As more platforms turned green, signaling the end of each fight, Luka leaned back in his seat and yawned.
One by one, combatants finished their matches—some emerging victorious, others limping away in defeat.
Luka's gaze drifted across, waiting.
He wasn't particularly invested in any of the fights, but he knew one match would be worth watching.
Then, finally, the moment arrived.
Arthur stepped onto a platform.
He moved with a natural confidence, his sword resting easily in his hand.
His usual charismatic smile played on his lips, but his sharp gaze was searching—looking for someone.
'I hope the Second Princess is watching…' The thought lingered in his mind.
Ever since their brief encounter, Arthur hadn't been able to forget about her.
'If only I had the chance to speak with her properly, to make a lasting impression—perhaps we could have become friends, or at the very least, acquaintances…'
But that moment never came.
Because of a certain someone…
