With Hael declared the winner and crowned the new champion, the announcer, eager to continue the tradition, finally asked the question that everyone had been waiting for.
"Dear warrior, what would you like as a reward?"
Hael blinked, his gaze shifting to the announcer.
"Can I ask for anything?" His voice was genuinely curious, and the innocence in his tone made the crowd melt. They swooned, charmed by his simple, unassuming nature.
The announcer couldn't help but smile at the sweetness of his question. What a cute fellow, he thought to himself. "Yes, you may ask for anything, and your wish shall be granted. Within reason, of course."
Hael's expression scrunched up in confusion, prompting the announcer to quickly clarify.
"What I mean is, you cannot wish to sit on the throne or take the King's position. Anything else is fine."
The crowd waited with bated breath, anticipating the warrior's request. Surely, he would ask for a fortune, for wealth beyond imagination, or perhaps some grand treasure from the royal vaults. But instead, Hael's request took them all by surprise.
"I would like to have a duel with the strongest man in this Kingdom," he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
The announcer blinked, his brow furrowing.
"The strongest man?" he repeated, as though trying to make sense of it.
The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, whispers of confusion passing between the spectators. The strongest man?
"But... the man has already defeated all the warriors we have," one voice said. "There are none left in Trojas. Wouldn't that mean he's the strongest?"
"The only one left would be... the King." Another voice piped up, and this time, the whole coliseum seemed to collectively gasp.
All eyes shifted to Ceremus, who sat on the royal deck with his usual blank expression. Anemone, ever observant, turned his gaze from Hael to the King.
"...This... this man is quite bold," he muttered under his breath.
"Bold indeed," Ceremus replied, his voice a low murmur, surprising his advisor with the unexpected acknowledgment.
The announcer, still trying to wrap his mind around the situation, cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice tinged with incredulity.
"Y-You wish to duel with the King? King Ceremus?" His tan skin seemed to pale under the bright lights of the arena, his wide eyes fixed on Hael.
"If this King Ceremus is the strongest warrior in Trojas, then yes. I wish to fight him," Hael responded nonchalantly, as if he were simply asking for an afternoon stroll.
The announcer's face drained of color completely, now ghostly white, his shock evident as he stared at Hael. "T-This King you say… Mr. Warrior, you're not from Trojas, are you?"
The question was almost rhetorical, but it hung in the air, charged with a tension that could be felt across the entire arena. The announcer's disbelief was clear—if Hael were truly from Trojas, he would never have dared make such a bold, fearless claim so easily. Most people would rather jump headfirst into the Trojasian Sea than utter such words in front of the king, let alone challenge him directly.
The huntsmen and other fighters in the crowd shifted uneasily in their seats. Whispers of disbelief and awe rippled through the air. No one had ever dared to request a duel with the King—especially not after the five golden years. Many had entertained the thought, but all knew it was a dream that would never come true. No one could even dream of standing in the same room as King Ceremus, let alone challenge him outright. Yet here was this stranger, this outsider, who had the audacity to demand such a duel.
Who was this man?
Ceremus, who had been staring down at Hael, shifted his expression. His blank facade cracked for the first time since the festival began. Instead of annoyance or rage, an amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The challenge, the boldness—it intrigued him, entertained him. It was the first thing in a long time to stir him, to make him feel something beyond the suffocating ennui of his royal duties.
The announcer, still in shock, could barely process the request. This was unprecedented—no one had ever made such a bold demand, and he wasn't sure he had the authority to accept it. Stammering, he looked around desperately for guidance. The entire arena fell silent, waiting for the King's decision.
Then, to everyone's astonishment, a voice rang out that no one expected to hear.
"I'll allow it."
The crowd turned as one, and their eyes widened when they saw King Ceremus standing, his imposing figure towering over the arena. He glanced down at Hael, who stood at the center, awaiting the decision with a mixture of calm and confusion.
