Cecilia asked,

“What are they doing?”

And Russell replied,

“Arm wrestling.”

Someone stepped up to act as the referee.

“Alright, get ready, and… start!”

The two men strained their faces, pouring all their strength into trying to push the other’s arm down.

The crowd around them cheered loudly.

Finally, one arm was pinned down, and a winner emerged.

The victor flexed his muscles with both arms and let out a triumphant roar.

He shouted confidently,

“Who’s next!”

“Well then, how about me?”

What had started as a quarrel had now turned into an arm-wrestling tournament.

Whistles and shouts filled the dining hall, brimming with excitement and energy.

The winner of the first round went on to win three more matches in a row.

The man, drunk on victory, was thoroughly exhilarated.

“Who can defeat me?”

Several hunters scattered across the tables smirked.

“Timmy’s all fired up.”

“Kid’s putting on a cute little show.”

The arm-wrestling champion, Timmy, was a rookie hunter who had been at Lagos Castle for less than two months.

New hunter candidates would train under senior hunters, and after gaining real-life experience, they would return to their hometowns as fully recognized hunters.

There, they would take on the role of warriors, defending their villages.

Rookie hunters were often brimming with reckless confidence.

Before arriving at Lagos Castle, they were usually the most skilled individuals in their hometowns.

It wasn’t until they encountered the monstrous abilities of senior hunters that they learned humility.

However, Timmy had arrived at Lagos Castle at the tail end of winter when hunting expeditions were frequent.

He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to witness the skills of his seniors.

“Milord!” someone shouted.

The room quieted momentarily.

“Right! No one can beat the lord!”

“Of course not!”

Several people chimed in agreement, and the room grew noisy again.

People started chanting ‘Milord! Milord!’ as they turned to look at Russell.

Russell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He regretted Harrison’s absence.

If Harrison were here, he would have stepped forward and declared, ‘If you want to challenge the lord, you’ll have to go through me first.’

Harrison was incredibly strong, unmatched by any of the hunters.

Even without Harrison present, Russell had no intention of participating in such a childish arm-wrestling contest.

He was about to issue a light warning to calm things down when he locked eyes with Cecilia.

Her expression subtly revealed anticipation.

“Can you win?”

Hearing her question, a strange competitive fire ignited within Russell’s chest.

Backing down now would be unmanly.

“Of course.”

He grinned, rolling his shoulders as he stood.

The crowd, which hadn’t expected Russell to actually participate, erupted into cheers when he rose from his seat.

Even those who hadn’t been paying attention jumped to their feet in excitement.

Timmy, now standing awkwardly, fidgeted nervously.

He hadn’t expected to actually arm-wrestle the lord.

Russell sat across from Timmy and placed one arm on the table.

“Timmy.”

“Y-Yes, Milord.”

“Do you need time to prepare?”

Timmy hesitated.

“This will be a fair match. Don’t make excuses later. Give it your all.”

“…Yes, Milord.”

The two men clasped hands across the table, locking their grip.

“I’ll referee.”

Dustin volunteered, inserting himself into the scene.

No one objected.

“Three, two, one… Start!”

Timmy, confident in his strength, believed he could win against anyone who wasn’t a hunter—even the lord.

But as soon as the match began, he realized his opponent was anything but weak.

‘What the—?!’

No matter how much strength he applied, Russell’s arm didn’t budge an inch.

What shocked Timmy even more was the roughness of Russell’s palm—it felt just like that of a hunter.

Timmy had assumed the lord merely gave orders to hunters while leaving all the actual hunting to them.

‘Impressive.’

Russell’s brow furrowed slightly.

Harrison had mentioned that this new rookie hunter was strong, and it seemed he was right.

‘With proper training, he might even join the bear hunt.’

Having gauged his opponent’s strength, Russell held his breath and gathered his power.

The previously even match began to tilt.

The surrounding cheers grew louder as Timmy’s arm was pushed closer to the table.

Despite his reddening face and desperate effort, Timmy couldn’t regain any ground.

When Timmy’s hand finally touched the table, the referee declared the match over and announced the victor.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers.

Cecilia, caught up in the excitement, clapped once without realizing it before quickly lowering her hands.