Chapter 526: The Grand First-Year Combat Festival: Annoying Win

"TWO!"

The crowd shouted the second countdown loudly and cheerfully.

The enormous voices rolled through the Arena, filling every section as hundreds of thousands of spectators leaned forward in anticipation of the next exchange.

Cyrus kept looking at Maxwell.

The boy standing across from him was practically brimming with excitement. His eyes were fixed on Cyrus with an eagerness that was difficult to miss, and the longer Cyrus looked at him, the more he felt that this fight was going to become unbelievably troublesome.

Maxwell wasn’t excited simply because he had finally reached another opponent.

He was excited because that opponent was Cyrus.

Especially because Cyrus was a Flame Alchemist, and ever since they had first interacted, Cyrus had always given Maxwell the feeling that there was something he was hiding.

Something about him never felt completely straightforward.

This excitement I’m seeing from Maxwell’s eyes...

Cyrus stared at him for another moment.

The cheers from the spectators continued to grow around them, but Cyrus’s attention remained on Maxwell.

"This is a complete drag."

Cyrus scratched the back of his head.

His shoulders sank slightly as he looked at the opponent who seemed far too happy about fighting him.

Maxwell’s expression only made Cyrus feel more troubled.

He had already seen enough of Maxwell during the Combat Festival to know that this wasn’t going to be a simple match, and the memory of what Maxwell had done during their mission into the Black Zone certainly wasn’t helping in the slightest.

"ONE!!"

The crowd shouted the last countdown number.

The four Holographic Screens hanging above the Arena changed immediately, the large countdown number disappearing and being replaced by the word...

BEGIN.

At that moment, Cyrus’s mind flashed back to yesterday evening.

He remembered the meeting he and the other children of Burnwick had attended after leaving the Arena.

They had gone to meet with the members of their family who were still present in the Royal Academy to watch the Combat Festival.

The meeting had been arranged for a simple reason.

The family wanted to congratulate two children of the Duke of Burnwick, who had made it into the Eighth Round of the Grand First-Year Combat Festival.

Of course, with Burnwick being one of the major Duke Houses of Britannia, a gathering like that was never truly simple.

There were Elders.

High-board members.

Mainline and Highline family members.

Servants moving around the hall.

And enough people who wanted to talk about the Combat Festival that Cyrus had already known he wouldn’t be able to leave quickly.

***

Inside the luxurious Guest House designated to Duke House Burnwick, the walls were lined with golden decorations that caught the warm light from the crystal lamps.

Large sections of the interior were constructed from white stone, giving the hall a clean and expensive appearance, while long tables had been arranged throughout the room.

Members of the Burnwick family occupied the hall.

Glass cups filled with red fruit wine were placed in front of the adults, while the younger members who were allowed to drink held their own cups.

The atmosphere had become considerably lighter after the Second Elder stood.

"Once again..."

The Second Elder of Burnwick raised her glass.

She was one of the other eight Elders who governed the oldest council of the family, making her one of the most important people present in the hall.

She wore an elegant smile on her old face.

At first glance, she looked like a woman in her mid-fifties.

In reality, she was eighty-nine years old.

The difference between her actual age and appearance was another reminder of how different Alchemists were from ordinary humans.

Her eyes moved across the room before settling on three people standing together near the center.

Ravenor.

Sasha.

And Cyrus.

"...Congratulations to my young grandchildren on reaching the Eighth Round of the Combat Festival."

The Second Elder raised her glass slightly higher.

"And also, give a big applause to my dear granddaughter for making it into the Seventh Round."

Her eyes moved toward Sasha.

"Even though she lost, she still carried the reputation of the family, as well as the reputation of a Flower of this kingdom."

Sasha smiled politely.

She had already heard similar words several times since leaving the Arena.

Still, she maintained the proper expression expected of a member of Duke House Burnwick.

The Second Elder’s smile became warmer.

"Cheers."

Ravenor, Sasha, and Cyrus stood calmly among the members of Burnwick.

They also held glass cups filled with red fruit wine, matching the red wine in the cups held by the adults.

The three raised their glasses.

"Cheers!"

The voices of the Burnwick family members overlapped throughout the Guest House Hall.

Several glasses touched together.

Some people laughed.

Others began discussing the Combat Festival again, talking about the battles they had watched and the performances of the younger members of the family.

The Second Elder lowered her glass after taking a small sip.

"Now, let’s relax and enjoy ourselves for at least an hour before Cyrus and Ravenor begin their preparation for the next round."

Many heads lowered slightly in acknowledgment.

Nobody argued with her.

After all, she was an Elder of the Burnwick family.

The hall soon filled with laughter and conversations.

Servants moved between the tables, carrying food and refilling cups.

Several family members gathered into smaller groups, talking about their children and grandchildren, while others discussed the upcoming matches.

But one conversation quickly became louder than the rest.

"So, tell me, daughter of mine."

The first Duchess of Burnwick, Cecily Burnwick, turned toward Sasha.

She wore an innocent smile.

There was nothing openly threatening about her expression.

And yet, something about that smile made a chill run down Sasha’s spine.

"Mother!"

Sasha’s voice became tense.

Cecily’s smile didn’t disappear.

"What’s going on between you and the Young Lord of Ash... Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?"

She deliberately dragged out the final sound.

The question had suddenly become an interrogation.

Sasha’s back stiffened.

"Ehn... wh... what do you... mean... by that?"

Her voice cracked.

She tried her best to play dumb.

Unfortunately, her body was betraying her.

Sasha lifted her right hand to her hair and began rolling a strand around her index finger.

Her eyes moved away from her mother’s gaze.

