How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 727: Festival Champion 5

"So, our esteemed student—would you perhaps share your personal thoughts on the matches thus far?"

The inquiry was delivered with practiced smoothness.

It sounded casual, though it clearly was not.

Inside the studio, an atmosphere of deliberate control was palpable.

Recording stones, larger than usual, were positioned mid-air, all focused on Riley from various perspectives.

Staff members moved with quiet efficiency, adjusting equipment, verifying signals, ensuring flawless execution.

The scene was one of hushed activity, a testament to the meticulous preparation.

It was evident upon observation—

The academy had invested significant resources into this production.

Riley occupied the center of this intricate setup.

Composed outwardly.

Yet, even he could sense the mounting pressure. Not enough to destabilize him, but certainly noticeable. All eyes were upon him, their attention concentrated, awaiting his response.

Nevertheless, his expression remained unchanged.

Under ordinary circumstances, he would have entirely disregarded such an event. Interviews, public attention, mandated appearances—these were not to his taste.

However, on this occasion...

He did not resist.

The entire broadcast system, the accompanying fanfare, the very reason for public viewership—all of it was intrinsically linked to him and Snow. Whether he welcomed it or not, he was a fundamental element of this "show's" success.

And furthermore—

He desired to gauge the current standing of affairs.

To ascertain the extent of the changes that had occurred during his absence.

And what remained unaltered.

The predicament was—

He had only recently returned.

Still, based on his understanding—Rose, the other participants, the general competitive landscape—matters had not deviated significantly from the established course since he and Snow departed for the northern territories.

Consequently, when the question was posed—

Riley responded without hesitation.

"It is proceeding as planned."

A succinct reply.

"...Proceeding as planned?" Duncan echoed, his head tilting slightly as he blinked.

For a moment, his gaze lingered on Riley—

Then, a brief, somewhat awkward chuckle escaped him.

"Haha... right, of course! Straight to the point, I see!"

A short silence followed as he attempted to regain the conversational momentum.

"Would you care to... provide a bit more detail for our viewers?"

"I meant precisely that."

Duncan blinked again.

"Haha... and what, precisely, do you mean by that, Student Riley?"

"..."

"...Huh."

The room fell into silence.

Not a tense silence, but rather an empty one.

Riley remained stationary, as if he had already conveyed all that was necessary. No elaboration followed, no effort to further explain, not even an indication of intent to add more.

For an instant, even the staff positioned behind the recording stones appeared to pause.

Duncan maintained his smile, though a subtle stiffness became apparent.

Nevertheless, he did not falter.

His extensive experience in this field equipped him to recover from such situations.

"Right, right..." he stated, emitting a light laugh as he adjusted his tone. "So, if I understand correctly, everything has been going smoothly for the most part?"

"Yes."

"Ah, I see!" Duncan affirmed promptly, seizing upon the affirmation. "And is that based on your personal observation, or the general state of the competition?"

A brief pause ensued.

Riley did not respond immediately.

"...Mine."

Duncan's smile faltered slightly.

"...Huh."

Another moment of quiet passed.

Then—

"Haha—well! That is certainly... an honest perspective on the current state of the competition!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands once as if to refresh the atmosphere. "Directly from our top contender himself!"

It was hardly substantial material.

In fact, it was virtually nonexistent.

"B-but! Perhaps we can transition to another important topic for a moment—!"

Even those watching the scattered screens throughout the academy could perceive it.

Duncan was struggling.

And this fact provided amusement.

Laughter erupted in various locations—on the streets, within eateries, and among groups of students congregating in open areas. The stark contrast was too significant to overlook.

One individual was vocal, animated, consistently striving to propel the conversation forward.

The other?

Taciturn. Concise. Almost uncooperative.

Riley was not intentionally being difficult.

That was simply his nature.

And somehow, this characteristic contributed to the dynamic.

Typically, Duncan possessed a knack for engaging with people.

Regardless of their background—nervous first-year students, proud members of the nobility, or even individuals with particularly challenging temperaments. He knew how to navigate the conversational spaces, subtly guide the dialogue, and extract content of value.

That was his professional role.

And he excelled at it.

However, for reasons unknown...

Riley was not someone Duncan felt comfortable pressuring.

It was not precisely fear.

It was more akin to instinct.

The kind that advised against applying excessive force with this particular individual.

Riley's presence carried a certain weight. Not overt or burdensome... simply inherent. It evoked a similar feeling to that emanating from certain individuals within the academy. Princess Snow possessed such an aura. A few others, too.

Individuals whose reputation, strength, and status were not matters to be casually probed for entertainment.

Especially not during a live broadcast.

And Riley?

Given the myriad rumors circulating—his combat exploits, his rapid ascent, even the widely discussed complications in his personal life—

Indeed.

A single misstep in questioning could lead to a rapid and significant deterioration of the situation.

Consequently, Duncan made a deliberate choice.

Refrain from pushing.

Your guide.

After a slight cough to regain his composure, he looked directly at Riley once more, his smile returning, though it was now more measured.

"This question has been on everyone's minds recently," he began, his tone now more polished. "Ever since the initial rank assessment was unveiled a few days ago..."

He paused briefly for dramatic effect.

