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Chapter 259: Half

The sun rose over the tournament grounds, casting golden light across the bustling arena. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible as spectators poured into their seats, their conversations buzzing with excitement about the day's matchups. With the quarterfinals concluded, the remaining four fighters had proven themselves to be among the best, and now the semifinals promised even greater intensity.

The announcer's voice rang out across the arena, his words amplified by magic to reach the farthest corners of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the semifinals of the Ventor Martial Tournament! Today, the finest warriors will clash in battles that will be remembered for years to come. Let us waste no time and reveal the matchups that have set the arena abuzz with anticipation!"

The crowd erupted in cheers as the names appeared on the magical display above the arena:

First Match: Valeria Olarion (Olarion Household) vs. Varen Drakov (Silver Flame Sect)

Second Match: Lira Vaelan (Cloud Heavens Sect) vs. Lucavion (Unaffiliated)

Whispers of intrigue spread like wildfire among the audience.

"Valeria Olarion… the Pink Knight. She's been climbing fast but against Varen Drakov? He's practically the favorite to win the whole thing!"

"She's good, no doubt, but Varen's a monster. He doesn't just fight—he dominates."

"And then there's Lucavion. He's been a thorn in the Cloud Heavens Sect's side since the tournament began. Now he's up against their strongest, Lira Vaelan herself. If he wins this, it'll be a humiliation they can't ignore."

"After what he did to Joel Rythan yesterday? I wouldn't count him out. Lira will need every ounce of skill to stand against him."

The tension was palpable as the fighters made their way to their respective preparation chambers. In the first chamber, Valeria Olarion adjusted the straps of her armor, her pink-tinted plates gleaming in the morning light. Her Zweihander rested nearby, its blade as sharp as her focus. She took a steadying breath, her thoughts centering on the opponent she would soon face.

Varen Drakov. The strongest contender. This isn't just another fight—this is a test of everything I've trained for.

Meanwhile, in another chamber, Varen stood in silence, his arms crossed as he stared at his reflection in the polished steel of his greatsword. His demeanor was calm, his expression unreadable, but within, a fire burned. He respected Valeria's rise and the weight of her family name, but respect wouldn't soften his strikes. For Varen, this was another step toward proving his supremacy, and he intended to take it without faltering.

In the third chamber, Lira Vaelan sat cross-legged, her sword resting across her knees as she meditated. Her breathing was measured, her mind calm as she prepared to face the man who had humiliated her sect. To her, this fight wasn't just about victory—it was about restoring the pride of the Cloud Heavens Sect.

Lucavion won't leave this arena unscathed,

she thought, her gaze hardening.

And in the final chamber, Lucavion lounged against the wall, his estoc balanced casually in his hands. His expression was one of quiet amusement as he considered his matchup.

Lira Vaelan, the Silent Thunder. They think she's their best, their pride. Let's see if she's as good as they say.

As the time for the first match drew near, the announcer's voice rang out again.

"Let us welcome the warriors of the first match to the stage! On one side, we have Varen Drakov, the ferocious flame of the Silver Flame Sect! A fighter whose strength and discipline have earned him the respect of all!"

The crowd roared as Varen strode into the arena, his silvery-red robes flaring behind him. His greatsword rested across his shoulder, the subtle flame design on his armor catching the light. His expression remained composed, but his presence exuded an aura of overwhelming power.

"And on the other side, the rising star of the Olarion Household, the Pink Knight, Valeria Olarion! A warrior whose relentless determination and skill have captivated us all!"

******

As Valeria stepped into the arena, the cheers of the crowd washed over her like a wave, but her focus remained locked on the figure standing across from her. Varen Drakov. The ferocious flame of the Silver Flame Sect.

Her heart beat steadily, her breathing controlled, but as she crossed the sandy floor and drew closer to her opponent, she felt it.

The pressure.

It was like stepping into the heart of a furnace. The air itself seemed heavier around Varen, thick with his mana and presence. Valeria's instincts screamed at her, a primal recognition of the danger he exuded. This wasn't just the aura of a strong opponent. It was the weight of dominance, a force that sought to crush the will of anyone who dared stand against him.

Her grip on her Zweihander tightened as her steps slowed, the realization settling in. 'Even with my breakthrough, even with everything I've gained… this is what it means to face someone like him.'

