blacksmith of a Thousand tales

Chapter 26: The Unexpected Champion

The final match of the tournament had the entire arena on the edge of their seats. Edger, though exhausted from his previous rounds, stood tall with his sword drawn, ready to face his final opponent. His body was aching, but his determination never wavered. The crowd cheered, waiting for the legendary knight to claim his victory. However, something unexpected was about to happen.

His opponent, a weak-looking adventurer who had barely garnered any attention throughout the tournament, seemed out of place. He was a scrawny man with a mismatched set of armor and a small, dull sword that looked like it had seen better days. Everyone assumed he would be an easy defeat for Edger.

The fight started, and it was clear that Edger was struggling to keep his energy up. His movements were slower than usual, his strikes less precise. The adventurer, on the other hand, was unexpectedly nimble and persistent, dodging Edger's swings and exploiting every moment of weakness.

Edger's tired body betrayed him in the most comical of ways. As he swung his sword for what felt like the hundredth time, the adventurer ducked and, with surprising precision, tripped Edger's feet. The powerful knight fell face-first into the dirt, his sword flying from his hand, the crowd going silent for a heartbeat.

The adventurer didn't waste the opportunity, delivering a weak but effective strike to Edger's back as he tried to rise. The arena erupted into laughter and applause, shocked by the unthinkable turn of events. Edger, flustered and out of breath, struggled to stand, but he could only manage to give the adventurer a resigned thumbs-up.

The unexpected adventurer was declared the winner, and the crowd roared with disbelief. They had witnessed an underdog triumph over the great Edger in the most unpredictable and humorous way possible. It was the talk of the tournament, and it ended with cheers and laughter filling the arena.

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Back at the Inn:

Reyn, Liora, and Alistair made their way back to the inn, their faces bright with excitement and the joy of the tournament's conclusion. Reyn couldn't help but laugh at how everything had turned out—Edger, the once unbeatable knight, had lost in the most comedic way possible. He looked over at Liora, who was equally amused by the absurdity of it all.

"This tournament sure went out with a bang, didn't it?" Reyn remarked, smiling.

Alistair, still in awe of the surprising final match, nodded. "I didn't think it would end like that. Who would've guessed that adventurer would win?"

Liora giggled. "I think Edger's probably glad to go home with a funny story to tell."

Once they entered the inn, Reyn immediately began preparing for the next steps. He set up a small spatial tent in his room, the space expanded to fit his personal forge. There, he began carefully preparing a few things he planned to bring to the auction house, The Gilded Chalice. He needed to gather a few more materials before he could finalize the items.

He also planned to send messages to both Holy Knight Seraphine and Prince Magnus, knowing the royal family and Seraphine might be curious about his plans. The tournament had brought attention to his work—some he was glad to have, some he was determined to keep under wraps.

Reyn sat at his small forge, humming to himself as he worked on his final preparations, the dim glow of the forge flickering softly in the background. He would send the messages tomorrow. Tonight, though, he just wanted to bask in the victory of the tournament's surprising conclusion and prepare for the next adventure.

The inn buzzed with excitement following the tournament's unexpected finale. Garrett had just returned to the room, still laughing as he recounted Edger's embarrassing loss to a seemingly inexperienced adventurer in the final match.

"Edger's fine," Garrett chuckled, trying to catch his breath. "But you should've seen him, trying to keep his noble composure. Losing to that no-name! I laughed so hard he was ready to throw me out."

Reyn grinned, shaking his head. "Edger fought so hard; he must be mortified."

After a pause, Garrett's tone turned serious. "There's more. That mage Alarcus, the one Edger fought, had a request. He asked if you could make him a weapon powerful enough to help him avenge his village." Garrett looked puzzled. "He didn't say much, but whatever destroyed his home must've been powerful."

Reyn frowned thoughtfully. "I'll send him a message tonight. Maybe there's something I can make that'll help."

As Reyn began setting up his small spatial tent for forging, his mind kept drifting back to Alarcus's words. Whatever had happened to that village was clearly beyond the typical dangers an adventurer might face. A strange chill settled over him, though he shook it off and began laying out tools for his work.

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In the Castle's Grand Ballroom

At the castle's grand ballroom, nobles and dignitaries gathered, relishing the post-tournament festivities. While many nobles speculated about the mysterious "Blacksmith of a Thousand Tales," Duke Roland tried to brush off their questions with polite but curt responses.

Meanwhile, away from the main crowd, small groups of non-human representatives held quiet, intense discussions. Separated into sections across the massive ballroom, the elves, dwarves, and beastmen spoke in low voices, choosing their words carefully.

In one corner, the elven representatives were deep in conversation. An elder elf, with silver hair and a quiet yet stern expression, leaned closer to his companions. "The humans play at strength and glory, hiding the truth from their own people," he whispered. "If the demons return, their foolish pride will leave them all unprepared."

His companion, a young elven scout, nodded in agreement. "They think their cities are safe, that their silence will protect them. But the demons won't care for human borders. They'll annihilate all life if we're not vigilant."

Elsewhere in the ballroom, the dwarves were discussing the same looming threat. The dwarf leader, a grizzled warrior with a braided beard and a fur-lined cloak, spoke gravely. "The demons hunger for land, resources, and slaughter. If they rise, they'll come for everyone. We dwarves can hold our mountain strongholds, but even we may not withstand them alone."

The dwarven emissary beside him nodded solemnly. "Yet the humans won't even admit the demons exist. They're only setting us all up for disaster."

In another corner, the beastmen held their own private council. Their chief, a towering wolf-like warrior with piercing eyes, growled under his breath. "If the demons come, they won't just target humanity. No realm will be safe." He shook his head in frustration. "The humans' ignorance is a danger to all of us. They treat the demons as rumors, yet it's us who will pay for their blindness."

Each group of representatives knew the stakes. They shared a silent understanding of the threat the demons posed, but also of the necessity of secrecy. The knowledge of demons returning would bring fear and chaos among the common people, especially in human lands where the demons were thought to be mere legends.

And so, while humanity celebrated their champions, the other races could only watch, keeping their growing worries to themselves, their eyes cast warily toward the horizon.