"Of course, I feel bad for Roterberg. I'd prefer for every member of my party to advance as far as possible in this tournament, but the thought of being able to challenge another Hero already, makes this youthful body tremble with excitement..." Caesar said to himself, an elegant smile spreading across his face, radiating almost uncontrollable anticipation.
Lucas, too, could not help but admit that he felt the same way.
Though, of course, the biggest difference was that he had no desire to participate in the match—he simply wanted to watch it.
In fact, the former boy was probably even more excited than the Roman general.
Unlike Caesar, Lucas knew exactly who both of these men had been in their previous lives.
They were two of history's most famous figures, born in completely different countries and separated by centuries before Lucas himself had ever existed.
The thought that these two legends, whom Lucas had to admit he greatly admired, would not only meet tomorrow but actually clash on the battlefield was something he would once have expected to see only in fiction.
As a matter of fact, he even remembered watching at least two anime built around that very premise.
Yet, even though he still struggled to believe it, this was reality.
And because of that, the excitement of witnessing such an impossible encounter with his own eyes tomorrow was almost impossible for him to contain.
"Although it's a shame that Hero Musashi isn't someone I know personally. Encountering new cultures is always exciting, and the possibility that this swordsman may even come from what would be, from my perspective, the future of my own world is incredibly fascinating... But..." said the Roman Hero, unable to hide the emotion in his voice before continuing, "How I would love to meet the great Alexander the Great and pit my army of Magic Soldiers against his! I'm certain that a brilliant general like him would have assembled a magnificent and overwhelming army, whether through magic or by more conventional means."
He then sighed softly.
"Unfortunately, from all the research I've conducted since beginning my second life in this world, it seems he has never been summoned..." Caesar concluded before turning toward the former queen.
"Lady Sequoria, you're regarded as one of the greatest experts on this world's history. Have you ever heard of a Hero by that name?"
Having finally regained her composure after the excitement she had experienced while watching the battle between Roterberg and Musashi, Sequoria immediately began searching her memories for the name of the famous general from Lucas's world.
After a few thoughtful seconds, she slowly shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Caesar, but the name 'Alexander the Great' doesn't ring any bells."
She paused briefly, her expression thoughtful, before adding with a faint blush coloring her cheeks,
"But that certainly doesn't mean a Hero by that name has never been summoned."
"It's true that, thanks to my nearly eight hundred years of life and my love of learning, I possess extensive knowledge of this continent's history. But that does not make me omniscient."
She smiled apologetically.
"I may simply be forgetting. So once this tournament has concluded and I return to the palace, I intend to search both my private chambers and the royal library thoroughly for any mention of him."
"I also don't possess perfect knowledge of every nation on this continent. There are probably many small kingdoms that even we—the elves of Yggdora— know very little about it. So I advise you not to give up on your search just yet," she finished in her usual calm, gentle voice.
"Thank you, Lady Sequoria. And although I'm not sure this can truly be considered a proper way of thanking you, I promise that tomorrow's match between Hero Musashi and me will be a spectacle worthy of your expectations," Caesar replied, his voice filled with confident determination.
Sequoria immediately nodded, her eyes shining with eager anticipation.
"In any case, even though Mr. Roterberg was defeated, he truly demonstrated his extraordinary abilities as a blacksmith. I doubt even the greatest blacksmiths in our kingdom could reproduce even half the weapons he displayed during this match," Luvrio remarked as he looked toward the many weapons scattered across the arena floor.
He then turned toward "Alberia."
"Queen Alberia, I believe it would be wise to commission Mr. Roterberg to forge a large number of swords and suits of armor before he and the other members of the Hero's party resume their journey. We simply cannot allow an opportunity like this to pass us by," he said in a gentle yet serious tone.
"I-I understand. Of course, weapons forged by Roterberg would be invaluable for the Royal Knights, but... Uncle Luvrio, are you certain this is the right time to ask him to take on such a massive commission?" Lucas replied, reluctant to burden the dwarf blacksmith any further.
"I imagine the Hero's party intends to leave not long after the Golden Trees Tournament concludes. I'm not sure Roterberg would have enough time to forge so many swords and suits of armor."
"Please don't worry, Queen Alberia. Knowing Roterberg, as long as he's paid properly and on time, I doubt he'll have any objection to either accepting the commission or completing it before our party is scheduled to depart," Caesar replied reassuringly.
"If you'd like, I can mention it to him the next time I see him."
"Thank you, Caesar. Please let Roterberg know about this potential commission. However, before I officially give him the job, I'd like to discuss it with the Minister of Defense Scuro and the Minister of Economy Lucrio," Lucas replied, his voice still carrying a faint trace of apprehension.
A broad smile filled with pride spread across Sequoria's face as she watched how naturally her son had adapted to such an unexpected situation.
"Attach!" Roterberg chanted.
Then he added, "Return: All!"
Immediately, every weapon scattered across the arena teleported back behind his shoulders, where they attached themselves both to his armor and to one another.
Meanwhile, the tournament's medical team, who had arrived to escort him to the infirmary, simply stood there holding their stretcher, staring at him with blank expressions.
A short while earlier, Roterberg had refused their assistance with his usual cheerful laughter, insisting that he didn't need any medical help.
Naturally, the healers had refused to give up so easily.
Eventually, they reached a compromise.
They would simply wait until he had finished whatever he wanted to do, provided it took no longer than ten minutes.
Now, however, the poor medical team had begun wondering whether they would actually be capable of transporting him to the infirmary.
They were confident that the specially reinforced stretcher—designed to support individuals of virtually every humanoid species—would have no trouble bearing the combined weight of the dwarf, his armor, and his enormous collection of weapons.
