The moment Rita stepped into the examination hall, the people around her immediately backed away a few steps, as if getting too close to her would taint them with some kind of impurity.
Along with that came a few whispers, not loud, but seemingly meant for Rita to hear clearly.
“She’s back again? I really wonder who the unlucky one is today.”
“Shh, if I were her, I wouldn’t even have the face to show myself. Dragging demons into the Holy Knight trials—disgusting.”
Rita cast a glance at the few who were whispering deliberately and dressed in fine clothes.
They shivered slightly but quickly shot back a challenging look.
What nonsense are they muttering? Even American-style bullying isn’t played like this.
Those truly focused on the exam didn’t pay much attention to Rita.
Instead, they wore serious expressions, waiting for their own Final Trial.
It was those with no hope of selection who enjoyed gossiping the most.
But still, it was infuriating! Infuriating beyond belief!
Don’t be angry, don’t be angry.
Others getting mad doesn’t mean I have to.
Getting sick from anger won’t help anyone.
Rita took a few deep breaths and, just like yesterday, sat down at the edge of the examinee seats, waiting for the final day of the exam to begin.
Candidates trickled in one after another.
Rita didn’t recognize most of them, but the outstanding few were impossible to ignore—not just for her but even for those uninterested in the exam.
There was one wrapped entirely in bandages whom Rita had no memory of—he looked like some kind of behind-the-scenes boss who had sneaked in—and then confidently took a seat among the examinees.
That person’s silhouette seemed vaguely familiar.
She decided to pay some attention to him later.
Of course, Valfis wouldn’t miss out either.
She bounced over excitedly and plopped down next to Rita as soon as she entered the hall.
The exam proceeded as usual.
Valfis’s match came very early today, and just like always, she immediately shouted her surrender when her opponent drew their sword.
What surprised Rita was that the bandaged figure also appeared in the morning.
He took a stance, then his body twisted unnaturally.
Just as Rita was wondering what kind of rapid, powerful technique he might unleash, the candidate wailed and raised his hand in surrender.
The referee was stunned for a moment before loudly announcing, “Grom, surrenders! Jinna wins!”
The entire hall instantly filled with a jubilant atmosphere, and even Valfis couldn’t help but laugh uproariously.
So this is how you ended up like that!
Although Rita hadn’t seen this guy in recent days, she still found the name oddly familiar.
She didn’t dwell too much on Grom’s case, focusing instead on the matches.
By the end of the morning, Rita had figured out a pattern: the more matches a candidate had won previously, the later they appeared in the order.
Whether it was related to their score, she wasn’t sure.
In the afternoon, most had already competed, and the matches grew increasingly intense.
“Match 48! Promy! Versus Pike!”
“Oh, finally this little gray-haired one is up. I was worried you’d face her! This is a terrible draw!” Valfis rubbed her hands together, eyes glued to the stage.
“Yeah.” This time, Rita wasn’t dismissive—she genuinely breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s okay, you’ve still got two terrible draws left to pick from,” Valfis teased.
While she spoke, the gray-haired swordswoman had already drawn her ornate but clearly worn Rapier.
Though obviously expensive, it was not a flashy showpiece like those used by rich kids but a real weapon, battle-tested and reliable.
A spiral of wind pressure rose from Promy’s feet, sweeping the entire hall.
Rita had to raise her voice just to be heard.
“Who’s next?”
“Arberl.” Valfis puckered her lips and gestured with her eyes toward the brown-haired youth on the other side of the examinee seats.
Lika remembered him well—wielding dual blades, he had cut down four opponents in the melee on the first day without breaking a sweat and had since displayed overwhelming strength in the trials.
“And after that?”
“There.” Valfis puckered her lips again and turned her gaze toward another side, at a red-haired girl: “Scarlet Spear, Momoka. I think she’s the only one who can put up a fight against Promy, but I doubt she’ll win.”
Although the title wasn’t flashy, having one at all was a mark of distinction.
Rita didn’t dare underestimate her.
“What about Johnson?” Rita asked, referring to the candidate who had relied solely on his fists to reach the end, undefeated in four battles.
“He’s easy to deal with. Too easy. They’re not even on the same level!”
As the two chatted, Promy’s Rapier tip had already pressed against her opponent’s throat, who immediately and obediently raised a hand in surrender.
“Match 49! Arberl versus Johnson!”
“Good, only one more person you have to watch out for,” Valfis said.
As expected, Johnson’s fists couldn’t overcome Arberl’s twin blades, and after a fierce fight, he was defeated.
Valfis showed a satisfied expression at Johnson’s loss.
With these matches done, the examinee seats grew restless again.
“Where’s Rita?”
“Yeah! She’s not going to skip the fight like yesterday, right?”
“Seriously, so arrogant!”
As they murmured, the host’s voice rang out once more.
“Match 50! Rita.”
Rita took a deep breath, picked up her Rapier beside her, and stood from her seat.
“She actually dares to go on?”
“Probably something happened to her opponent again.”
Following the referee’s announcement, a red figure rose with the call.
“Versus Momoka!”
The hall fell utterly silent.
Mockery? Kicking someone when they’re down? None of that mattered anymore.
Momoka had already proven her strength.
She belonged to a completely different world from those dirty deals.
Now, everyone just wanted to see how long Rita could hold out under Momoka’s assault.
And, of course, to see in what tragic state she would fall.
The two stood firm on the stage.
Momoka removed her long spear from her back and lifted her orange-red eyes—calm, yet burning with fierce flames.
“I do not approve of your actions.”
She spoke, and the spear’s butt struck the ground with a crisp sound.
“Have I done something wrong?” Rita countered.
“You have defiled the name of the Holy Knight, using despicable means to win disgracefully. Yet you still dare to set foot in this sacred examination hall.” Momoka was like a glowing ember—not blazing fire, but unbearably hot.
“Enough.” The spear lifted from the ground, stirring a small cloud of dust.
Momoka took a half step back, holding the spear with both hands like a burning red snake, its tongue flicking as it locked onto Rita. “Let’s finish this quickly.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Rita narrowed her eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t waste too much of your time.”