Varen stood tall, his greatsword resting casually across his shoulder. His silvery-red robes fluttered in the faint breeze, and his eyes—cold, focused, and unyielding—met hers with a quiet intensity. His aura pulsed subtly, the flames within him simmering just below the surface, ready to erupt.

"You've grown stronger," he said, his voice low but carrying across the arena with ease. "I can see it in the way you stand. Breaking through to the fourth star is no small feat."

Valeria inclined her head slightly, acknowledging his words without breaking eye contact. "You're as strong as they say. I can feel it."

Varen's lips twitched into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Strength is only part of it. Resolve, focus… those matter just as much. I wonder if you've gained enough of those to face me."

The announcer's voice cut through the tension, calling for the fighters to ready themselves. The crowd fell silent, the weight of anticipation settling over the arena like a shroud.

Valeria shifted her stance, her Zweihander sliding free with a metallic hiss. The blade gleamed in the sunlight, and as she gripped it firmly, she felt the pulse of her mana coursing through her body. She had trained for this. She had fought for this. And now, she would prove herself.

Varen lowered his greatsword, the massive blade glinting with faint embers as he let it rest lightly in both hands. The subtle flame design on the steel seemed to come alive, flickering with an ominous glow as his mana began to stir.

The referee raised his hand, signaling the start of the match.

"Begin!"

Varen moved first, his greatsword carving through the air with startling speed for its size. Flames erupted from the blade, roaring toward Valeria in a sweeping arc.

SWOOSH!

She reacted instantly, her Zweihander meeting the strike in a clash of steel and fire. The impact reverberated through her arms, and the heat of the flames licked at her armor, but she held firm.

'So heavy!'

she thought, gritting her teeth as she braced against his strength.

Varen didn't relent. He pressed forward with a series of powerful strikes, his greatsword moving with precision and force that belied its weight. Each swing sent shockwaves rippling through the air, the sheer pressure forcing Valeria to stay on the defensive.

But she wasn't the same fighter she had been before. With her newfound clarity and her breakthrough to the fourth star, her movements were sharper, her mana more responsive. She parried and countered with a focus that matched Varen's intensity, her Zweihander weaving arcs of energy to meet his fiery onslaught.

Their blades clashed again, sparks flying as Valeria sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the searing flames that erupted from Varen's weapon. Her own mana surged in response, forming a protective layer around her as she moved.

"You're holding up better than I expected," Varen said, his tone calm but laced with a hint of approval. "But let's see how long that lasts."

With a sudden burst of speed, Varen closed the distance, his greatsword descending in a fiery vertical slash. Valeria reacted instinctively, raising her Zweihander to intercept.

BOOM!

The collision sent a shockwave rippling through the arena, the force of the impact kicking up sand and causing the crowd to gasp. Valeria staggered slightly, her arms straining against the weight of the strike.

He's stronger than I thought,' she realized, her mind racing.

Stepping back to create space, she channeled her mana into her blade, the familiar glow of her family's technique igniting along the edge. She steadied her breathing, her focus narrowing as she prepared to push back.

"Sword of Olarion: Knight's Arc!"

Her blade swung in a wide, deliberate arc, releasing a crescent of shimmering energy that cut through the air toward Varen.

He met it head-on, his greatsword flaring with flames as he cleaved through the attack, the remnants of the energy scattering harmlessly around him.

"Not bad," he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine respect. "But you'll need more than that to bring me down."

Valeria's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening. She wasn't done yet.

The pressure was suffocating, the heat of his mana pressing down on her like a tidal wave. But amidst it all, she felt something stir within her—a deeper resolve, a reminder of why she fought.

'I've come this far. I've broken through my limits. I will not falter here.'

She threw a look at the stage on the front.

There she saw someone with a smirk.

'I will face you in the finals.'

It was no longer about her path.

She wanted to face that man.

Chapter 260: A fine duel

Valeria tightened her grip on the hilt of her Zweihander, her breaths steadying as she met Varen's intense gaze. She could feel the weight of his mana pressing down on her, the oppressive heat of his flames radiating with every movement. His presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavy, as though the battlefield itself bowed to his dominance.

