I'm a Immortal Tavernkeeper, But My S-Rank Daughter Doesn't Know That!

Jonas pulled his sword from the fallen orc’s chest, and the bluish glow of his blade slowly faded until the sword returned to its normal state.

The sound of the contestants applauding Jonas filled the room. No one now doubted that he would become a knight.

Breathing heavily, Jonas raised his sword in the air and saluted the cheering crowd. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. He knew that his victory wasn’t just personal; it was a message to all the contestants there that it was possible to defeat the orcs. His eyes finally caught Bel Selvarum, who was watching the scene intently. Jonas lowered his sword slightly and pointed it directly at Bel, a smile forming on his lips.

"Bel! Now it’s your turn," Jonas shouted, challenging Bel.

Jonas surprised Bel, who was standing near the railing of the arena. It was a direct challenge, but if he had been under the impression before that he could defeat an Orc, he now had much more than the necessary movement to do so.

So Bel straightened up and raised his right hand, asking to be the next to enter the arena.

In the inner corridors, Jonas and Bel crossed paths.

"Good luck, my friend," Jonas said, extending his hand in greeting. "Show everyone what you can do."

Bel shook Jonas’ hand firmly, a confident smile on her lips. "What did you say? ’I don’t need luck’? That was a pretty arrogant thing to say, but consider it for me too. I’ll make sure the next Orc doesn’t stand a chance against me."

The two of them left. While Jonas went to the area where he would wait for the last test, Bel went to the arena area.

About to enter the arena, Bel Selvarum took a deep breath, feeling the metallic smell and the echoing sounds of the crowd.

The arena was buzzing with excitement after what Jonas had done, and people were constantly commenting on his victory. So there was a lot of expectation on Bel’s shoulders as Jonas directly challenged him, but he wouldn’t hesitate.

Bel adjusted the hilt of his sword and walked down the narrow corridor that would lead him into the arena.

As he crossed the threshold of the long corridor, the blinding light that illuminated it burst into his eyes. This light seemed to be more intense inside the arena than outside.

The floor of the arena was already a mixture of sand and blood, remnants of past battles. The place was clearly ancient, there was no doubt that the Order of Athína Knights had not created it. Every grain of sand in this place seemed to be a silent witness to past confrontations.

Bel moved toward the center, his steps determined, but not hurried. He knew that every step, every second of preparation, was crucial. He positioned himself and drew his sword with a metallic sound that cut through the air.

His blade shone, and he felt the comforting familiarity of the sword’s weight in his hand. There were a few signs of use on the hilt, but the blade itself was flawless.

On the other side of the arena, the iron gate creaked loudly as it opened, revealing Bel’s opponent. A colossal Orc, even larger than the previous one, walked heavily into the arena. His eyes were red and glowed with a primitive fury, and he stepped out of the space where he seemed to be cramped.

The orc’s muscles twitched under his skin and he let out a growl that echoed through the arena, but he was still chained.

Bel’s heart quickened, not with fear, but with excitement. This was probably the first time he had fought such a powerful monster. He had fought a few at the Academy, but never anything like an Orc.

Bel knew this was going to be a tough fight. He adjusted his stance, gripped his sword, and fixed his eyes on the orc.

At that moment, the orc’s last hand came out from under the bars, revealing that he was carrying an incredibly sturdy wooden mace.

"What? He also carries a weapon."

"That’s not fair. This orc is bigger than the previous ones and he has a club!"

"I don’t know why, but this doesn’t smell right to me."

So, before the fight began, Sir Reinhart, the knight in charge of the test, had to raise his hand to get the attention of those present and explain something.

"Candidates, you may have already noticed this, but I see I have to explain. The longer you take to volunteer, the harder the challenge will be. We will select better weapons for the orcs, and the healthiest captured orcs will be sent out one by one to encourage courage and initiative. Now, Bel Selvarum, may we all witness your bravery!"

Sir Reinhart then snapped his fingers, and the sound echoed through the arena like the beginning of an inevitable fate.

The chains holding the orc were released, and the creature began to run toward Bel.

The floor of the entire arena began to shake with the orc’s footsteps, raising small clouds of dust.

The crowd stirred. This orc seemed much more deadly than the previous ones.

Bel, however, remained calm, analyzing the size and resourcefulness of his opponent.

The orc carried the sturdy wooden mace over his shoulder with brutal confidence.

The orc’s delay in reaching Bel, however, made the young man smile slightly as he remembered the arduous training sessions with his master. Those days of intense practice had forged all of his skill, technique, and endurance. Facing Victor was frighteningly difficult, and compared to this orc, he seemed like a shadow.

The crowd around the arena was filled with anticipation, but for Bel the world had gone silent. He could hear his own breathing, slow and controlled. He could feel every beat of his heart, every muscle in his body was ready for battle.

The orc roared again, a primal sound that echoed off the walls of the arena, and swung his mace to attack.

Bel leapt into the air, dodging the blow that came with the force of a storm. The orc’s mace hit the ground, sending up a cloud of sand.

Taking advantage of the orc’s moment of vulnerability, Bel slashed at the creature’s arm. The blade cut through the thick skin and muscle, but didn’t go very deep.

"You will pay for this, human!" the orc shouted in a strong accent.

Bel was startled when he realized what the Orc had said. "What? Do you speak my language?" he asked, landing behind the orc.

The orc raised his mace over his shoulder again. "I and many others! Ham... That’s what you get for spending so much time in the dungeons of this place!"

Upon hearing his opponent’s reply, Bel realized that he was facing an opponent who was not only physically strong, but also intelligent.

"You and many others..." Bel muttered to himself, trying to process what this meant. What had this Orc experienced? What experiences had brought him to this place so far from home?

"Come on, human, show me what you’re made of!" the orc shouted, stepping forward with his mace ready to smash.

Bel remained calm, remembering Victor’s words:

"Be careful, Bel. You’re young, you don’t have much strength or skill, so remember that strength can break, but the mind can bend."

Bel knew he couldn’t try to match the Orc’s strength. He would have to use his speed and agility.

With a quick movement, Bel dodged to the side, avoiding the devastating blow of the mace.

The orc’s weapon struck the ground with such force that it cracked the earth, creating a new cloud of dust. Taking advantage of the dust cloud, Bel landed a blow on the orc’s left leg, attempting to destabilize him.

The blow was perfect, but the orc didn’t move. Instead, he turned quickly and swung his mace in a wide arc, trying to hit Bel, who ducked at the last second. As it was, the mace only hit the cloud of dust, dissipating it.

"Gr! You’re fast, human," the orc grunted. "But your speed won’t save you for long! I killed many like you last year!"

What? Bel thought, startled.

"I knew it!" the orc shouted, swinging the wooden mace once more.

This time, the brief moment of lost concentration was costly for Bel Selvarum, who suddenly saw the mace coming at him and didn’t have much of a choice given the speed of the weapon’s movement.

All he could do was bring his sword forward and take the hit.

The orc shouted:

"You humans get too emotional when we talk about death! Why are you so afraid of dying?"

Bel was thrown backwards with great force as the orc’s mace struck him with a powerful blow.

The impact reverberated through his body, rattling his bones, but Bel refuse to yield. He gritted his teeth, to not let it break his focus.