The moment stretched. Adrian pressed to the dueling circle's edge, white flame flickering under sustained assault from Mira and Gareth's coordinated attacks. The crowd sensed something building—that breathless instant before storm breaks.
Then crimson erupted.
The transition was instantaneous. Adrian's white flame didn't gradually shift—it exploded into deep red-black power that made the air itself seem to thicken. The same unprecedented flame he'd shown yesterday against Alice, now unleashed in three-way combat.
The crowd's reaction wasn't shock—they'd seen crimson before. Instead it was anticipation. Would he maintain yesterday's control under more demanding circumstances? Could he handle two opponents with the same mastery he'd shown against one?
In the headmasters' section, all six academy leaders leaned forward with analytical focus.
"Same manifestation intensity as yesterday," Headmaster Theron of Dawnspire observed. "Consistent control. That's significant."
"Watch how he applies it," Headmistress Kara of Ironfang added. "Yesterday was one-on-one. Now he needs to manage two opponents simultaneously. This tests whether mastery extends to complex scenarios."
"Still maintaining perfect discipline," Headmaster Vale of Stormwatch admitted. "Whatever crimson is, he's proven he can wield it reliably. That's what matters."
"The question now," Headmaster Theron said, "is whether he can sustain it through prolonged combat. Yesterday's match was intense but relatively brief. This could extend much longer."
In the Blackthorn section, Dorian and Elara watched with focused intensity but not surprise. They'd seen crimson manifest yesterday. Today was about watching Adrian apply it tactically.
"He's timing it perfectly," Dorian observed. "Waited until they'd committed everything to coordinated assault, then revealed crimson when they're too exhausted to adapt easily."
"Strategic rather than reactive," Elara agreed. "He's learned to use the reveal itself as tactical advantage."
Lucien nodded with professional approval. "Yesterday proved he could control it. Today proves he can think with it. That's the difference between power and mastery."
In the royal box, King Aldric watched the crimson flame with measured assessment rather than surprise.
"Same power as yesterday," he observed. "But applied more strategically. He's learning how to maximize crimson's impact."
"The flame must enhance his awareness somehow," Theon added, referencing the theory about supernatural enhancement. "Against violet yesterday, now against coordinated assault today. Each match teaches him more about crimson's capabilities."
Alice said nothing, her heart hammering as she watched crimson flame paint the arena in shades of blood and shadow. Not fear—she'd seen this before, knew Adrian controlled it absolutely. But concern for the outcome, hope that he'd prove yesterday wasn't fluke or fortune.
In the dueling circle, everything changed.
Gareth and Mira's coordinated assault, which had been systematically breaking Adrian's white defense, met crimson and shattered. Adrian didn't just defend anymore—he counter-attacked with precision that seemed supernatural, as though the crimson itself granted enhanced combat awareness.
His first strike forced Gareth backward three steps. His second made Mira's orange flame flicker. His third created separation where moments ago there had been none.
Crimson flame moved like living shadow, each strike carrying force beyond what foundation power should grant. Adrian fought with certainty that suggested the flame enhanced more than just raw power—it seemed to sharpen his instincts, guide his blade with preternatural accuracy.
"Adaptive strategy," Lucien muttered from behind his parents, his tactical mind tracking every movement. "He's not fighting them together anymore. He's fighting them sequentially while maintaining awareness of both."
"Can he sustain that?" Dorian asked.
"With crimson? Based on yesterday's endurance, yes. Watch—he's using their coordination against them. When one attacks, he positions so the other can't capitalize without risking friendly fire."
Adrian did exactly that. When Gareth's white flame blazed with overwhelming force, Adrian shifted angles so Mira couldn't attack without potentially hitting her ally. When Mira's orange pressed forward with guardian precision, Adrian created space where Gareth's power would endanger the guardian.
Forcing individual fights while maintaining three-way awareness.
It was brilliant. And it was working.
"He's going to eliminate one," Finn observed from the competitor section, analytical certainty overriding earlier tension. "Can't maintain this forever. Needs to reduce numbers."
"Mira," Edric predicted. "Guardian defense is dangerous in prolonged fight. Take her out, then match power against Gareth's strength."
Adrian seemed to reach the same conclusion.
His crimson flame intensified—not brighter but denser, carrying weight that made the air shimmer. He targeted Mira directly, forcing her into defensive stance, then pressed with combinations designed specifically to break guardian technique.
The crimson seemed to guide his strikes, finding weaknesses in Mira's defense with uncanny precision. Orange flame represented absolute commitment to defense—which meant offensive capability was necessarily limited.
He exploited that limitation mercilessly.