She shifted her stance slightly, her armor catching the sunlight as she prepared to meet his next assault.

'He's no ordinary opponent,'

she thought, her eyes narrowing

. 'His swordsmanship is refined, deliberate. Every strike has purpose.'

And she wasn't wrong. Varen moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, each swing of his greatsword precise and calculated. Combined with the overwhelming force of his mana, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Valeria could feel the strain in her muscles, the unfamiliar sensation of her newfound strength still untempered by experience. 'I've broken through the 4-star stage, but if I can't fully control this power, it's meaningless.'

Varen's voice rang out, calm and steady. "You're strong, Valeria. But strength isn't enough if you can't wield it properly."

He surged forward, his greatsword trailing flames as he swung it in a sweeping horizontal arc.

"

Silver Flame Art: Blazing Horizon!

"

Valeria braced herself, her Zweihander coming up to intercept the strike.

CLANG!

The impact sent her sliding back several feet, her boots digging into the sandy arena floor. The force of the blow was immense, the heat of the flames licking at her armor and searing her exposed skin.

But Varen wasn't finished. Without giving her a moment to recover, he spun his greatsword in a fluid motion, flames roaring to life along its edge.

"

Silver Flame Art: Infernal Cascade!

"

The blade came down in a series of rapid, crushing strikes, each one heavier and faster than the last. Valeria's arms trembled as she blocked and parried, her Zweihander ringing with the relentless barrage.

'Too fast,' she thought, her mind racing to keep up. 'He's overwhelming me.'

The final strike of the cascade sent her staggering to the side, her footing unsteady. Varen stepped back briefly, his mana surging visibly around him as he raised his greatsword high, flames spiraling up its length.

"

Silver Flame Art: Phoenix Ascendant!

"

The attack was devastating—a vertical slash that unleashed a roaring inferno, the flames taking the shape of a phoenix as they surged toward Valeria with blinding speed.

The crowd gasped as the flames engulfed her position, the heat of the attack radiating across the arena.

But then, through the roaring fire, a faint golden light began to glow.

Valeria's voice cut through the chaos, calm and resolute. "A knight's strength isn't just in their blade. It's in their resolve."

The flames dissipated, revealing Valeria standing firm, her Zweihander glowing with a soft, golden light. Her body radiated an unshakable presence, her mana forming a shimmering barrier around her.

'This is it,' she thought, her focus sharpening. 'This is what my family's teachings meant. The strength to endure, to stand unyielding no matter the odds.'

Varen's eyes widened slightly as he sensed the shift in her aura. "What is this…?"

Valeria raised her blade, her voice calm but carrying the weight of her newfound clarity.

"

Sword of Olarion: Knight's Resolve.

"

She stepped forward, her Zweihander moving with deliberate precision. Her strikes were no longer reactive—they were purposeful, each one carrying the weight of her resolve.

The first swing collided with Varen's greatsword, not with brute force but with precision, redirecting his attack and breaking his rhythm.

The second struck the ground before him, releasing a pulse of mana that disrupted his footing.

And the third came down with a force that resonated through the arena, golden energy trailing behind the blade as it cleaved through the flames surrounding him.

BOOM!

The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the arena, forcing Varen to stagger back. His flames flickered, the oppressive heat dissipating as he struggled to steady himself.

Valeria stood tall, her Zweihander gleaming in the sunlight, her presence unshakable. She locked eyes with Varen, her calm gaze meeting his fiery resolve.

*****

Varen steadied himself, his fiery aura flickering faintly as he met Valeria's unyielding gaze. She stood there, Zweihander in hand, her stance solid and her expression resolute. The golden shimmer of her mana reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, Varen allowed himself to take in the transformation.

'This isn't the same girl I watched before,'

he thought, his grip tightening on the hilt of his greatsword. 'Back then, her blade lacked purpose. It was hesitant, uncertain. She swung her sword like someone playing at war, like a sheltered knight who'd never known what it meant to truly fight.'

He shifted slightly, observing her movements as she adjusted her stance. Her every step now carried weight, her every motion deliberate. There was no hesitation in her gaze, no wavering in her strikes. Her aura was focused, her resolve clear.

'But now…'

Varen's eyes narrowed, the faintest trace of a smile curling at his lips.

