People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

"Hehe...hehe...cough cough!"

Noticing the terrifying gaze Fremont cast at her, Emengard realized her expression was a bit too obvious. She quickly coughed twice to cover her embarrassment. Then, she raised her hand, and the threads of fate gathered in her palm, outlining a small pair of black-rimmed glasses. She placed them on her nose and pointed ears, pushed them up, struck a cool pose, and replied with a mysteriously confident smile:

"As the teacher's best student, this task is of course my duty, Emengard!"

"Please rest assured, teacher! I will definitely investigate this mere Flame Demon thoroughly! I'll go right now!"

Emengard turned and left, but Fremont stood still.

A moment later, Emengard turned back, somewhat embarrassed, and asked:

"Speaking of which, where is the Balrog again?"

"Sherag".

Emengard covered his mouth: "It's Sherag!"

"It's so far away. Chieftain, could you help me finish the little cube? That way I can ride it there."

Fremont felt a slight headache.

Chapter 388 Fremont's Three Spells

Kazimir, Kavaleriaki, Pegasus Stadium.

The first match of the All Nations Games is about to begin, featuring an unknown professor from the University of Leitania, Fremont, battling the renowned Blood Knight, De Caiopolis, who just defeated the Candle Knight and won the Grand Tournament.

"To be honest, Ernst, was this match really necessary?"

Sitting next to Ernst, Swire, dressed in a trendy outfit, looked exceptionally youthful and energetic. She watched the Blood Knight, who had already stepped onto the field and was doing his final pre-match equipment checks, and Fremont, standing opposite him, leisurely checking his watch against the clock on the big screen. Her words clearly revealed a hint of dissatisfaction with this opening match.

"This is just not fair!"

She nudged Ernst's arm with her hand, unable to stop complaining:

"Did you watch the Blood Knight's match? I watched it from a VIP box. That guy is definitely skilled. That blood spell is practically unbeatable!"

"A war of attrition with him is simply not going to work, but if we try to finish him off quickly, he'll easily find an opportunity to spill blood on the field. If we can't defeat him decisively in one strike, we could easily end up like the Candle Knight and be turned around by him. The problem is, Kazimierz allows us to tamper with equipment. I investigated the Blood Knight's armor, and a complete set would cost at least 500,000 marks! It's impossible to break through that armor and defeat the Blood Knight in one go!"

"In this situation, they actually sent a frail old man to fight him."

Swire muttered to herself, furrowing her beautiful eyebrows:

"I understand that the Kazimir team won the opening match beautifully, but isn't this a bit too shameless? Couldn't they have at least arranged for someone of similar strength? That would have made the match more interesting!"

"You're right, Ernst?"

Ernst: "......."

What could Ernst say? He could only offer an awkward but polite smile.

To be honest, if he hadn't had that chance encounter with Fremont, he would most likely have had similar thoughts to Swire.

Blood Knight is, after all, the champion of the Knights Tournament. In Terra, there is no such thing as a national-level sports event being less prestigious than the S-series. Kazimierz was afraid that this champion would suffer a Waterloo in his first battle, which would greatly reduce his popularity, make it difficult to sell merchandise, and make it impossible to recoup the investment. Therefore, they deliberately arranged some weaker opponents for him. This is indeed understandable and is a reasonable adjustment within the rules.

After all, in sports competitions, strength ultimately prevails. If you're not strong enough, you'll be easy prey no matter who you play against. So why can't the one who gets the points be a Kazimierz?

But since it involves the country, people will generally give some face. Besides, a close match is what makes the show interesting. If you come on stage and the referee just yells "start" and your opponent falls asleep, what's the point of the competition?

So, for a university professor like Fremont to fight a powerful knight champion like Blood Knight is, frankly, a bit unsportsmanlike.

And now.

Ernst could only say that his thinking had indeed not changed.

To have a university professor like Fremont fight a knightly tournament champion like Blood Knight, frankly, it felt a bit like a deception, a sneak attack.

Ernst was more concerned with whether Fremont wanted to lose than whether the Kazimierz could win.

If he doesn't want to lose, then Ernst should consider offering a few more incense sticks to the great god Jeragund.

May Jeston draw a good lot, and may Ensiodis draw Fremont!

