Isekai'd Into The Wrong World-Chapter 71: Ch - House Lythros

Both gates painfully raised off of the ground.

The green knights of House Jailis walked through their gate first, removing their helmets as they went. Faces flushed and smiling, they waved to the roaring crowd. The cheers swelled, chants of "Jailis! Jailis!" echoing across the stone tiers.

The red knights of House Rellick left through the opposite gate. Helmets stayed on. Heads down. No waves. The crowd’s cheers diminished as the arena drained.

Ryan watched them go.

The cold stone floor was empty now, save for a few drops of crimson blood. The crowd’s energy was still high and people all over were talking excitedly, but the spectacle seemed... over.

Ryan turned to James. "Well, is that it? Do we head back to the academy now?"

James’s head snapped towards him, eyes wide in shock.

"What?" He stood abruptly. "No way!" James’ hands were moving around emphatically, "This is just the beginning! Those were only two of the fifteen great houses’ chosen champions!"

Ryan blinked. "Fifteen?"

Ryan groaned. "How long is this going to last? Eleanor and I probably have mage lessons in like an hour."

"You aren’t going anywhere even if this lasts ten hours!" James said. "I saw your schedule. I know you can skip those lessons if you want to. I bet that half the academy skips lessons during the festival week."

Jared leant back, arms crossed. "And anyway, not all the great houses join this tournament. Usually just ten or eleven of them, so this part won’t be that long."

"Exactly," James said. "And those two?" He gestured towards the gates. "Some of the boring ones."

Jared’s eyes lit up for the first time, ever. "James, remember House Lythros?"

James’s entire face changed. "Oh my Ceres, I completely forgot about house Lythros!" He clutched Ryan’s shoulder. "Ryan, I would die if I got to wear their armour for even a day. Just one day."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What’s so special about their armour?"

"You’ll see," James said, his legs were now bouncing impatiently.

Eleanor glanced at Ryan, then shrugged. "The mage lessons can wait one more day."

Ryan sighed but smiled. "Alright. Fine. We’re staying."

James clapped him on the back. "You won’t regret it."

The next ten minutes passed in a buzz of conversation. James and Jared debated which houses might show up, arguing over which house would be the victor and past tournament victories. Eleanor asked questions and Ryan listened, absorbing all the details.

Then Eleanor stiffened, her gaze shifting upwards.

"Quiet," she said sharply, hitting James on the arm.

"Oww, what was that for?" James said with a frown.

"Look, the prince is about to say something." She said, pointing.

Ryan followed her finger.

Prince Arlan had stood in the royal box. The wind mages on either side of him began their chanting, the familiar gusts swirling.

The crowd noise dimmed rapidly as people noticed.

"Citizens of Lithara," his voice boomed across the arena, each word was perfectly pronounced. "Our next battle: House Grendal versus House Lilyfold!"

The crowd erupted again.

James leant forward. "Not Lythros yet. But this should still be good."

The gates groaned open.

From the left emerged six knights in brown and black plate armour, their chestplates emblazoned with a grey rock smashing through a sword. They carried eveningstars.

House Grendal.

From the right came six knights in dark purple and black armour, their visors were open as they waved to the crowds. Their sigil was a delicate purple flower, embroidered in fine detail. Each knight carried a long polearm which had a wood and metal shaft with a hammer head accompanied, by short warhammers hung sheathed at their sides.

House Lilyfold.

Ryan frowned, staring at the polearms. "What are those?"

"Pole hammers," James said without looking away. "They have good reach and still hit as hard as any mace."

The knights moved to the centre, facing each other.

The battle began with the familiar salutes, weapon hit chest, the metallic clang echoed, and then they charged.

This melee was faster than the first fight, more aggressive. House Grendal pressed hard with their maces, trying to close distance. But House Lilyfold had reach advantage. The pole hammers kept them at bay, jabbing, sweeping, cracking into armour from angles the maces couldn’t match.

Knights fell on both sides. The Grendal’s aggression cost them early, but they adapted, flanking and shortening the distance between isolated Lilyfold fighters. The pole hammers were devastating at range but vulnerable up close.

By the end, only two Lilyfold knights remained standing, surrounded by multiple fallen Grendal’s.

The crowd roared its approval.

Prince Arlan’s voice rang out. "House Lilyfold claims victory! A valiant attempt by House Grendal!"

"Okay, pole hammers are definitely the way to go," James said.

The Lilyfold and Grendal knights exited through their respective gates. Healers rushed onto the field again, tending to the wounded before helping them leave.

The crowd buzzed with energy, louder than before.

Not a minute passed before Prince Arlan stood once more.

Silence fell quickly this time, anticipation thick.

"Our next battle," the prince’s voice carried across the arena, steady and commanding. "House Lythros versus House Blackwood!"

James shot to his feet. "Yes!"

The gates opened.

From the left emerged six knights in grey and off-white armour.

Ryan’s breath caught.

The armour moved like it was alive. Designed like feathers, each plate overlapping in delicate layers, flowing and shifting with every step. It caught the light, shimmering faintly, the grey and white blending in a way that looked almost ethereal.

Each knight carried a massive warhammer, easily the size of a man’s torso.

House Lythros.

From the right came six knights in black armour with crimson accents. Their sigil was a black tree with blood-red leaves. They carried maces and bucklers, a tiny circular shield.

House Blackwood.

James grabbed Ryan’s arm, shaking it. "Look at that armour. Look at it, look!"

Ryan couldn’t look away.

The Lythros knights moved to the centre, their feathered armour rippling like wings with every step.

The Blackwood knights raised their shields.

The massive hammers lifted.

"Begin!"

The Blackwood Knights did the classic knightly salutes, and the Lythros knights returned them as normal.

The fight had begun.

