Chapter 222: Prepping for the Semifinals
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"Number 3! We'll be seeing our second seed in the second match of the semifinals!"
Clutching the stick, Freele stepped aside but stayed on the stage. At the same time, Fulkar came forward for his turn.
"Number 1!" shouted the announcer with added excitement. "That means each top seed will face a dark horse competitor! What will happen? Will our top seeds hold out and prove their worth? Or will the underdogs make history and claim the championship match for themselves?!"
"Save the predictions for after the fight…" Fulkar scoffed, joining Freele at the side of the stage. "You got lucky again."
"Shut up…" Freele replied, not minding the banter but too eager to hear who her opponent would be.
"Who will our dark horses be facing… well, it's time to see for ourselves! Oliver, would you do the honors?"
Obliging the announcer, Oli chuckled and came up. But Burt did as well, making sure not to lose the spotlight. They both came forward but the announcer held the bag before Oli.
"Go ahead and draw your lot, but don't show it until Burrtin has a chance to draw his," whispered the announcer. "Then, on my cue, show everyone who you'll be facing. Got it."
"Got it!" Burttin shouted, surprising the crowd.
"I got it…" sighed Oli, playing along.
As Oli picked out his stick, he smiled at Burttin who eagerly threw his hand into the bag.
"Oh? It seems we're left in suspense! No need to hold back, boys! Go on, show us who will be joining you in making history today!
"... Number 4! Number 2! There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! The semifinals have been announced and the intermission will now begin while we clean up and prepare your bets!"
Before Oli could get off the stage, he felt someone grab his wrist. Turning, Oli smiled and nodded to his upcoming opponent. "I look forward to a great match."
"So you'll fight me? You won't just give up because I'm a girl?!" shouted Freele, glaring at her fiance for emphasis.
Oli chuckled awkwardly and turned to Trantor on the side, offering a humble bow of his head. "Forgive me in advance, but I'll probably have to get rough with your fiancee."
Trantor broke out in laughter. "Go for it! Sorry, but I'll let you do it in my place. Just fight fair. That's all I ask."
"Always."
"Finally…" Letting loose a huge sigh of relief, Freele shook Oli's hand. "Thank you! But don't expect to win. I may want a good fight but that doesn't mean I'm expecting to lose."
"Then good luck."
While Oli got the approval of his opponent's fiance, Burt marched up to Fulkar and threw out his hand. "This should be fun, so don't disappoint me!"
Smiling cheekily, Fulkar shook Burt's hand. "At least you're worth my time, unlike the others… I hope you can at least keep things interesting."
Bookies were spreading out to run their rounds and audience members were going back and forth to either go to the bathroom or purchase food from nearby stands or merchants. But many of those from the reserved seats made their way down to the arena floor. It was common courtesy for the nobles to either congratulate the semifinalists or visit their remaining entrants.
As the medics tended to Oli's grazing wounds, he and Melinda sat quietly. They were waiting for Hurman and the others to reach them while Melinda finished gathering her thoughts.
The moment he stepped on the arena floor, one man dashed toward Oli and Melinda with startling speed. But he made no attacks and didn't even lift an arm or head to them. Instead, he stopped directly in front of them, bowing his head to the floor.
"Melinda… I'm sorry for doubting you…"
"Dad, not now…"
"Mertin! You're to stay by my side, as we agreed!" Reginol shouted with a smirk.
"Please, don't intervene, sweetie…" Mertin whispered as he got back to his feet. Looking back to Reginol, Mertin bowed. "Sorry. Please forgive my lack of control."
"Perhaps this once…"
Ignoring Reginol's demeaning tone, Hurman and the others reached Oli and Melinda shortly. Hurman was the first to speak, even bowing his head in public, "Melinda, congratulations. You've proven yourself more than I had ever expected and managed to reach the quarterfinals. I wish I had been able to help you with your training as of recent, but I had no clue that you were still so diligent and dedicated."
"Grandpa…" Melinda sighed as she lifted Hurman's head. "Don't bow… This isn't your fault."
"HA! To think… you would ruin your own shot at redemption!" Reginol's laughter rang out as he pointed at Hurman. "So much for getting the territory's mercy, huh?"
Confused, Oli asked, "What's that?"
