Fairy Tale: With Sin Of Pride

"For such an important event, shouldn't the ruler of the entire country make an appearance?" Kenyal murmured, scanning the crowd. "If they truly value diplomacy, their leader should at least observe. This could pave the way for future alliances!"

Unbeknownst to him, Rhodes had no interest in the exchange match. He had slipped away to a tranquil lake outside the city, unbothered by the proceedings.

"The outcome of this event hardly matters," Rhodes thought with a smirk. "After all, ninety-nine percent of our federation's strength lies in me."

---

Meanwhile, on a distant road, an army marched toward the federation's borders. They moved with disciplined silence, their footsteps muffled, their armor gleaming faintly in the dim light. Shields, spears, and staffs were carried with precision, reflecting their readiness for battle.

The banners they bore bore the unmistakable emblem of Weston Country, signaling their intent to invade.

Watching from afar, Rhodes chuckled, tapping his fingers on a stone. The sky darkened as a drizzle began to fall, and his smile widened.

"Since you're so eager to challenge me," he mused, "let me slow you down a bit. The stage isn't ready for your performance yet."

A faint blue glow emanated from beneath his feet, rippling outward. Lightning crackled in the clouds above as a storm surged into existence.

Boom! Thunder roared as bolts of lightning struck the marching troops, scattering them in chaos. Soldiers cried out in frustration and fear as the rain intensified, turning the ground to mud.

"This weather wasn't in the forecast!" one commander shouted, dodging a stray bolt.

Rhodes watched their plight with cold amusement. "Still marching forward? How resilient. But let's see how you handle this."

He turned his gaze to a nearby mountain, his fingers weaving an intricate spell. A brilliant silver light materialized before him—the Roar of the Silver Dragon.

The mountain trembled as a massive white beam struck it with devastating force. Rocks shattered and cascaded down, blocking the army's path entirely.

"Perfect," Rhodes said with satisfaction. "The stage is set. Let the real performance begin."

---

Back in the federation's arena, the exchange competition had reached its peak. Two young warriors stood in the ring, their faces tense. The crowd murmured in anticipation.

One of the competitors raised his hands, unleashing streaks of lightning toward his opponent. The display was dazzling, causing gasps from the audience.

"Holy… What just happened?" Kenyal muttered, watching in disbelief. His companions looked equally stunned as the first warrior's team was swiftly eliminated.

Rhodes, now back in the arena, observed the scene with mild interest. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the lightning wasn't natural magic—it came from a concealed device.

The warrior's weapon had layers of preloaded enchantments, allowing it to unleash magic rapidly. Clever, but limited.

"Effective for a moment," Rhodes thought, "but nothing compared to true mastery."

When Rhodes stepped into view, the audience fell silent. Respect and awe filled the air as people parted to let him through. Even the Dwarf King, seated on the high platform, lowered his head deferentially.

Kenyal stared at Rhodes, his mouth slightly agape. "That's him… the one who rules this entire federation. It must be."

---

The competition continued with personal duels. In one match, a man named Claire stepped into the ring, wielding a simple yet gleaming silver sword. His opponent, carrying a hybrid weapon—a sword combined with a staff—looked equally prepared.

As the match began, the opponent recited a spell, a glowing blue magic circle forming in the air. The hybrid weapon seemed designed for versatility, combining close combat with ranged magic.

Claire, however, remained unfazed. He raised his silver sword, and with one precise slash, the magic circle shattered into scattered light.

The audience erupted into cheers.

"Real combat," Claire said calmly, sheathing his sword, "is about skill, judgment, and precision—not gimmicks."

Kenyal watched in stunned silence, his heart heavy with unease. The sheer skill displayed by Claire was overwhelming, the aura of dominance undeniable.

"How can this be?" he whispered. "Is it the weapon, or is it… him?"

Beside him, a companion whispered, "That weapon… It's a new creation of our kingdom. Its sharpness allows it to cut through magic itself."

Kenyal nodded absently, but deep down, he wasn't convinced. The scene before him had left a lasting impression, one that would haunt him long after the competition ended.

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