Yesterday's fierce battle disrupted the entire schedule of the Knights' Festival.
Since the tournament stage needed to be rebuilt, all matches were postponed for a day.
The knights, who had been through days of torment, seized this stolen leisure to go out and relax.
The entertainment industry in Nayecheng would certainly thrive thanks to them this year.
As for Lancaster and his group…
Two individuals had, unsurprisingly, disappeared.
"Cain left?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Qianmian said he never wastes time on tasks without a return."
"And Leif?"
"A runaway kid, what else could happen? Naturally, he was dragged back home by his parents. Especially after he defied royal taboos by using the Dragon Summon. He's in for some punishment, no doubt!"
"Why do I sense a bit of schadenfreude from you?"
"Oh? Do I?"
This conversation took place between two relatively unscathed generals of the Queen's team, their faces adorned with gentle smiles.
Yet, who could see the tempest brewing behind those smiles?
Lancaster hesitated, his hand hovering over the door before pulling it back, only to place it on the door again, then retract it once more.
He repeated this several times.
"Enough, Lancaster! Are you a man or not?" He couldn't help but scorn himself.
But...
He was unsure of what consequences might arise from what he was about to do.
Perhaps, deep down, he didn't want those consequences to unfold.
But maybe, just maybe, it would be better if they did.
He knocked on the door.
"The door's not locked, come in!"
Lancaster pushed the door open. Sacre was draped in a robe, sitting at the table, lost in thought.
When he saw Lancaster enter, Sacre rushed over with joy, not even noticing when his robe slipped to the floor.
Sacre hugged Lancaster tightly, "Oh~~ my Queen! Have you finally decided to show mercy to your most loyal knight? I thought you had abandoned me!"
The air of grievance around him was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"That's enough, Sacre, let go of me!" Lancaster struggled, but could not break free from Sacre's iron grip.
"I won't let go, no matter what," Sacre whispered, inhaling the fresh scent from Lancaster's neck.
"You won't let go, huh? Wind Blade!"
"Wow, my Queen, you've drawn my blood again! Ah, what a pitiful fate I have. I don't strike back, I don't talk back. Where else can you find such a good punching bag?"
Sacre's face crinkled into a look of pitiful grievance.
Had he not dodged quickly, that Wind Blade might have severed his throat.
Even so, a few drops of blood trickled down his chest.
"Go to hell! No punching bag costs as much as you!" Lancaster teased with a laugh.
"Oh~~~ my Queen, does that mean I'm worth less than a punching bag? You've truly broken my heart!" Sacre melodramatically clutched his chest, mimicking the pose of a heartbroken maiden.
Lancaster couldn't help but laugh, collapsing onto the bed.
Seeing Lancaster so happy, Sacre also broke into a smile.
"By the way, my Queen, did you come to see me for something?" Sacre asked.
"Of course, if you say you came just to see me, I'd be overjoyed!" He poured a cup of tea for Lancaster.
"I…" Lancaster hesitated once again for what seemed like the thousandth time, questioning whether or not he should regret this decision.
Seeing Sacre's happiness always made Lancaster feel cruel.
But... isn't it better to get it over with quickly, like pulling off a bandage?
Then again… isn't present happiness more important?
"Lancaster?" Sacre looked at him quizzically.
"Actually, it's nothing." Lancaster smiled, looking up.
"Really? You came just to see me? Wow, I'm so happy!"
"Go away. I'm just checking up on an injured teammate."
"Just being cared for by you is enough to make me happy."
Lancaster's smile became a little bitter.
"Lancaster, what's really going on?" Sacre wasn't easily fooled. "No matter the problem, you can tell me. It bothers me when you're like this."
Alright, time to lay it all out.
What happens next will be Sacre's decision.
Even if… even if he chooses to leave...
Just thinking about that stirred an emotion in Lancaster's heart, something he couldn't quite describe, but it was something he deeply disliked.
"Sacre, what do you really want?"
"What do you mean?" Sensing Lancaster's seriousness, Sacre became solemn.
"I'm asking you, staying by my side like this, what is it you want? And what can I give you?"
"I—I just want to be the most loyal knight to my Queen!"
"Sacre, I'm being serious."
"So am I, my Queen!"
"Then, is that really enough for you? I can give you the utmost trust and respect a knight could ever receive. Is that enough? Will that truly satisfy you?"
"Yes, that's enough. I don't need anything else!"
"Alright then, Sacre. You will be my best friend, my closest brother, and my most trusted knight, I swear!" Lancaster lowered his head, unable to meet Sacre's eyes.
He hurriedly stood up, "Sacre, rest well. I'm leaving now!"
And with that, he fled.
Sacre lifted his lowered gaze, sorrowfully staring at the closed door.
"Lancaster, what do you expect me to want? Your heart? How could I dare? How could I ever be worthy?"
"You didn't have to say anything, Lancaster. Really, no matter how you treat me, I will stay by your side, because... it's what I owe you."
A crescent-shaped wound appeared on his chest. To call it a wound wasn't entirely accurate, for it had never closed. The skin was still torn, and black blood continued to seep from it.
"It hurts, Lancaster, it hurts so much…"
"In my next life, I don't want to have a heart. That way, I won't be hurt." From a distant, endless time and space, came a resolute declaration.
"Besides, Lancaster, how could I ask for something that doesn't even exist? Tell me, Lancaster, how?"
The blood-stained plea echoed in the void, but the one who needed to hear it, didn't.
A lock of black hair dangled from the roof.
"Heh, so you can be this pathetic too, Sacre?"
The next day, the tournament resumed, but chaos reigned.
It was supposed to be the quarter-finals, but only four contestants remained.
Leif had been dragged home, Manning's opponent withdrew voluntarily.
Lancaster's opponent disappeared, and Sacrede was found dead in a dark alley.
So, though it was called the quarter-finals, only the final four remained.
After an emergency meeting, the organizers restructured the tournament.
A highly anticipated match began once again.
Sacre vs. Manning.
Black hair floated across the ring, like a net enveloping everything.
Manning smiled faintly, "Yesterday, I witnessed something truly remarkable, Sacre!"
"Oh? Did you now?" Sacre's expression remained unreadable. "What was it? Care to share?"
"Nothing much, just someone crying so pitifully, that's all."
"Heh, Manning, you know, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd point a weapon at me."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"Because isn't your mission to protect me, to serve me? Isn't everything you have meant to be sacrificed for me? Isn't that right, Manning?"
Sacre laughed maniacally, twirling a strand of black hair between his fingers.