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Chapter 12: The Chaos Unveiled
The crowd still roared from Nabila's narrow victory, but Najima's defeat left the air heavy, sour. Whispers slithered through the nobles' seats like venom.
"Did you see the darkness around her?"
"That wasn't mortal aura… it was corrupted."
"Could the Aderenle bloodline be impure?"
The words cut sharper than any blade. Nabila's father sat rigid, jaw clenched, sweat on his brow. His wife's hand tightened around his arm, eyes cold.
Najima, kneeling in the dirt, clenched her fists as the shadows flickered around her. Her lips trembled, eyes wet with humiliation.
Knull's voice echoed in her mind, silky and cruel.
"Do you feel it? Their disgust? Their doubt? They will never see you as more than filth. Let me in, child. Together, we will make them kneel."
She bit her lip until it bled. And though her sister stood tall above her, Najima's gaze promised one thing—this was not the end.
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Then lightning cracked across the arena.
All eyes turned as Malik stepped forward, his presence igniting panic and awe. White hair gleamed under the sun, his violet pupils burning with a storm that silenced the crowd.
"You—" Dick's face twisted, first with disbelief, then rage. "You should be dead!"
Malik's lips curved into a cold, merciless smile.
"I was. But you made a mistake, Dick." His voice echoed, thunder layered beneath it. "You didn't finish the job."
Violet lightning surged around him, his aura crashing against Dick's like colliding storms.
The announcer stammered. "…A-Another challenger?!"
Nobles gasped, whispers turning into roars. The King leaned forward on his throne, eyes sharp, unreadable.
"Very well," the announcer cried. "By decree, Malik of no house… challenges Crown Prince Dick!"
The crowd erupted.
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The battle began.
Dick roared, his aura blazing gold, his strikes precise and overwhelming. Malik met him head-on, his body blurring with speed, each movement laced with virus-born ferocity.
The clash shook the arena, shockwaves cracking stone, tearing banners.
Dick sneered as his blade slashed Malik's shoulder, blood spraying. "You're nothing but filth clawing at the sky!"
Malik's grin widened, lightning sparking across his wound as it knitted closed in seconds.
"Then watch how filth buries a prince."
He vanished, reappearing behind Dick, his fist slamming into the prince's ribs with bone-shattering force. Dick stumbled, coughing blood, aura faltering.
The crowd gasped — the untouchable prince, bleeding!
Malik pressed the attack, his strikes faster, crueler, each one tearing away Dick's pride. Soon, Malik stood over him, blade of biomass forming at his arm, aimed for the kill.
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And then… Malik froze.
Because the King had not moved. Had not intervened.
Even as his son bled, the King simply watched, his face carved from stone.
Only when Malik's killing strike descended did the King finally rise, his aura a tidal wave that drowned the arena in terror.
"Enough."
The single word shattered Malik's attack, his body buckling under the sheer pressure. His vision blurred, bones cracking, his body screaming in defiance.
Dick collapsed to the dirt, gasping, humiliated, broken.
The King stepped forward, his eyes locked on Malik, cold and pitiless.
"You dare reveal yourself here? You dare stain my bloodline with your existence?"
Lightning sparked desperately around Malik, but he knew—he couldn't win. Not here. Not yet.
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And then a voice cut through the storm.
"Release him, Your Majesty."
Gasps spread as the Principal of the Academy of the Gifted descended into the arena, her robes trailing starlight. Her aura was calm, yet deep, a vast ocean compared to the King's storm.
"This boy is under my care now," she declared. "As of this day, Malik becomes my student."
The King's eyes narrowed. "You dare shield him? Do you not know what he is?"
Before the tension could snap, a second presence emerged from the shadows — crimson armor, eyes like fire. The air thickened with killing intent.
Nyx's elder sister. The Crimson Terror.
Her voice was low, dangerous.
"If you wish to kill him now, Your Majesty… you will go through me."
The arena trembled.
Three titans stood at odds: the King, the Principal, and the Crimson Terror.
And at their center, Malik — bloodied, broken, but standing.
The prophecy whispered in every noble's ear that day:
Chaos has risen. And it cannot be chained.
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