Smiling softly with a nod, Hurman explained, "The winner of the tournament gets to meet the territory leader, and it's not uncommon for the territory leader to make the winner his direct pupil."
"And being his direct pupil offers forgiveness of debt?"
"Correct."
"And the Practor Family would even become one of the leading noble families, but only in name. They would have to bear the colors of the territory and not their own, though they haven't earned their own colors either," added Reginol, slowing his guffaws. "Too bad… At least I now know about Mertin's talented daughter. Given her cultivation and water affinity, she may make a good bride for Fulkar…"
Cough! "Excuse me…"
"Patriarch Tranton…" Hurman bowed his head, signaling for the rest of his family to do the same. "Thank you for visiting us."
"Well, it's custom, after all. And you found such an intriguing prospect! Good luck, boy! You'll need it against Freele!" laughed the Forell Patriarch. "But I'm not the only one trying to congratulate him…"
Turning aside, Trantor let Trenk take the lead. The young Trenk bowed humbly. "Master Hurman, you've chosen well, as I'd expect. Congratulations on his advancement to the semifinals."
Trenk then bowed to Oli, showing the same reverence. "You've earned your spot at the top. I wish I could be able to face you myself, but fate wasn't on my side today."
"Thanks. I was hoping the same thing," Oli replied with a bow of his own. "Maybe some other time."
"I'd appreciate that." But Trenk wasn't done, next turning to Melinda and bowing again to everyone's surprise, apart from Trantor. "You've barely become a mid-adept but your skills with the sword are quite formidable. I'd consider it an honor to spar in the future in hopes that we can both learn from each other."
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"Number 3! We'll be seeing our second seed in the second match of the semifinals!"
Clutching the stick, Freele stepped aside but stayed on the stage. At the same time, Fulkar came forward for his turn.
"Number 1!" shouted the announcer with added excitement. "That means each top seed will face a dark horse competitor! What will happen? Will our top seeds hold out and prove their worth? Or will the underdogs make history and claim the championship match for themselves?!"
"Save the predictions for after the fight…" Fulkar scoffed, joining Freele at the side of the stage. "You got lucky again."
"Shut up…" Freele replied, not minding the banter but too eager to hear who her opponent would be.
"Who will our dark horses be facing… well, it's time to see for ourselves! Oliver, would you do the honors?"
Obliging the announcer, Oli chuckled and came up. But Burt did as well, making sure not to lose the spotlight. They both came forward but the announcer held the bag before Oli.
"Go ahead and draw your lot, but don't show it until Burrtin has a chance to draw his," whispered the announcer. "Then, on my cue, show everyone who you'll be facing. Got it."
"Got it!" Burttin shouted, surprising the crowd.
"I got it…" sighed Oli, playing along.
As Oli picked out his stick, he smiled at Burttin who eagerly threw his hand into the bag.
"Oh? It seems we're left in suspense! No need to hold back, boys! Go on, show us who will be joining you in making history today!
"... Number 4! Number 2! There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! The semifinals have been announced and the intermission will now begin while we clean up and prepare your bets!"
Before Oli could get off the stage, he felt someone grab his wrist. Turning, Oli smiled and nodded to his upcoming opponent. "I look forward to a great match."
"So you'll fight me? You won't just give up because I'm a girl?!" shouted Freele, glaring at her fiance for emphasis.
Oli chuckled awkwardly and turned to Trantor on the side, offering a humble bow of his head. "Forgive me in advance, but I'll probably have to get rough with your fiancee."
Trantor broke out in laughter. "Go for it! Sorry, but I'll let you do it in my place. Just fight fair. That's all I ask."
"Always."
"Finally…" Letting loose a huge sigh of relief, Freele shook Oli's hand. "Thank you! But don't expect to win. I may want a good fight but that doesn't mean I'm expecting to lose."
"Then good luck."
While Oli got the approval of his opponent's fiance, Burt marched up to Fulkar and threw out his hand. "This should be fun, so don't disappoint me!"
Smiling cheekily, Fulkar shook Burt's hand. "At least you're worth my time, unlike the others… I hope you can at least keep things interesting."
Bookies were spreading out to run their rounds and audience members were going back and forth to either go to the bathroom or purchase food from nearby stands or merchants. But many of those from the reserved seats made their way down to the arena floor. It was common courtesy for the nobles to either congratulate the semifinalists or visit their remaining entrants.
