Just like that, the tournament continued, the days slipping by in a blur of cheers, strikes, and fierce clashes of steel.
Lucavion watched, keenly attuned to the rhythm of each match, his own and Valeria’s, as their respective paths wove through the week’s endless surge of contenders.
His third opponent had been a swordsman, an early 3-star. The man held his ground well, skilled in blade techniques meant to parry and counter, but Lucavion had dispatched him with minimal effort, relying more on speed and precision than strength.
The bout was over in moments, his opponent unable to keep up with Lucavion’s swift footwork and confident, almost mocking, ease. Lucavion left the arena that time with hardly a drop of sweat, his amusement barely contained as he flashed the crowd his signature smirk on his way out.
For Valeria, though, her third opponent had been a step up—a mid-3-star fighter, wielding a heavy ax and an even heavier aura. Lucavion noted her cautious stance, every move deliberately controlled as she faced him.
The ax-wielder was unrelenting, his strikes coming down in massive arcs that shook the ground with each miss.
But Valeria held her ground, her form graceful and precise, meeting each of his strikes with a calculated maneuver that kept her just a breath out of reach. By the end, as she delivered the final, decisive blow, Lucavion could see her confidence had grown, her tension melting as she adapted to the rhythm of the match.
And between the matches, the two continued spending time together. Lucavion himself had changed the inn that he was staying in and started staying in the same inn that Valeria was staying.
At the start, Valeria did not like that fact and felt like he was being clingy.
Or at least, that was how she had shown outside, though inwardly she had already gotten accustomed, maybe even becoming overly familiar, with his presence.
And then, his fourth opponent came.
A mid 3-star from a reputed Adventurer Party, took the field, Lucavion’s smirk widened. The fighter, more accomplished and visibly cautious, took his time with each move, assessing Lucavion’s casual stance and underestimating his intent.
The duel stretched longer than Lucavion expected, but he enjoyed it, enjoying the thrill of each blocked strike, each feint that led his opponent into another trap. When he finally bested him, the crowd erupted, some clearly surprised by how swiftly he’d handled someone of such rank.
On the other hand, Valeria’s fourth match, however, was more challenging. Her opponent, an early 3-star, looked to be an easy victory—at first. But she quickly realized that his cultivation level belied a mastery of technique that was uncommonly sharp. Her swordsmanship was fluid and unpredictable, shifting patterns in mid-strike with a swiftness that tested her ability to anticipate.
She blocked and dodged, moving with increased speed, but her opponent’s strikes only seemed to grow more complex, weaving attacks that forced her into the defensive.
Lucavion, watching from the stands, saw the frustration simmer beneath her otherwise steady movements.
She was learning, each deflected blow adding to her rhythm, adjusting to his unpredictable style as she found openings she hadn’t noticed before.
Eventually, with a decisive parry and a pivot, she brought her sword down in a single, clear strike that ended the fight. She’d won, but he could see she wasn’t satisfied with herself, her lips pressed into a thin line as she left the field.
*******
The crowds had begun to dissipate as evening draped itself over the city, casting warm light across cobbled streets and the faint glow of lanterns flickering in shop windows. Lucavion walked beside Valeria, his usual lightheartedness barely concealed behind a curious glance her way every few steps. She, however, was quiet, her gaze fixed forward, her lips pressed into that familiar tight line he’d noticed after her match.
As they left the arena together, Lucavion walked beside Valeria with an easy stride, glancing at her tense expression, lips pressed in the same way they’d been since her fourth match ended. The sunset bathed the city in a golden glow, but it did little to soften the determined set of her jaw, her gaze fixed forward.
After a few beats of silence, he leaned closer, his voice light with a teasing edge. “Now, now, Valeria, don’t tell me you’re sulking over today’s match. You really did put on quite a show.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was a hint of genuine admiration beneath it.
Valeria shot him a sideways glance, her eyes narrowing just slightly. “I’m not sulking,” she muttered, though her tone betrayed the edge of irritation. “I just… could have handled that differently.”
“Could have?” Lucavion raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “You practically danced around that guy. Had him right where you wanted, didn’t you?”
She looked ahead, her expression not softening. “He was sharper than I expected, that’s all. His skill caught me off guard, which shouldn’t have happened.”
