The air was thick with tension as the dust settled over the Great Arena of Kaivelle.
A thousand voices hung in breathless silence. The grandstands, once thundering with cheers, were now gripped by awe and disbelief.
Blood glistened on the golden floor—scars of a battle that had shaken the very soul of Kaivelle.
From the far corner of the Arena, a low voice echoed through the magically enhanced speaker stones.
> "Victory… belongs to Lumisgrave!"
The declaration rang like thunder across the stone walls, and the silence broke into an eruption of applause—some enthusiastic, some hesitant, others stunned.
The five remaining knights of Eshalorn lay defeated. Their once-proud formation shattered by the overwhelming strength, coordination, and unshakable spirit of the Lumisgrave warriors—especially the dark flame that had surged from Arslan.
The very memory of Arslan's black aura spiraling into the sky, chains exploding with wrath, and his eyes glowing like smoldering embers was etched into every spectator's mind.
He had taken down five of Eshalorn's Magic Knights alone.
Suddenly, the trumpets sounded again, but this time slower—majestic, royal, commanding.
From the royal balcony, the tall figure of Queen Maria stepped forward. Her long silver gown shimmered like moonlight, and her presence alone hushed the roars of the crowd.
Behind her were her elite royal guards—cloaked in azure robes of Kaivelle—and beside her stood Rosy, the Chairwoman of the Grand Usher and Ceremonial Council, holding a scroll.
Maria's voice was calm but layered with emotion.
> "Let the light of Kaivelle honor the warriors of Lumisgrave today."
She raised her hand—and beams of healing energy began to pulse from the towers surrounding the Arena. The mystical healing force, enhanced by the mages of Kaivelle, radiated downward toward the injured Mythic-ranked knights.
Immediately, Vaelith, Maelis, Tarric, and Malrik began to show signs of relief. Their eyes fluttered open. Wounds sealed. Cracks in bone healed with glowing mists.
Arslan, however, was standing—not wounded as much as utterly drained. His body wobbled slightly as the aftershock of his transformation receded. Queen Maria noticed him first.
She pointed toward him.
> "You, Arslan of Lumisgrave…"
> "You stood when your comrades fell. You roared when others knelt. You... are fire wrapped in mystery."
Her words were soft at first but surged with passion at the end.
She descended from the royal balcony, each step echoing across the tiles as the entire arena fell silent.
> "Let it be declared across Kaivelle—from the Silver Mountains to the River of Prayers—that the knights of Lumisgrave are our guests until fully recovered."
> "Healers! Tend to them in our castle."
Queen Maria turned to Rosy, who immediately stepped forward, bowing respectfully.
> "Rosy, prepare rooms in the royal quarters. Until the knights of Lumisgrave recover, they shall live here under Kaivelle's hospitality."
> "Let our food, our gardens, and our skies remind them they are honored, not simply tolerated."
Rosy nodded, her expression determined. She unrolled her ceremonial scroll and began murmuring directives to her aides.
> "Yes, Your Grace. The Sapphire Wing of the castle shall be readied immediately. Fresh linens, enchanted beds, firestones for warmth, and magical warding for protection."
Maria then turned back to the people—her voice now louder, grander, echoing into every corner.
> "This is not merely a victory of sword and sorcery—it is a victory of spirit!"
> "Lumisgrave stood against betrayal. And Arslan, oh Arslan…"
She looked toward him again.
> "You didn't just fight, you endured. When the flames of Eshalorn sought to consume Maelis, you shattered them. When Malrik's defense fell, you rose like a wrathful storm."
> "You will get your reward when you depart from here."
A pause.
Then—
BOOM.
The stadium exploded with cheers.
> "ARSLAN! ARSLAN! ARSLAN!"
> "LUMISGRAVE! LUMISGRAVE!"
People stomped, clapped, and roared his name like a war chant.
Children climbed onto walls to see him. Kaivelle knights looked at him in respect. Even some nobles in the stands exchanged nods, acknowledging the greatness that had emerged from the shadows of a quiet, pale-skinned boy with messy black hair and chains bound to his soul.
For a moment, Arslan stood completely still.
His heart raced—not from battle, but from the strange feeling inside him.
Acceptance.
In his mind, he heard a faint whisper—the voice of Kar'Thæl, buried deep within his soul.
> "They worship you now, child. But how long until they fear you again?"
Arslan's eyes dimmed momentarily, but he quickly straightened, hiding the conflict within.
From behind him, Vaelith placed a hand on his shoulder.
> "You saved Maelis. You saved all of us. Let them cheer for you. You've earned it."
Arslan said nothing, but a small nod escaped him.
Behind them, Maelis, with bandages glowing softly on her shoulder, limped closer.
> "Arslan," she whispered, her voice filled with awe, "I saw it. I saw your chains burn... I've never seen power like that."
> "You fought not to win… but to protect."
Maelis stepped closer, brushing back her sweat-matted hair.
> "When I screamed, I didn't think anyone would reach me in time."
> "But I saw you... sprinting across the field like nothing else mattered. Like you'd burn the world to protect your team."
Arslan looked into her eyes—deep brown, glazed with unshed tears.
> "I couldn't let them take you."
His voice was low, hoarse from exhaustion.
> "I couldn't fail you."
A brief silence passed between them as the world around them continued to cheer.
A spark. A soft warmth. An emotion neither of them could yet name.
From near the center tower, Rosy's voice carried through the Arena.
> "The Sapphire Wing is ready!"
> "All knights of Lumisgrave shall now follow the royal guards. Their rest and healing begins!"
Guards in blue ceremonial armor approached the Mythics and gently began guiding them through the northern passage of the Arena—an arch carved with ancient Kaivelle runes.
As Arslan turned to leave, the chants followed him, louder now than even during the fight.
> "ARSLAN! DARK FLAME OF LUMISGRAVE!"
> "LUMISGRAVE KNIGHTS FOREVER!"
A soft harp melody greeted them as they entered the Sapphire Wing of the castle. The corridors glowed with bluish ambient light, the floor lined with soft velvet rugs enchanted to absorb pain from wounded feet.
Each knight was assigned a private chamber—spacious, serene, filled with magical warmth and delicately crafted comforts.
Arslan's Room:
It was slightly darker than the others, perhaps at Rosy's special arrangement.
The stone walls shimmered faintly with embedded black crystals. A silver-laced bed stood near a wide window, through which Kaivelle's stars blinked.
Arslan stood in the center, unmoving.
He finally allowed himself to breathe.
> "They cheered my name..."
> "But if they knew what was inside me…"
He looked at his own hands—still trembling faintly.
Behind him, a knock.
It was Maelis, now dressed in a soft navy robe, her shoulder wrapped with glowing cloth.
> "Couldn't sleep either?"
> "Not after that," he admitted.
She stepped in, sat at the edge of his bed.
> "Thank you again."
> "I didn't do it for praise."
> "I know," she smiled. "That's what makes it even more real."
Arslan clenched his fists, but didn't reply.
Outside, the crowd had quieted, but in their hearts, the image of the dark flame knight from Lumisgrave had already become legend.