With the appearance of a challenger, the match proceeded quickly. Damaen was tall and blonde.

“Looks like you’re from a rich family, do you really want to show off your skills that much?”

“Damn, I’m jealous. I should have been chosen.”

“He’s so unlucky, to have picked Damaen of all people.”

“He should be ashamed of himself, a B-rank trying to take away an F-rank’s money.”

Damaen was a B-rank participant. He was a mercenary turned Sword Expert, wearing formidable armor befitting his huge size.

A debut match for an F-rank participant normally wouldn’t warrant even a single spectator, but due to the unusual stakes, the stadium was now packed with spectators.

“Damaen! Give that rich young lad a taste of reality!”

“Does he think that the swordsmanship he learned from his butler will work here?”

The audience's reactions were varied, but most of it was ridicule.

Soon, the referee signaled the start of the match.

“Injuring your opponent means immediate disqualification. Understood? Then let us begin.”

The referee raised his arm in the center, and soon, Henry and Damaen were the only people left in the arena.

“Hey, hey, buddy. Do you know why Sword Clash is such a popular game?” asked Damaen.

“Do I need to know that?” Henry asked in response.

“Because the difference...