As the medics tended to Oli's grazing wounds, he and Melinda sat quietly. They were waiting for Hurman and the others to reach them while Melinda finished gathering her thoughts.
The moment he stepped on the arena floor, one man dashed toward Oli and Melinda with startling speed. But he made no attacks and didn't even lift an arm or head to them. Instead, he stopped directly in front of them, bowing his head to the floor.
"Melinda… I'm sorry for doubting you…"
"Dad, not now…"
"Mertin! You're to stay by my side, as we agreed!" Reginol shouted with a smirk.
"Please, don't intervene, sweetie…" Mertin whispered as he got back to his feet. Looking back to Reginol, Mertin bowed. "Sorry. Please forgive my lack of control."
"Perhaps this once…"
Ignoring Reginol's demeaning tone, Hurman and the others reached Oli and Melinda shortly. Hurman was the first to speak, even bowing his head in public, "Melinda, congratulations. You've proven yourself more than I had ever expected and managed to reach the quarterfinals. I wish I had been able to help you with your training as of recent, but I had no clue that you were still so diligent and dedicated."
"Grandpa…" Melinda sighed as she lifted Hurman's head. "Don't bow… This isn't your fault."
"HA! To think… you would ruin your own shot at redemption!" Reginol's laughter rang out as he pointed at Hurman. "So much for getting the territory's mercy, huh?"
Confused, Oli asked, "What's that?"
Smiling softly with a nod, Hurman explained, "The winner of the tournament gets to meet the territory leader, and it's not uncommon for the territory leader to make the winner his direct pupil."
"And being his direct pupil offers forgiveness of debt?"
"Correct."
"And the Practor Family would even become one of the leading noble families, but only in name. They would have to bear the colors of the territory and not their own, though they haven't earned their own colors either," added Reginol, slowing his guffaws. "Too bad… At least I now know about Mertin's talented daughter. Given her cultivation and water affinity, she may make a good bride for Fulkar…"
Cough! "Excuse me…"
"Patriarch Tranton…" Hurman bowed his head, signaling for the rest of his family to do the same. "Thank you for visiting us."
"Well, it's custom, after all. And you found such an intriguing prospect! Good luck, boy! You'll need it against Freele!" laughed the Forell Patriarch. "But I'm not the only one trying to congratulate him…"
Turning aside, Trantor let Trenk take the lead. The young Trenk bowed humbly. "Master Hurman, you've chosen well, as I'd expect. Congratulations on his advancement to the semifinals."
Trenk then bowed to Oli, showing the same reverence. "You've earned your spot at the top. I wish I could be able to face you myself, but fate wasn't on my side today."
"Thanks. I was hoping the same thing," Oli replied with a bow of his own. "Maybe some other time."
"I'd appreciate that." But Trenk wasn't done, next turning to Melinda and bowing again to everyone's surprise, apart from Trantor. "You've barely become a mid-adept but your skills with the sword are quite formidable. I'd consider it an honor to spar in the future in hopes that we can both learn from each other."
"Number 3! We'll be seeing our second seed in the second match of the semifinals!" Clutching the stick, Freele stepped aside but stayed on the stage. At the same time, Fulkar came forward for his turn. "Number 1!" shouted the announcer with added excitement. "That means each top seed will face a dark horse competitor! What will happen? Will our top seeds hold out and prove their worth? Or will the underdogs make history and claim the championship match for themselves?!" "Save the predictions for after the fight" Fulkar scoffed, joining Freele at the side of the stage. "You got lucky again." "Shut up" Freele replied, not minding the banter but too eager to hear who her opponent would be. "Who will our dark horses be facing well, it's time to see for ourselves! Oliver, would you do the honors?" Obliging the announcer, Oli chuckled and came up. But Burt did as well, making sure not to lose the spotlight. They both came forward but the announcer held the bag before Oli. "Go ahead and draw your lot, but don't show it until Burrtin has a chance to draw his," whispered the announcer. "Then, on my cue, show everyone who you'll be facing. Got it." "Got it!" Burttin shouted, surprising the crowd. "I got it" sighed Oli, playing along. As Oli picked out his stick, he smiled at Burttin who eagerly threw his hand into the bag. "Oh? It seems we're left in suspense! No need to hold back, boys! Go on, show us who will be joining you in making history today! "... Number 4! Number 2! There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! The