"How could this be?!" Cory, the Second Prince, looked even more miserable as he faced the approval of those two hundred Dwarven soldiers below.
If he had a choice, he would rather the Beastfolk had won today's contest.
Because even if the Beastfolk won, it would not affect Cory in any way.
As for the allied Beastfolk obtaining a great number of weapons and threatening the Sacred Alliance's security because of it—
It would merely threaten its security.
At most, the territories along the border would suffer some plundering. Even if the Beastfolk won back two more realms, it would not truly affect humanity's survival.
So Prince Cory would still be a prince, untouched in the slightest.
If those commoners were plundered, then so be it. Serfs were like cattle and sheep anyway—breeding endlessly, never truly dying out.
But Nalant's victory would genuinely affect Cory.
He recalled how confidently he had belittled and ridiculed Nalant earlier.
Though that country bumpkin had not responded.
Every word spoken by the two hundred Dwarven soldiers below now felt like a slap across his face—loud, ringing, and utterly merciless.
Cory could already imagine that after this brewing contest ended, the name of Cory, Second Prince of the Bach Empire, would spread throughout the Sacred Continent.
After all, people always loved showing off their knowledge before others.
And today's unprecedented unanimous vote from two hundred people was excellent material for boasting.
To make the story even more explosive, he, the Second Prince of the Bach Empire, would surely be written into it, becoming the shameless villain found in every knightly tale.
No one cared about Cory's one-man drama.
At that moment, Nalant was also smiling as he looked into the arena.
He truly had not expected that merely adding a little white sugar would once