Lucavion couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “Valeria, that’s called adapting. You adjusted, found an opening, and won. Don’t beat yourself up just because it wasn’t perfect.”
Valeria’s lips pressed even tighter, but she didn’t answer right away. There was something in his words that struck at her usual armor. The silence stretched between them as they wove through the bustling streets, the city alive with the energy of the tournament’s ongoing thrill.
They walked on in silence, Valeria’s thoughts churning beneath her composed exterior. Though she tried to shrug off his praise, the truth of it made her uneasy. Watching Lucavion in his matches over the past days had unsettled her in ways she hadn’t expected. His effortless precision, his unfazed smirk as he dismantled his opponents with a confidence that bordered on arrogance—it was a reminder, again and again, of the gap between them.
And that, she thought bitterly, was why she was not happy.
After a beat, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, and the casual way he seemed to move through the world. He walked as if every street, every shadow, and every opponent he faced was just another piece of his playground.
‘Sigh…..Like, why am I even competing with this guy?’
When she asked this question to herself, she could find the answer. She just wanted to beat him, be better than him. To not look down on him, but she just saw him as a rival.
Was there supposed to be a reason for that? She did not know.
Though Lucavion alone was not the case. The disciples of the well-known sects and some others also caught her attention quite much.
They were all strong and she was slightly feeling anxious at this point, feeling like she could lose a fight at any moment and she would lose this chance to prove herself and her name.
As they continued down the bustling streets, the city’s evening glow cast a warm hue over the crowd filtering around them. The murmurs grew, faint at first, just threads of conversation weaving through the noise, until a few words caught their ears.
“…did you see the Pink Knight today? That last match—she was incredible. They say she’s the Olarion heir, you know, from the noble family.”
“Yeah, Valeria Olarion. It’s not just her looks with that pink hair—she has skill, too. She’s got a reputation to uphold, after all…”
Valeria’s shoulders tensed slightly, her jaw set as she kept her eyes fixed ahead, yet it was clear the talk hadn’t escaped her. Lucavion, catching her change in posture, smirked, his own attention drifting as he caught snippets about himself.
“…heard about him too—the one from Rackenshore, right? Took out those bandits single-handedly, or so they say. Bit too smug if you ask me, but that man fights like a shadow—no wasted movements, no mercy.”
“Yeah, they’ve started calling him the Phantom Blade—all finesse, no hesitation. It’s like he’s barely putting in effort…”
The corner of Lucavion’s mouth curved up as he absorbed the new moniker, clearly amused, yet he kept his attention on Valeria, who seemed to ignore the whispers about herself. He leaned a bit closer, lowering his voice, his tone as teasing as ever.
“So, the Pink Knight, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Quite the title. Seems you’ve made quite the impression.”
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Valeria’s lips despite herself. She’d been waiting for this, hadn’t she? Recognition. She was no stranger to expectations, but hearing her name pass through the mouths of strangers, seeing the respect gleam in their eyes as they spoke of her skill—it was a different feeling entirely. She’d finally begun to make a name for herself, one she was building with her own two hands.
But alongside that warmth, an unmistakable weight settled on her shoulders. The mention of her family name brought with it a heavy reminder. Now, her every step in this tournament would carry the legacy of the Olarion family. She couldn’t afford missteps or near-victories; each win had to be decisive, unmistakable. Anything less would cast doubt, not only on her but on her family’s reputation.
She glanced over at Lucavion, catching his smirk. “The Pink Knight,” she murmured, almost to herself. “It does have a certain ring to it.”
“Doesn’t it?” Lucavion’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’d say it suits you quite well—though ‘Olarion’s Heir’ certainly adds a nice layer of weight, wouldn’t you say?”
Valeria’s lips pressed together, the hint of a smile faltering. “Yes, I’m sure that’s the part people will be most interested in. Valeria Olarion, heir to the Olarion family, the duty-bound knight who simply must live up to the family’s prestige.” Her voice held an edge of dry humor, though her shoulders had tightened once more.
Lucavion shrugged, unconcerned. “And what’s wrong with that? Isn’t that why you’re here in the first place? To make sure everyone knows you’re more than just a name?”
She sighed softly, letting his words sink in. “True.”
Since she could not refute it.
CREAK!
Just like that, they entered the same inn that they had been eating in for the past few days.
The tavern belonging to Iron Matron.