Chapter 87: Round of 32

The innkeeper was behind the counter. Her hands were raised. Her face was pale.

"Please," she said. "I don’t have any money. I just paid you last week."

The tall one—the leader—smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.

"Well, this week’s prices have gone up. Business is booming. The tournament brings in so many... opportunities."

"I can’t—"

"You’ll find a way." He leaned on the counter. "The capital is full of criminals these days. So many strangers. So many desperate people. It would be a shame if something happened to your inn. A fire, maybe. Or a robbery gone wrong."

The innkeeper’s voice trembled. "Please—"

"Two days." The leader straightened. "You have two days."

He reached for the silver coins on the counter—the coins Emeric had left for his food. He scooped them up.

"Consider this a down payment."

He turned to leave.

Emeric stepped out of the shadows.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you."

The three thugs stopped.

The leader turned. His eyes narrowed.

"And who are you?"

"Someone who paid for his dinner." Emeric nodded at the coins. "Those are mine."

The leader laughed. "They’re mine now."

"No. They’re not." Emeric stepped closer. "Put them back. And leave. And don’t come back."

The woman with the staff hissed. Frost gathered at her fingertips. "You should listen to him. He’s not worth the trouble."

The leader ignored her. He stepped toward Emeric. "You think you’re tough? You think because you’re in the tournament, you’re something special?"

He raised his hand. Lightning crackled around his fingers.

"Let me show you what happens to people who interfere."

He thrust his hand forward.

Emeric moved.

Phantom Step.

He appeared behind the leader. Grabbed his wrist. Twisted. The lightning fizzled. The man screamed.

The stocky one charged. His club swung at Emeric’s head. Emeric ducked. Drove his elbow into the man’s throat. He staggered back, gasping.

The woman raised her staff. Frost exploded outward—a wave of ice aimed at Emeric’s chest.

Emeric stepped into it. His fist found her jaw before the spell could land. She crumpled.

The leader tried to rise. Emeric put a foot on his chest.

"If you come back," he said quietly, "you’ll answer to me. Now give the money back."

The leader’s hands trembled. He pulled the silver coins from his pocket. Dropped them on the floor.

"Now get out."

The three of them scrambled. The leader crawled backward, then stumbled to his feet. They fled through the door.

Silence.

The innkeeper was behind the counter. Her hands were over her ears. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Tears streamed down her face.

Emeric walked to the counter. Tapped it lightly.

She jumped. Her eyes flew open. She stared at him.

"They’re gone," he said.

She stared at him. Blinked. Looked around the empty room.

"They’re... gone?"

"Yes."

She let out a shuddering breath. Her hands dropped to the counter. She gripped it like it was the only solid thing in the world.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

Emeric studied her.

"Why do you let them treat you that way?"

She laughed. It was a broken sound. "Because that’s how it works here. To survive in the capital, you need protection. If you don’t pay them, they become your worst nightmare. They’ll burn your inn. Break your windows. Hurt your family."

She paused.

"You might have made things worse. They’ll come back. They always do."

"I’m sorry," Emeric said.

She shook her head. "Don’t be. You did what no one else would. You stood up for me. That’s more than anyone has done in years."

Emeric was quiet for a moment.

"Don’t worry about the food," he said. "I’ll find something else."

He turned and walked toward the stairs.

"Wait."

He stopped.

She reached under the counter. Pulled out a small loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese. Wrapped them in a cloth. Handed them to him.

"Take this. It’s not much. But it’s something."

He took it.

"Thank you."

She smiled. It was a small thing. But it was real.

"Good luck in the Trials, my lord."

He nodded.

He climbed the stairs.

He found his room. Unlocked the door. Stepped inside.

He set the bread and cheese on the desk. The sword wrapped in cloth beside it.

He lay down on the bed.

He didn’t sleep for a long time.

But eventually, he did.

---

The arena was packed.

Emeric arrived early. Found a seat in the upper tiers. Close enough to see. Far enough to be unnoticed.

The crowd was loud. Excited. The qualifiers were over. The real tournament had begun. Today was the Round of 32. Sixteen matches. The best warriors in the continent, fighting one-on-one.

He watched.

The first match was between a paladin and a mage.

The paladin was massive—armor of gleaming gold, a shield the size of a door, a mace crackling with holy light. The mage was small, wiry, dressed in robes of deep purple. He carried a staff of twisted crystal.

They fought for fifteen minutes.

The paladin was strong. Relentless. He pushed the mage back, step by step, his mace swinging in wide arcs. But the mage was clever. He used the arena itself—the sand, the walls, the air—to attack. He blinded the paladin with a flash of light. Tripped him with a wave of force. Disarmed him with a precise strike to the wrist.

The paladin yielded.

The crowd cheered.

Emeric watched. Said nothing.

The second match was between two knights.

Both wore full plate. Both carried swords and shields. Both fought with discipline and precision. It was a duel of attrition—a grinding, methodical battle that lasted nearly an hour.

In the end, the younger knight won. He was faster. Stronger. More determined. He disarmed his opponent and put a blade to his throat.

The older knight yielded.

The crowd cheered again.

The third match.

The fourth.

The fifth.

He watched them all. Studied them. Learned their patterns. Their strengths. Their weaknesses.

None of them were his match. Not yet.

But they were getting closer.

A man sat down beside him.

Emeric didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. He could feel the presence—the weight of it. The confidence. The arrogance.

"Watching the competition?"

Emeric said nothing.

The man continued. "Smart. Know your enemy. Know their moves. That’s how you win."

He paused.

"But it won’t help you."

Emeric turned.