The coliseum had fallen into an unusual silence.
On the battlefield, Riven Veylor and Darius Stonewell stood facing each other, separated by several meters of damaged ground. Neither had moved for a while. The aftermath of their unseen clash was evident in their expressions and the faint sound of their breathing.
Darius's chest rose and fell as he steadied himself. Across from him, Riven drew a measured breath before gradually regaining his composure.
Neither contestant showed any intention of surrendering.
After a moment, Riven adjusted his posture and returned to his fighting stance. His golden-amber eyes remained fixed on Darius, studying him carefully.
Darius responded by straightening his back.
The tension between them had not diminished. If anything, it had grown heavier.
Among the spectators, Mason Grace watched the two contestants with particular interest.
His gaze followed Riven's movements, from the way he positioned his feet to the way he kept his body balanced. There was something unusual about the prince's fighting style. Even when he appeared to be standing still, he seemed prepared to respond to anything his opponent might do.
"Riven Veylor… He's really unique", Mason thought.
He continued watching, trying to understand what made Riven's movements so different from those of other fighters.
I wonder what it feels like to possess spiritual energy.
His eyes slowly dropped to his own hand.
He opened his palm and stared at it for a moment, imagining what it would be like to wield a power he had never truly understood.
What would it feel like to have that kind of strength?
"Stupid."
The sudden insult interrupted his thoughts.
Mason turned his head.
A girl seated beside him was staring at him with open disdain. Two of her friends sat nearby, watching with expressions that suggested they had been waiting for an opportunity to join the conversation.
"Looking at another student and envying him?" the girl continued. "That's one thing I can't stand about you peasants. You see someone better than yourselves and start imagining that you could ever reach their position."
Mason said nothing.
The girl leaned back in her seat, examining him with a mocking smile.
"Actually, there's something I've always wondered about you, Mason. Are you even Chad's real son?"
His expression changed slightly.
"I mean, look at you," she continued. "You don't even resemble him. Sometimes, I wonder whether you were adopted."
Her friends exchanged glances before one of them joined in.
"She's got a point. I still don't understand how he even got into Legion Academy."
"Exactly," the other girl added. "Maybe it was dumb luck. Or perhaps the academy felt sorry for him after his father's death."
Their laughter was quiet enough not to attract the attention of the surrounding spectators, but every word reached Mason.
He looked at them, searching for something to say.
Nothing came.
He could have argued with them. He could have demanded to know what gave them the right to speak about his father that way.
But the words remained trapped in his mind.
After a moment, Mason turned his gaze back toward the battlefield.
"This world is truly cruel."
He clenched his hand and slowly lowered it to his lap.
On the other side of the seating area, Janelle Ackman had noticed the exchange.
Her eyes moved briefly between Mason and the girls sitting beside him. She seemed to consider intervening, but eventually remained where she was.
She barely knew Mason. Getting involved in a dispute she did not fully understand could create an unnecessary scene, especially with the tournament underway.
Still, she did not immediately return her attention to the battlefield.
Just right next to her, Duke Mighty continued watching the fight. Yet, from the corner of his eye, he occasionally glanced toward Mason's section.
He made no obvious movement and did not turn his head completely. To anyone watching him, his attention appeared to remain fixed on the contestants.
But he had noticed what was happening.
Caleb Veyr Draven, meanwhile, wore a faint smirk.
"That's what you get for coming to a school of royals, you peasants," he muttered.
His eyes returned to the battlefield, seemingly satisfied with the situation.
None of them knew what Mason was thinking.
And Mason had no intention of telling them.
Back on the battlefield, Darius suddenly let out a laugh.
It was not a laugh of amusement. There was something bitter behind it, something that seemed to have been buried inside him for a long time.
The reaction caught the spectators off guard.
The Lords exchanged glances, while the Great Elder watched Darius with a look of surprise. Even Riven, who had remained focused on his opponent, seemed to recognize that something had changed.
Darius slowly raised his left arm.
The arm that ended without a hand.
He stared at it briefly before turning his attention toward Riven.
"Do you know why I lost this hand, Prince Veylor?"
Riven did not answer. He remained in his fighting stance, steadying his breathing as his eyes followed Darius's movements.
Darius's expression hardened.
"It was because of a war. A war your father caused."
The words fell heavily between them.
"And this is the bargain I've been forced to live with for the rest of my life, all because of you."
