The floor gradually became more drenched.
It was because of the drops of sweat that trickled down like rain, unable to stay on the men's bodies.
The more drenched the floor became, the more flustered David grew.
'Why… Why…'
Why the hell. Was the drug ineffective?
With most of the people who'd taken Zobel's formulation, it was by the middle of the match that their eyes would become unfocused already.
At first, the effects used to come out before the start of the match, making them have stomachaches or headaches. As a result, there was a time when there was one guy who doubted his physical condition.
He said, 'Why did I get a stomachache when I didn't eat anything?' and so on.
Only a slight suspicion was raised, but for the guilty party who actually committed the crime, erasing even the slightest doubt was the best way to preserve one's life.
Therefore, David asked Zobel to make a different kind of formulation.
One that would take effect in the middle of the match instead.
Since then, everyone would just think that they got tired from the spar, or perhaps they were just in a bad condition—but never once did they think that they had been drugged.
All in all, it was a perfect crime.
Yeah, it should be…
'It's around the time that the drug should take effect.'
But then, why the hell was this guy still standing upright?
This was David's thought as he countered his own sword against the other man's sword that was about to lunge for his throat.
Chang!
A shrill sound broke out, one that was now a familiar noise.
His feet staggered on the ground, scared that his neck would truly be crushed by his opponent's force.
Even so, he couldn't stop.
Somehow, the drug wasn't working, but he couldn't possibly lose against a street rat.
He twisted his sword against the sword pressing down on him. He struck forward, aiming for his opponent's neck.
Cassion's eyes widened, then he hunched down. Then, he jumped straight at David.
Qiiiing.
Accompanied with the screeching of metal, the blades of both swords met as the two opponents closed the distance between them.
Both men had the same hunch at the same time.
It was at this moment that the match would be decided.
Time passed by slowly for the two opponents amidst the stifling tension.
Exactly like the moment before one's death, when life would flash behind one's eyes.
Their grips on their swords were close together, the back of their hands almost touching.
Their eyes, sweaty hair, clenched lips.
The other's shaking jaw could be seen so clearly.
Even one's breaths seemed to shift between these figures.
David, standing on top after slashing his sword down. And Cassion, who had his sword raised from below.
The two men's battling gazes met at the center.
Neither opened their mouths to speak, but a growl that could only be theirs rang out in each other's ears.
Then, an untimely gust of wind blew past.
A truly unusual wind during this scorching summer day.
There was a buzz at the audience stands where the crowd was.
The women's hair fluttered in the air, and the men closed their eyes tightly.
David was no different.
Who wouldn't panic against an act of nature that went against the season?
Dust flew into his eyes, his eyelashes unable to catch them, and so he couldn't help but blink.
He tried to endure it somehow, but it was impossible.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the match was decided.
A moment's instance.
The one time his vision was blocked, Cassion turned.
Pressing beneath the wrist of David's sword hand, Cassion spun around, and at the same time, Cassion's back was to David's chest.
Cassion placed his sword hand under David's wrist and held David's arm with his other hand.
In one fluid motion, the man sprung forward with an arc, throwing David's body from behind and to the front, on the ground.
Thud!
David's huge back fell to the floor with the noise that was as big as his size.
Absolutely befuddled, David couldn't understand what happened in just a flash.
He just blinked for a split second, but then when he opened his eyes again, what he saw was the blue summer sky instead of the black eyes of his opponent.
The man looked up at the sky, bewildered, but he soon clenched his teeth and tried to get back on his feet.
However, he had to stop in place because of the blade that was pointed at him.
The shadow of the man who was standing upright loomed and covered the blue sky.
From the ground and from the sky, the two faced each other, their eyes locked as they breathed roughly, sweating.
The arena was imbued with silence.
In that breathless moment, one person's applause broke out.
And that was the trigger.
Like fireworks, cheers and applause soon burst through.
Evidently, these cheers were not for the man lying prone on the ground, but for the man standing upright.
Soon, the color-bearer appeared and waved the flag in his hands.
A knight, who looked to be a high-ranking person, was standing next to the color-bearer.
Then, he proclaimed.
"David Valheim, Maxwell. The winner is Maxwell!"
It was the definite signal of the spar's end.
The match was over.
The winner had been decided.
Victory was claimed by the person nobody expected to win.
When Cassion pulled his sword away, the hot summer air moved as well.
Shwaa.
Against that hot air, the sword was returned to its scabbard.
Cassion stretched out one hand to his opponent, who was still on the ground.
Drip, drip.
Beads of sweat fell from the sky and onto David's face.
The trickles that fell under his eyes made it look like he had shed tears.
As he stared at Cassion's outstretched hand, David gnashed his molars.
He was bewildered, enraged, infuriated.
He couldn't understand why he was being given the sportsman-like behavior of a winner towards a loser.
Instead of taking the other man's hand, David got back on his feet by himself, roughly wiping off the sweat on his face.
Cassion withdrew his hand.
Staggering up, David planted his legs on the ground.
The sword in his hand was returned to its scabbard.
His vision spun and his back was in pain.
He had a terrible headache.
However, what he felt now was even worse than all things combined.
After facing each other, the two bowed.
Unlike the indifferent expression Cassion had, David's countenance was red and distorted as he was unable to hide his emotions.
After the brief bow, Cassion was the first to turn away.
David foolishly stood in place while staring at his back.
'This can't be. Did it really end?'
A loss? Seriously? To that street rat?
He was brought back from his reverie by a bark of laughter.
It wasn't someone else's. It was his own.