What they were far less confident about was whether they themselves could carry that stretcher.
After all, with everything he was wearing and carrying, Roterberg probably weighed well over two hundred kilograms.
Now fully equipped once again, the dwarf walked toward the half of Siegfried, the shield Musashi had sliced cleanly in two.
After bidding Roterberg farewell with his usual relaxed demeanor Musashi quietly left the arena and even letting out a lazy yawn as he did so.
The broken half of the shield had not teleported back with the rest of Roterberg's weapons because, unlike them, it bore no seal.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Don't worry, kid," Roterberg said in his booming, cheerful voice as he gently picked up the shattered half of the shield.
"I'll make you even tougher than before, and I'll do everything I can to give you enough resilience that something like this never happens again!"
Although his tone remained as joyful as ever, the faintest trace of melancholy could be seen in his eyes.
Carefully holding the broken fragment, he finally made his way toward the waiting medical team.
Roterberg looked over each member of the group before asking,
"Are you really sure you want to carry me all the way to the infirmary yourselves? I'd have no problem walking there on my own! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Most of the elves on the medical team immediately began shaking their heads from side to side in silent panic.
Only their leader—a human—managed to maintain something resembling a confident expression.
Suddenly, however, as the dwarf continued laughing, he broke into a fit of coughing.
Several drops of blood sprayed from his mouth, splattering directly across the face of the medical team's leader.
Now visibly trembling, the man wiped the blood from his face with his gloved hand before forcing himself to say,
"D-Don't worry, Mr. Roterberg. It would bring great shame upon our medical team if we allowed someone with injuries this serious to walk all the way to the infirmary. So please... lie down on the stretcher and leave the rest to us!"
"All right, kid—you've convinced me," Roterberg replied with another hearty laugh before carefully lying down on the stretcher.
Since none of the members of the medical team were actual combatants, especially when it came to feats requiring raw physical strength, it became painfully obvious how much effort they were putting into carrying him.
Even though every one of them was pushing the Physical Enhancement spell to its limits and working together, their faces quickly turned bright red, and sweat poured from every one of them.
Even so, not a single member of the team gave up.
Through nothing but determination and perseverance, they slowly managed to carry the compact but extremely heavy burden out of the arena field and begin making their way toward the infirmary.
With the arena field now clear once more, Chiacchera returned to its center.
"Ladies and gentlemen, how was that second match of the day? Did you enjoy it?!" Chiacchera shouted in her shrill, energetic voice.
Shouts of approval erupted from every corner of the arena.
"I agree! Even if it wasn't quite as spectacular as the match between Hero Caesar and Katerina, it was definitely thrilling and packed with suspense. If you asked me which of those two matches I preferred, I'd honestly have a hard time deciding..." said the announcer, theatrically resting a hand on her chin.
"But we still have six matches left, so let's not waste any more time and bring out our next two fighters! Especially since, as you already know, they're two celebrities from our very own kingdom, and I'm sure you can't wait to watch them face each other!!!!!" Chiacchera's voice rose even higher as she pointed dramatically toward one of the gates on the right side of the arena.
The gate immediately swung open.
"Entering from the right side is, without a doubt, one of the favorites to win this tournament! The woman who frightened her very first opponent in this edition into fleeing before the battle even began, and who has already claimed victory in several previous Tournaments of the Golden Trees..." Chiacchera paused deliberately to build anticipation before shouting at the top of her lungs,
"The personal bodyguard of our beloved Queen—AISLYRA ELENLORA!!!!!!!!!!"
The current queen's younger sister stepped confidently into the arena, a self-assured smirk resting on her face. She was pleased. Unlike her first opponent, this one would never run away before the fight even started.
Chiacchera then swung her arm toward one of the gates on the left side of the arena.
"And entering from the left side is the elf widely regarded as the greatest Ranger in the entire kingdom! A proud member of Hero Caesar's party, whose companions have already given us two incredible matches today. So I'd say there's every reason to believe this streak will continue! Please give a huge round of applause for... Emeralda Ventora!!!"
The gate Chiacchera indicated slowly opened.
The first thing visible was the famous pair of golden twintails belonging to the petite elf.
Emeralda stepped into the arena with graceful ferocity, her fiery gaze fixed entirely upon her self-proclaimed rival in love.
The moment she stopped in front of Aislyra, Emeralda immediately raised her voice.
"Aislyra! I will defeat you today, and with that victory, I'll finally prove that I alone deserve to become that man's beloved!!!"
A puzzled expression appeared on Aislyra's face. She didn't quite understand what her friend was saying. Still, there was one thing she understood perfectly.
"So... I'm not entirely sure who this 'beloved' person you keep talking about is, but what you're really trying to say is that you're ready to fight me, right?!" The smirk on the silver-haired elf's face widened even further.
A disappointed sigh escaped Emeralda's lips.
"As always... all brawn and no brains," she muttered before immediately continuing. "Still, it doesn't matter. At least you've realized I'm serious this time, so I don't think there's any point in wasting more time."
"Let's begin!!" declared the blonde elf, her voice carrying equal measures of frustration and determination.
"I couldn't agree more," Aislyra replied as she lifted her massive broadsword into a ready stance.
"So, I take it there's nothing else either of you wishes to say before the match begins, Lady Aislyra? Lady Emeralda?" Pinusal asked.
"EXACTLY!" both elves answered in perfect unison.
"All right, then. The match will begin on my signal," Pinusal declared in his usual professional tone.
"Ready..."
"Set..."
"GO!!!!"
The instant the final word left the referee's mouth, three arrows tipped with emerald-green light materialized upon Emeralda's bowstring.
Without the slightest hesitation, she released all three at once.