'Now, she's found it. That thing she was missing.'

Resolve.

He took a slow breath, his fiery mana surging to life again, wrapping around him like a second skin. As he prepared for the next exchange, his gaze briefly flickered to the stands. There, among the spectators, he spotted him—the enigmatic man who always seemed to linger in Valeria's shadow.

Lucavion.

The man sat with his usual relaxed posture, arms draped over the back of his seat, his smirk as insufferable as ever. His sharp, watchful eyes betrayed an understanding that Varen found unnerving. Varen had seen their dynamic before—Lucavion teasing her, testing her, pushing her beyond her limits.

'

It's him,

' Varen knew.

'He's the reason she's changed this much. He's the one who made her find this resolve.'

His gaze returned to Valeria, and he could see it now—the reflection of Lucavion's influence in her movements, in the way she carried

His gaze returned to Valeria, and he could see it now—the reflection of Lucavion's influence in her movements, in the way she carried herself. It wasn't just strength that had changed her. It was her clarity, her ability to focus under pressure, to wield her power with purpose.

'But still,'

Varen thought, his expression hardening.

'It's not enough.'

Valeria charged forward, her Zweihander glowing with golden light as she struck with a ferocity and precision that forced Varen onto the defensive. Their blades clashed, sparks flying as fire met gold. She moved with an intensity that demanded respect, each strike calculated to disrupt his rhythm and leave him open.

Her mana surged as she brought her blade around in a sweeping arc, aiming to overwhelm him with sheer force. Varen countered, his greatsword igniting as he unleashed

"Flame Serpent Spiral"

once more. The fiery serpent coiled around her blade, seeking to bind it, but Valeria's golden aura flared, shattering the flames and leaving her path clear.

'Impressive,'

Varen admitted to himself as he stepped back, his footing steady despite the force of her attack.

'But power without precision is still a weakness.'

He shifted his stance, his fiery mana condensing as he prepared his next move. Valeria lunged again, her Zweihander trailing golden light as she aimed a decisive strike at his core.

'Now,' Varen thought, his mind calculating every angle.

At the last moment, he sidestepped, his greatsword arcing upward in a blinding slash. Flames roared to life as he activated

"Phoenix Ascendant"

once more, the fiery phoenix erupting from his blade and engulfing the space between them.

The explosion of fire forced Valeria back, her golden shield flickering as she braced against the force. She skidded to a stop, her breathing heavy but her grip on her Zweihander firm.

Varen didn't wait. He surged forward, his greatsword blazing as he unleashed a series of relentless strikes. Each swing was calculated, each step forward narrowing the space between them.

Valeria parried desperately, her blade meeting his with a resounding clang. But the pressure was mounting, and Varen could see the cracks beginning to show. Her resolve was strong, but her body was nearing its limit.

"Miss Valeria," he said, his voice calm but commanding as he prepared his final strike. "That was a good match. You were strong."

"Likewise. Mister Varen."

Valeria also replied.

"Thank you for your guidance."

She channeled her mana.

"I am sorry to show you an incomplete technique."

She also knew that this move would be the end.

"But I have no choice, please overlook the sloppiness."

"

Sword of Olarion: Knight's Sanctuary.

"

Her intent surged.

Varen did the same.

His flames surged, his blade cutting through the air in a devastating arc.

"Every type of effort is commendable."

With those words, he struck.

"Silver Flame Art: Eruption Strike!"

The impact was overwhelming. Valeria's golden aura shattered under the force, and her Zweihander was knocked from her grasp, the blade clattering to the ground. She staggered back, her breathing ragged, her knees threatening to buckle.

But even then, she didn't fall. She stood her ground, her gaze unwavering as she met Varen's fiery eyes.

He lowered his greatsword, the flames dissipating as he regarded her with a mixture of respect and finality.

"It was a fine duel."

The bell rang, signaling his victory, and the crowd erupted in cheers and gasps. Varen turned, his steps steady as he left the arena, his mind already turning to the next challenge.

Behind him, Valeria stood, battered but unbroken. Her eyes burned with a determination that promised this would not be the end of her growth.

