Chapter 258 - The Exhibition Match
The audience’s fervor rose without limit, responding to Margaret’s impassioned commentary.
Even before the match began, the excitement was already overwhelming.
"This live commentary is brought to you by Margaret of the Kikyo Society Public Relations Bureau. My, oh my, Grand Master—what incredible energy! The anticipation is simply soaring!"
"Aye. Though I’ve been invited only as commentator, I admit I’m looking forward to it myself."
"And what a commentator we have with us today—the Grand Master of the Anastasia Union, no less! A celebrated champion of the famed Berliza Championship. His insights will surely be thrilling to hear."
Well, I hadn’t expected him to take up the role.
As Margaret mentioned, the Grand Master is a renowned figure, a past winner of the Berliza Championship. He holds a prestigious position now and no longer competes, but he agreed to lend his voice for the spectacle. I hadn’t expected him to be so enthusiastic—perhaps, deep down, he simply enjoys the Arena.
"Next, let us welcome the challengers! Please send roaring cheers filled with hope for these eight courageous youths! First, the Adventurer Guild’s pride—its candidates for the next generation of heroes—"
One by one, young adventurers and mercenaries entered, their inexperience plain to see, each introduced in the order Margaret called. The introductions were extravagantly embellished, over-the-top in their praise. Being called a "hero candidate" must feel awkward at best.
And the deafening roars in response? Impossible to tell whether they were cheers or jeers. They sounded more like mindless shouts born of pure excitement.
Despite this being just an exhibition match, Flannel the Hero stood in the Arena like its undisputed king, calmly surveying the young challengers. Whether this air of dominance came naturally or was carefully crafted, none could say—but the challengers were clearly already overwhelmed.
"Now, as you all know, today’s format has eight challengers taking on the Hero Flannel one after another. Grand Master, with eight so-called 'future heroes' lined up against him, might even Flannel face a difficult battle?"
"Not at all. Just look—he’s already shrinking their resolve before a single blow has been struck. With the mere presence of a true Hero, he’s demonstrating a gulf in caliber, overwhelming them through aura alone."
"Then will the actual fights be one-sided as well?"
"Who can say? These challengers are, after all, youths hailed as the next generation of heroes. Let us hope they show us something magnificent."
It’s strange—despite the roaring chaos of the Arena, the commentators’ voices carried clearly, thanks to high-grade magical devices.
Their exchange might resemble mere theater, but it deepens the audience’s understanding and heightens anticipation. If this were scripted, it’d be impressive enough—but if it’s improvised, it’s even more so.
"And now, allow me to introduce our Chief Umpire. Greens-san served as a judge at the Berliza Arena for many long years, retiring two years ago. Today, in response to our invitation from the Exembra Arena, he has returned from retirement to officiate this match. The rules are now being explained by Chief Umpire Greens himself. Let me also clarify: there are no restrictions on weapons or magic, but lethal actions are strictly prohibited. The umpire not only judges the outcome but may intervene to halt any dangerous conduct."
Of course there’s a referee. Without one, a match could easily turn into a fight to the death.
A referee must be exceptionally strong by necessity, and Greens-san appears to be just that. He’s an old man now, but from his magical reserves and bearing, I can sense a power far beyond the ordinary. At his peak, he must have been truly fearsome. Even now, aged as he is, he likely surpasses most active fighters.
Still, even a single referee couldn’t reliably restrain top-tier combatants alone. In emergencies, a full panel of judges steps in collectively. A few of my own people are among that panel—though they’re less referees and more enforcers, really.
"The time has come! The challengers have stepped aside, leaving one to face the Hero! At the signal of Chief Umpire Greens—the match begins!"
The first challenger, called forth by name, drew his sword with visible tension. It was a plain, sturdy blade—unadorned, but precisely the kind that spoke of real battlefield use.
Now then—how will Flannel fight? In a straight match, his overwhelming superiority would render the fight meaningless.
But this is an exhibition match, meant to entertain, and Flannel surely knows that well. The real question is how he’ll pull it off.
The young swordsman, poised with drawn blade, faced the Hero—who stood utterly still, waiting.
The crowd’s roar shattered the stalemate, forcing movement.
As expected, it was the challenger who moved first. The Hero remained as calm as if the noise didn’t exist.
The youth lunged forward, enhancing his body with Physical Enhancement Magic, raising his sword high—only for a wall of ice to materialize before him, halting his charge.
Flannel stepped forward and delivered a kick. The powerful mid-level strike shattered the ice and sent the boy flying in a spectacular arc.
Shards of broken ice scattered into the air, glittering as they caught the sunlight. Amid that sparkling cascade, the challenger collapsed. Clutching the leather armor over his abdomen, he couldn’t rise. The first match was over.
"Whoa—one hit! Flannel wins with a single kick! Grand Master, it ended so quickly—what just happened?"
"That was a flawless defensive maneuver using ice magic to halt the opponent’s attack and momentum, seamlessly transitioning into a counter. The kick was unexpected, but the challenger never even got to exchange blows—surely a bitter disappointment."
Hmm. Not exactly the noble, orthodox knightly combat one might expect from a Hero. That flashy kicking style feels a bit like our influence, but whatever—so long as the crowd’s excited, I suppose it’s fine.
He could’ve simply kicked the boy back, but instead used ice magic to make it dramatic. Clearly going all-in on the spectacle. I appreciate the effort.
