The Bearhug Gladiator Troupe's attempt to recruit me quickly became the talk of the capital, and by the next morning, Sprex came running toward me, his face pale with rage.

"Maatt!? They tried to recruit you!? You turned them down, right? Those bastards, trying to steal the Matt I raised!!"

"I did turn them down, but I don't recall you ever raising me, Sprex."

"If you’ve lived with my troupe and eaten even a single piece of bread, that makes you one of mine!"

"That’s ridiculous."

"And what’s with all those clothes you bought, huh!? What’s that mountain of stuff!?"

"Most of it’s for Emera."

"Then fine! You didn’t buy her anything weird, did you!?"

"What are you, her grandfather?"

Sprex, still agitated, shouted at me incessantly before storming off to prepare for the match.

"What’s with him?"

"He’s funny, isn’t he?" Emera giggled. "If he really were my grandfather, though..."

"Don’t even joke about that. Your eardrums would burst from all the nagging."

I advised her against entertaining such absurd thoughts, and she burst into laughter.

Even amid training, we made sure to take proper breaks, allowing both myself and the entire Sprex Gladiator Troupe to mentally prepare and stay focused during this intense period.

Our eighth match on the 20th was against the Schmidt Gladiator Troupe. Despite the troupe’s efforts, the skill gap was evident, and we narrowly lost with a record of two wins and three losses.

Then came the final day.

From the morning, Sprex’s demeanor was intense. With bloodshot eyes and prominent veins in his sclera, it was clear he hadn’t slept a wink.

"This is it! Our last big fight! And guess what, our opponent is none other than the reigning champions, the Pendulum Gladiator Troupe! Give it everything you’ve got and win, no matter what! If we pull this off, we’ll make a name for ourselves!"

Sprex’s rallying cry filled the air with determination, and many of the gladiators had the same fierce, bloodshot gaze.

The enthusiasm was palpable.

However, the Pendulum Gladiator Troupe, true to their title as reigning champions, was a formidable force. They had yet to lose a match in the tournament, winning each one convincingly.

The crown jewel of their team was their star gladiator, Rain, whose overwhelming strength and skill elevated their morale while intimidating their opponents.

Rain, often called the strongest gladiator, wielded a sword and shield in a traditional style. Despite its simplicity, his mastery was undeniable—he had decisively defeated Bardict, who stood a full head taller than him, to claim the title last year.

The Pendulum Gladiator Troupe’s roster was also filled with orthodox gladiators specializing in sword and shield combat, boasting consistently high skill levels.

For the newly debuted Sprex Gladiator Troupe, feeling overwhelmed by such an opponent was natural.

Despite this, our troupe fought admirably.

One gladiator, clinging to the traditional style of combat, was utterly defeated. However, the remaining three fought with relentless determination, putting on an incredible show that electrified the audience.

Just giving the Pendulum Gladiator Troupe such a challenging match was a significant achievement, and Sprex laughed heartily, pleased with the result.

However, the scoreboard still read one win and three losses.

Even so, the Pendulum Gladiator Troupe won with remarkable sportsmanship, often waiting for their fallen opponents to rise or holding their swords at the ready to allow for a dignified surrender.

While we had fought valiantly and thrilled the audience, we had yet to push them to their limits.

"Matt! As expected of the Pendulum Gladiator Troupe! Go out there and learn from them!"

While Sprex was content with the exposure our troupe had gained, my thoughts were elsewhere.

If this was to be our final match, I would ensure the Sprex Gladiator Troupe’s name was etched into the history of this tournament.

"Yeah, I’ll win this one," I said.

Sprex, taking it as a joke, burst into hearty laughter and slapped my back repeatedly.

"That’s the spirit!"

As Sprex roared with laughter, Emera looked at me with bright, shining eyes.

"Yamato, I know you can win! Good luck!"

I smiled and gently patted her head.

"Of course. I’ll crush him—I am the strongest, after all."

Hearing this, Emera beamed with a radiant smile.

"Yes! You’re the strongest, Yamato!"

With Emera’s words pushing me forward, I placed my hand on the heavy wooden door leading to the arena.

Unlike the flimsy wooden planks of a typical gladiatorial arena, this door was sturdy and imposing. Yet, it felt as light as air.

The perfect balance of tension and excitement coursed through me.

Right now, I couldn’t imagine losing to anyone.

After all, victory’s goddess was on my side.

The final match of the preliminaries.

Though it was clear which gladiator troupes would make it to the finals, the arena was still filled with deafening cheers for this climactic bout.

From both sides, the crowd chanted names in unison: Rain and Matt.

I recalled hearing that Rain was nicknamed the "Thunder Emperor," so perhaps they were calling this the battle between the Tyrant and the Thunder Emperor.

While mulling over this, I raised both hands, responding to the crowd's fervor. The tempo of the arena’s drums began to shift.

The steady beat slowed, and as the intervals between drum strikes grew longer, the cheers gradually subsided.

Soon, an eerie silence descended upon the previously roaring arena.

The large doors opposite me creaked open, and every gaze naturally turned toward them.

A singular drumbeat, louder than any before, resonated through the arena.

And with that sound, a figure emerged from the dark corridor.

His golden hair, reminiscent of a lion’s mane, gleamed brilliantly, and his piercing brown eyes shone with a sharp intensity. Draped over his black, lightweight armor was a dark crimson cape. In his hands, he carried a silver longsword and a tall, elongated shield.

Rain strode to the center of the arena, his chest puffed out, exuding an aura of unshakable confidence.

Dignified and commanding.

His presence embodied those very words.

Even I couldn’t help but be captivated by his aura, my gaze fixed on him as if under a spell.

Rain’s presence was overwhelming—a force of nature that demanded attention and refused to let it waver.

When he reached the center, Rain stopped approximately twenty meters away from me.

With unwavering focus, his sharp eyes locked onto mine, and he forcefully spread his arms wide.

As if on cue, the drums thundered once more, and his crimson cape fell to the ground.

The arena erupted in deafening cheers, shaking the very ground beneath us.

So this is the strongest gladiator.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips, and I spoke.

"...You look strong enough."