Chương 378: Chapter : 378

Naomi walked across the grass. She did not look strict. She did not yell at him to stand up straight. She just smiled a very warm, very friendly smile. She walked right up to Ken. She playfully bumped her shoulder against his arm.

"You can stop complaining now, slacker," Naomi teased gently. She treated him exactly like a fun, naughty friend.

"The match is officially over. You survived." Ken lowered his hands from his ears. He gave her a big, goofy grin.

"I survived, but my shoes did not," Ken replied lazily. He pointed down at his scuffed shoes.

"They are completely ruined. The grass is very slippery. I demand new shoes. And you promised me a large slice of chocolate cake. Do not forget the cake." Naomi chuckled softly.

"I did not forget the cake. You will get your cake. You actually did a good job today, Ken. You distracted them perfectly."

"I am a master of distraction," Ken agreed proudly. He puffed out his chest just a tiny bit.

"I just stood there and ate candy. It is a very complex martial art. It requires zero muscle movement." The head referee spoke into the magical microphone again. His voice boomed over the stadium speakers.

"Attention, Royal Units!" the referee announced loudly.

"Please gather in the absolute center of the battlefield! The rules require an official post-match handshake! Both teams must meet at the center line!" Ken let out a long, dramatic groan. He threw his head back and looked at the sky.

"Are you kidding me?" Ken whined loudly.

"More walking? We just ran around this giant garden for two hours. My legs are officially retired. I cannot walk to the center of the field. I need a golf cart. Please tell them to bring a golf cart." Naomi rolled her green eyes. She laughed and grabbed the sleeve of his messy jacket. She started pulling him forward.

"Move your feet, Ken," Naomi instructed happily.

"It is just a short walk. We have to shake their hands. Then we can go home and eat."

"Fine," Ken mumbled lazily.

"But I am dragging my feet the entire way." He followed Naomi across the ruined grass. He dragged his cheap shoes on the dirt. Scuff. Scuff. Scuff. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. The rest of the 13th Unit walked together. They formed a confident, proud line. They marched toward the center of the arena. They were ready to face their defeated rivals.

The 13th Unit reached the center of the grassy battlefield. The 7th Unit walked toward them from the opposite side. The contrast between the two teams was massive. The 13th Unit smiled and chatted happily. They felt completely relaxed. The 7th Unit looked absolutely miserable. They wore their shiny red and gold armor. Their armor was covered in scorch marks and mud. They walked with their heads looking down at the dirt. They had lost the match. They failed to secure the ten points.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Prince Julian walked at the front of his team. The 7th Prince was throwing a massive tantrum. His face was bright red with pure anger. He stomped his boots on the grass. He swung his arms wildly.

"This is completely unacceptable!" Julian screamed at his guards. His voice cracked with rage.

"You are all useless! You let a bunch of pathetic girls beat you! You let a lazy commoner make you look like fools on national television!" His guards did not say a word. They just stared at the ground. Julian glared at Princess Iris. He stopped ten feet away from her. He refused to step any closer. He refused to offer his hand for the official handshake.

"You got lucky, Iris," Julian sneered viciously. He pointed a shaking finger at her.

"You used cheap tricks. You used smoke and mirrors. This was not a real victory. I will not shake your hand. I am leaving." Julian turned around angrily. His red silk cape fluttered behind him. He marched straight toward the exit tunnel. He left his entire vanguard standing alone in the middle of the field. He was a terrible loser. Princess Iris did not look offended. She just offered a calm, polite nod. She knew her brother was cruel. She expected this reaction. The rest of the 7th Unit slowly turned around.

They followed their angry Prince toward the exit. They did not want to stay in the arena. However, one person stayed behind. Scott stood in the middle of the grass. The wealthy nobleman wore his dark gray combat suit. His suit was completely soaked with water and covered in mud. He looked incredibly bruised. A large, red mark covered the side of his face. Sayma's solid golden shield bash had left a very clear bruise on his cheek. Scott looked totally exhausted. He did not look angry. He did not look arrogant.

He just looked deeply humbled. Scott took a slow step forward. He walked directly toward the 13th Unit. Naomi instantly stepped in front of Ken. She spun her silver daggers. Her green eyes narrowed. Laxmi crossed her arms and glared at the nobleman. Sayma pushed her glasses up. She stood tall and confident. The elite girls immediately formed a protective wall around the messy slacker. They were completely ready to defend him. Scott raised both of his hands. He showed his empty palms.

He did not hold his magical rapier. The sword hung safely at his hip.

"I am not here to fight," Scott said quietly. His voice sounded very tired.

"I concede the match. You won fairly." Naomi slowly lowered her daggers. She did not put them away completely. She just watched him closely. Scott walked up to Sayma. He stopped a few feet away. He offered a very deep, highly respectful bow.

"You are a brilliant tactician, Sayma," Scott admitted softly. He looked at the smart Vice-Captain.

"Your golden barriers were flawless. Your strategic planning completely overwhelmed us. I underestimated your entire unit. I apologize for my arrogant behavior." Sayma offered a polite, gentle smile.

"Thank you, Scott. You fought very bravely. It was a good match." Scott nodded slowly. Then, he turned his head. His brown eyes bypassed Sayma. He looked directly at Ken. Ken stood safely behind Naomi. He chewed on a piece of strawberry candy. He slouched his shoulders. He looked at Scott with sleepy, half-closed eyes. He expected the nobleman to yell at him. He expected another jealous challenge. But Scott did not yell. Scott stared at Ken's wrinkled navy blue suit. He looked at Ken's untucked shirt.

He analyzed Ken's lazy posture. Scott's eyes filled with sudden, profound realization.

"I was wrong about you, Ken Eliot," Scott stated clearly. His voice carried across the quiet grass. Ken stopped chewing his candy. He tilted his head.

"You were? Did you think I liked vanilla cake? Because I actually prefer chocolate. Vanilla is too boring." Scott did not laugh at the joke. He stepped one pace closer. He looked extremely serious.

"The public broadcast claimed you were a statistical zero," Scott explained slowly. He pointed a finger toward the giant screens in the sky.

"The analysts said you possessed zero combat training. They said your stamina was pathetic. They said you were completely useless."