But Ernst's somewhat strange attitude piqued Swire's curiosity. She gave Ernst a suspicious look, then turned to Hinterlea, who had been following Ernst closely:

“Miss Heartlea, is there anything strange about Fremont?”

Hinterlea's expression stiffened for a moment, then she shook her head and replied meaningfully:

"You should ask him what's not strange about him."

Shih Huai-ya was completely dumbfounded.

What's going on? You guys were all acting like normal people just a couple of days ago. How come you've suddenly turned into riddle-solving people after only a little over a day?

She scratched her head and looked towards the arena.

Is there something strange about Fremont?

Meanwhile, on the field, Fremont was also somewhat conflicted.

Should we fight or not? If we don't fight, how will we explain ourselves when we get back?

The Empress publicly recruited members for the Leitania team, and he wasn't the only one who applied. However, the vast majority of applicants had registered for the Originium Arts competition on the other side, not the Unrestricted Knight Tournament.

After all, for most Letanians, it's quite difficult to be like the Candle Knight—handsome, skilled in Originium Arts, and possessing considerable swordsmanship. Without these qualities, engaging in a bloody fight to the death with bare-chested Kazimirians in the arena simply doesn't fit their aesthetic; it's considered crude and lacking in elegance.

Moreover, losing is very embarrassing.

So, after much back and forth, only the main event, the Knights' Tournament, remained, and very few people signed up. Fremont used some tricks and negotiated some conditions to finally get the spot from the Queen and escape to find some peace and quiet.

Among these conditions, one is "to play beautifully".

It's a very vague term. "Beautiful" doesn't necessarily mean winning a championship or anything like that. Besides, Fremont doesn't want to be famous; losing beautifully is beautiful in itself. So, he can lose.

But losing in the first round, especially to a non-national team esports rider, isn't that a bit embarrassing?

The problem is, if we're going to fight, which move should we use?

To knock someone down without killing them is also a problem.

While he was struggling with his decision, the Blood Knight on the other side had already checked his equipment and started his usual persuasion process to convince him to surrender.

This has almost become a necessary task for him before each match officially begins. The audience loves to watch it, the commentators love to talk about it, and he himself doesn't mind. Although he has never succeeded in persuading his opponent to surrender, at least he tried. After that, even if the skill gap in the match is too large and he injures his opponent, he can explain—I tried to persuade him, but he wouldn't listen.

The same was true in this battle. The Blood Knight looked at the gaunt old man in the distance with a sense of helplessness.

He didn't mean anything bad; he just wanted to remark that these days, it seems like anyone can participate in knightly competitions.

First came the old knights and nobles, then retired warrior knights, then professional gladiator knights, and now, even this old man, who seems to have eaten more salt than he has eaten rice, is being pushed forward to participate in this dangerous and brutal competition. This is truly...

"Old man, I am Dikeopolis, the Blood Knight. I just won the Knights' Tournament Championship, which is roughly equivalent to the national championship of your Letania Originium Arts Competition. Do you understand?"

The Blood Knight spoke in a clear voice, explaining his identity to Fremont bit by bit, afraid that Fremont might misunderstand or make a mistake.

But Fremont didn't answer, still staring blankly at the ground beneath his feet, lost in thought.

The Blood Knight could only be more direct, stating bluntly:

"What I mean is, I'm very strong, very powerful, and you can't beat me, old man. The match hasn't even started yet, so you can just withdraw from the match and we won't have to fight."

Fremont still didn't answer, which gave the Blood Knight a headache.

"Things shouldn't happen more than three times," he warned one last time.

“Old man, Minos has an old saying: only warriors who choose their opponents well can remain undefeated. You are no match for me, and it’s not too late to leave now. If we wait until the match officially begins, I will show no mercy.”

Fremont frowned, then finally looked up: "It's so noisy."

The moment he uttered those words, Diopolis, who was about to reply, felt an inexplicable force seal his mouth shut.

He stared in astonishment, his eyes widening, and reached for his mouth, but found nothing.

But why can't he speak?

What kind of Originium Arts is this?

No, is this Originium Arts you're using?

The Blood Knight's expression changed; he realized something was wrong. He immediately raised his hand, intending to report to the referee's table that his opponent had used Originium Arts on him before the match even began. But the moment his hand was raised, the commentators' voices rang out from the commentary booth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, good afternoon! I am your new friend, Big Mouth Mob!"