Crimson flame blazed as Adrian launched assault that would have overwhelmed most warriors in seconds. Mira's orange defense held—testament to years of training, to guardian tradition refined over generations. But Adrian's crimson-enhanced awareness found patterns in her defense, identified microscopic gaps that shouldn't have been visible. Each combination flowed into the next with supernatural precision.
Gareth tried to intervene, his white flame attacking Adrian's exposed flanks. But Adrian had already accounted for that—positioned so Gareth's power-focused strikes created angles Mira had to adjust for, disrupting her defensive rhythm.
Fighting both while systematically dismantling one.
"Guardian training emphasizes endurance," Headmaster Theron observed. "But even that has limits against sustained crimson assault executed with this level of tactical awareness."
"He's applying lessons from yesterday," Headmistress Kara added. "Precision strikes at defensive weak points. Same technique that worked against violet's legendary power."
In the royal box, Alice's hands gripped the armrest white-knuckled. Watching Mira defend against overwhelming power made her proud of her guardian's capability. Watching Adrian demonstrate consistent mastery of crimson made her heart race with feelings she was still learning to name.
"Choose," Theon said quietly beside her. "Your heart already knows."
Alice didn't respond. Didn't need to. Her eyes never left Adrian's crimson-wreathed form.
The assault continued. Crimson met orange in clash after clash, each exchange pushing Mira closer to her limit. Gareth circled, looking for opening, but Adrian's enhanced awareness meant no blind spots existed.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was perhaps two minutes, Mira's orange flame flickered. Just slightly. Just enough.
Adrian's crimson blade found the opening. Not aimed at Mira herself—aimed at her sword's hilt, applying force with surgical precision that seemed guided by the flame itself.
Her blade flew from tired grip, spinning through air to clatter against arena stones.
"Winner by elimination: Adrian Blackthorn continues! Mira Elbrecht is eliminated!"
The crowd erupted—applause for both warriors. Mira had proven guardian tradition's worth against unprecedented power. Adrian had demonstrated crimson could be wielded with sustained control and strategic thinking.
Mira stood breathing hard, looking at her empty hand, processing defeat. Then she turned to Adrian, extending her hand despite exhaustion.
"You fought with honor," she said, loud enough only for him to hear over the crowd. "Protect her as I have. She trusts you."
Adrian took her hand, understanding the weight of what was being passed. "I will. You have my word."
Mira nodded once, then bowed to the crowd. Her banner lowered with absolute honor—guardian who'd proven her tradition's worth even in defeat.
As she left the circle, Alice stood and applauded—loud, genuine, grateful. Her guardian had fought magnificently. Had earned every bit of respect and more.
But now only two remained.
Adrian and Gareth. Crimson and white. Supernatural awareness against Ironfang's disciplined might.
The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward.
"Two warriors remain! Adrian Blackthorn, bearer of crimson flame! Gareth Stone, Ironfang's common-born champion! One will claim victory. One will prove themselves supreme!"
The crowd's noise intensified. This was what they'd been waiting for—two warriors at peak capability, both proven, both extraordinary.
In the Blackthorn section, something unexpected happened. Lucien's expression showed conflict—pride and concern mixed in ways that made his usual certainty waver.
"You trained him," Dorian observed quietly, recognizing his eldest son's tension. "Gareth Stone. This is your student against your brother."
"It is," Lucien admitted. "And I'm... torn. Adrian's family. But Gareth represents everything I believe about merit over birth. Everything I've invested years teaching."
"Who do you want to win?" Elara asked gently.
Lucien was quiet for long moment. "Both. Neither. I'm proud of both regardless of outcome. Gareth's proven common birth means nothing against determination. Adrian's proven unprecedented power can be controlled with honor. Either victory validates something important."
"Then support both," Dorian suggested. "And trust they'll give each other worthy fight."
Lucien nodded slowly, accepting the wisdom. Both warriors deserved his pride. Both had earned their place.
In the dueling circle, Adrian and Gareth faced each other. Both breathing hard from previous exertion. Both aware this would be different from earlier exchanges.
No more three-way dynamics. No more managing multiple threats. Just two warriors, both at their peak, both with everything to prove.
Gareth's white flame blazed with Ironfang intensity—disciplined, controlled, carrying power earned through years of relentless training under Lucien's demanding instruction.
Adrian's crimson answered—unprecedented power that seemed to enhance everything about him, from awareness to precision to raw capability.
"BEGIN!"
They moved simultaneously.
White and crimson met in the center of the circle, and the clash sent visible shockwaves rippling outward. This wasn't the calculated patience of the three-way match. This was two warriors unleashing everything they had.
Gareth attacked with combinations Lucien had taught—overwhelming force applied with tactical precision, each strike designed to break through rather than probe for weakness. His white flame burned with intensity that spoke to years of conditioning, to determination that had carried a common-born boy into Ironfang's elite ranks.
