Chapter 211 - Lots for the Second Round

"Number 10! We'll be seeing our fourth seed back at it in our fifth match!"

The crowd was already anxious after hearing the first two placements, so seeing the fourth and fifth seeds drawing got their hopes up as well. They got what they wanted, but not entirely.

"Oh! Number 11?! So close!" Clicking his tongue loudly, the announcer called out, "Our fifth seed will be in the sixth match, narrowly avoiding a match with Young Master Fulkar. But given the people left in the competition, I'm sure we'll be in for a treat with each fight."

Following that, the sixth and eighth seeds drew numbers 8 and 6 respectively. It didn't seem like anything too special, though, until the tenth seed stepped up and drew afterward.

"Number 5! Another great match has become official! In the third fight, we'll witness the eighth and tenth seeds fighting for supremacy!"

While the eighth seed gave the tenth seed an approving and cautious nod, the twelfth seed stepped forward with sweat on his brow. But his sweat quickly dissipated as he drew a blank fight, avoiding all seeds that had drawn before him with number 14. The fourteenth seed was in a similar scenario, drawing number two and heaving a sigh of relief. Even the fifteenth seed got lucky, drawing number three for the yet-to-be-decided second match.

Now his turn, Oli confidently but silently stepped onto the platform. A tiny grin lit up his face the moment he showed the number to the ref.

"Number 13! We'll be seeing the mysterious Oliver facing the twelfth seed in the second to last match! How exciting!"

The twelfth seed bit his lip in disappointment as the next contestant drew her lot. With unlucky number 9, the eighteenth seed left the stage with little hope to continue the tournament. And the twentieth seed didn't fare any better, drawing number 12 to fight the fifth seed in the sixth fight.

"And now, to our great surprise, we have three sponsorless entrants remaining! Not only have they managed to survive the first round but some have defied our expectations. Now, we get to see them prove our expectations wrong yet again!"

Shaking, the twenty-fifth seed and first of the no-name entrants drew his lot. After getting lucky in the first, he was wishing with all his might to be in either the first or second fight with the fourteenth or fifteenth seeds. If not that, it would have to be the fourth battle against the sixth seed, someone he stood no chance against. With a silent prayer in his heart, the man swallowed his nerves and pulled one of three remaining sticks inside the bag.

"Oh my!" The nervous contestant was rattled upon hearing the announcer's excited call, still having not glanced at the number himself. "Number 3! We'll be seeing you standing off against the fifteenth seed very shortly."

As the twenty-fifth seed sighed sweet relief, this now left a sense of excitement in the air. 

"With only two spots left and two contestants that have greatly surprised us so far, there's only one question left to ask… Who will be facing our sixth seed and will they create yet another upset?!" 

The audience broke out in roars and cheers as the announcer took a moment to rile everyone up. But there was no need to wait any longer. As the masked swordsman came forward, ready to determine his own match-up as well as that of Burt, he inhaled sharply. With nimble fingers, the man snatched a stick and held it up for all to see.

"Number 1! He's drawn number 1, pitting him against our fourteenth seed. That means--"

"Number 7! Lucky!" Burt cackled boastfully, shooting up the stairs to draw his own stick regardless of already knowing the outcome. He grinned confidently and playfully as he spotted the sixth seed below the platform. "You'd better show me a better time than that last guy. He couldn't even see me coming, let alone put up a fight."

Strangely enough, the sixth seed said nothing and only nodded back to the c.o.c.ky, no-name entrant.

"Hmm… You've got better eyes than most," chuckled Burt, tossing his stick to the announcer and hopping off the stage.

"Our first, hour-long intermission will now begin! Use this time to revisit our updated odds and place any new bets. And don't forget, there's no telling just who may win, especially with so many upsets occurring already!" reminded the announcer, stepping down to relax and keep an eye on the competitors in waiting.

As expected, the audience was abuzz with gossip and predictions for the upcoming battles. With some fights catching everyone's eye, the final match in particular, everyone wanted to know each others' opinions on the possible outcomes without blatantly asking or revealing their own thoughts.

"I assume Fulkar's been a good pupil, Mertin?"

"Go ahead, you may speak," chuckled Reginol.

Sighing, Mertin glanced at his father and replied, "Yes… He's been doing quite well with the sword as of late. He's on the brink of reaching high-adept, so we're curious to see if the tournament will provide enough stimuli for his ascension."

"I'm glad you've gained an accomplished pupil. I only wish I had known sooner and might have been able to offer some tips or advice as well," remarked Hurman, not glanced back at his masked son. "But now I at least know he'll be worth betting on for this round at least, now that his swordsmanship has finally been cleaned up."

"Should you wish to accept my original offer, Hurman, your debt can be overlooked."

"No thank you," Hurman replied instantly. "We'll be just fine as we are. Though I am curious… How did you manage to sway Mertin to accept a demotion from our family manager to your fourth bodyguard."

"Actually, he's been recognized as my second bodyguard," joked Reginol. "We've offered him some great resources in order to stimulate his speedy growth, so he's worth at least that high of a position."

"Hmm… And who did you threaten to keep him loyal?"

"Threaten? You misjudge my guild and our standards."

"Sure I have… This coming from the man who was expelled from the institute for attempted murder on--"

"Those are false allegations! You've always known that!"

The tenseness lingering in the air was nearly palpable, getting thicker with each passing second of awkward silence. Soon, the thick tension began feeling like humidity, causing many to sweat more than they desired.