Rogier had studied under the Raya Lucaria Conspectus at the Academy of Magic in his early years, learning some Carian sorcery. His [Glintblade Phalanx], combined with his own swordsmanship, had earned him the name "Spellblade" in the Lands Between.
He carried himself with considerable grace and dressed with care, looking rather like a minor noble. Presumably, he had come to participate in the Combat Festival to raise his reputation further.
People lived for either fame or profit. Most could not escape such worldly pursuits.
Rogier was quite confident in himself, but he had never expected the Combat Festival to follow such a bizarre format. He had only just finished a hundred-person Grand Melee, and now he was in another melee with fourteen people. Unless he was mistaken, three people had already been eliminated. Tension rose unbidden from the depths of his heart. He did not want to be the one eliminated.
If he wanted to avoid elimination, he had to eliminate someone else first. Ogha looked like an ordinary warrior, with nothing special about him, yet he also seemed to have plenty of combat experience. The two had been locked in combat for a long time without either gaining victory.
Rogier was growing anxious too. He felt his head beginning to ache, a warning sign that he was overexerting himself with sorcery. His brain protested, reminding him that he needed to rest.
Faster. I need to move faster. I can't drag this out any longer. If Ogha held him up much longer, Rogier would no longer have the strength to eliminate anyone else.
People were prone to mistakes when they grew anxious, and his attention was entirely on Ogha, leaving him little awareness of his surroundings. Rogier was not a swordsman tempered on the battlefield. His cloth attire, wide-brimmed hat,