The quarterfinals arrived like a storm, and a snow-covered field stretched before Alexander.
The stands were packed with cheering fans waving banners—the air thick with tension and booming chants.
Alexander stood in the backfield with Raphael watching as his team marched to the second contact line.
The opposing Loire academy mirrored them, clad in their vibrant blue uniforms and hardened expressions.
Elara had molded her team into a proper fighting force since their first match.
Locking in and securing the second seed.
"Are you ready for the rematch of the year?!"
The announcer's voice boomed through speakers around the arena.
The crowd went wild with chants, and this time, it was François's banners waving in mass.
That's right, François was playing at home.
And sitting in the booth at the top of the stadium was none other than the Royals.
Not just Elizabeth, but the entire family and their respective D'élites.
Hinata, Donna, and two others Alexander hadn't met.
The du Novas were also in the stands.
Raphael slapped the back of Alexander's head.
"Hey, eyes up, little brother."
His voice was barely audible amongst the winds and roaring of the crowd.
"This isn't the same team we faced before, they're stronger, faster, and hold a grudge."
Alexander nodded, rubbing his hands together before ending with a clap. "Got it."
His breaths came out in steady puffs—his golden eyes scanning the scattered players.
Loire wasn't positioned with an overwhelming center like before.
Instead, their flanks were beefed up.
They may be playing to drain François's center before collapsing on both sides, but that remains to be seen.
The referee's voice boomed through a brass megaphone—as his official raised a green flag.
Alexander gripped his spear as he watched players on both sides creep forward.
"Get set!"
The official threw down the flag, "Go!"
Both teams sprang into action.
Aloïs pushed the center with his squad, immediately clashing with Loire's center.
Both elite formations crossed wooden blades and curses.
Meanwhile, on the flanks, Lucie danced around Loire's speedsters.
A quick clash of the blades before quickly disengaging for another.
In the backfield, Elara waited.
Stalking Raphael and Alexander like a panther.
"She's not moving."
Raphael murmured, massaging his chin.
"I think she's waiting on us," Alexander replied.
Raphael nodded in agreement.
"We need to break this stalemate."
He looked down at Alexander with a wicked grin, gripping his shoulder.
"And I have just the thing."
Alexander's eyes slowly widened as he realized the implications.
"Huh, wait…"
He tossed Alexander forward by the shoulders—sending him stumbling into the fray.
Alexander's eyes fluttered as he ran forward to maintain his balance.
"Are you sure?!"
He shouted—keeping his gaze forward as he picked up speed.
Raphael didn't respond, his grin widening as he watched Alexander charge ahead.
The crowd erupted into cheers as Alexander crossed the second contact line, the snow crushing beneath his boots.
"Oh my goddess! Is that the little general charging out in the opener? Only in the postseason would you see something like that!"
The announcer's voice boomed with an excitement that matched the crowd's.
"François! François! Show them how it's done."
The chant echoed through the stadium like a war cry, shaking the foundations of the stands.
Alexander's eyes darted left and right as he searched for an opening.
And he soon spotted one.
A Loire player overextended himself to attack Karl—leaving his flank wide open.
Alexander grinned as he changed directions like a heat-seeking missile.
Alexander swung his spear against the back of the Loire player's knee.
Thanks to his exceptional endurance and speed, his attack was overwhelming.
The player crashed to his knee—by the time he realized what had happened, Karl had already finished the job.
Sending him crashing into the dirt.
"And he's out!"
The announcer shouted, sending the crowd wild.
"First blood to François!"
But Alexander didn't celebrate—he kept seeking targets.
Elara gritted her teeth, but stayed in position.
In the royal booth, Elizabeth leaned forward.
Her pink eyes zoomed in on Alexander, "Did you see that assist? It was marvelous."
Queen Charlotte nodded, reclining in her ornate seat—raising a hand to her chin.
"Indeed, it seems your future husband has quite the talent."
She smirked faintly, sizing up her daughter.
Elizabeth blushed.
"He's not my husband, yet." She whispered, biting her lip and tapping her armrest.
"But he will be."
Charlotte teased.
Elizabeth averted her gaze with a laugh.
"Yes, he will be."
Donna chuckled, shaking her head.
"For all his battlefield knowledge, he still can't see the scheme being run on him?"
Charlotte looked back over her shoulder.
"Care to elaborate, D'élite?"
She narrowed her pink eyes.
Donna didn't back down.
"I'm just saying you're plotting on this kid like he's the next big thing. I mean sure, ninth house and all, but come on, you think he could match up to someone like Hinata?"
She gestured a loose hand in Hinata's direction.
Hinata remained poised.
Charlotte smirked, "Maybe not physically, but surely you've read his file.
Alexander isn't just a boy, no my dear… what he's survived, the promise and intelligence he shows, he's something special."
Donna fell silent with a contemplative expression.
Victoria huffed audibly.
"So what of his abilities? It doesn't matter when he's hellbent on returning to his wartorn homeland."
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?"
Elizabeth chuckled nervously as Hinata nodded.
"Yes, your majesty, Alexander has no intention of staying here long term. He's determined to rebuild House Daname, by any means."
"That name again."
Charlotte reclined in her seat, she had researched it after she first met Alexander.
Lance, its founder, was a very ambitious man.
And Charlotte knew him intimately.
She was grooming him to become her husband and future king.
But Lance broke away from her after getting close to a girl named Erica, who she now knew was Alexander's mother.
Long story short, Alexander was following in his father's footsteps.
And Elizabeth… was following hers.
She shifted uncomfortably, her smirk fading as she watched the match below.
The parallels were so uncanny that it stirred old wounds.
"Elizabeth, dear."
Charlotte called, her voice steady.
Elizabeth looked up, "Yes, Mother?"
Charlotte narrowed her eyes, "Would you surrender your title if it meant you could stay with Alexander?"
"Absolutely."
Elizabeth answered immediately, "There's nothing I wouldn't sacrifice for our love."
Her words were unwavering, laced with a conviction Charlotte lacked all those years ago.
She studied her daughter in a long, tense moment, her gaze unreadable.
"I see," Charlotte replied softly, turning her attention back towards the match.
Down on the field, the match progressed with intensity.
Both teams were fully entangled, snow churning into muddy slush underneath their boots.
When the whistle finally blew, François had two center flags, giving them the point.
The score was now 1-0.
The next round Loire adapted to the addition of Alexander, and he was quickly hunted down by two seniors.
With him out, the second was tied at 1-1.
Alexander slammed a fist in the dirt, this was only the beginning of a slow, grueling slugfest.