As the fallen challenger was quickly carried off on a stretcher, the next stepped into the Arena without delay.
"Next challenger, while the excitement still burns! Look at that massive frame—towering even over Flannel—and that greatsword radiates sheer menace. What will happen now?"
The next match began before the heat of the last had faded. The Hero, having won so easily, needed no rest. Whether by prior arrangement or instinct, the Chief Umpire clearly understood the rhythm.
This challenger was a hulking figure, wielding a greatsword as massive as his body. Reminded me of our own Zenobia—same type of warrior.
Like the first, the youth stood tense, gripping his greatsword tightly—only this time, Flannel didn’t wait. He moved first.
Another ice wall—this time conjured right before the challenger, still well out of range.
When a wall appears suddenly in front of you, a hot-blooded fighter won’t dodge—they’ll smash through. And that’s exactly what this youth did.
His sweeping greatsword cleaved the ice cleanly, sending glittering fragments flying.
Flannel conjured another wall. The challenger swung again, shattering it.
Again and again, ice walls appeared like taunts. Again and again, the challenger destroyed them in response.
From my perspective, this is strange. Flannel’s ice shouldn’t break so easily.
Most likely, he’s deliberately weakening it—making it shatter dramatically for show.
For a while, it became a spectacle—pure ice destruction theater. But soon, the challenger’s breath grew ragged. He was panting heavily.
Just as his stamina began to wane, a thicker, denser wall of ice appeared—unlike the previous ones.
This time, his greatsword struck and failed to break through.
At that perfectly timed moment, Flannel dashed forward and swung his sheathed sword sideways in a smooth, effortless arc. Despite the lack of visible force, the impact exploded the ice more spectacularly than ever, scattering shards like a storm—while simultaneously knocking the challenger off his feet along with his trapped blade.
The challenger’s wrist appeared broken from the impact. The Chief Umpire immediately ruled him unable to continue.
"Decided! Decided! A dazzling match of flying ice—but once again, the challenger was utterly dominated."
"Indeed. The challenger was stalled by ice magic and drained of stamina."
"The challenger walked straight into Flannel’s strategy! Now, on to the third challenger!"
The next match began, and this time, the challenger didn’t hesitate. He seized the initiative.
No reckless charge—instead, he unleashed a barrage of fire arrows.
"This challenger favors magic-based combat! These are high-powered spells!"
"A fourth-rank spell, by my estimation. The arrow’s shape concentrates force to amplify destructive power. Combined with rapid-fire casting and individual potency, it’s near flawless. He aims to overwhelm quickly with a decisive opening."
"How will Flannel withstand this onslaught!?"
Facing the incoming fire arrows, Flannel once again raised a wall of ice.
Thick and unyielding, it blocked every projectile, not shifting the Hero’s position by a single step.
The spells had decent power, but lacked finesse. I’d expect more—like hiding a stronger attack within weaker ones, or flanking the barrage with side strikes. Some kind of trick.
Maybe he’s betting on brute force. Sometimes that works. But against a superior foe, charging head-on is suicide.
Just as I thought that, a curved shot arced over the ice wall, striking from above. Good—distract with frontal fire, then strike from the flank. A solid surprise. And this one was packed with maximum magical power—his killing blow.
But the Hero isn’t fooled so easily. As if he’d seen it coming, he sidestepped effortlessly.
Then—overextended, the challenger ran out of magic and collapsed.
"Though fire holds advantage over ice in elemental matchups, the Hero’s fortress remained unbroken."
"There was certainly an elemental advantage, but raw magical power overcame it. A match with real depth—rare to witness."
"Then we, the audience, are truly fortunate!"
After that, the fourth and fifth challengers followed—same pattern, same easy victories for Flannel.
Flannel winning was expected. The crowd was excited. Everything going according to plan.
But honestly? If this keeps up for all eight challengers, I’m going to be bored.
Each fight lasts about a minute—maybe three at most. At this rate, the whole thing will be over too quickly. Flannel needs to think more. Though I’m sure he knows that already.
After all, the Hero of Salvation fighting mere hopefuls—of course the skill gap is vast. But without context, this just looks like a one-sided farce.
The audience gets to see the Hero shine. The challengers get to say they fought him. Everyone goes home happy.
But to me? It’s unsatisfying.
The thing that really gets a crowd roaring? When the villain—the heel—pushes the hero to the brink.
These challengers aren’t villains, but the thrill is the same: make the Hero suffer. Just a little. Just enough to make the audience gasp.
That’s how you create a moment people will talk about for years.
"Siegrune, I’m going to check on the waiting room."
"Going to encourage them? I heard you already hyped them up with Gradena before the match."
"Well, yes. But if it ends like this, it’s too dull. I’m going to fire them up all over again."
If adding a little extra spice makes the match more exciting, no one will complain. Not even Flannel, the one lending his chest for them to strike.
Gradena’s probably still with them, boosting morale—but it’s not enough. So I’ll cheat. Just a little.
"Everyone, stay and enjoy. Now the exhibition match begins."
Valeria and Siegrune tried to follow, but I left them behind. I’ll go alone.
I won’t let this match end half-heartedly in front of me. Because it’s an exhibition, there’s room to shape it.
And if there’s room? Then I’d be a fool not to use it.
Next time: "Fired Up: A Maiden’s Encouragement!"