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“Not at all. Please, excuse me.”

As Lizbeth jumped away with the wind, Tranton laughed and grinned. “So, what did your favorite aunt say? Did she warn you of the two dark horses?”

“Dad... We’re not helping your bets,” Trantor sighed with a teasing smile.

While Trantor and Freele said nothing, the patriarch was able to read Freele’s expression. It was riddled with disbelief, exactly how she would react if Lizbeth’s warning was far beyond expectations.

“Worried for the next match?” Tranton asked.

“No... Just getting used to being a semifinalist I guess. I never pictured that happening without Trantor or Trenk in the final four...”

.....

Despite her best efforts, Tranton wasn’t convinced. The confident, easy-to-read girl that Freele commonly portrayed was nowhere to be found. In her place was a nervous young woman who kept stealing glances at someone across the way, at the no-name contestant with no one visiting him, apart from the quick greeting of nobles.

Keeping that realization to himself, Tranton began to chat with his sons about their thoughts on the tournament.

That intermission went the quickest of them all so far. The constant chatter and meeting of the nobles made sure of that, even if the time was filled with only fluff of noble customs.

Back on stage, the announcer was staring around the crowd with a prevalent grin. The energy in his smile and gaze was infectious to many as everyone was silently waiting on the edge of their seats. Finally, the fights everyone wanted to see were starting.

“Are you ready, ladies and gentlemen? I’m not sure if we are!” shouted the ref. “With this lineup, there’s no surefire winner for any match. We’ll see each of our contestants leave everything on the stage, forced to fight with every fiber of their beings! Finally, we get to see the fights we all came to see!”

The roaring crowd took over as the announcer pumped his cone into the air, basking in the crowd’s cheers.

“As we begin the semifinals, our first match will leave our eyes in a daze and our minds confused. We have two high-speed opponents duking it out with intricate strategy and sheer force. Who will win? Will it be the third young master of the Libarn Family, the young swordsman with ice and wind under his control? Or will it be our mysterious dark horse, an immediate crowd favorite who has left each of his powerful opponents facing shocking defeat with his lightning speed?”

Both Fulkar and Burt began their ascent to the stage. They came from opposite sides, clearly following stage instructions to add to the showmanship of the tournament.

“Now’s the time, folks! Now we’ll get to see these speeding titans collide! There’s no telling who will end up the victor, but we’ll find out one way or the other! Give it up for Fulkar Libarn and Burttin!” Giving the crowd a moment to cheer all the louder, the ref got a nod from each contestant. “BEGIN!”

As expected, Burt bolted into action and chased after Fulkar from the start. He understood that his speed should be superior, even if wind was more agile. And keeping his opponent from controlling the pace was his favorite fighting style while he toyed and tested opponents over and over again.

Fulkar reacted and retreated, but he wasn’t entirely on defense. Each step he took gave him more time to spread out a frosty mist over the stage.

“Fascinating... But will that work on me?” laughed Burt.

“Let’s find out,” Fulkar chuckled, jumping back into the thickest part of the expanding mist.

Burt charged in after Fulkar, looking to deliver the first blow of the match with devastating speed.

“Despite not seeing them with your eyes, many cultivators can still sense them within the mist, despite its foggy effects. But that’s easier for an elder like me, not so much so for a mid-adept like Burttin...” stated the announcer, making sure the common people were able to understand what was happening.

A sudden flash of lightning erupted out of the mist, one larger than anything Burt had thrown before. It was dealt with by the guards but it still startled the audience. But a spray of icicles did the same, coming from the other side.

“It seems they’re still testing each other, gauging just how much energy they’ll need to spend to deal with each other!”

“That’s right!” Burt’s laugh echoed as a larger bolt of lightning lashed out of the mist. Two more bolts followed suit, leaving the audience in suspense. “Come on, Fulkar! Show me what you’ve got!”

“Show me your wind and maybe I’ll do more!”

While the audience was left confused by the comment, a small whirlwind suddenly picked up and carried away the mist. It revealed Burt and Fulkar standing a few krin apart near center stage.

“So you knew?”

“How else could you have dodged that kick last match? Or taken out Naten’s earthen armor?” Fulkar stated with his sword drawn and covered in ice.

“Well, I guess there’s no sense in hiding it now...” Burt shrugged, playing into the crowd’s amazed reactions. “Does that mean you’ll take me seriously?”

“Of course.”

“Then why wait!”

Zipping toward Fulkar, Burt’s smile was that of an old, childhood friend playing his best pal, despite hardly knowing Fulkar at all. But Fulkar showed a similar grin, eager to finally let loose and test himself for real.

Wind surrounded them both as they lunged into each other. One brandished an icy blade and one led with a lance of lightning. Their collision created a frosty explosion of static electricity. But another explosion came not even a moment later, and another... The crowd was in awe of the evenly matched strikes.

“Hmm...”

“You see it too, Trenk?” Tranton sighed in relief as his youngest son nodded. “Looks like easy money to me...”

“But what about Freele’s fight? Won’t you lose your winnings?”

Caught off guard by Trenk’s rare joking tone, Tranton laughed, “Huh? What do you mean?”

“You bet on Freele. At best, this round is a wash.”