Azel sat cross-legged on his bed, plate in hand, chewing on his sweet food quietly.
The savory aroma of roasted at lingered in the air of his chamber, filling the otherwise silent room.
He had politely asked one of the maids to bring his dinner up, and now he was eating in peace — away from the constant noise of the palace dining hall.
The palace’s grand als weren’t bad. In fact, they were delicious.
But sitting alongside the royals and their attendants always left him ntally drained.
It wasn’t Naelia or even the Second Empress that bothered him — no, it was the first Empress.
While the Second Empress, Edna, carried herself with a calm grace and maternal warmth, the First Empress radiated dominance.
She was sharp-eyed, assertive, and relentless.
Her sons had clearly inherited her pride; it wasn’t just confidence, it was superiority.
That arrogant mold she’d forged them in made dealing with Aegon, his brother — and by extension his mother all the more exhausting.
Which was why he wanted to avoid them at first, he wanted nothing to do with such an arrogant woman.
Azel stabbed another bite of at with his fork.
’And now I’m on her radar... Perfect.’
He sighed.
"Can’t I just go back to the forest with Steven already?" he muttered, voice low and tired.
He imagined the peaceful woods, Steven’s quiet company, and the simple cottage that felt more like ho than this enormous castle ever could.
Compared to this political ss and royal drama, even the forest beasts seed preferable.
Finishing his al, Azel handed the tray back to the waiting maid with a nod of thanks.
The girl bowed respectfully and left without a word, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
He lay back on the bed, arms sprawled. The duel tomorrow lood in his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to overthink it.
Aegon was skilled, yes.
He was far too talented.
But Azel wasn’t the sa person who had first stepped foot in this castle.
Between gravity training, sparring with Mira, and his own relentless sword drills, he was confident.
Pulling the blanket over himself, he closed his eyes.
"Sleep first... humbling young masters later," he mumbled, drifting off almost instantly.
...
The next morning, the palace buzzed with life.
Servants rushed about preparing the imperial backyard, setting up chairs along the edges of the field.
Ornate seating was arranged under silk canopies for the Emperor and both Empresses, while rows of elegant chairs lined the sides for nobles, attendants, and honored guests.
Even Steven had been invited, sitting sowhat awkwardly in a seat near Naelia, who nervously fidgeted with her dress.
The morning sun bathed the marble courtyard in gold, its warmth mingling with the tension in the air.
This wasn’t just a duel.
It was a spectacle.
Two prodigies — one royal-born, one the son of the Sword Saint — facing off before the court.
The Emperor himself sat at the center of it all, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"A duel between two geniuses," he mused aloud, swirling his drink casually. "This should be interesting."
Beside him, Edna Starbloom, the Second Empress clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
Her gaze was fixed on the empty field, worry visible in her expression.
Naelia leaned toward her. "Mother... do you think he’ll be okay?"
Edna exhaled softly.
"I don’t doubt his skill," she admitted, "but Aegon has mastered almost every form of Royal Swordsmanship. Even at his age, his strikes carry weight."
Naelia bit her lip. "Azel’s not weak either..."
At that, Edna smiled faintly. "No. He’s not."
On the far end of the field, Aegon Starbloom stood confidently.
His sword rested against his shoulder, its polished edge gleaming under the sun.
His crimson eyes burned with pride and thinly-veiled fury.
’Yesterday... he looked down on . Mocked . Treated like I was nothing.’
His grip tightened.
’He disrespected the first prince of the Empire he stays in! Today, he pays for it.’
His aura simred faintly around him, a palpable pressure in the air.
Then Azel arrived.
He strolled onto the field at an unhurried pace, yawning as if he had just rolled out of bed.
His sword rested lazily in his hand, and the faint glow of the [Ever-Bracelet] dimd before vanishing entirely.
He stretched his arms out casually, rotating his wrists.
’I’ll do this match without gravity. I’ve been training under 2x for so long... without it, I feel light as air.’
Even Mira, standing at the field’s center as referee, raised a brow.
The feeling of gravity around him had vanished, she was a bit jealous, she wanted to fight him without gravity too...
Well she could just do so later.
"All right," she announced, her voice clear. "Take your positions."
Aegon stepped forward sharply, taking his stance.
The Royal Swordsmanship Stance was regal and precise — feet angled slightly apart, his back straight, sword raised diagonally across his chest.
It was a posture that demanded elegance and discipline: defensive yet ready to transition into a lethal strike at a mont’s notice.
Azel, on the other hand, adopted a simple, neutral stance — his sword held low and to the side, relaxed, almost careless.
He had no intention of using the Dragon Saint Style unless absolutely necessary.
After all, he wasn’t here to humiliate the prince... that much...
But from the murderous gleam in Aegon’s eyes, the prince clearly had no such reservations.
He was even giving off murderous intent, Azel could feel it.
"Ready yourselves," Mira ordered, stepping back.
Her hand raised.
"Begin!"
The air exploded into motion.
Aegon shot forward in an instant, his sword flashing with aura.
His speed was impressive — each stride precise, his montum honed from countless hours of training.
Royal Swordsmanship’s First Style... Azel recognized it instantly.
He had seen it far too many tis in the ga.
"First Style — Celestial Descent!" Aegon roared.
He leapt, bringing his blade down in a savage arc that aid to cleave Azel cleanly in two.
The strike carried weight — a perfect downward slash fueled by killing intent.
But it never landed.
A sharp clang rang out as steel t steel.
Azel’s sword was already there, intercepting the strike effortlessly.
His feet braced, his expression calm and unshaken as he caught Aegon’s killing blow head-on.
The courtyard fell silent, every onlooker frozen in surprise.
Aegon’s crimson eyes widened.
’He... blocked it?’
Azel’s gaze t his evenly, his voice low and calm.
"Is this all, Your Highness?"
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