Blood and Authority

The arena fell into a lull. Dust slowly settled, veiling the scars of the battle just past. The names Eric Vale and Neria Vaelric still echoed in murmurs and scribbled notes among the nobility. New names but not ones to be forgotten.

In the royal tribune, the observers weren't simply judging magic or strength. They were reading movement, intention potential. In a world of power, perception mattered as much as might.

Duke Armand Vaelric, who had watched coldly until now, folded his arms.

"My daughter didn't win. But she didn't lose.

A world like this hungers for ashes not crowns."

Beside him, Marchioness Selene Arceval narrowed her eyes and smiled faintly.

"But even ashes can rise... if the wind is strong enough."

The voices of the common crowd still rolled from the outer stands. Cheers, applause sounds that couldn't be bought, but could be observed. The Empire wasn't only forged by elite hands it was shaped by the pressure of the masses.

Meanwhile, the contenders retreated to the resting chambers.

Lucius Octavianus stood alone, gazing at the arena through the tall glass of the upper corridor.

Behind him, a few Solaria students joked lightly, trying to shake off the tension.

Lucius didn't laugh. He only whispered to himself:

"Every duel today was only a shadow.

There is only one true fight."

"And he... will bring it to me."

On the Umbra side, Darian Duval sat in silence on a cold metal bench. His head lowered.

In his hands, a clean cloth gently wiped the dust from his sword's sheath a small ritual. One of the few things he did without being told.

Someone asked him:

"Are you ready?"

Darian didn't look up.

"Wrong question.

He should be ready."

The sky began to shift. Evening painted the upper edges of the arena in gold and blood.

And everyone knew...

The final battle hadn't begun.

But it was already in the air.