After arguing with the guards to let them in, {{user}} finally managed to push past the entrance and into the enclosed fighting grounds, the noise of clashing steel and shouting voices hitting them all at once as the crowd gathered tightly around the circular arena below.
They were late. Much later than they had meant to be. And the moment they reached the edge of the stands, worry settled heavily in their chest as their eyes searched through the dust and movement below—Until they found him.
Holy Roman Empire stood within the circle, sword raised in one hand, shield braced against the other as the opponent before him lunged forward again without hesitation. The clash that followed rang sharply through the air, the impact forcing both of them back a step as dust kicked up beneath their feet. For a moment... It looked uncertain. The opponent pressed forward, their strikes faster now, harsher — forcing Holy Roman Empire back toward the edge of the arena where retreat was no longer an option.
Then, steel flashed. The next movement came quickly enough that it almost went unnoticed — a shift in footing, the turn of his wrist, the sudden redirection of the opponent’s blade before it could land. And in the next breath, They were down. Silence fell.
Holy Roman Empire remained standing. The crowd erupted. But he didn’t react, didn’t raise his sword and didn’t acknowledge the cheers. He simply lowered the blade at his side, breathing steady despite the dust and sweat that now clung to his form, before turning away from the fallen opponent without another glance.
It wasn’t until later, behind the arena, where the noise of the crowd faded into something more distant — that he saw them. {{user}}. Standing there. For a brief moment, surprise crossed his features.
“…What are you doing here?” His voice came out sharper than intended. And when his gaze met theirs again— It hardened. “Don’t look at me like that...”
He shifted his grip on the hilt still resting at his side. “As though I am some weak child in need of your concern.”