The Guardians' Throne - The First Magic Swordsman

              In the end, those three days passed really fast since Zaos spent it with his little sister. But then the day of the tournament finally arrived… Since many people from all over the kingdom decided to participate, they changed the rules and decided to let everyone use their own weapons and armor. Soldiers all over the kingdom were going to risk their necks for the sake of entertainment, so they might as well try to survive using the gear they were used to. There were so many wrongs with that, and Zaos didn't even know how to start.

"Zaos, do your best," Nyana said before she left since there was a part where only the participants could enter.

"I will try," Zaos said.

                Weirdly enough, the tournament would take place in the magic school because they had an arena where the teams could train against other teams. The magic school closed because of the tournament, not because of the festivities. Regardless, as if the whole place had been planned with that in mind, there was a massive number of seats around the arena. Even though it was so early in the morning, all the seats had been taken.

                Bellow the arena, Zaos crossed several corridors and met many of the participants glaring at him. Although killing was against the rules, they sure had a lot of blood in their eyes. Zaos headed straight to his room since each participant had the chance to store their things a few days prior, but before he could enter it, Zaos found him.

"Hey, Zaos," Drannor smiled and then greeted him. "You are finally here. This atmosphere is so tense that I am glad to find someone who isn't taken by it."

"These places look like a dungeon… one that had been restored," Zaos said, looking around. "Do you know the history of this place?"

"No, I have no idea," Drannor said. "Anyway, there are a lot of people participating in it. Many all over the kingdom were invited to join, but anyone who had confidence could join the tournament."

"And?" Zaos asked.

"And that means that we have a lot of competition," Drannor said. "Three hundred and fifty people from soldiers to mercenaries decided to join the tournament."

"Is that so? That explains the glares that I received walking to this place," Zaos shrugged.

"Let's do our best, Zaos," Drannor said and then offered a handshake.

"I will try," Zaos said and then accepted the handshake, but Drannor didn't let his hand go.

"… I want to win, Zaos," Drannor said. "I want to win against you while you go all out."

"… I will try," Zaos frowned. "I am not going to use magic, though. I don't need the weight of your life in my conscience."

"If you don't use it, it will end fast," Drannor said and then finally let Zaos go.

                      Zaos couldn't but be a bit surprised as he watched Drannor leave. He sure was weird… why does he want a stupid sword so badly? He was a lancer, so that didn't make any sense whatsoever.

                      In any case, Zaos entered his room, and there he found his things. His dark armor and his big sword. Halamar promised him a forty percent of discount on all his products if Zaos used his sword during the whole tournament. While Zaos knew that it was a pretty nice discount, there wasn't much more equipment than he needed.

                      Without wasting any time, Zaos began to put on his armor. While he was pretty sure that he wouldn't need his armor from the very beginning, he couldn't just go use them in some fights that would be disrespectful. It was a pain, but it was the lesser of two evils.

                      Much sooner than Zaos had imagined, the fighters were called to join the others in the anterooms of the arena. Fortunately, the place was large enough to divide the fighters into two anterooms. Otherwise, a fight might break out even before they are called. For some reason, Drannor wasn't there… Zaos hadn't seen who would fight who, but it seemed that he was in the second group, and according to the logic, they might fight each other only in the finals if they reach that point.

"Sir Julian and sir Hecat, please, present yourselves in the arena," A narrator's voice echoed through the arena thanks to some magic spell.

                    Zaos saw one of those men leaving the anteroom where he was, but then he quickly forgot about him when the entire arena began to tremble thanks to the excitement of the spectators. They sure were excited… Zaos couldn't help but wonder if they would feel the same way if one day someone gave a weapon to them and they were forced to fight for their lives. There was nothing more exciting than that and scary as well.

                      There wasn't much room to see the battle since all the other participants moved to the arena entrance to watch the fight. Still, Zaos noticed that one of the guys was a spearman, and the other would fight with two daggers. Considering their fighting stance, Zaos assumed that both of them were mercenaries, even though the narrator called them sir.

                    At first, the dagger-user managed to block the spearman's attacks, but even though he was faster, he wasn't fast enough to ignore all of the spearman's attacks and then charge forward. After a couple of minutes, the spearman pierced the right chest of the dagger user with his spear, and then he dropped his weapons as he fell on his knees. Despite that, he didn't scream in pain or anything like that, which showed that the guys who wanted the king's sword had steel balls.

                    Regardless, the spearman pulled back his weapon before he could deliver any critical damage. That was another rule of the tournament, if you drop your weapons, you lose. As soon as the match ended, both fighters returned to the anterooms to have their wounds tended, and all the spectators applauded them.

"Yeah, you are welcome," Zaos thought. "Wait for a little longer, and we will shed more blood for your entertainment."

                    In any case, Zaos had to wait for a while for his turn. Not like he was actually looking forward to any fight. Still, the sooner the tournament ends, the sooner he will go home.