The hall transformed. Tables were shoved back
Erick stepped into the center of the floor.
A servant followed a step behind and offered him the sword wrapped in silk.
Erick took it and pulled the fabric away, revealing a magnificent blade resting in a red scabbard, its edges lined with intricate golden patterns.
Rain stepped forward. He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't even drop his hands from behind his back.
He simply stood. An open target.
Whispers rippled through the crowd even before the fight began.
"Who is he?" a noble from the back row asked, leaning back.
"Where is his weapon? Is he a monk? A fighter?"
"Impossible," another countered. "Look at him. No Aura. No mana. He looks like a normal servant."
"He looks like a normal servant?" one woman chuckled. "I'd fill my house with servants if they were even half as handsome as him."