Chapter 261: His reason

The lounge was quiet except for the faint hum of the magical screen displaying the fight. My gaze stayed fixed on the stage, watching as Valeria held her ground against Varen Drakov. She'd come far—much further than I'd expected. Each swing of her Zweihander carried more than strength; it carried resolve, purpose. Her movements had refined, her mana sharper, her determination unshakable even in the face of overwhelming force.

'She's really improved,' I thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Seeing her now, fighting with such clarity, it was hard not to feel… proud. Not that I'd tell her, of course. That would only inflate her already unbearable sense of self-worth.

The fight reached its climax, Varen's fiery blade cleaving through her final technique. The golden aura of her Knight's Sanctuary shattered like glass, her Zweihander clattering to the ground. Yet, even then, she refused to fall. Her legs trembled, her breaths came ragged, but her eyes… those still burned with a fire that refused to die.

When the bell rang, signaling Varen's victory, I leaned back in my chair, arms draped lazily over the sides. My mind lingered on the match as the crowd erupted in cheers.

'She's come so far,' I thought again.

[She really got much stronger, but she's still not strong enough. Humph!]

Her voice echoed in my head, sharp and smug as always, even though I could sense the hint of pride beneath her words. I chuckled softly, shaking my head.

"She may not be strong enough yet," I murmured, leaning forward slightly, "but progress is progress. That much is undeniable." My lips quirked into a faint smile. It wasn't her victory, but it was her moment—a step forward, even if she didn't fully realize it yet.

[Varen defeated her, and yet you sit here looking smug,] Vitaliara's voice chimed into my mind, carrying her usual teasing lilt. [You're far too pleased with yourself for someone whose 'student'—if I can call her that—just lost.]

'Student, huh?' I thought with amusement. 'She'd kill you if she heard that.'

[Would she?] Vitaliara purred, the teasing edge fading as her tone turned serious. [But I wasn't talking about her just now, was I? I meant you, Lucavion. Are you sure about this next match?]

Her words hung in the air, unspoken yet heavy with meaning. I felt her gaze, keen and knowing, as if she could see more than what lay before us. She always did.

"What are you implying?" I said aloud, my tone light but curious, though I already knew where this was heading.

[The Cloud Heavens Sect,] she said, her voice sharp now, almost scolding. [They aren't even bothering to hide their intentions anymore. The drinks they serve, the meals, the snacks… even the air you're breathing right now is laced with poison. Subtle, slow-acting, but poison nonetheless.]

I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing on the faint, bitter undercurrent in the air, the subtle tingle on my skin that had been easy to ignore until now. She wasn't wrong. The very air in the lounge was tainted, though the toxicity wasn't enough to affect me. Yet.

[And there's more,] Vitaliara's voice cut in, her presence sharp in my mind. [There's a poison expert working behind the scenes, spreading it through the ventilation. You think you can just ignore this?]

"I know," I said simply, my tone calm. "But it doesn't matter."

[Doesn't matter?] Vitaliara's voice rose, incredulous. [What do you mean it doesn't matter? This is a direct attempt to—]

"To do exactly what they've been planning all along," I interrupted. "They're desperate. They think they're clever, trying to weaken me before the match. But here's the thing: poisons that affect the average Awakened don't affect me."

I leaned back in my chair, arms resting lazily over the sides as I let my mana circulate through my body. "My meridians aren't like theirs," I continued. "Even if I were affected, I can just circulate my mana and burn the poison out using the [Flame of Equinox]." The familiar flicker of my cultivated energy stirred within me, a steady heat that I could call upon at will.

[Arrogance or confidence?] Vitaliara asked, though her tone carried no real challenge.

"Neither," I replied with a smirk. "It's just the truth. Let them try. It won't change anything."

I let out a quiet breath, my eyes flickering back to the screen one last time. Valeria's fight had concluded, and now, it was my turn. My fight. The one I'd been waiting for since the moment I decided to step into this tournament.

The anticipation that simmered beneath my calm exterior sharpened into focus. This wasn't just about winning. This was about dealing with a certain group of parasites—those who fed off the efforts of the genuine, corrupting everything they touched. The Cloud Heavens Sect had long overstepped, spreading their poison both metaphorically and literally. They were a sickness, and I was here to remind them of what happens when you underestimate the wrong opponent.