"Your Majesty?!" Anemone's voice cracked as he stood abruptly, his eyes as wide as saucers.
Ceremus, undeterred, looked down at his advisor, his gaze unwavering. "If this fellow wishes to fight, then who am I to decline? It is his reward, after all." His voice was calm, almost too calm, and there was something unsettling about how casually he accepted the challenge.
The crowd, still stunned by the King's words, began to murmur again, their excitement growing, as the shock started to give way to eager anticipation. The tension in the air was thick—this was not just any match. This was a challenge to the very authority of the throne itself.
Hael, his gaze still fixed on the announcer, finally lifted his eyes to meet Ceremus'. The moment their eyes locked, time seemed to slow. Hael's heart began to race in his chest, an unfamiliar heat rising within him. He pressed his hand against his chest, rubbing it absentmindedly as if trying to soothe the confusion that was suddenly washing over him.
What was that? he wondered, his thoughts a jumble. Something in the King's gaze, something in the way he spoke, stirred something deep inside him. A reaction he couldn't quite place, one that felt... intense.
Ceremus, never breaking eye contact, spoke again. "Make the announcement, Zazel." His voice was steady, almost as if the decision had already been made long before Hael had even entered the arena. "The champion will claim his reward in two days' time."
And with that, the King gave Hael one last look, his expression unreadable, before turning and exiting the deck with his usual indifference. His departure left a ripple of energy in the air, leaving the crowd buzzing with excitement and uncertainty.
The announcer, still stunned, tried to regain his composure. "Y-Yes, your Majesty," he stammered, and after a brief hesitation, he turned back to the arena and raised his voice for all to hear.
Anemone glanced between the white-haired man who was still looking at the king even as he left before quickly following him out.
"W-Well, looks like Mr. Hael will be receiving his wish! This then concludes the Battle Olympia as well as the Novas Festival! Please let us have a warm round of applause for the ultimate warrior!" He yelled.
The crowd erupted in cheers as they gazed at the man in wonderment. The fighters as well as the nobles and royals nodded their heads in acknowledgement.
Meanwhile the king who was walking out of the coliseum could feel his heart race and a warmth spread through his cheeks. He couldn't understand it. Why did he feel like time came to a full stop when he locked eyes with that man? And why did he feel such a strong pull towards him?
That pressure, that feeling of discomfort stayed with him even as he left. He couldn't shake the strange feelings he was experiencing at that moment and had to leave, and yet even when he wasn't eyeing the man, he could still feel that pull. It was disconcerting and Ceremus didn't like it one bit. As he closed his eyes, trying to regain his bearings, he could hear loud footsteps running across the linoleum floor. He already knew who it was without having to look.
"Your Majesty! What was that earlier?! Do you truly intend on fighting that man?" He exclaimed.
Ceremus sighed before turning to look at his advisor. "It was his wish was it not? We don't ever refuse rewards so what choice did I have?" He said.
Anemone was taken aback by his words. Since when was the king this sensible?
"These people only get this chance once every three years," he continued. "If you ask me, it's one too many, but since we've insisted on keeping this insipid tradition, we might as well give the people what they want."
"I see. I didn't know that you cared for the people this much, Your Majesty." The advisor said, his face softening.
Ceremus scoffed. "Please, I know what they think of me. If I were to remove their precious festival, it would only make their opinion worse. And I can't have that." He said as he turned away from Anemone.
"...There have been too many kings in history who were taken out for being hated by their people. I haven't reached that level just yet, and I intend on keeping it that way." He said coolly.
Anemone could feel his heart sink when he said that. He wanted nothing more than to tell him that he was once loved by the people and he could instantly turn the people's negative view of him if he changed. But those words were caught in his throat.
He knew that he was the last person to tell him to change. He could only sigh as he accepted the situation.
"Let Zazel know to prepare a grand stage for this duel. Since that man clearly isn't a native of this land, we must show him how kindly we treat our foreign guests." And with that he left.