So much for avoiding attention. A part of Aren felt a surge of something akin to relief. Gaining strength, the real reason he’d returned to this world, inevitably would attract attention. He’d need to balance that with the information gathering Chronos Labs wanted. He didn't feel any particular loyalty to them, but outright sabotage wasn't his style. Besides, he was genuinely curious about this world's power. If this local magic allowed Valerian and that mercenary to achieve such strength and speed, then that is what he would focus on first.

  Aren was lost in thought during the meal. The crowd grew louder with each passing minute. The booze was clearly doing its job. Only Lady Oriana and her children ate quietly, while Darius laughed loudly and talked about his adventures. Leo, seated beside him, shifted in his chair, his gaze flickering towards Aren and then quickly away. He seemed to be searching for an opening, a way to bridge the silence. Judging by his appearance, he was about Aren's age, around 20, although much larger, taking after his father. Aren decided to ignore him. If he speaks, then he'll pay attention.

  The tipsy guests had already eaten and started to settle around the hall. Some went closer to the musicians, some started dancing, and others moved to the sofas to smoke cigars. Aren briefly wondered what passed for tobacco in this world, but the thought was quickly overshadowed by distant whispers from a group of young girls in wide dresses, like those from 19th-century Earth, gossiping among themselves, glancing at Aren. He didn't know it himself, and he wouldn't have thought about it, but although he was frail, he wasn't lacking in the looks department. It was normal that a young man, a commoner, who saved the Duke's daughter and was now a nobleman, was the center of attention.

  Two nobles approached him, older men, perhaps in their mid-forties. Despite the flush on their faces, their movements were precise, their bearing confident. They regarded Aren with open curiosity.

  "Sir Aren," one of them began, his tone polite but a touch formal. "Pray, forgive our intrusion upon your meal. I am Theodore, and this is my brother, Severius." Unlike Theodore, his brother was already swaying, although he kept himself in check.

  Aren remained silent. What do these guys want?

  "We have heard tell of your remarkable skills in the martial arts. We were most interested in witnessing a demonstration, if you would be so kind." Their eyes shone with anticipation.

  "I appreciate the interest," Aren began. "But I'm not sure this is the best place for a combat demonstration." He decided to refuse softly, but deep down, he wanted to show off.

  "Nonsense, Aren, do show us what you can do. I am quite intrigued myself!" Duke Darius was already quite drunk.

  All the guests gradually began to gather around the place where Aren was sitting. Whispers and gossip ran through the crowd. Nostalgia flooded Aren, reminding him of his years teaching martial arts, how people looked at him like a sorcerer when he showed how to manipulate an opponent's body. These feelings outweighed his discomfort from the crowd of onlookers who were now watching him. It was one thing to chat with them, but another to show what he could do.

  There's no point in avoiding attracting attention anymore. Well, if you want it so much, I'll show you what I used to show the newbies on Earth.

  He pushed himself up from the table, the heavy chair scraping against the floor with a groan as he moved it just enough to stand, and extended his hand to Theodore, as if expecting a handshake. The crowd fell silent, expecting surprises. Theodore hesitated a bit; he was just an ordinary merchant, not a warrior. But the alcohol gave him just enough courage, and he shook Aren's hand.

  Advanced martial arts on Earth combined explosive power, efficient short movements, and manipulation of the opponent's body. A skilled master only needed to touch an opponent to know their position, balance, and intentions. As soon as their hands clasped in a handshake, Aren immediately felt a gap in his center of gravity and position. He slightly turned Theodore's hand to lock his joints in a position where he couldn't turn them and pressed slightly forward and down, shifting his center of gravity. This seemingly simple manipulation was incredibly difficult to perform. The result was that Theodore fell on his butt.

  The crowd gasped. They only saw a handshake, not the micro-movements of the manipulation. A moment of silence followed. This could be perceived as a humiliation of a nobleman. Although Aren was now a nobleman himself, a conflict could arise. Theodore, sitting on his behind, was stunned but apparently understood what Aren had done, as he felt his movements on himself. After a moment of silence, he burst into laughter, the sound genuine and delighted. The crowd immediately relaxed, also laughing and clapping. Duke Darius got up from the table and laughed too. "Most impressive, Aren! You shall participate in the upcoming tournament. I've no doubt you'll find it quite to your liking!"

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  A tournament? A spark of excitement flickered within Aren. This could be exactly what he needed.

  Theodore regained his composure and stood up.

  "That was truly splendid. Our Dominion is fortunate indeed to have such a nobleman. Sir, from where did you acquire such remarkable skills?"

  "Um... I'm not really sure myself."

