Virut was thrilled when he received the assignment.
The past two months in the training camp had been utterly miserable.
Two words summed it up... complete domination.
Aside from their fellow Knight Squires, every knight in the camp could utterly crush this group of squires.
They were clearly about the same age, yet the gap in strength was rather vast.
Although everyone felt they had improved tremendously over the past two months, without any targets to practice on, they could never experience the thrill of crushing an opponent.
Now, there was a fine group of targets right in front of them.
The Southern Knights had already learned of Derek's wager. Whether for their own honor or to save their companions, they could not possibly back down.
This time, they had come to snatch food from a tiger's jaws. They had all mentally prepared themselves for every sort of hardship.
The nobles on the wooden platform were also watching the match.
"That's Virut. He's quite skilled, but among Formal Knights, he's only above average."
The Northland Nobles looked worried. Virut was fairly well-known, and the knight who had just been defeated was even stronger than Virut.
But the Southern Nobles and the nobles from the Royal Capital saw things differently.
Virut was obviously still young. So what if he was stronger than others his age?
Those Southern Knights in the prime of their lives might not have been able to beat Virut at the same age, but could the grown-up versions of them really not beat the young Virut?
The Old Count quietly came to Derek's side. Seeing that no one was paying attention, he asked in a low voice, "Derek, how confident are you?"
"One hundred percent!"
"You're not lying to me?"
"Don't worry. I have Titled Knights holding the