This time though, the Lythros knights didn’t charge. They advanced steadily, hammers raised, their feathered armour shifting with each step like something alive.

The Blackwood knights turned to one another nervously, before they started approaching at a similar pace, mimicking the Lythros.

But then the Lythros charged. The Blackwood knights panicked, but quickly composed themselves, and braced for the first strike.

The strike came fast. A Lythros hammer crashed down onto a Blackwood shield with a sound like a thunderclap. The shield splintered and metal bent. The knight behind it staggered backwards, and a second Lythros was already there, hammer swinging in a brutal arc. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

The Blackwood knight fell.

The melee wasn’t close.

The Lythros fighters moved like water, no, like the wind, and the hammers they wielded were even more powerful than the strongest of tornados.

Shields crumpled and armour bent. Blackwood knights fell one after another, unable to react properly, unable to withstand the sheer force behind each blow.

Not a single Lythros knight fell, and their armour, well, it remained pristine.

By the time the last Blackwood yielded, the crowd was deafening. The Lythros house was by far the biggest favourite out of the six houses seen so far.

The Lythros knights waved, their feathered armour catching the light, and the roar only grew louder.

James looked ready to weep with joy.

"That," he said, voice breaking, "was perfect." He brushed a single tear from his face.

—————

The next battle followed soon after.

House Valent against House York—crimson and gold against silver and blue. It was brutal from the start. Knights fell on both sides, shields splintering, armour denting under relentless strikes. The crowd’s energy never wavered.

By the end, only one fighter remained from each house.

The final duel lasted many, gruelling minutes.

Both knights were exhausted, movements slowing, breathing ragged and visible through their visors. They circled each other, weapons raised, each strike weaker than the last. The crowd watched in a tense silence.

Then the Valent knight found a final burst of energy.

He swung hard, his mace crashing into the York knight’s shield. The York knight staggered and tried to raise his weapon. But before the York could swing, the Valent knight threw himself onto the York, and began wailing his fists into him.

A few seconds later the York yielded.

The ear shattering crowd erupted into cheer once again. I might end up deaf after today...

Ryan leant towards Jared. "Is there a prize for the winning team?"

Jared shook his head. "I don’t believe there is. This competition is more about a great house showing off their strength."

Ryan nodded slowly. I guess that’s a pretty good incentive... but a thousand gold crowns would be cooler.

As the fighters, the ones who could move, exited and healers rushed onto the field to help the ones who couldn’t: a different kind of procession entered the stands.

Priests.

They wore beautiful, expensive robes of deep brown and green, the colours of Ceres, and moved through the aisles carrying wooden collection boxes. Each box was marked with a symbol which was a crown of wheat bound with vine atop a mountain.

One approached their section, an older man with a lined face and burning eyes.

"Offerings for the Temple of Ceres!" His voice rang out, fervent, each word dripping with passion. "This morning, ill omens were observed! We seek donations to perform rites and ward against the misfortune that threatens us all!"

Ryan turned slightly to reach for his coin pouch.

And froze.

There was a monster behind them.

Directly behind them.

It was squeezed into a seat clearly too small for it.

It was Field Marshal Gregory Talon.

He wore civilian clothes—a simple brown tunic that strained across his shoulders and a hood pulled low over his face. His arms were crossed and his expression carefully neutral, as if he were just another festival-goer enjoying the fights.

Except he was massive. Easily a head taller than anyone around him, shoulders like a bull, muscles visible even through the tunic.

The people sitting next to him looked deeply uncomfortable, one man shooting nervous glances his way every few seconds.

Ryan blinked. "...Gregory?"

The Field Marshal’s eyes flicked to him. "Shhh. I’m incognito."

Ryan stared. "You’re nearly seven feet tall."

"Six’ five," Gregory corrected quietly.

"And built like a fortress."

"Exactly." Gregory nodded seriously. "No one would expect me to be here."

Eleanor turned, saw Gregory, and immediately covered her mouth trying to stifle a laugh.

James frowned, glancing back. "Who are you talking to?"

"No one," Ryan said quickly.

Gregory leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "Enjoying the tournament?"

"How did you even..." Ryan stopped. "How did you know we were here?"

Gregory’s expression didn’t change. "Do you want to know something funny? I didn’t. This is a complete coincidence."

"...Really?"

"Really." Gregory’s tone was completely flat. "I just happened to sit directly behind you in a colosseum holding close to half a million people."

Ryan stared at him.

"I’m being sarcastic," Gregory added.

Eleanor made a small choking sound, still trying not to laugh.

The priest cleared his throat loudly, collection box extended.

Ryan fumbled for his pouch and dropped a silver hill into the box, still looking at Gregory the whole time.

James gave a copper and Jared did the same.

Eleanor, barely containing her laughter, placed a silver hill inside.

Then Gregory reached forward with one massive hand and dropped an entire gold Crown into the box.

The priest’s eyes went wide. His hands trembled slightly as he clutched the box.

"The—the goddess blesses you, my lord," he stammered, bowing deeply before hurrying away.

James and Jared hadn’t noticed the gold crown, otherwise it might have helped them to understand what kind of monster was behind them.

Ryan turned back to Gregory. "Why are you here?"

"Watching the fights," Gregory said simply.

"In a disguise?"

"This isn’t a disguise. These are my normal clothes."

Eleanor was biting her lip now, shoulders shaking.

Before Ryan could respond, everyone in the arena stopped speaking.

"Citizens of Lithara," the prince’s voice carried effortlessly across the arena. "We shall now take a one hour respite before our next melee. Enjoy your meals, and return refreshed!"

The crowd began to stir, people standing, stretching, and some heading for the exits

While their friends or family members reserved their seats.

Gregory stood as well, his massive frame unfolding.

The people sitting beside him decided it would be best to let the towering man leave first before they did.