"Welcome to the opening match of the Kazimierz International Games. In this match, Mr. Fremont, a knight from the Letania team, will face our newly crowned champion of the 23rd Knights' Tournament, the hero of all infected in Kazimierz, the invincible Blood King—[Blood Knight] Dikeopolis!"

"Oh, ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you're thinking the same thing as me right now. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking!"

"That's right, let our esteemed champion loudly demonstrate to this player from Letania what the hospitality of Casimir is all about!"

"Standing before you is a champion of the Grand Prix, one in a million. So what if you represent Letania?"

"You are the challenger!"

Dikeopolis: "........."

No, I didn't, I didn't say that!

Referee, we actually won this round. Our opponents broke the rules, they cheated, they used Originium Arts before the match!

"Look! Our beloved Blood Knight has raised his hands to us! Where is our cheer?!"

No, why is the commentator still attacking? You're attacking friendly forces!

DiCeopolis tried to turn and leave the field, but before he could move, Fremont's voice rang out.

"The King of Blood? Ha, I do know such a person, but unfortunately, he has a terrible temper. Compared to him, I much prefer that you, young man, are worthy of the name."

"How about this, I'll give you a chance. In this match, I'll only use three spells. If you can survive all three spells, then I'll concede defeat, how about it?"

You'll give up after three moves?

Is this a gamble? But if you say this out loud, aren't you afraid that the audience, your superiors, and the twin queens of Letania will have objections?

No, that's not right.

DiCeopolis stared at Fremont's face and suddenly realized something.

Fremont hadn't uttered a single word; his voice didn't travel through the air to his ears, but rather resonated directly in his mind. What kind of Originium Arts was this?

Is this the national team? Before the competition even started, they've already used two Originium Arts that Dikeopolis has never even heard of!

Dikeopolis blinked and nodded quickly.

Now that things had come to this, there was no way to refuse. It seemed that his refusal to withdraw from the competition had indeed displeased Ciarne, who had arranged such an opponent for him.

But in sports competitions, strength ultimately matters. No matter who the opponent is or how strong they are, he will still give it his all and fight for it!

Three moves it is! You said it, no take-backs!

Dikeopolis nodded, and the silencing order imposed on him and the voice echoing in his mind vanished as if they had never existed.

Dikeopolis then realized why his opponent dared to directly violate the rules and use Originium Arts on him before the match.

Only those who possess power that transcends the rules dare to disregard them.

Without a moment's hesitation, Dikeopolis assumed a defensive stance, ready for battle.

Meanwhile, Fremont had finally chosen the three spells to use this time.

Liches govern knowledge, and knowledge comes from learning. In addition to using the spells of Fate Knot, liches have many other tricks up their sleeves, such as stealing a couple of spells from other royal courts.

[Female Banshee] - Word Power.

The Cyclops – A curse.

And, very suitable for Blood Knights: [Blood Demon] - Blood Tide.

Chapter 389 Extreme Sports You Must Experience Once in Your Lifetime

"Listen to me, buddy, do we even need to think about the odds for this game? It's practically free money!"

"Go for Blood Knight. You know, Blood Knight is my brother. He's incredibly strong. With him around, there's absolutely no chance of anything going wrong. You just need to stay home and wait for the bank to call you for the money!"

"Me? Haha, you have good taste! That's right, of course I'm going to watch the game live! Opening ceremony tickets aren't cheap. I sold my house and went all in on this. Of course I have to be there in person, to feel a sense of participation!"

The above dialogue comes from a conversation between a reporter from Rose Newspaper and a Kazimierz equestrian enthusiast, held the day before the opening match of the World's Great Equestrian Tournament.

Rose Newspaper thoughtfully added a call for "moderate entertainment and rational consumption" at the end of the report, earning them a lot of praise. However, judging from the following days' reports by another Kasimir media outlet, Wine Newspaper, about Kasimir's aerial acrobatics, it is clear that there are not many Kasimirians who truly understand the meaning of "rational consumption."

"I'm stupid, really."

"I knew that an old man from Letania couldn't possibly be a match for a Blood Knight in close combat, but I never imagined that the Letanians would be so cunning! They actually developed that terrifying Originium Arts specifically targeting the Blood Knights!"