We Bond Through Battle

[‘Fight, fight, fight!’]

After soothing Charlie while secretly fanning his battle-lust, Elia smugly took her seat in the VIP stands, ready to enjoy the spectacle of foolish men fighting over her.

The atmosphere was electric—Luke and Charlie’s supporters split fifty-fifty, with most just thrill-seekers.

But this was a fight that had to happen.

Even before reaching the training ground, Luke noticed word had reached high officials and the king.

Yet none had appeared—clearly, they wanted to test Luke’s true strength.

Luke wouldn’t lose, but the question was how to win. As court mages erected barrier spells to protect the nobles, Luke felt the ambient magic elements disrupted.

This was a standard restriction in key venues, designed to limit high-tier magic.

The palace had it, the throne room especially. Deploying it now wasn’t for the duelists’ safety or to ensure a fair stop—it was to handicap him.

Even the most fervent fan wouldn’t doubt a normal Hero’s strength, nor believe he’d lose to a general from a weak nation like Messiah.

But strength isn’t infinite. Some excel in close combat but falter in magic. Ban physical contact or enforce distance, and their power vanishes.

In public perception, a Hero’s edge lay in higher levels, greater mana, and access to powerful spells.

Seal high-tier magic, force mid-tier only, and many grand mages or generals from stronger nations could match or surpass them. Messiah wasn’t one of those nations.

Yet Saintesses were equal to Heroes, even core to Hero teams, because they cast support magic—buffs that elevated normal people to Hero-tier strength.

[‘Go, Charlie! Don’t waste the power I gave you!’]

Elia’s lingering on the field wasn’t just acting. She’d covertly cast exquisite buffs on Charlie—undetectable without mind-reading.

Purely as a Saintess, Elia was exceptional. Too bad she had no intention of using it righteously.

“Begin!”

At the chief mage’s command, Elia donned a worried expression in the stands.

Her chibi, however, smirked with a “Ref, linesmen, organizers—all my people. How can you beat me?” arrogance.

But this wasn’t the time to slack. Luke refocused, bracing for Charlie’s onslaught.

“Get him, Mad Dog Charlie! Show us your strength!”

The crowd roared, but after a few chants, something felt off.

“What’s happening?” “Move, Charlie! Why are you standing there?!”

Discontent swelled. Old grudges and new combined into a torrent of boos.

Charlie remained unmoved. From the duel’s start, he stood rooted like lead-filled boots.

Luke didn’t move either, waiting calmly.

After about a minute, Charlie gave Luke a deep look, dragged his greatsword to the sideline, and knelt before Elia. “Your Highness, please allow me a fair duel with him!”

Elia’s chibi face instantly darkened.

In her plan, rage-blinded Charlie would charge recklessly.

By the time he realized his superhuman strength, Luke would be a swollen mess, utterly humiliated.

Then she’d feign shock, claiming she’d only given Charlie life-saving buffs, never expecting the Hero to lose to that—kicking him while down, shattering faith in him, scrapping the Hero team, letting her rule the kingdom in peace.

Perfect!

But Charlie noticed immediately. Elia couldn’t believe a man fighting for her could stay this calm. Unscientific!

Worse—this idiot announced it! And asked her to remove the buffs! So knightly, so upright… but did he consider how this made her look like a dirty trickster?

The thought of people questioning her sanctity, kindness, purity—demoting her to commoner, forcing her to work off debts in misery… She felt sick.

[‘No, I can’t just sit here!’]

After 0.1 seconds of deliberation, she expertly showed concern, extending a hand to release a warm, useless holy light, retracting the buffs. “Big Brother Charlie, please be careful.”

She planned to brush it off with worry for their safety—crude but effective. Thanks to years of image-building, most instantly praised her kindness again.

But if praise isn’t 100%, buyers fixate on the few bad reviews… Sitting back, Elia quietly cast detection magic to spot any “haters.”

Fortunately, the minority were the “rational” ones. They knew Charlie’s usual foes were bandits, not a famed southern Hero. Without Saintess aid, Charlie would be one-shotted, shaming the nation. So they urged him not to overreach.

Elia exhaled in relief.

“At your command!”

Whether rebellion or something else, Charlie ignored the advice. After thanking Elia’s “concern,” he returned to the field, raising his greatsword one-handed toward Luke. “Come!”

Charlie wasn’t some rigid fool. His earlier stillness was a test. If Luke attacked while buffed, Charlie wouldn’t hesitate to crush him with Elia’s power. Fairness was for the fair.

Now, though still unsure of Luke’s motives with Elia, Charlie at least saw a principled warrior worthy of respect—and a fair fight.

[‘Overpraising me.’]

Luke had considered a sneak attack. But Charlie’s actions earned his genuine respect. And between warriors, respect had only one expression—

“Hope you’re ready!”

Luke charged head-on, sword raised, clashing instantly with Charlie.