Chapter 163

Chapter 163: Lionheart’s Fame

"Did you hear about the Lionheart trial?"

"Ah, that thing where Lionheart Arena disciples go out for training? How’s the feedback?"

"Polite, disciplined, from renowned schools, and exceptionally strong!"

"Way more reliable than those shady adventurers! They never abandon merchant caravans even in danger, always finding ways to save the day."

"They’re free if you just provide food and shelter?"

"Money’s trivial. Guards like these are worth double the pay!"

"Here’s the kicker—they need performance reviews for their training. Lionheart Arena even sends inspectors! Treat them well during missions, or you’ll lose future chances!"

Soon, Midi’s plan unleashed a "Lionheart Whirlwind" across Faero Bay.

Though West Coast maritime affairs and Arenas were closely linked, Arena forces usually competed against rival Arenas—not doing guard work or monster-clearing for the public.

Arenas weren’t charities, tax-funded guards, or mercenaries. Their focus was Status earned through sparring, arena matches, and tournaments.

Most Arena disciples trained relentlessly, only fighting publicly to build fame. Guard missions? Wasteful chores that delayed training—no one bothered unless major maritime families requested escorts. Small Commercial Families’ trade caravans? Ignored.

Yet Midi broke tradition by offering free service.

Lionheart disciples outclassed adventurers in both level and character. Small Commercial Families flocked to this reliable force, spreading Lionheart Arena’s name rapidly.

After seeing results, medium-sized Guilds scrambled for alliances. West Coast villages lacking major maritime families or Great Arenas also sought Lionheart help against mutated monsters, offering generous rewards.

The thirty-disciple Arena soon drowned in requests. Meanwhile, rumors spread: Lionheart taught authentic swordsmanship, housed mysterious experts. Peter, Matthew, and others shocked acquaintances with rapid improvement. Under Midi’s orders, previously passive disciples began public sparring.

Combined, these factors caused membership applications to skyrocket—hundreds applied monthly. But Midi rejected outsiders, wary of spies.

He’d prepared for this manpower shortage:

Recruits from Belmar.

Like Wells using Belmarans on ironclads, Lionheart Arena became a troop passageway. Soon, a hundred Hawk Brigade youths handpicked by Queen of Magic Fina arrived.

With fresh blood, Lionheart’s power surged. Overwhelming guard invitations and monster missions became manageable. Midi drilled military coordination into the disciples while veterans Dickson and Kelvin taught adventurer techniques.

Lionheart Arena now functioned less as a training ground and more as Midi’s cohesive military unit.

Such explosive growth drew wary eyes.

Three months after the "training initiative" began, a sharply dressed handsome man appeared at the Arena gates, bearing a gilded letter requesting audience with Elder Midi Asreks.

“Representative of the Faero Bay Arena Union?” Midi glanced at the letter and smirked.

So they’ve finally come, he thought.

The factions across the West Coast were tangled and complex, nothing like Belmar’s orderly system where each lord ruled a territory. As Lionheart Arena rose in prominence, forming alliances with Commercial Families and expanding its influence, clashes with other powers were inevitable. Midi knew this well.

The Arena Union’s arrival spelled trouble. Yet Midi had anticipated this moment.

He wanted to see who’d stayed silent during Zhenlu Arena’s provocations but now crawled out seeking profit. Cold glint in his eyes, Midi crumpled the letter. “Assemble the disciples. We greet guests in the main hall.”

Midi’s authority reigned supreme. Within minutes, every disciple took their positions in the silent hall. The crowded Arena exuded an oppressive aura, so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

The handsome representative expected a private meeting in Midi’s study. Instead, he faced nearly a hundred staring eyes. Nervousness gripped him briefly, but he steadied himself – what was this fledgling Arena compared to the mighty Union he represented?

“Elder Faye, Host Randall,” the man began pompously, clearing his throat. “I’m the Faero Bay Arena Union’s representative. You may call me—”

“Skip the theatrics,” Midi cut in coldly. “Your name means nothing. State your business.”

The representative flushed crimson. Accustomed to groveling treatment from Great Arenas and gifts from smaller ones, this disrespect stung. As the Union’s mouthpiece, even arena masters feared his influence. Yet this black-haired youth dismissed him outright?

“Such insolence!” The man’s voice sharpened. “I speak for all Faero Bay’s Arenas! Your pitiful Lionheart’s recent fame means nothing against the Union! You’ve committed grave errors – catastrophe approaches!”

“Enlighten me,” Midi replied, unflinching.

Smirking, the representative unfurled an official notice. His booming voice filled the hall with demands: cease disciple training programs, dissolve Commercial Family alliances, restrict new recruits, surrender Lionheart Swordsmanship for “evaluation”. An aggressive web of restrictions meant to strangle Lionheart’s growth.

Threats followed – boycotts, city council arbitrations, revoked qualification. The man finished triumphantly, blind to the simmering rage around him. Even mild-mannered Randall’s eyes burned with fury. Disciples clenched fists, the hall’s atmosphere crackling like a volcano ready to erupt.