Then back.

Then away again.

She couldn’t keep herself from looking around as if searching for some form of escape.

Cold sweat began forming along the side of her neck.

Cecily watched every little movement.

Sasha swallowed.

She knew exactly what her mother was asking.

And that made answering even harder.

"I am also curious."

A voice suddenly came from behind Sasha.

Sasha froze.

Her elder brother had somehow appeared behind her without her noticing.

She slowly turned around.

Her eyes widened.

For a moment, she looked as though she had seen a ghost.

"Wow, you look terrified."

Her elder brother said with a teasing smile.

Sasha stared at him.

Then she looked back at her mother.

The two of them were looking at her.

She suddenly felt trapped.

There was no easy way out of this.

While this interrogation of Sasha continued, another quiet conversation was taking place on the other side of the hall.

Ravenor leaned calmly against the wall with his arms folded.

He wasn’t participating in the louder conversations around him.

His scarlet eyes moved across the room, taking in the cheerful faces and the many conversations happening around him.

He had already told his mother, the Second Duchess of Burnwick, Louisa Burnwick, that he wanted to leave early.

He didn’t want to remain in the Guest House for much longer.

Even though the Duke, Aldous Burnwick, had been about to agree with him, Louisa had immediately stopped the idea.

’Stay and interact.’

That was what she had said.

Her expression had been cold and authoritative, leaving little room for discussion.

Ravenor still remembered the look Duke Aldous had given him afterward.

It was the kind of expression that clearly said:

’That’s what your mother said.’

Ravenor clicked his tongue.

"Tsk."

He continued leaning against the wall.

His scarlet eyes returned to the crowd.

He had no interest in joining any of the conversations.

A moment later...

"Ahhh."

Cyrus walked over to him.

The boy sighed tiredly as he approached.

Cyrus had spent a good amount of time replying to the praise being given to him by the members of the family.

Mainline members.

Highline members.

High-board members.

Even some of the Elders had approached him to congratulate him for reaching the Eighth Round.

The attention was strange.

Not long ago, many of those same people had barely cared about him.

Now they were suddenly interested.

Cyrus walked over and leaned against the wall beside Ravenor.

"She can’t even say hello..."

He complained.

Ravenor glanced at him.

"Your mother?"

"Yeah..."

Cyrus shook his head.

"She just continued staring at me as if I wouldn’t notice and didn’t even say anything."

His expression became annoyed.

"Not even a congratulations, my son."

Ravenor looked back toward the cheerful crowd.

"I told you. Once we get into the Academy, their thoughts about you would change a lot."

He spoke calmly.

"Now see."

Cyrus looked around the hall.

People were laughing.

Some were talking about him.

Others were discussing Ravenor’s next match.

He still didn’t look impressed.

"It feels weird, honestly."

Cyrus took another sip of his red fruit wine.

"I preferred when they didn’t care."

He lowered the cup slightly.

"At least then I didn’t have to deal with all this attention."

Ravenor remained silent.

Then, without warning, he changed the subject.

"Your opponent tomorrow is that Maxwell kid."

"Puff..."

Cyrus immediately spat the drink from his mouth.

"Cough! Cough!"

He bent forward and began coughing.

A maid who had been standing nearby quickly approached.

She handed him a white napkin while beginning to clean the drink that had spilled onto his clothes.

"Thank you."

Cyrus accepted the napkin and wiped his mouth.

"You are welcome, Young Master."

The maid bowed politely before returning to her work.

Cyrus straightened himself.

His expression had become much more serious.

"That monster who hasn’t used his Alchemy yet in any of his previous fights..."

He rubbed his shoulder.

"I was lucky enough to see his Alchemy when we went into the Black Zone together."

He shuddered slightly.

"He’s too strong for a side character like me."

The memory alone was enough to make Cyrus uncomfortable.

Ravenor, who had been calm until then, suddenly turned his head.

"Wait..."

His scarlet eyes sharpened.

"You’ve already seen him use his Sun Alchemy?"

There was an unusual amount of curiosity in his voice.

Cyrus blinked.

"Sun Alchemy?"

He looked at Ravenor.

"Is that what his Alchemy Path is?"

Cyrus’s surprise was obvious.

He hadn’t assumed Ravenor would know more about Maxwell than he did.

"And he refused to tell me what kind of Alchemy Path he used."

Cyrus scratched his cheek.

"He almost made me assume it was just another Alchemy Flame Path."

Ravenor’s eyes remained on him.

For perhaps the first time during the entire gathering, he looked genuinely interested in something that had been said.

Cyrus noticed immediately.

"That means you know about Maxwell’s background, don’t you?"

He raised an eyebrow.

Ravenor didn’t answer immediately.

His expression remained calm, but the curiosity in his eyes hadn’t disappeared.

"Only if you explain to me how Maxwell used his Alchemy, then I will tell you what I know."

Ravenor said calmly.

Cyrus stared at him for a moment.

The offer was obvious.

Ravenor wanted information, and Cyrus also wanted information.

Neither was willing to give theirs away for free.

A small smirk appeared on Cyrus’s face.

"Deal."

***

The memory disappeared.

Cyrus’s attention returned to the present.

The Arena was still loud with voices of cheers around him.

Maxwell stood across from him.

The Holographic Screens displayed the beginning of the match, while the spectators continued cheering from the stands.

Cyrus’s earlier memory remained in the back of his mind.

He had already seen Maxwell’s Alchemy.

He knew there was something strange about it.

And now he had to fight him, whether Maxwell would end up using that Sun Alchemy on him, determined on how he would perform in this fight.