As he laughed for a long time, the ridiculing words recited by his own voice echoed in his mind.
'Anyway, I don't know who's going to be that bastard's opponent, but…'
Whoever it is, then you're even lower than the ground beneath my hand.
"AAAAARGH!"
For a moment, red hot rage rose to his throat. And this fury burst through his mouth.
His hand reached for the scabbard where he had just pushed in his sword.
This red anger and shame flooded his brown eyes.
All he could see was the back of the man who humiliated him.
He was about to lunge at any given moment, but in less than a few steps, he faltered.
"…Ugh… uuurk…"
Suddenly, a severe stomachache held his entire body hostage.
His trembling legs sharply buckled, making him crash to the ground.
He had no idea what was going on.
The face that was red with anger just a moment ago soon turned pale.
A few knights came running to David's side.
It was a clear offense to try and point a sword at the opponent when the match had already ended.
Cassion, the person who was about to be attacked, also stopped and watched David's collapse.
The gaze looking down was icy.
With David on the ground while clutching his stomach, the knights grabbed the man's arms and forced him back on his feet.
"David Valheim, as a knight, you have committed the offense of targeting a defenseless opponent after the match has ended. Additionally."
The knight who declared David's offense paused for a moment before explaining further.
'Additionally?'
Even when his guts were all twisted up, David hung onto the word, 'additionally'.
Was he saying that there's more?
However, no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't think of any other offense that could follow.
No way…
There's no way at all that he was caught.
However, there was no chance of a perfect denial in this world.
"Earlier this day, there was a report about you, David Valheim, and how you've been continuously committing the act of poisoning your opponents' food every time an assessment of the knights is held. After a thorough investigation, a harsh punishment shall be delivered!"
As the knight's words resounded, the surroundings grew restless.
It all started small, with only whispers, but then before he knew it, these soon became huge like a typhoon.
Shocked gazes rushed towards David.
And these gazes were as sharp as knives.
"That's impossible, sir! I've been framed!"
Pale and blue in the face, David stomped one foot down and shouted.
"How can you charge such things to a person when there's no evidence?! I don't know anything about this!"
It was enough that his past deeds had been revealed, but he couldn't just get dragged away like this.
Because there was no evidence, as long as he insisted that this was unfair treatment, there's no way they're going to punish him.
However, David's clamoring did not change the expressions of the knights holding him by the arms.
No, actually, there was.
The seriousness painting their expression turned into scorn towards him,
They looked at him as though he was pathetic, and David stopped struggling for a moment.
It dawned on him that something was definitely wrong here.
As one knight met his gaze, he let out a short sigh and spoke.
"The corresponding evidence has already been secured. There is a written statement detailing your offenses, and documents related to this were found when members of a certain guild had been arrested. David Valheim, have you not commissioned a banned substance in your name?"
Guild. Substance. Commission.
These familiar words stuck out to him.
As the words were gathered together, he recalled a memory.
The document that Zobel had presented to him weeks ago.
That very commissioned request that was placed in David's name because Zobel couldn't get it on his own.
'What was it again that's written there?'
As he tried to recall, his brown pupils shook, but he still couldn't remember.
It was a document that was presented by a guy who's been acting like a submissive pawn for the past two years, so all he could recall was signing that document without even reading it.
David hurriedly looked around towards the crowd.
Zobel.
He had to find Zobel.
He had to find that punk so that he could figure out just what the hell was going on.
As he looked around frantically with a stiff expression, the knights between both sides of David began to move forward.
He struggled noisily, but it was to no avail.
His tired body was dragged away helplessly.
Somehow or another, David tried to force out his strength and hold out.
Even as he was being dragged away, the first thing he needed to do was find Zobel.
And, at long last.
His desperate gaze finally found the face he'd been searching for.
Zobel.
He was smiling.
Despite those gaunt cheeks and deep-set eyes, he was smiling so broadly.
It was a bright, refreshed smile. Not a forced smile.
On the other hand, David was left taken aback.
Was this what it felt to be hit in the back of the head with a huge iron club?
Was this what it felt to be bitten by the loyal dog that you've been raising?
Zobel smiled silently, then hid himself amidst the crowd.
As he was in a dazed trance, David finally snapped out of it and began struggling again.
"Th…That son of a—! You're not staying put?! HEY! Stop right there! Stop!"
His tired throat was scratched with all the shouting.
The knights just stared at David, whose face grew distorted as he went wild like a horse that's gone mad.
It didn't matter if he did this or that.
David struggled to keep his rear end back while planting his feet to the ground with all his might.
He couldn't let himself be dragged away like this.
Even if he had no choice but to go, he just had to at least knock out that damn punk.
He's gonna grab that punk by the collar, push him down on the floor and beat him black and blue.
David would beat him up so thoroughly that he wouldn't be able to smile ever again.
His furious eyes rolled around busily, but it was almost impossible to find someone who had already blended into the crowd.
It would be easier to find a needle in a haystack.
When the man he was looking for was nowhere to be found, his stomach began to cramp up again. The pain had subsided only temporarily in his shock.
It felt as if he had been punched right in the gut, and so he hunched over in pain.
"Wait… just a… minute… my… my stomach…"
The sudden influx was double the pain compared to earlier.
His insides felt as if everything's ng melting in there, as if it's not enough to just be all twisted up.
The knights who were dragging David away dismissed his pain as a ruse, but then they realized that something was wrong when the man's face turned as white as a sheet. They stopped walking.
"Hey, what's up with you."
"David? David Valheim?"
The knights stood still and called out to him.
On his pale face, his brown eyes shook, entirely unfocused.