Game of Thrones: King of Harrenhal, starting with a blue hand stat panel

287 AD, Dragonstone Castle, Squires Tournament.

The winner of the first round leaves the arena and replaces their broken armor, helmet, or shield and sword.

What followed was an even more exciting and brutal second round of battle.

There is no Swiss wheel in Westeros.

It's simply a matter of advancing from 8 to 4, from 4 to 2, and from 2 to 1.

A draw is also unlikely.

"King Robert Baratheon, favored by the old and new gods, and Hand of Jon Arryn. Lords, ladies, knights, and ladies, the second round of the Dragonstone tournament is about to begin! May the warriors bless you and deliver an even more magnificent blow!" the announcer proclaimed excitedly.

Arthur listened intently.

Let's not even talk about whether this prime minister has any real benefits.

This power and position are something that all the major feudal lords would want to try their luck at.

Unfortunately, Arryn was a pure giver, while Robert was a pure freeloader.

This adoptive father and son are a perfect match.

"Let us first introduce a skilled swordsman from the Riverlands. The fearless twelve-year-old boy, Arthur Riveran! While most people at this age are still sharpening swords and maintaining armor for knights, he is already a dangerous, bloodthirsty, and keen swordsman."

"Black Bat!"

"Bat Rider!"

"Bat Rider Black Arthur!"

"Arthur! Arthur!"

Amid cheers.

Earl Jason Melissant was savoring the game that had just taken place.

For many years, martial arts have been stagnant in Hejian.

Even his son Patrick was mediocre; it was unexpected that such a formidable character could emerge from the Riverlands.

In this situation, he would have to place greater emphasis on Arthur's value.

Edmure and his group of friends were a little embarrassed. They were good at eating and drinking, but they were really bad at fighting.

Arthur Hoan was the first swordsman to appear in the second round.

"You are young, so you can choose first," the announcer said to Arthur, having received a signal from King Robert.

This can actually be considered giving the green light.

Choosing a slightly less skilled newbie will allow you to smoothly advance to the next round.

"Thank you all for your kind offer, I accept whoever chooses me! I'm here to win the championship," Arthur said calmly.

"Black Arthur!"

"Black Arthur!"

The feudal lords and noblewomen began to revel like well-trained hunting dogs.

This is the taste.

If you're not young and impetuous, are you still a young person?

These words indeed angered the other contestants.

We are all young people.

How can we tolerate the insolence of the Sanhe people, who have always been looked down upon?

"Warriors, who among you will challenge this arrogant little fellow?" Robert began to laugh; this was certainly an interesting match.

"I'll do it!" A well-trained Valley Knight was determined to end this farce.

Jasper Redford, wearing a red cape.

A sixteen-year-old young man, the heir to the Red Fortress.

"You defeated Donald of the Sven family, but you can't necessarily defeat the fearless warrior of the canyon, Little Bat." Jasper pointed his sword at Arthur, full of confidence.

"Come here," Arthur said calmly, looking at Jasper.

Like Donald Swin, Jasper has a younger brother with exceptional talent.

Eight-year-old Michelle Redford is the youngest son in the Redford family.

Michelle is now Lynn Cobley's squire and is poised to become one of the Vale's finest young swordsmen.

Both of these older brothers were also quite ordinary, and even with their talent and family background, they could only barely make it to the top tier.

even so.

The four-year age difference and the gap in physical strength gave Jasper great confidence in winning.

"The moment of glory begins now!"

The brass horn blared, signaling the start of the battle.

Because many people were eliminated in the first round, the second round had a larger venue, making it easier for participants to showcase their abilities.

"I fight for the honor of the Valley!" Jasper shouted.

"For the Eyrie!" the Vale people cheered, and the old father, Earl Layton, was also very proud.

"For the Riverlands!"

"Be careful, watch his swordplay. Your brother might not be able to handle it," Lynn Cobley, the best swordsman in the valley, as thin as a longsword, said to his squire, Michel.

"Is it really that strong?" Michelle asked doubtfully.

"I trust my gut feeling," Lynn sighed.

I should have bet on Arthur; he's always short of money.

Arthur and Jasper probed first, then launched their attack.

The two of them went back and forth.

This time, Arthur is no longer playing defense and counter-attacking, but going head-to-head.

"Arthur! Arthur!" the Riverlands people cheered.

"Jaspi, Jaspi!" the Valley Man retorted.

