Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Meeting Marika's bold and intense gaze, Peter showed no hesitation or stage fright, a confident smile curving his lips.

"Take it!"

He downed the remaining wine in his cup in one gulp, then casually tossed the wooden cup to his attendant, Tom. He then rose to his feet and strode toward the center of the dazzling flame.

Peter couldn't dance, but his warrior coordination and natural sense of rhythm gave him a powerful and rhythmic beauty.

He didn't deliberately imitate the intricate patterns of Gypsy dance, but instead followed the drumbeats, stepping out with powerful strides, his movements expansive and expansive, carrying a primal, masculine charm as he danced with Marika, sometimes drawing closer, sometimes separating. Marika's dance was fiery and passionate, enveloping him; Peter's response was as steady as a rock, yet with just the right amount of pull.

Their eyes met, probed, and exchanged glances in the flickering firelight. The cheers and whistles of the crowd rose higher and higher.

"Damn it, damn it, our sister's eyes are glued to that down-on-his-luck knight's face, as if they're being pulled by a thread."

As Guy watched his sister twirling around Peter, her face beaming with an undisguised joy and admiration he had never seen before, a surge of rage rose within him.

"Although Marika has the freedom to seek love, I am very worried for her that she is being misled by a young man who has only been here for a day."

The second brother, Tibo, added fuel to the fire.

"No! I have to let my sister see what kind of guy this is."

Guy suddenly stood up, his tall figure casting a long, menacing shadow in the firelight. The drumbeats stopped abruptly, and the music fell eerily silent.

"Well done, wandering knight!"

Guy's voice, laced with cold mockery, drowned out the crackling of the campfire. "Wriggling around like a woman, having a good time? What, is that all you can do? Or do you use all your skills to fool young girls?"

Peter stopped dancing, his smile fading, but his eyes remained calm. His attendants Tom and Jerry, however, felt insulted and suddenly lunged forward, gripping their sword hilts.

Marika immediately stepped in front of Peter, glaring at her brother: "Guy! What's wrong with you?!"

"Get out of the way, Marika!"

Guy growled, "I'm talking to him!" He pointed at Peter, his chest heaving.

"Dancing isn't enough! In this land, a real man's strength comes from this!" Guy pounded his muscular chest. "Got it, Griffin? Wrestle like a man! Right here, by this fire! Take off your clothes and let us see how tough your bones are!"

Tipo also stood up and stood next to Guy. Although he didn't speak, the hostility and provocation in his eyes were self-evident. The atmosphere in the camp instantly became tense, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of male hormones.

The young people, meanwhile, let out excited low growls: "Wrestling! Wrestling! Wrestling!"

Gypsies value female chastity and family honor, and Marika's brother's challenge to Peter to uphold family honor is in accordance with their traditions.

"Honey, what do you think?"

The camp leader's wife, the herbalist Araka, who was also a middle-aged woman skilled in divination, enchanting, and other mystical arts, looked uneasily at her husband—the camp leader.

"I remember you once said that you saw a stranger in a dream who helped our camp survive a catastrophic disaster. Wasn't it him?"

The leader pointed to Peter, who had accepted the challenge, removed his clothes, and revealed his muscular upper body.

"No, the person in my dream had brown hair, prominent brow bones, and wide-open eyes, and looked somewhat wise. He liked to wear black clothes, ride a gray pony, and had a dog with him."

Alanka shook his head and continued, "The scenes in the dream were just fragments. I saw Marika fall in love with an incompetent outsider, which led to a tragedy and almost destroyed the camp. I can't remember exactly what Marika's lover looked like or his name, but it definitely wasn't this outstanding young man in front of me."

Are you suggesting that fate has changed?

The commander said with some worry. A future that is already foreseen is no longer terrifying. But a future with variables, that unknown aspect worries him greatly.

"I don't know, my dear, I don't know. The mystical spirituality within me only allows me to occasionally dream of fragments of the future—fragmented, blurry, and indistinct. So let's not interfere and just observe. Perhaps what we're witnessing today is the necessary path to the fulfillment of the prophecy."

Arkansas clenched his fists and pressed them against his chest, then began to pray softly.

Seeing this, the commander sighed and said nothing more, choosing instead to let the wrestling match continue unchecked.

"Guy, Guy, mighty Guy!"

Amidst the cheers of the surrounding youths, Guy took off his jacket, stretching his strong muscles as he warmed up. Marika stood beside him, her expression a mixture of worry and anticipation. This wasn't a simple provocation, but a ritual to defend honor and status.

"The Griffin family motto: Fear not the powerful, nor bully the weak. Repay kindness, pay debts. I, Peter Griffin, accept any challenge tonight."

