishing blow stirred shocked whispers throughout the stands.
The event's organizers visibly paled. Having the Emperor personally attend was a great honor—yet now such violent bloodshed had occurred right before him! What a disgrace!
However, their words of reprimand died in their throats when they noticed the Emperor gazing down at the scene with open curiosity.
But another shocking upset soon followed: the proud fighter from the Imperial Fist Temple lost his match, leaving two young women facing off in the finals.
If violence and women separately could excite a man's passions, their combination sparked something explosive. The audience instantly went wild.
The blue-haired girl wore the distinctive garb of a foreign tribe, wielding a longsword cautiously this time rather than aggressively charging ahead as before. Her opponent, a girl with short black hair, cautiously circled her, gripping twin short blades, maintaining a careful distance.
The two hesitated, reluctant to strike first, quickly drawing complaints from impatient spectators. Some even forgot the Emperor himself sat among them, showering the fighters with insults and jeers. But the Emperor merely watched on, intrigued.
"Sir Lancer, why isn't the dark-haired girl attacking? Isn't she just wasting her energy?"
Caught up in the mood, the Emperor spoke like an ordinary spectator asking an expert's opinion.
"Hm... Although the dark-haired girl's constant circling seems tiring, the blue-haired one isn't faring much better. Her opponent's constant pressure means she must stay alert at all times. Physically, she might expend less energy, but mentally she's under enormous strain. Maintaining this defensive stance is wise for now, but it also means she's being suppressed. The moment she slips up, the battle ends."
Lancer himself might not wield swords or daggers, but he'd fought plenty who did. Naturally, he'd studied their techniques—mainly to counter them.
The Emperor nodded thoughtfully, clearly fascinated. Lancer's explanation brought life and tension to what otherwise seemed like a dull stalemate.
Just as he finished speaking, the black-haired girl suddenly dashed forward with explosive speed. Her surprise assault shattered everyone's expectations; they'd anticipated a drawn-out struggle, not an abrupt rush!
But her blue-haired opponent reacted instantly with a vicious swing—
Slash—!
In stunned silence, the two fighters flashed past each other. An arc of blood sprayed through the air, mingled with scattered strands of black hair.
The highly anticipated final ended shockingly fast.
Duels between experts either became drawn-out contests of attrition or ended in an instant—nothing unusual. Still, it felt anticlimactic. Yet, before disappointment fully set in, the blue-haired girl boldly addressed the crowd.
"Is this the Empire's best? Pathetic! Is there no one here who can defeat me?"
Her voice rang out sweet and melodious, but the arrogant taunt instantly sparked outrage. Insults flew from all directions. Yet most spectators remained rational: skilled fighters, though unable to gauge her exact strength, recognized her clear superiority. Weaker ones, wisely, had no intention of becoming sacrificial lambs.
"An interesting young woman. Powerful, but far too arrogant. Sir Lancer, why don't you teach her a little humility?"
Just as Lancer surveyed the crowd cautiously, the Emperor's command caught him off guard. Nonetheless, he nodded without hesitation, leaping gracefully into the arena.
Though still worried about the Emperor's safety, Lancer relaxed slightly—the Imperial Guard surrounded him closely. Even he wasn't arrogant enough to think himself superior to an entire elite guard unit.
When the blue-haired girl spotted Lancer, her eyes lit up excitedly.
"At last, a worthy opponent!"
She licked her lips alluringly, a charming sight tinged with unsettling menace—at least, for ordinary onlookers.
Landing smoothly in the arena, Lancer drew his cavalry lance from beneath his cloak, snapping it open to its full, imposing length—nearly twice the height of an average person.
The noisy crowd instantly fell silent at Lancer's appearance, before erupting once more into wild cheers.
Clearly, most recognized Lancer at once.
True, Lancer wasn't yet a household name, nor a general. Yet yesterday's imperial honors had quickly spread through the capital. The citizens might not know exactly who Lancer was, but they did know one thing for certain—the Empire had recently appointed a fearsome cavalry-lance wielder nicknamed the "The Bloodstained Executioner."
Surely such a mighty warrior could finally discipline this insolent brat!
High above, the Emperor smiled with deep satisfaction. He appreciated prideful warriors—but the Empire's dignity allowed no insult.
---
T/N: OMG ITS ESDEATH!!!!! IT HAS TO BE, also im someone who specializes in double natured? doubel STANDARDS thats what it is, i do double standards a lot
maybe a bit older than this?