Garen glanced around. Everyone looked shocked and utterly disbelieving.
But no one spoke up to stop the young man.
They seemed wary of his status.
At their table, Emperor Gafni and the two Saint Realm experts didn't seem surprised.
They calmly observed the crowd, keeping a close eye on everyone's every move.
His uncle Arthur was a prince and commanded the Northern Legion. He also had a Saint Realm magical beast. Did that young man have a death wish, picking a fight at an event like this?
But the young man causing trouble was dressed like a noble. He didn't look like some reckless hothead.
"Lancelot, this is my engagement ceremony. You're disrupting it. I'll have the guards throw you out."
His cousin Abel remained remarkably calm. Fixing the troublemaker with a sharp gaze, he spoke coldly.
"Abel, you're not good enough for Irene. What's so great about you? What are you so proud of? Dare to duel me? Whoever wins gets Irene."
Lancelot taunted him.
"Lancelot, what are you? You think you're fit to compare yourself to Abel? How old are you, anyway? And you still have the nerve to challenge him?"
Irene, who had a fiery temper, snapped furiously.
Lancelot was the Right Chancellor's son and had been a spoiled brat since childhood. After meeting Irene, he'd started pestering her relentlessly, but she'd never thought much of him. Later, he'd become the Shadow Sword Saint Robert's disciple and disappeared for several years. No one had expected him to show up and cause a scene at Abel's engagement ceremony today.
That said, Lancelot did have an exceptional talent for combat. At just twenty-eight, he was already an Eighth-level Warrior.
Abel was only a year older than Garen. At twenty-two, he had already reached the level of a Seventh-level Warrior.