But Adrian's crimson seemed to grant him supernatural awareness. His blade met every white strike, turned aside attacks that should have been unstoppable. Where Gareth demonstrated Ironfang excellence, Adrian showed mastery that seemed beyond his years—the flame itself enhancing his natural talent to extraordinary levels.
The duel exploded into spectacular violence.
White flame traced brilliant patterns through the air as Gareth pressed his assault. His combinations flowed with Ironfang discipline—power married to technique, strength combined with tactical awareness. Each strike carried the weight of years proving himself, of earning respect through capability rather than birth.
Crimson shadow answered in kind. Adrian's blade moved with precision that seemed impossible for someone his age, the flame clearly augmenting his natural abilities beyond normal limits. Where Gareth demonstrated perfected technique, Adrian showed what happened when exceptional talent combined with unprecedented supernatural enhancement.
The crowd watched breathless as unprecedented crimson clashed against disciplined white. Two philosophies made manifest—merit earned through determination versus capability born from mysterious flame that granted advantages beyond normal training.
"Gareth's adapting," Headmistress Kara observed with clear pride. "Learning Adrian's patterns mid-combat. That's advanced tactical thinking."
"Adrian's countering the adaptation," Headmaster Theron added. "The crimson enhancement lets him read Gareth's adjustments and modify his approach faster than should be possible. This is genuine mastery aided by supernatural capability."
In the royal box, even Aldric found himself leaning forward. "They're evenly matched. Gareth's power and discipline against Adrian's crimson-enhanced awareness—it could go either way."
"Adrian will win," Alice said quietly, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice.
"You think so?" Cedric asked.
"I know so." She couldn't explain it. Couldn't articulate why she was absolutely certain. But watching Adrian fight with crimson blazing, she knew he'd find a way.
Gareth launched a devastating combination—three strikes high, two low, finishing with overwhelming power aimed directly at Adrian's center mass. It was textbook Ironfang assault, executed with perfection that would have disarmed most opponents.
Adrian's crimson blade met each strike with supernatural precision. The flame seemed to guide his defense, anticipating each attack before it fully committed. First three parried with minimal movement. Fourth and fifth deflected at angles that disrupted Gareth's rhythm. The final power strike met crimson defense that seemed to absorb force rather than block it.
Then Adrian counter-attacked.
His crimson flame blazed brighter as he shifted from defense to measured offense. Not trying to overwhelm—that would waste energy. Instead applying the supernatural awareness the flame granted to find microscopic gaps in Gareth's otherwise excellent guard.
Strike to the left—forcing Gareth to adjust stance. Strike to the right—creating imbalance. Strike high—making him commit to overhead block.
And in that moment of commitment, Adrian's crimson blade darted low, the flame guiding his strike with preternatural accuracy toward Gareth's sword base.
But Gareth had trained under Lucien for years. His recovery was instantaneous, white flame surging as he reinforced his grip and counter-attacked with combination that forced Adrian backward.
"Excellent defense," Lucien breathed, pride evident despite his conflict. "He recognized the disarm attempt and adapted mid-motion."
The duel intensified. Both warriors pushed beyond normal limits, both refusing to yield. White and crimson painted the arena in cascading light, each clash sending ripples of power across the circle.
Gareth recognized he couldn't break Adrian's defense through power alone and escalated. His white flame surged brighter as he poured everything into combinations that would overwhelm through sheer sustained assault.
It was the right tactical choice. Against most opponents, it would work.
But Adrian's crimson enhancement meant he could read patterns that others couldn't see.
His crimson deepened—not brighter but denser, shadow and blood mixed into power that carried absolute certainty. He didn't try to match Gareth's escalation. Instead, he waited. Let Gareth commit everything to overwhelming offense. Watched with supernatural awareness for the inevitable moment when sustained maximum output created tiny gaps in otherwise perfect technique.
Gareth launched his final combination—seven strikes in rapid succession, each carrying full Ironfang power, white flame blazing with everything he'd learned under Lucien's teaching. It was magnificent. Perfect execution of advanced technique.
And Adrian's crimson awareness read it completely.
The flame seemed to show him exactly where each strike would land, how much energy the combination required, precisely when exhaustion would create that microscopic opening between sixth and seventh strike.
There.
His crimson blade found it.
Not aimed at Gareth directly. Not trying to hurt. Just applying the supernatural precision the flame granted to blade's base at exact angle where force would travel through grip, through tired arms, through hands not quite able to maintain perfect control at maximum exertion.
Gareth's sword flew from his grip, spinning through air in arc of white light before clattering against stones ten feet away.
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence as the arena processed what they'd witnessed.
Then eruption—
"WINNER: ADRIAN BLACKTHORN! CHAMPION OF THE TOURNAMENT!"