"But Riley—among all your prospective opponents... who do you hope to encounter in the finals?"

Riley's gaze flickered slightly.

Rank assessment...

He didn't voice it, but the thought immediately occurred to him.

He hadn't yet seen the results, but he could accurately guess what it entailed: the academy's method of ranking the remaining contestants in the tournament.

Not the typical individual standings.

Something more comprehensive.

Performance, current results... perhaps overall proficiency.

...Or even public favor.

Knowing the usual practices, it was likely a combination of all these factors.

Riley appeared rather indifferent.

Yet, he understood the underlying query.

And more crucially—

What the audience desired to hear.

As Duncan raised his hand, a semi-transparent screen materialized beside them, its projection solidifying until a complete roster of names became clearly visible.

The current rankings.

All fifteen remaining participants, listed from the highest to the lowest position.

Riley's eyes scanned the list calmly.

Riley Hell Rose Brilliance Seo Gyeoul Lucas Snow Luenitia White Germonia Leven Kagami Kento Janica Mortelina Reina Hell Felix Anders Katia Rosemary Vanessa Ander Lusis Den Kalah Anabeth Rika Julius Sertal

At first glance, it largely aligned with his expectations.

The majority of the names were recognizable, and significantly, most hailed from Lumen Academy. Only a select few from the external academies had successfully remained in contention this deep into the competition, which was hardly surprising. This was Lumen's domain, their home turf—naturally, they would excel here.

If anything, the list merely corroborated what he had already anticipated before his return.

Nevertheless... one particular name held his attention for a moment longer than the rest.

Reina Hell.

Ranked eighth.

Riley's gaze remained fixed on that spot for a beat.

He hadn't foreseen her advancing this far. Not in a competition of this magnitude, not against adversaries of this caliber. Yet, she had—and convincingly so. Occupying a stable position within the top ten signified she had unequivocally proven her capabilities.

A faint sense of pride surfaced within him.

As her elder brother, he couldn't help but feel it.

Simultaneously, however, that emotion was underscored by a quiet apprehension. Because he understood what lay ahead. From this juncture onward, the challenges would only escalate—if anything, they would intensify.

For every individual whose name graced that list.

"Well, I’m sure she’ll bounce right back up even if she loses..."

His eyes moved onward, his expression unchanged.

Ultimately, the rankings held little significance now. Once the field narrowed to the final fifteen, the dynamics shifted towards unpredictability. The pairings would be randomized, meaning any participant could face any other at any given time.

The first-ranked could be pitted against the second.

Or the fifteenth.

There was no established order to depend on, no guaranteed path forward.

Merely whoever materialized as the next opponent.

And that was the sole determinant.

The question itself was straightforward.

Who do you wish to face in the finals?

Simple—yet pregnant with implication.

To answer it at all meant endorsing the underlying assumption: that he would reach that stage, that the conclusion was already preordained for him.

Arrogant, depending on one's perspective.

Riley remained largely unconcerned.

His gaze remained fixed on the holographic display, but his thoughts had already journeyed beyond it.

He's probably watching...

There was one individual in particular for whom this kind of broadcast would be essential viewing. Someone who wouldn't overlook it, regardless of their location within the academy.

It had been a considerable time since Riley last paid him close attention. So long, in fact, that he lacked a clear understanding of the advancements that individual had made.

I’m curious...

Lucas, that person....

If the tournament proceeded according to its natural progression, the likelihood of their paths converging in the final round was not insignificant. Indeed, it presented as one of the more plausible outcomes.

Which made this moment—

An opportunity.

Should I provoke him slightly?

The notion lingered for a fleeting moment.

Then, Riley offered a subtle, almost imperceptible nod.

"The opponent I would like to face in the finals..." he stated, his voice unwavering, devoid of any hesitation.

"...would likely be Kagami."

The instant the name was uttered—

The response was instantaneous.

Throughout the academy, individuals paused, then erupted into a cacophony of sound. Astonishment, perplexity, exhilaration—all intermingled. It was hardly the most prudent response, and certainly not the one anticipated.

Duncan's demeanor brightened beside him, seizing the opportunity immediately, his voice escalating with revitalized fervor as he sought to capitalize on the stir Riley had just ignited.

But Riley was no longer attending.

Instead—

He registered a faint pang of regret.

...Yes, he’s definitely going to hear that.

—

Elsewhere, within the bustling confines of one of the academy's cafés, the broadcast played out above a central pillar, the projected light casting a soft luminescence upon the gathered onlookers.

A young man was seated near the front.

Lucas's golden eyes were glued to the screen, unmoving. He stared for a moment, as if the information hadn't quite registered. "...Kagami...?" he murmured, the name barely a whisper, tinged with doubt. "He’s… waiting for Kagami…?" His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of unease crossing his features. "…Not my sword? Not… me?" The words were soft, yet they carried a palpable weight, easily audible across the table. Janica, seated opposite him, exhaled softly. Her gaze flicked from Lucas back to the screen, where Riley remained completely unaffected by the stir he'd created. "…That guy…" she muttered under her breath, a trace of irritation surfacing. She couldn't quite discern whether the answer itself—or the casual manner in which it was delivered—bothered her more.