The now ladylike Emera started attracting a lot of attention at the arena.
Particularly among the young gladiators in their teens—some even blushed, genuinely flustered by her presence. At barely around ten years old, this might be Emera’s first experience with popularity.

The next day, people still greeted her, but the number of gladiators approaching dwindled since I was scheduled for the main match.
In the gladiators’ world, the main and sub-main matches were the most critical, as they formed the bulk of the revenue.
The matches followed a strict rhythm: the first fight in the morning would raise expectations, a midday fight would reinvigorate excitement, and the main event would crescendo into the grand climax, ensuring the audience would return the next day.
Since all gladiators’ pay came from the same source, no one would dare undermine a fighter preparing for the main match.
Thus, only the desperate gladiators with nothing to lose would dare approach me or Emera.

“Can’t believe they let you fight the final match… What kind of strings did you pull, Matt?”

A middle-aged gladiator, likely nearing forty, confronted me as I headed to the waiting area.
His gaze dropped to Emera, and he clicked his tongue.

“You sold not just your body, but the kid’s, too, didn’t you?”

He crept closer, muttering venomously.

“That’s why you’ll never win.”

I muttered back, grabbing his head with one hand and slamming it into the wall. The man crumpled to the ground unconscious.

“Pathetic for someone of the same generation,” I said softly, noticing Emera’s curious gaze.

At the waiting area, Cradle was already there, swinging his sword to check his movements.

“Hey, today’s star finally shows up! Two days off, huh?” Cradle teased, laughing.

“My bad. Today’s spotlight is mine,” I replied.

He whistled and squinted at me. “Rookie gladiator of just one month, already acting like a big deal? Fine, fine. Veteran Cradle will warm up the crowd for you. You better appreciate it.”

Laughing, Cradle walked off to fight his match.
Watching his retreating figure, Emera frowned with concern.

“Is Uncle Cradle going to be okay?” she asked hesitantly.

Her words caught me off guard.

“Cradle’s around thirty. You’re calling him an Uncle? You don’t call me that,” I quipped.

Emera blinked, looking puzzled.

“But Yamato… you look about eighteen, don’t you? Or… am I wrong?”

Her voice grew uncertain, and I chuckled.
Honestly, I didn’t know my own age anymore. Regardless, she wasn’t wrong to see Cradle as older than me.

“Let’s cheer him on,” I suggested, leading her toward the stage.

The long, dim hallway opened into a bright, wooden gate that led to the arena.
Despite my upcoming fight, the walk stirred excitement within me.
At the gate, Sprex noticed me.

“You’re up after this,” he said.

“I’m here to cheer,” I replied, gesturing to the stage.

Sprex burst out laughing.

“A rookie worrying about Cradle? That’s rich! Don’t worry; he’ll be back unscathed.”

Peeking through a gap in the wooden door, we watched Cradle in action.

In the wide arena, Cradle was already trading blows with his opponent.
The clash of metal on metal echoed sharply, as the two fighters moved dynamically—running, dodging, and rolling to avoid strikes.
Cradle’s moves were flashy and precise, clearly honed by excellent reflexes and awareness.
While the match appeared even, Cradle’s composure outshone his opponent’s frantic swings. He disrupted their rhythm effortlessly.

“See? Cradle’s strong. Even if he loses, he won’t suffer serious injuries,” I assured Emera, patting her head.

Sprex frowned at my remark.

“Don’t be stupid. Losing a casual fight is one thing, but losing a spotlight match? He’d never fight in the capital again.”

True enough, Cradle had occasionally thrown fights for the sake of gambling odds, but this match wasn’t one of those.
Just as I predicted, Cradle parried a series of attacks, disarming his opponent with fluid motions before slamming them to the ground.

Pointing his sword at the fallen gladiator’s throat, he declared, “It’s over.”

The crowd roared with cheers, as Cradle basked in their applause, waving with a charming smile.

“How was that?” Cradle asked upon returning.

“Impressive as always. You should train me sometime,” I replied with a smirk.

“Hard pass,” Cradle shot back, shrugging. “Your clumsy swordsmanship would rub off on me. You’re all power and no technique. Fighting you is just a hassle.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me chuckling at his honesty.

“Matt! Your turn!” Sprex called out.

I snapped out of my thoughts and glanced at Emera.

“Cradle, look after Emera,” I said.

“Got it. Go shine, hero of the day!” Cradle grinned.

“Good luck!” Emera added with a beaming smile.

I nodded with a smirk.

“Yeah, I’m off.”