  "It must be the Ether itself that has blessed you! I implore you, Sir Aren, would you do us the honor of joining us for a cigar?" Theodore gestured to the area of the hall where people were sitting near the exit to the balcony, smoking cigars.

  More small talk, no thanks. Aren hesitated, not knowing how to answer, because here he was in the society of another world, with possibly different rules of etiquette. On Earth, he would have just waved his hand and gone about his business, but here he wasn't the best fighter in the world, but just a guy without magic. A flicker of curiosity about the local tobacco did cross his mind, but it was immediately squashed by the overwhelming desire to avoid more talking.

  "Sir Aren," a clear but slightly awkward voice called out. Isla was making her way through the crowd. "Might I have a moment of your time?"

  Isla cast an apologetic glance at Theodore and Severius.

  You're my savior. "Please excuse me, gentlemen."

  "Ah, a pity. However, I trust we shall meet again. Until then, Sir Aren." Theodore, with his brother, went to join the smokers.

  Isla led Aren aside, away from the crowd. She straightened her back, demonstrating the behavior of an aristocrat, albeit a little clumsily. "While I have the chance, I wanted to thank you most sincerely for saving me. I didn't expect my father to grant you the title of an aristocrat. In our times, it is perhaps more a burden than a reward. Please be careful; you may be targeted by the same people who wanted me dead." Her eyes showed genuine concern, but also determination. The assassination attempt had apparently only fueled her anger and resolve.

  "It was nothing, really." Aren scratched the back of his head, still blaming himself for the fact that saving her wasn't his primary motivation, as befits a true hero.

  Their conversation was interrupted by Leo.

  "I hope I'm not intruding unduly. Aren, my father requests a word with you." Leo nodded toward his father, who was standing nearby, leaning on a table and waving a glass. Darius waved his hand at Aren, beckoning him to approach.

  When Aren approached, the Duke put his arm around his shoulders, nearly spilling his wine. "Aren, my dear boy! You are a marvel! That... 'technique' of yours... all pure skill, without recourse to Ether!"

  I'm getting tired of local brats calling me boy. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," Aren replied, trying not to wince at the smell of alcohol.

  "Enjoyed it? It was simply magnificent, my boy!" Darius pulled back to look at Aren. "As I have said, you are to take part in the tournament!"

  "What's this tournament about?"

  "It is an annual tournament of unarmed combat, with no use of Ether permitted. Only the natural strength and skills of the participants are tested."

  It sounds like it was organized just for me. "Anyone can join?"

  Darius laughed, pleased with his idea. "Indeed, from commoner to king. It is an excellent opportunity to display your abilities and to gain the recognition of those who might deem your title... ahem... perhaps not entirely legitimate."

  Ah, so you, you cunning fox, want to show the local nobility that your decision will benefit the Dominion. Smart move, can't argue with that.

  "And what does the winner get, besides recognition?" Here, Aren's not-so-pleasant side showed.

  "Is the acclaim of the whole Dominion not sufficient?" Darius chuckled with a hint of sarcasm. "Of course, the champion of each tournament is granted their choice of three prizes, but the selection is provided by our elders. No one knows in advance what they might be, not even I. Some say the elders have a way of knowing what the victor truly desires."

  Sounds like gambling... right up my alley. When has that ever stopped me? A flash of a past poker game—and a crushing loss to a particularly fortunate Asian gentleman—surfaced, surprisingly warm in its recollection.

  "Alright, I'm in."

  "Father, I wish to enter as well. This time, I am prepared." Leo stepped forward and stood beside Aren, interrupting.

  "Hmm... Well, my son, you have chosen an opportune moment. You shall train alongside Aren in preparation for the tournament. I am certain that the exchange of your respective knowledge and techniques shall make you both formidable! It is decided! Let us drink to this!" Darius handed a glass to Aren and Leo.

  They all drank. Aren was already excited. He hadn't participated in tournaments in over twenty years. On Earth, no one dared to fight him after a series of his crushing victories.

  The feast was gradually coming to an end. Everyone was quite drunk and tired.

  Valerian approached, the weight of some unspoken concern evident in his expression. "The feast is drawing to its close. I would have words with you in private. Furthermore, concerning your amnesia, I shall endeavor to answer any questions you may have."

  Finally, I can get out of here.

  Valerian gave the Duke a brief nod and led Aren from the hall. The guests didn't even notice their departure because they were all quite drunk. The room they entered resembled a military strategy room, with a map on the table in the middle and swords and armor on the walls.

  "You are now a nobleman. I must address you accordingly," Valerian began. "Sir Aren, do you have any questions you wish to put to me?"

  No shit I have questions. He braced himself, ready to delve into the mysteries of this world, starting with whatever Valerian was about to reveal.