As I rose from my chair, the soft hum of the ventilation system above caught my attention again. The faint tang of poison lingered in the air, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. I rolled my shoulders, letting the [Flame of Equinox] stir within me once more, burning away any trace of the toxin that dared to linger in my system.

'Pathetic,' I thought. 'This is the best they can do?'

With that, I began to make my way toward the preparation room. The hallways were quiet, save for the soft echo of my boots on the polished stone floor. As I moved, I couldn't help but notice the increased presence of guards stationed at every corner. Their armor gleamed under the torches, and their eyes scanned the area with a practiced vigilance.

It seemed the Marquis wasn't taking any chances.

'He's focusing on safety quite well,' I mused. 'Though whether it's to protect the tournament's reputation or something else entirely, I can't say.'

One of the guards gave me a brief nod as I passed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. I returned it with a slight inclination of my head, my pace never faltering. Despite the apparent protection, I knew better than to place my trust in it. These were just measures to maintain appearances; the true threats weren't the ones marching through the front door.

The preparation room came into view, its heavy wooden door slightly ajar. I pushed it open, stepping inside. The space was stark and simple, with a single bench and a rack for weapons lining the far wall. The hum of anticipation was almost tangible here, the air charged with the weight of what was to come.

I set my estoc on the bench and began adjusting my gloves, the familiar sensation grounding me as I prepared for the match ahead. This wasn't just another fight—it was the culmination of careful planning, patience, and a willingness to act when others wouldn't.

The parasites had thrived long enough. It was time to remind them that not all prey remains docile.

******

The roar of the crowd washed over me as I stepped onto the arena floor, their voices mingling in a cacophony of cheers, jeers, and whispered speculation. The sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows across the sandy stage. Above me, banners bearing the Ventor family crest fluttered in the breeze, adding a touch of regality to the charged atmosphere.

"Phantom Sword!"

"Sword Demon!"

The cries from the crowd reached my ears, some voices filled with awe, others tinged with fear or disdain. I couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at my lips. Sword Demon, huh? It had a certain ring to it, I had to admit. It felt cool, fitting in some twisted way, though I had no idea how the title had stuck so quickly during this tournament.

Still, I wasn't here to entertain the whims of the spectators. My eyes scanned the crowd briefly, taking in the faces of the cheering masses before settling on the opposite end of the arena, where Lira Vaelan would soon make her entrance. This wasn't just about defeating an opponent; this was about what she represented—the rot festering within the Cloud Heavens Sect.

I let out a quiet breath, my thoughts slipping into focus as I stood in the center of the arena, the noise around me fading into the background. My gaze swept the stage, but my mind was elsewhere, reflecting on why this moment mattered.

'There are many types of people I despise in this world,' I thought, the faint hum of my mana swirling within me. 'But the worst are the ones who trample on others' efforts while pretending to stand for something greater. Hypocrisy cloaked in virtue—that's what disgusts me most.'

The Cloud Heavens Sect was once something to admire. Founded by a visionary woman Awakened, it had been born from the idea of breaking the chains of inequality. A noble purpose, one that deserved respect and admiration. But like so many things in this world, time had twisted it into something else entirely.

'The sect lost its way,' I mused, my fingers brushing the hilt of my estoc as the crowd's cheers swirled around me. 'Instead of embracing temperance and self-improvement, they took shortcuts. Underhanded means became their creed, and rapid advancements replaced genuine effort. They traded the values they were built on for power, and in doing so, they became slaves to their own desires.'

Freedom. That was the word they liked to throw around, the banner under which they justified their actions. But what they called freedom was nothing more than indulgence—a descent into carnal desires they couldn't control, masked as liberation.

'And they think the world owes them something for it.'

The Cloud Heavens Sect wasn't just a group of opportunists. They were parasites, feeding off the genuine efforts of others while dragging the sect's once-noble name through the mud. It wasn't just disrespectful; it was insulting. Insulting to everyone who had ever struggled to rise on their own merit. Insulting to the ideals their founder had fought for.

Chapter 262: Begin

Some people could ask the question.

How can I be this sure? The answer is simple: they were a major organization in the novel.

