From the moment I was chosen by the holy relic

Eileen stood up, her eyes darkening slightly: "If you lose, I will take over. But I must figure out my opponent's tactics."

"I will force them to reveal all their cards," Eric said calmly, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary.

In mid-air, the hourglass dropped its last grain of gold.

boom--!

The four light curtains shattered simultaneously, scattering fragments like snowflakes. The ground beneath Eric's feet trembled violently, the stone slabs cracked, and a circular arena slowly rose, its surface swirling with massive golden magic runes and surging with magical power.

The moment the ring appeared, the audience erupted in cheers.

"Look! It's that swordsman from the illusion! He dares to come up on stage all by himself?"

"Haha, wasn't he relying on the female mage to hold him back before? Now that his backer is gone, let's see how he dies!"

"Don't laugh at people too soon," an older dwarf said in a deep voice. "None of those who made it this far are useless."

Eric stood in the center of the magic runes, his expression unwavering.

His gaze swept calmly across the entire venue, the noise filling the air, yet it did not disturb his composure in the slightest.

He had long since grown accustomed to being looked down upon and ridiculed, and he had long understood that the best way to respond to criticism was never to argue, but to use a sword.

The host announced loudly that the first competition had officially begun.

The magic runes burst forth with a blinding white light as his opponent slowly stepped onto the arena.

He was a short, stocky man with hair and beard like steel needles, chest muscles as thick as rocks, and he held a warhammer the size of a millstone in both hands, the hammer gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen.

"My name is Baron," the dwarf growled, his voice like the grinding of gravel. "I won't smash you to pieces with one blow; breaking your legs will suffice."

Eric tilted his head slightly, and twirled the longsword in his palm, producing a clear sound.

"Thank you for your kindness. But you'll have to run into me first."

A flash of light appeared at the edge of the arena, and the match began!

The dwarf roared as he charged forward, his warhammer swung high, tearing through the air with a deafening roar.

If this hammer blow lands squarely, regardless of whether it penetrates armor or not, it will surely break bones and rupture tendons.

Eric, however, did not take the hit head-on.

He swayed, as light as a breeze, and spun around on the golden patterns, easily dodging the attack.

boom!

The warhammer slammed into the ground, sending stone chips flying and creating a ripple-like pattern of light on the arena.

"Don't dodge!" Baron roared, swinging his hammer several times, each blow powerful and heavy, yet he didn't even touch a piece of clothing.

Eric was extremely calm, and every dodge was precisely timed and angled, as if he were dancing with the wind.

He wasn't in a hurry to attack; he was simply observing.

This dwarf possessed immense strength but was slow; his anger was easily provoked, and his hammer blows were heavy with astonishing inertia.

He can defeat himself with his own strength.

Finally, Eric found an opening.

"Didn't you want to hit me?"

He suddenly stopped, turned around and leaped diagonally, deliberately luring Baron to unleash a powerful horizontal hammer blow.

The next moment, Eric darted like a swallow skimming the water, suddenly crouching low and rolling to the dwarf's side.

At the very moment when the opponent's old strength had just dissipated and new strength had not yet arisen, the long sword was drawn horizontally!

That's enough.

The cold blade was already pressed against Baron's neck.

So close that you can feel the coldness of the metal even on the hairs on your neck.

The arena fell silent instantly.

Baron stared wide-eyed, too afraid to move.

He knew that if he moved even slightly further, the sword would not hesitate to slit his throat.

"I concede," Eric said calmly.

The dwarf remained silent for a few breaths, then gritted his teeth and groaned, "...I lost."

Cheers erupted suddenly, starting from a few scattered cheers and instantly sweeping across the entire stadium.

This was not a battle of brute force, but a victory won through skill and composure.

"He won! He really won!"

"That dodging...that footwork, that's the skill only a veteran possesses!"

"I told you, he doesn't rely on anyone else; he's strong enough on his own!"

On the arena, Eric stood up straight, gently sheathed his sword, and showed no sign of smugness.

His gaze unconsciously swept across a corner of the audience—he knew that Eileen must be watching.

The first victory had barely been secured when the second opponent stepped into the ring.

The man was tall and slender, wearing light armor with a gray-blue base and silver feather patterns, and a hood that concealed most of his face in shadow.

With a longbow slung across his back and long, strong fingers, he was clearly a seasoned veteran who had been playing the bow for many years.