semifinals have been announced and the intermission will now begin while we clean up and prepare your bets!" Before Oli could get off the stage, he felt someone grab his wrist. Turning, Oli smiled and nodded to his upcoming opponent. "I look forward to a great match." "So you'll fight me? You won't just give up because I'm a girl?!" shouted Freele, glaring at her fiance for emphasis. Oli chuckled awkwardly and turned to Trantor on the side, offering a humble bow of his head. "Forgive me in advance, but I'll probably have to get rough with your fiancee." Trantor broke out in laughter. "Go for it! Sorry, but I'll let you do it in my place. Just fight fair. That's all I ask." "Always." "Finally" Letting loose a huge sigh of relief, Freele shook Oli's hand. "Thank you! But don't expect to win. I may want a good fight but that doesn't mean I'm expecting to lose." "Then good luck." While Oli got the approval of his opponent's fiance, Burt marched up to Fulkar and threw out his hand. "This should be fun, so don't disappoint me!" Smiling cheekily, Fulkar shook Burt's hand. "At least you're worth my time, unlike the others I hope you can at least keep things interesting." Bookies were spreading out to run their rounds and audience members were going back and forth to either go to the bathroom or purchase food from nearby stands or merchants. But many of those from the reserved seats made their way down to the arena floor. It was common courtesy for the nobles to either congratulate the semifinalists or visit their remaining entrants. As the medics tended to Oli's grazing wounds, he and Melinda sat quietly. They were waiting for Hurman and the others to reach them while Melinda finished gathering her thoughts. The moment he stepped on the arena floor, one man dashed toward Oli and Melinda with startling speed. But he made no attacks and didn't even lift an arm or head to them. Instead, he stopped directly in front of them, bowing his head to the floor. "Melinda I'm sorry for doubting you" "Dad, not now" "Mertin! You're to stay by my side, as we agreed!" Reginol shouted with a smirk. "Please, don't intervene, sweetie" Mertin whispered as he got back to his feet. Looking back to Reginol, Mertin bowed. "Sorry. Please forgive my lack of control." "Perhaps this once" Ignoring Reginol's demeaning tone, Hurman and the others reached Oli and Melinda shortly. Hurman was the first to speak, even bowing his head in public, "Melinda, congratulations. You've proven yourself more than I had ever expected and managed to reach the quarterfinals. I wish I had been able to help you with your training as of recent, but I had no clue that you were still so diligent and dedicated." "Grandpa" Melinda sighed as she lifted Hurman's head. "Don't bow This isn't your fault." "HA! To think you would ruin your own shot at redemption!" Reginol's laughter rang out as he pointed at Hurman. "So much for getting the territory's mercy, huh?" Confused, Oli asked, "What's that?" Smiling softly with a nod, Hurman explained, "The winner of the tournament gets to meet the territory leader, and it's not uncommon for the territory leader to make the winner his direct pupil." "And being his direct pupil offers forgiveness of debt?" "Correct." "And the Practor Family would even become one of the leading noble families, but only in name. They would have to bear the colors of the territory and not their own, though they haven't earned their own colors either," added Reginol, slowing his guffaws. "Too bad At least I now know about Mertin's talented daughter. Given her cultivation and water affinity, she may make a good bride for Fulkar" Cough! "Excuse me" "Patriarch Tranton" Hurman bowed his head, signaling for the rest of his family to do the same. "Thank you for visiting us." "Well, it's custom, after all. And you found such an intriguing prospect! Good luck, boy! You'll need it against Freele!" laughed the Forell Patriarch. "But I'm not the only one trying to congratulate him" Turning aside, Trantor let Trenk take the lead. The young Trenk bowed humbly. "Master Hurman, you've chosen well, as I'd expect. Congratulations on his advancement to the semifinals." Trenk then bowed to Oli, showing the same reverence. "You've earned your spot at the top. I wish I could be able to face you myself, but fate wasn't on my side today." "Thanks. I was hoping the same thing," Oli replied with a bow of his own. "Maybe some other time." "I'd appreciate that." But Trenk wasn't done, next turning to Melinda and bowing again to everyone's surprise, apart from Trantor. "You've barely become a mid-adept but your skills with the sword are quite formidable. I'd consider it an honor to spar in the future in hopes that we can both learn from each other."