In a world with reverse harem elements, having an organization fighting for "liberation" wasn't out of place. It was almost predictable, a staple of the genre. But at least the author had the sense to craft them as villains rather than an idealistic faction. The Cloud Heavens Sect wasn't about freedom; it was about power dressed up as virtue, indulgence wrapped in rhetoric.

And at the heart of it was her: Lira Vaelan, the Silent Thunder, the sect's rising star and its greatest manipulator.

She was the quintessential villainess, playing the role to perfection in the novel. I remembered her arc vividly. She would join the academy in the second act, her charm and composure masking her true intentions. She'd approach the talented and ambitious, enticing them with promises of growth and freedom, seeking to draw them into the sect's fold. And for a time, she would succeed, her cleverness and beauty drawing many to her cause.

But then Elara appeared.

Elara, the true female lead, is a prodigy in every sense, blessed not just with talent but with a genuine drive to rise on her own merit. She was everything Lira pretended to be—and more. Where Lira manipulated, Elara inspired. Where Lira schemed, Elara led with honesty and strength. It wasn't long before the disciples Lira sought to recruit began to drift toward Elara instead, captivated by her authenticity.

Lira couldn't stomach it.

She and her fellow disciples, once so confident in their allure, found themselves eclipsed by someone they couldn't control, someone who shone brighter than their facade ever could. Their jealousy festered, and they began to lash out, targeting Elara and those who stood with her. It was the beginning of their downfall, a slow unraveling that would ultimately expose the sect for what it truly was.

But their pettiness wasn't limited to the main arc. Even here, at this tournament, they showed their true colors.

I'd seen how they treated Valeria at the start of this event. Their disdain, their underhanded attempts to undermine her—they couldn't handle anyone standing in their way.

And Lira, their so-called prodigy, was no different. She was here not just to win but to dominate, to prove her superiority at any cost.

'Under this façade of virtue…..what lies is a simpleton who only reeks carnal scents.'

To me that was obvious.

Lira Vaelan wasn't just manipulative; she was hollow. Her elegance, her composure, her disciplined front—all of it was a lie, a carefully constructed veneer meant to conceal the truth of what she was. And in the novel, that truth unraveled spectacularly.

There was more to her hatred of Elara than simple envy or competition. It wasn't just about power or influence. It was personal.

Varen.

The man was a male lead through and through: brooding, noble, and deeply scarred. His distrust of women stemmed from betrayal—Lira's betrayal. She had been his fiancée, the one chosen to stand by his side, but instead, she'd thrown it all away, indulging her desires with another disciple. The revelation shattered him. Varen didn't just lose trust in her; he lost trust in the opposite gender entirely.

It was Elara who changed that.

As their relationship evolved in the novel, Elara became the person who brought Varen back from the edge. Her unwavering honesty, her ability to see through his bitterness and show him the strength in vulnerability—she didn't just win his trust; she healed him. Slowly but surely, she pieced together the man Lira had broken.

And that, above all else, was what Lira couldn't forgive.

Lira didn't antagonize Elara purely because she was jealous of her talent or her popularity. It wasn't just about the disciples who flocked to Elara or the attention she commanded. No, the root of Lira's hatred was the fact that Elara had taken something from her—a feeling of superiority she had clung to like a lifeline.

Before Elara, Varen's brokenness had been a testament to Lira's importance, a reminder that she had left a mark he couldn't erase. In her twisted mind, his inability to move on wasn't a failure; it was proof of her power over him. She was the woman who had shaped him, who had left him scarred and untrusting. That gave her a sense of control, of validation.

But when Elara stepped into his life, all of that crumbled. Elara healed him, replaced bitterness with warmth, and showed him a path forward that didn't include Lira. And with every step Varen took toward recovery, Lira lost something she didn't even realize she'd relied on: the twisted comfort of knowing she had irreparably wounded someone else.

Elara was everything Lira wasn't.

'That's why she couldn't stomach her,' I mused, watching the arena's gates open as Lira Vaelan stepped into view. 'Elara wasn't just her opposite; she was a reminder of everything Lira had failed to become.'

The crowd erupted into cheers as Lira strode onto the stage, her sword gleaming in the sunlight, her expression calm and composed.

But I knew better than to be fooled by appearances.