He stepped onto the stage without saying a word, stood still, drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and stared coldly at Eric.

"The second act begins!"

Before the command had even fully fallen, the arrow had already been released!

call out--!

A silver light streaked through the air, almost brushing past Eric's temple.

If he hadn't been on guard and dodged to the side, that arrow would have drawn blood.

"It's very fast," Eric thought to himself.

He stumbled and lunged to the left, but was forced to stop a moment later—another arrow had already been shot, heading straight for his feet!

Every arrow hits its mark.

The other party was pressuring him, not letting him get any closer.

The archer was like a cold arrow tower, forcing him to dodge every two or three steps.

The bowstring twanged softly, neither hurried nor slow, yet not a single arrow was wasted.

He precisely controls the distance, angle, and rhythm with every shot, showing he is a seasoned veteran.

Eric frowned slightly.

It wasn't that he couldn't handle ranged attacks; it was just that on this open arena, his opponent always stayed on the edge, constantly changing angles and maintaining a tight distance, never giving him a chance to get close.

What's more troublesome is that this person's emotions are frighteningly stable, and even his gait is like a precise gear, steady and deadly.

"We can't stay passive like this anymore."

He ducked to avoid an arrow, and in a brief moment of catching his breath, he spoke in a cold voice:

"Are you planning to stay hidden in the distance, or only dare to stab others in the shadows?"

The archer didn't react at all, only slightly raised his eyebrows, and shot another arrow.

The arrow followed a strange arc, plummeting from the sky and striking him directly on the head!

Eric rolled away to dodge, sparks flying from the tip of his sword – a truly thrilling moment.

"Damn it..." A thought flickered in his mind, "This person's emotions are too stable, but—"

He deliberately took two steps back, his breathing became erratic, and his long sword drooped slightly, pretending to be physically exhausted.

The archer's eyes flickered slightly, and he finally drew a short blade from his back, slowly approaching.

He didn't fall for the trap completely and remained cautious, but his steps were no longer as leisurely as before.

Eric made up his mind and continued to grit his teeth and pretend to be struggling, his shoulders drooping slightly, deliberately creating the illusion of being wounded by an arrow.

"In close combat, you'll lose." Eric crouched down, panting, his voice hoarse and deliberately low. "You know that."

That's why I don't dare to get close.

The archer finally frowned.

"A provocation?" he said in a low voice, his tone as dry as a falling leaf. "You're not worth my risk."

Even so, he took a few more steps closer, his short blade extended, ready to end the swordsman he thought was already dying with a single blow.

Right now.

Eric's eyes suddenly lit up, like a hawk suddenly taking flight in the snow.

He suddenly flipped to his feet, stepping out in an ancient knight's gait. His right foot pushed off the ground, his left leg bent slightly, so light that his footsteps were silent as he trod on the snow. His sword was suddenly drawn, like the morning sun breaking through the fog!

Clang!

The cold blade was once again pressed against the opponent's neck.

"You lost." Eric's voice was calm as still water, without the slightest ripple.

The archer was stunned.

He was clearly proceeding cautiously and meticulously, yet he still fell into the trap.

His eyes went from shock to resentment, and finally to dejection and dimness. He slowly released the short blade and raised his hands in surrender.

You lied to me.

Eric sighed softly and slowly sheathed his sword: "You lost because you were too confident and not ruthless enough."

He neither humiliated the other party nor took advantage of their vulnerability to kill them.

Outside the ring, the fighting can be ruthless, but here, victory itself is enough.

The cheers from the stands were even more frenzied than in the previous match.

"This kid's got some skills!"

"Was that an act? It was so convincing!"

"A swordsman possesses the cunning of a thief, the composure of an archer, and the decisiveness of a warrior."

Eric stepped off the ring, his gaze unconsciously drifting towards Eileen.

She had stood up at some point and was quietly looking at him, a barely perceptible smile playing on her lips.

He felt a slight sense of relief, smiled involuntarily, and his steps became lighter.

The audience behind him was still cheering, but he was already preparing for the next show.

The arena rose again, its heavy stone surface signifying the significantly different scale of this battle.

The third opponent is approaching slowly.

She was slender and tall, dressed in a deep purple robe with golden embroidery along the edges, like vines entwining stars, intricate yet exuding a cold order.

His face was mostly covered by a wide hood, revealing only a pale chin and a pair of eyes that shone brightly despite being hidden in the shadows.

That was a true mage.