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Noah flashed his knight emblem. “Jon Doe, knight of Uther and husband of a lying whore. That son of a bitch, Noah, bedded my wife and left her pregnant, so if you think you’re going to rob me of the pleasure of stringing that rat bastard up by the balls, know that you’ll end up dangling right next to him.”

The two former brothers then charged towards each other and began their fight. Falco hurled punches with the skill of a trained boxer, every attack carrying the energy of a sledgehammer at full swing and relying on blocking with water for defense. Viktor replied with animal-like slashes, each finger capable of burning right through armor like it was cotton, and banking on his agility to avoid harm.

After the third round of fights, the tournament was suspended until the next day, and everyone returned home. Sitting at the desk in Valon’s room, Noah was busy replicating the headband he got from Saimallah. He had already used alchemy to create an exact replica, including the engraved runes, and was now applying a suitable ink. As he worked, he scrutinized the formula repeatedly, making sure it did what it was supposed to. For all he knew, putting it on could brand him with a curse. In his long years across the multiverse, he had learned to always look a gift horse in the mouth. Reading the formula was like reading a contract, and he had to be wary of fine print.