Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

Chapter 71 Underdog's Triumph

Ivaim stood at the edge of the group, surrounded by warriors dressed in polished armor and carrying weapons that gleamed under the midday sun.

Swords, axes, and bows hung at their sides, their owners shifting restlessly as they waited. Some adjusted their straps or checked their gear, but most exchanged knowing glances.

"Bet it's gonna be the underdog," someone muttered, not bothering to lower their voice.

"Of course it is," another replied with a scoff. "Nine wins in a row. Who else has a chance?"

Ivaim tried to ignore the whispers, keeping his gaze fixed on the stone platform at the center of the square.

His arms crossed loosely over his chest, he leaned back slightly, exuding a calm confidence that only irritated his competitors more.

The crowd gathered around the warriors was just as animated. Townsfolk whispered among themselves, glancing frequently at Ivaim.

"I heard he doesn't even break a sweat in the trials," a woman said, craning her neck to get a better view of him.

"Amazing, isn't it?" her companion replied, her tone carrying equal parts admiration and envy.

"He makes the rest look like amateurs even though he looks like the amateur in terms of physical appearance..."

Ivaim's lips twitched as he heard that.

'Was that a compliment or an insult...'

The murmurs grew louder, rippling through the square like a restless tide. Every glance, every whispered word seemed to circle back to one person—Ivaim.

"Ivaim!" a deep voice boomed, cutting through the chatter. A burly warrior with a jagged scar across his cheek pushed forward, his broad shoulders parting the group like a wave.

He smirked, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

"If they pick you as the Regional Representative, make sure to let those high-and-mighty fools know how annoying your mouth is. Maybe they'll surrender out of frustration."

Laughter erupted from the group, a mix of genuine amusement and tension-breaking relief.

Ivaim raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

"Oh, don't worry," he said evenly.

"If I go, I'll make sure they know exactly how much they don't want to see me again. Maybe I'll talk so much their ears bleed."

The chuckles grew louder, some of the warriors shaking their heads while others muttered, "That sounds like him."

Another voice joined in, a slender man with a bow slung over his shoulder.

"You're already the favorite. Must be nice knowing the rest of us don't stand a chance." His tone wasn't bitter, just resigned.

Ivaim shrugged casually, but there was a flicker of humility in his eyes.

"They'll pick whoever they think can win," he said.

"If that's me, I'll do my part. If it's not, I'll still be rooting for us."

"Rooting for us?" The scarred warrior let out a sharp snort, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

"Ivaim, when have you ever rooted for anyone but yourself? You're more likely to laugh at us from the sidelines."

Ivaim's lips twitched into a faint grin, his relaxed demeanor unshaken.

A woman with a fierce gaze and twin daggers at her hips strode forward, her expression steady despite the polite applause.

"Third place," Halvin announced, "is Bryn Galthorne!"

A rugged man with an axe across his back grinned as he stepped into the spotlight, raising a hand in thanks.

"Second place," Halvin declared, his voice carrying an edge of excitement, "belongs to none other than Kael Ironshield!"

A broad-shouldered warrior with a hammer in hand grunted his approval, his name greeted with thunderous applause.

Halvin's gaze shifted to the last figure standing calm and composed amidst the tension. The crowd grew restless, whispers surging like a wave.

"And finally," Halvin said, pausing for dramatic effect.

"The town's number one choice, our undefeated champion, The Underdog, Ivaim!"

The square erupted into cheers, the sound swelling like a tide through the gathered crowd.

Ivaim stepped forward, his faint smile steady as he climbed onto the platform with practiced ease. The noise gradually quieted, leaving an expectant hush as all eyes turned to him.

He paused, letting the silence linger, scanning the faces below as he considered what to say. His gaze shifted and caught on a figure near the back of the crowd—a man in scuffed leather armor.

The stranger's droopy eyes, shadowed by a heavy brow, gave him a tired, almost disinterested look.

'Isn't that Neli's son?' Ivaim wondered, his brow twitching slightly.

He hadn't seen the man in Fendral's arenas all week.

'He's been competing in other towns, hasn't he? So why is he here now?'

The thought nagged at him for a moment, but he pushed it aside as the crowd grew silent, their anticipation palpable.

He straightened and gave them a roguish grin, leaning slightly on the edge of the platform.

"Well," he began, his tone light but carrying just enough bite to draw a few smirks from the warriors below, "it seems like I'm getting pretty good at this whole 'winning' thing."

Scattered laughter rippled through the crowd, loosening some of the tension. Ivaim gestured toward the gathered warriors.

"Don't get me wrong, though—some of you gave me a real run for my money this time. I'm almost worried I might have to start trying harder next year."

The chuckles grew louder, and even a few of the warriors couldn't help but smirk at his teasing. Ivaim let the noise settle before continuing, his tone softening slightly.

"But jokes aside," Ivaim said, his voice growing more serious.

"Fendral's got fighters to be proud of. Every single one of you standing here today fought like hell to get where you are. And now, it's my turn to make sure our town's name isn't just a whisper in the regionals—it's something they'll remember."

He paused for effect, meeting the eyes of the warriors below, his tone unwavering.

"That, I can promise."

A murmur of approval swept through the crowd, some clapping while others nodded in agreement. Ivaim stepped back slightly, his grin still in place as he tilted his head toward the town mayor.

"That good enough? Or should I keep going?"

Halvin chuckled and waved him off. "That'll do, Ivaim. That'll do."

Ivaim hopped down from the platform, his gaze flicking once more toward Neli's son, who remained rooted in place, his expression unreadable. The cheers reignited as Halvin began to speak again.