Trying to Save my Favorite Character from His Tragic Fate - Chapter 151: Most anticipated match

“Come on… ” Federline pleads.

Kyrie has given him the mission to win in exchange for a delicious black forest cake. If Sulfrid says that it works, then he might as well get the blessing. He can’t really ask Celine since she is Sulfrid’s wife.

Kyrie’s eyes narrow like a fox and smirks, “If Federline loses, then it would be a disaster… Federline might not be able to get that black forest cake…”

Lemuel’s mouth gapes while letting out a flash of electricity from his eyes toward Kyrie. The headmaster is not helping! Federline’s eyes almost water just imagining the black forest cake growing wings to fly away.

“Please…”

Lemuel notices everyone’s eyes on him as if they are waiting for him to finish the deed so that everyone can move on. Feeling the pressure, he reasons that these people might never know that this kind of blessing is only given to someone with whom he is either family or would form a family with. He could just take the mark off when Federline is no looking.

“Sit back,” Lemuel orders Federline, and Federline obediently moves back all the way to the other edge of the bench.

Then, Lemuel puts his knee between Federline’s legs and cups the face. Federline becomes self-aware of how close Lemuel is to him and begins to feel nervous. Lemuel chants and Federline sees a pattern getting drawn on Lemuel’s emerald eyes. Lemuel quickly places a kiss on Federline’s forehead and steps away.

For some reason, Federline feels his cheeks warm up, and he gives out a silly smile while touching, where Lemuel quickly gave a peck.

Those who saw started to let out some coughs and quiet chuckles from the second-hand embarrassment.

Laurel meets Kyrie’s glance and puts her hand on the hilt of her sword, “Don’t even think about it!”

Sulfrid and Celine agonize together, thinking how lame their boss is when it comes to his own romantic life. The man might have good looks and personality, but he is not smooth!

—

After showing all the contestants and the pairings for the following matches, the first few matches have heated up the audience’s spirit. Nevertheless, they all have silenced while holding their breaths when the next battle is announced by the host on the platform.

“We have finally arrived at the time of our most anticipated match! Even though we are in the first round, ladies and gentlemen, we can see that fate has paired these two contestants! First, let’s give a warm welcome to one of our strongest contestants, a powerhouse of the Lorian Empire, Osiath, the half-elf!”

The entire stadium roars from the excitement. The audiences stand from their seats to receive the strong contestant. Osiath walks out from one of the entrances. His build is slightly more muscular than the normally thin and graceful build of an elf. Still, his pointy ears and long pale hair tied on a simple ribbon reveal the obvious fact that he is of elven descent. He grips his spear lightly as he walks up to the platform. His aura instantly spread through the arena, making those close to him feel a stronger heart palpitation.

“And now! Let’s welcome our other contestant… From the most innovative and mysterious guild, the right-hand man of none other than the holy paladin, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Ernest Federline!”

The crowd cheers once again.

Before seeing Federline off to the arena, Kyrie warns, “Don’t take him lightly… Or we will meet on the training grounds.”

Sulfrid stares daggers at Federline immediately, making Federline feel pressure. He huffs at the sudden responsibility on his shoulders. He just wants a cake! Don’t give him the fate of his guildmates!

Federline looks at the half-elf on the platform and sees the aura wrapped around his opponent. Osiath certainly has a stronger aura than anyone Federline has faced in combat outside of his guild. His smile extends almost to both sides of his ears, and he grins at Federline, who is walking closer.

Osiath extends his hand, and Federline accepts the handshake, “Youngster, I hope we could have an exciting fight! I have been waiting for talented warriors to emerge from the younger generation.”

‘Youngster?’ Federline looks at the half-elf who seems to be in his early thirties. He has not expected an older elf to mix with humans.

“Then I will be under your guidance.”

They part, taking a few steps back, and the host screams for the initiation of the fight. They both stand motionless, looking at each other after initiating a fighting stance followed to a couple of steps around the platform. Everyone is puzzled why they stay standing.

High up in one of the rooms, the seventh prince sucks the grape from its skin and spits the seeds out to the bowl that a servant is holding next to his face. Then he takes another grape.

“What… Why are they not moving?”

The seventh prince points at the platform while Vivienne yawns.

“Are you sure that half-elf is as strong as you said, darling?” Vivienne passes another grape to the seventh prince.

“Father emperor has given Osiath to me for the Midnight Queen for a good reason. He has lived at least a century, past the years of expansion of the empire. That history alone is not something to mess with. On that thing’s hands rest at least a thousand lives.”

Federline tries to control his breathing while watching for any openings from the half-elf. However, so far, the half-elf, like him, has shown one. When they both show the opening, they both understand that it is a trap to lure the opponent.

So far, most of his fighting revolves around ambushes, taking the enemy in the dark, so his fighting style has evolved to accommodate that lifestyle. Kyrie has often told him that he needs to polish his style to combine with more aggressive combinations. Thus, Kyrie would always train with him to put that to the test. Now, he understands why Kyrie would say that. Kyrie wants him to at least hold his ground if he faced an equal or stronger opponent. Federline grinds his teeth, thinking how Kyrie would KO him after this with more intensive training.

Lemuel glances at Kyrie from time to time, trying to understand the situation on the platform.

Kyrie sighs, “They both have met their equal, so right now, they are at a standstill.”

Lemuel gasps when all of a sudden, Osiath disappears after a blink of an eye, so he looks around the platform to catch the figure. However, soon, both figures disappear. Only clashes that sound like thunderclaps are being heard—the entire arena floods in voices of confusion.

‘Where did the participants go?’

The magic panels on top of the arena pull down, and the whole fight gets displayed in slow motion on the panels. The entire audience wows at the same time when they understand that they are not able to capture the fight in their own eyes.

They are trembling while holding in their breaths as they lift their head to watch the after images of those two participants clashing. The edges of the platform are starting to chip and crumble.

One man shouting in excitement has unleashed the arena’s nervous and excited energy, and the entire audience roars.

Finally! Both figures appear in front of their eyes, sliding away from each other. The friction on their shoes lifts the platform tiles to aid with their halt. They both come out of their intense battle with many bleeding, thin cuts on their bodies, their hair tousled, and their clothes ripped.

They could not control the thrilled smile on their faces, and their eyes widened in fascination —passion courses through their veins. They both grip their weapons tighter and propel toward their opponent. The broken tiles lift to the air, and in the air, they grind into pieces.

A burst of fire, like a snake bolting to the prey with its fatal jaws, courses through the platform. The audience facing the attack sees the opening jaw and screams while attempting to run away. Thinking that they met their end, the viewers let their bodies melt into their seats after they saw the arena’s barrier protect them.

Federline and Osiath appear once again. Federline reaches to his abdomen to feel his skin scorched while squeezing a frown from the pain. Osiath gets ready again, pushing his weight on one foot. An undying flame blazes on Osiath’s spear.

Kyrie hums, “Seems like Federline is on the losing end…”