The crowd exploded. Cheers, arguments, celebration, respect—every emotion possible as kingdom processed crimson flame claiming tournament victory through sustained mastery and tactical excellence.
In the royal box, Alice jumped up before she could think—pure instinctive joy and relief colliding in moment of unguarded reaction.
"YES!" Her shout probably carried over the entire arena.
Every member of her family turned to look at her.
Aldric's expression was somewhere between amusement and resignation. Seraphina looked delighted. Theon started laughing. Cedric just smiled with scholarly satisfaction at hypothesis confirmed.
"Well," Aldric said dryly. "I suppose we know who you were supporting."
Alice realized she was standing, fist raised in celebration, entire royal box watching her with varying degrees of amusement. Her face burned.
"I was... it was a good match. Excellent technique. Very... tactical." She sat down slowly, trying to recover dignity.
"Very tactical," Theon agreed, still grinning. "That's definitely why you're grinning like you just won yourself."
"Shut up."
"The princess has spoken," Cedric observed with false solemnity. "Her chosen champion has triumphed."
"I hate all of you."
"No you don't," Seraphina said warmly, squeezing her daughter's shoulder. "You love us. And we're happy you're happy."
In the Blackthorn section, different dynamics played out. Dorian and Elara embraced, pride evident despite the public setting. Their son had just claimed tournament championship. Had proven crimson flame could be wielded consistently with honor and tactical excellence.
Lucien stood apart, processing complex emotions. Pride in Adrian's victory. Pride in Gareth's performance despite defeat. Satisfaction that both warriors he'd influenced had proven exceptional.
"Your brother and your student both proved worthy," Dorian observed.
"They did," Lucien agreed. "Gareth fought brilliantly. Made me proud of every lesson I taught him. And Adrian..." He paused. "Adrian proved he's ready for whatever comes next."
In the competitor section, Edric was screaming celebration loudly enough that several nearby spectators covered their ears. Finn just smiled, satisfaction evident in his usually analytical expression.
"Told you," Finn said simply.
"YOU DID IT!" Edric shouted toward the arena floor, where Adrian definitely couldn't hear him. "THAT WAS AMAZING!"
In the headmasters' section, scholarly assessment concluded with genuine respect.
"Sustained crimson control across multiple opponents," Headmaster Theron said. "Tactical application rather than just raw power. Strategic thinking combined with supernatural capability. That's genuine mastery."
"Agreed," Headmistress Kara replied. "Both Adrian and Gareth demonstrated capabilities beyond standard academic teaching. But Adrian's consistent control of unprecedented power that clearly enhances his natural abilities—that's what defines this tournament."
"No longer question whether it's demonic or divine," Headmaster Vale admitted. "Watched too closely over two days. That's not corruption—that's partnership between warrior and power. Whatever crimson is, Adrian's proven it can serve honor."
In the dueling circle, Adrian's crimson flame guttered out as exhaustion hit. Gareth picked himself up, looking at his empty hand, processing defeat.
Then he smiled—genuine despite loss.
"You're better than I thought," he said, extending his hand. "That crimson is... incredible. Yesterday I watched you use it against violet. Today I faced it myself. It's mastery, not just power. And the enhancement it gives you—that's extraordinary."
Adrian took his hand, returned the grip firmly. "You pushed me harder than anyone except Alice. Lucien trained you well."
"He did. Which makes losing to his brother somehow appropriate." Gareth's smile widened slightly. "Good fight. Honest fight."
"Same. You earned everything you've achieved. Common birth doesn't matter—you've proven that absolutely."
They bowed to each other, then to the crowd. Both banners were lowered—Gareth's with honor despite defeat, Adrian's with triumph earned through demonstrated excellence.
The Master of Ceremonies raised his staff for final proclamation.
"ADRIAN BLACKTHORN! TOURNAMENT CHAMPION! BEARER OF CRIMSON FLAME! WARRIOR WHO HAS PROVEN UNPRECEDENTED POWER CAN BE WIELDED WITH HONOR, CONSISTENCY, AND TACTICAL MASTERY!"
The crowd's roar was deafening. Whatever debates would come about crimson's nature, whatever questions remained about Adrian's capabilities—right now, he was champion. Proven. Worthy. Consistent.
As the arena celebrated, Adrian looked toward the royal box. Found Alice's eyes across the distance. Saw her grinning with unguarded joy, surrounded by family who clearly knew exactly why she was so happy.
He couldn't help grinning back.
Fifteen years old, tournament champion, crimson flame mastered. And someone who genuinely cared cheering for him with unrestrained enthusiasm.
Tomorrow would bring complications. Discussions about what crimson meant. Decisions about training and future. Political implications of unprecedented flame.
But tonight, he was just fifteen and victorious, with princess cheering for him.
That was enough.