As Peter spoke, he showed off his muscular upper body, the muscle lines sculpted as if by magic in the firelight. His strength of 21 points, more than 2.1 times that of an average person, made him fearless in the face of challenges.

"Who wants to go first?"

After warming up, Peter immediately began the challenge.

"Watch me crush you!"

Guy growled, his muscular but somewhat clumsy body poised to move closer to Peter.

"Wrestling, wrestling, wrestling!"

The surrounding crowd cheered loudly. There was no referee in this match; only countless excited eyes and the crackling of the campfire filled the air. The match would only end when one side was rendered unable to fight.

The wrestling begins!

Guy, like an enraged bull, roared and charged at Peter, attempting to knock him down with brute force. Peter, agile as ever, dodged to the side and tripped him at the same time. Guy lost his balance, his massive body staggering forward, but his extensive experience allowed him to quickly brace himself with his hands, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Oh—!" The crowd erupted in exclamations.

The two immediately engaged in combat. Guy was incredibly strong, each grab feeling like an iron clamp. Peter thought his 21 points of strength would allow him to wreak havoc, but to his surprise, he was actually slightly at a disadvantage.

Peter then used skill and agility to maneuver, locking arms, twisting bodies, and cutting legs... He wasn't using pure battlefield fighting techniques, but rather a practical style that combined folk wrestling skills with real combat experience. His movements were concise and effective, without any fancy moves. Sweat quickly soaked their bodies, glistening in the firelight, their muscles bulging, each exertion accompanied by heavy breathing and low growls.

After several rounds, although Guy had the advantage in strength, he was unable to completely suppress Peter. After a clever dodge, Peter seized the opening left by Guy's eagerness to attack. He quickly closed in and executed a swift low takedown, simultaneously twisting his waist and hips to generate power.

"Drink!" Peter shouted, unleashing his full power.

Peter forcefully lifted Guy's massive body off the ground, sending it arcing briefly through the air before it crashed heavily onto the muddy ground!

"Bang!" Dust flew everywhere.

Guy was so disoriented from the fall that he couldn't get up for a while.

"victory!"

Tom and Jerry were the first to shout, celebrating for their master.

"Good!!!" The camp erupted in cheers and whistles, almost lifting the night sky.

Guy was a warrior in the homeless camp, an undefeated wrestler. Unexpectedly, he was defeated by this outsider today. But the homeless were, after all, a collection of outsiders, who valued independence and admired the strong, and they cheered for the victor, Peter, without reservation.

Tibo's face was extremely pale. He wanted to go forward, but when he saw Peter standing steadily, panting but with eyes like an eagle, and then looked at his brother struggling on the ground, he finally clenched his fists and didn't move.

Peter was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his angular jaw. Instead of swaggering, he walked over to Guy and extended his hand.

Guy looked at the hand in front of him with a complicated expression, then glanced at the cheering crowd and his sister's bright eyes. Finally, he grunted, grabbed Peter's hand, and stood up, whispering, "You... won." Although his tone was unwilling, he acknowledged the result.

Peter patted him on the shoulder without saying a word, but his eyes conveyed a sense of respect between men.

"He's truly dazzling..."

At that moment, Peter, illuminated by the campfire, resembled a legendary warrior. His victorious posture, the strength and skill he displayed, and his chivalrous forgiveness towards Guy at the end, instantly ignited the passion of the young girls in the camp. They were no longer reserved and boldly gathered around him.

"Peter! Wipe your sweat!" A bold girl pressed a damp cloth directly onto his sweaty chest.

"That was a fantastic jump! And that fall was amazing!" Another girl squeezed in, her eyes full of admiration.

"The knight... is indeed different..." The whispers were filled with undisguised admiration.

Marika, standing a little distance away, had just finished comforting her defeated brother when she saw Peter surrounded by girls, his face flushed with pride and a hint of jealousy.

"I was here first, and the match was just held for me..."

Although Marika inwardly grumbled, she didn't go forward again, but just bit her lip, the firelight dancing in her eyes.

Peter took the towel and wiped his sweat. He gave the enthusiastic girls a polite but slightly aloof smile, dealing with them skillfully, but his gaze passed through the crowd and fell once again on the leaping flame and the fiery red figure standing beside it.

Peter stepped forward slowly, extended a hand, and said, "Beautiful lady, may I have the honor of continuing the dance we were about to finish?"

"sure!"

Marika happily grasped Peter's long, strong hand.

The dance begins again.

The campfire still burned, and the drums sounded again, but this time, Peter Griffin's status in the camp was different. That night, he not only won food, a dance, and a victory, but also quietly sowed the seeds of legend about his name in this free wilderness.