But the clamor for Arthur was louder, because Arthur was more handsome and dashing, and his miraculous feat of winning big with little was even more terrifying.

Everyone's expression turned serious. Arthur had killed Donald.

His fight against Jasper was no less impressive, further demonstrating that he is a dangerous swordsman.

The two exchanged blows, their yellow robes and red cloaks intertwining and separating.

Arthur used his speed and agility to counter Jasper's charge.

Jasper became increasingly cautious.

He initially thought the little bat was taking advantage of Sven's pride and carelessness.

That's not the case now.

His opponent was indeed a freak, possessing both agility and strength, like a born warrior.

"How is this possible? I can't get through." Jasper's face was covered in fine beads of sweat, and he felt his arms gradually going numb.

Jasper's strength and speed were waning, while Arthur was like a tireless wave.

"Neither Stormwind Warriors nor Canyon Warriors are good??" Mace Tyrell rubbed his eyes.

This time, they didn't let their guard down; they crushed Jasper head-on.

Mace retracted his arrogance; this little bat was truly a genius.

"What a strong kid," Randall Tarly exclaimed.

He looked at his son Samwell again and became even more worried.

Only the strong are worthy of possessing "Heartbreaker," and Sam doesn't seem to be cut out for it.

In an instant, Arthur's sword was everywhere.

Left and right, like a flurry of rain, the sword moves with the heart, graceful and unrestrained.

Jasper was anxious.

Unfortunately, this isn't a turn-based game; it's a health potion game.

Jasper has only average health, while Arthur has much more health and regenerates health very quickly.

Jasper's speed, strength, and reaction time have declined, and he has made more and more mistakes.

The longer it goes on, the harder it is to endure.

Jasper was struggling to cope, and his weaknesses were becoming more and more apparent.

Arthur thrust out his blunt sword and stabbed Jasper in several places.

Jasper felt his arms growing heavier and heavier, as if they were bound with stones.

Now he can't laugh at Donald; everyone is Donald.

"Awesome! I lost."

Jasper looked down and took off his helmet.

He was truly impressed, clutching his aching arm and raising his hand, not forgetting to offer this assessment.

The entire hall was silent, followed by thunderous applause and cheers.

"Black Arthur!"

"Black Arthur!"

"Black Arthur!"

"Good lad!" Robert slammed his hand on the long table and burst into laughter.

In the third round, Arthur will face Imre Floren, Stannis's brother-in-law.

This branch of the Florentine family, accustomed to wearing heavy armor, entered the third round through a civil war with his brother.

As a result, the Knight with protruding ears became clumsy and slowed down, eventually being defeated by Arthur's kite-flying technique.

With the sudden emergence of the Black Bats, no one questions the frenzied bat storm anymore.

"Arthur!"

"May the warriors protect you!"

Even the notoriously critical Jon Royce and Randy Tully applauded enthusiastically.

Sir Barristan also wore an incredulous expression; this was truly exaggerated.

The number of participants dwindled, with the third round, the fourth round... until the final round.

Richard Hope, another of Robert's squires.

Richard was lean and wiry, with short, dark hair, a resolute gaze, and a face covered in pockmarks and old scars.

He enjoys killing and fighting, but he is also a skilled warrior.

He dreams of wearing a white robe, but his dream will not come true.

Cersei kept speaking ill of King Robert to him, so Robert ignored his servants.

"Champion!! Arthur!"

"Champion! Arthur!"

Regardless of who wins or loses this match, Arthur has already made a name for himself.

"You're strong for a young man. But I'm older than you, and you burn out quickly," Richard said.

"I know you're tired too, Richard," Arthur said to Richard.

Although there is still an age gap, Richard is much slower than Bather in terms of physical recovery.

Two blunt swords, kissing, separating, kissing, separating.

The two attacked from above, from the side, and from below, advancing relentlessly and pressing forward.

One step, one thrust; one step, one flick; one step, one slash; one chop; one strike.

Speed, speed, speed...

This competition is destined to be faster than the previous ones.

Because reaching the final rounds all the way through is extremely physically demanding.

Finally, Richard's speed began to slow down.

"The little bat has won!" Robert said.

He felt his blood boiling and needed to be released.

Although it wasn't the final moment, Robert had a premonition, a warrior's intuition.

Arthur created too many miracles.

Robert rarely saw that kind of pure strength and resilience, and he himself was one of them.