The next day, the capital changed.
The crowd was different: yesterday—craftsn, warriors, families…
Today, they appeared—the nobility.
Heirs of clans.
Marked by princely crests.
Sons and daughters of ancient houses.
You could tell imdiately—they moved with their own retinues, their own aura, their own pride.
Mira had already spread golems through the noble camps.
They watched every movent.
Servants, bodyguards, mages, carriages—everything was under control.
I was standing in the arena corridor when the announcent rang out:
— Entering the arena… ZENHALD HELVARD!!!
An explosion of emotions.
Fear, delight, whispers.
When I stepped out, the crowd seed to recoil.
Then ca the next announcent:
— Against him… PRINCE ALVIRON, HEIR TO THE WESTERN THRONE!!!
The crowd ERUPTED.
— PRINCE! PRINCE! PRINCE!!!
— Good luck, Your Highness!
— Defeat him, Your Majesty!!!
Alviron entered beautifully—
a golden mantle, a steel blade, eyes filled with the confidence
of soone who had always been considered the best.
But he looked at … cautiously.
The judge raised his hand.
— Fight!
The prince vanished.
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He attacked perfectly—
speed, technique, flawless execution.
Every strike—by the textbook.
Every stance—the royal school of the blade.
The crowd roared:
— WOW!
— His Highness is unmatched!
— He’ll cut the kid down any second now!
But I dodged.
Simply.
Evenly.
Effortlessly.
Five minutes.
He changed styles.
He altered rhythms.
He tried to break through with hundreds of combinations.
But his blows felt like a light breeze.
I don’t want to humiliate him, I thought.
When the prince began to slow, I exhaled.
And created an ice cube.
Pure.
Cold.
Absolutely still.
With a simple motion of my hand, I sealed the prince inside.
Alviron froze in ice.
Completely.
The coliseum fell silent.
Total silence.
Even the mages stopped whispering.
— W-winner… Z-Zenhald Helvard…
The people’s favorite had fallen.
Just like that.
The fights only grew brighter from there.
?? Edgar vs. Seteya
Edgar fought like a true beast:
runes on his fists, blows like hamrs.
Seteya—a predator.
A battle of endurance.
She won.
Barely able to stay on her feet.
???? Norris vs. Siren
A duel legends would be written about.
Siren—the Academy’s number one blade.
Speed beyond limits.
His strikes were like wind.
But Norris…
He was a mountain.
With every exchange, Siren weakened.
And in the end—one movent.
One touch.
Siren fell.
— I won only because of experience, — Norris said, helping him up.
— You’re a monster of speed.
???? Miella vs. Tara
A clash of two analysts.
Tara—precision.
Miella—strategy.
Five minutes—equal.
Ten—pressure.
Fifteen—breakthrough.
Miella won.
???? Haras vs. Noi
Noi Levander, an illusion mage, tried to confuse Haras…
But Haras walked straight ahead.
He slashed the air—and the illusions vanished.
Second strike—Noi was on the ground.
— H-how did you see through it? — Noi asked, trembling.
— You blinked, — Haras said.
The crowd fell silent.
?? Finn vs. His Brother
This arena EXPLODED.
Finn’s brother—a sword legend.
Fire against steel.
Attack against experience.
They fought like lions.
Flas scorched the walls.
The blade sang.
And still…
The brother won.
With difficulty.
Great difficulty.
He helped Finn up.
— You’ve grown, brother.
— Give it another year… and I’d lose.
Finn clenched his teeth.
— Thanks… for the lesson…
?? Astra vs. Lucille
Holy magic versus spatial magic.
Lucille fought flawlessly.
Astra held on to the very end.
In the end—Lucille’s victory.
But with respect.
?? Lucille vs. Finn
Two favorites.
Finn—royal fla.
Lucille—space.
She tore the field apart.
He burned through space itself.
But Finn still won—
with a massive spear of fire that ripped through space.
He won—
and then fell to his knees from exhaustion.
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