She wasn't here to prove herself as a warrior or to honor her sect. She was here for dominance, to remind the world of her superiority—or at least, the version of it she clung to so desperately.

'The talent that you think you have… it's not yours,' I thought, my gaze narrowing as Lira stepped further into the arena. She carried herself with poise, her every step deliberate, exuding the confidence of someone who believed she stood above the world. The crowd cheered her name, enchanted by the illusion she cast, unaware of the truth.

But I wasn't here to simply fight her. No, the fight itself was secondary.

I was here to tear away the mask.

The Cloud Heavens Sect wasn't just a group that had lost its way. Its corruption ran deeper than arrogance or hypocrisy. The very foundation of their so-called "talent" was built on stolen potential, on power taken from others. And the world deserved to know.

'That's why I'm here. Not just to win, but to show them the truth.'

The source of their strength wasn't effort or cultivation. It wasn't the discipline they claimed to uphold. It was the twisted practice they had buried beneath their rhetoric, a secret that had gone unchallenged for too long.

The announcer's voice rang out, amplified by magic, echoing across the arena as Lira Vaelan stepped into the light.

"Now we welcome the star of the Cloud Heavens Sect! Lira Vaelan! The Silent Thunder!"

The crowd erupted, a wave of cheers rolling through the stands, their energy palpable. Lira moved with an elegance that seemed practiced to perfection, her movements precise, her posture commanding. She lifted her chin slightly, letting the adoration wash over her like a queen acknowledging her subjects. Her sword gleamed at her side, a symbol of the power she pretended to wield with righteousness.

I stood motionless on the other side of the arena, my gaze fixed on her, my grip steady on the hilt of my estoc. The cheers for her were deafening, but they didn't matter. None of it mattered.

She wasn't here for the people. She wasn't here for her sect.

She was here for herself.

And I was here to expose her.

'The Silent Thunder,' I mused, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. 'How fitting, for someone who shakes the ground with stolen strength while hiding behind her sect's lies.'

As she reached her position across from me, her gaze finally locked onto mine. Her face was calm, composed, the perfect mask of confidence. But I caught the faintest flicker of something else in her eyes—something uncertain.

I raised my blade slightly, tipping the estoc in her direction, and let my smirk deepen. "Enjoying the cheers?" I asked, my voice carrying easily across the space between us. "You should. They might not last long."

Lira's expression didn't change, but I saw the subtle tension in her jaw. "I don't concern myself with fleeting applause," she replied, her tone smooth and measured. "I leave that to those who crave validation."

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Validation? That's rich, coming from someone whose power isn't even her own."

The crowd's murmurs began to ripple, confusion and intrigue spreading as my words hung in the air. Lira's calm exterior faltered for just a heartbeat, her eyes narrowing as she stepped forward.

"I've earned my place," she said, her voice sharpening. "Everything I have is the result of my efforts, my discipline. You know nothing of what it means to stand where I do."

"Don't I?" I shot back. "You call it effort, but we both know the truth. The Cloud Heavens Sect doesn't cultivate strength—it steals it. Every step you've taken, every ounce of power you claim, has been built on the backs of those you've drained dry. And now, you stand here like it's something to be proud of."

The murmurs grew louder, a ripple of shock and curiosity spreading through the stands. Lira's composure cracked further, her fingers tightening on the hilt of her blade.

"You think you can slander my sect and walk away unscathed?" she demanded, her voice rising. "Do you even know who you're facing?"

"I know exactly who I'm facing," I said, stepping forward. The tip of my estoc pointed directly at her, the faint glint of my mana beginning to gather around it. "A fraud hiding behind a legacy she doesn't deserve. And by the time we're done here, everyone else will know it too."

The announcer, sensing the tension, raised his hand to quiet the crowd. "Fighters, prepare yourselves!" he called, his voice strained as he struggled to bring order back to the arena.

Lira straightened, her mask of confidence sliding back into place, but I saw through it now. She was angry—furious—and that anger would be her undoing.

I tightened my grip on my estoc, my resolve firm as I readied myself. This wasn't just a fight. This was a reckoning.

"For the lies you've told, for the lives you've destroyed," I murmured, my voice low enough for only myself to hear. "The world deserves to see you fall."

The referee's hand dropped, and the bell rang.

"Begin!"