Riven's eyes narrowed slightly.
He had heard the accusation, but he did not understand it.
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
He straightened, though he remained prepared to defend himself. "What does my father have to do with your hand?"
Darius stared at him for several seconds.
Then he gave a humorless smile.
"Of course you don't know."
His voice grew sharper.
"Why would you? You've spent your life attending royal gatherings, celebrating at parties, attending weddings, and enjoying every privilege that comes with being a prince. Why would you care about what happens beyond those walls?"
Riven remained silent.
"Fine," Darius continued. "Let me tell you something about the man standing before you."
He lowered his arm.
"I was once a warrior. Not a prince. Not a nobleman who could hide behind his family's name. I was a warrior who swore an oath to my king—to fight for my kingdom and protect it with everything I had."
His eyes briefly shifted toward the spectators before returning to Riven.
"Then came the war."
For the first time, the bitterness in his expression seemed to give way to something heavier.
"We fought. We risked our lives. We gave everything we had, believing that our sacrifices would mean something."
He paused.
"But we lost."
His fingers curled into a fist.
"We were too weak to secure victory. We failed to protect what we had sworn to defend, and our king was ashamed of us."
The spectators listened more closely.
Darius's voice became colder.
"Do you know what he did?"
Riven said nothing.
"He exiled us."
A murmur spread through the coliseum.
"Our defeat brought shame upon the kingdom, and that was the punishment he chose for us. We were cast out, stripped of the place we had once called home."
Darius's gaze dropped briefly to his missing hand.
"But some of my comrades refused to accept that the rest of us deserved such a fate. A few stepped forward and took the blame upon themselves. They claimed that they had held the others back, that the failure belonged to them alone."
His jaw tightened.
"They wanted the rest of us to be spared."
For a moment, Darius said nothing more.
Then he looked directly at Riven.
"And do you know what came of all that?"
His voice trembled with restrained anger.
"Everything I had worked for was taken from me. My home. My place in the world. The people I had fought beside. And this—"
He raised his arm again, displaying the injury he had carried ever since.
"This is what I have left to remember it by."
Riven's expression remained composed, but he had stopped trying to respond. Whatever he had expected to hear from Darius, this was not it.
The accusation was more complicated than a simple dispute between a prince and a warrior.
Darius took a slow breath.
"I vowed to become stronger."
His fist tightened.
"Strong enough that I would never have to experience that kind of helplessness again. Strong enough that no one could take everything from me while I stood there, unable to do anything."
He looked toward the academy's grandstands.
"That is why I joined Legion Academy."
Then his gaze returned to Riven.
"And now, after everything I've endured, I find myself standing before the very person I've come to hate the most."
His expression darkened.
"You."
Riven did not speak.
He could feel the hostility in Darius's words, but he could not understand why that hatred had been directed toward him personally.
Darius stepped forward.
"You know something, Prince Veylor? I'm going to make you pay. One way or another, I promise you."
He tightened his fist until blood began to trickle from between his fingers.
"You will pay with your life."
The declaration silenced the spectators.
For a moment, neither contestant moved.
Riven watched Darius carefully, his expression unreadable. He had entered the tournament expecting to face an opponent, not someone who carried such deep resentment toward his family.
But whatever the truth behind Darius's accusation, one thing was clear.
This fight was no longer simply about victory.
Nahlara Kingdom — Demon King's Palace
Deep within the Nahlara Kingdom stood the Demon King's palace, a place where the atmosphere itself seemed to command silence.
Inside the throne room, Abel Velvet Tyrant sat upon his throne, his crimson eyes resting calmly upon the vast chamber before him.
Beside him sat his wife, Nyx.
Her long brown hair fell around her shoulders, framing her fair complexion. She appeared relaxed, yet her attention occasionally shifted toward the entrance, as though she were aware of everything happening within the palace.
Then the great doors opened.
A figure walked into the throne room.
He wore a black scarf that concealed his eyes, leaving his expression difficult to read at first glance. His presence carried a distinctive energy, and his steps possessed an easy confidence that contrasted with the solemn atmosphere surrounding the throne.
It was Sealed Eye Sudai.
As he approached, Abel lifted his head.
A faint smile appeared on the Demon King's face.
"Sudai. What brings you here?"
Sudai returned the smile.
"I thought I'd bring you some interesting information, my lord."
Abel rested one arm against the throne.
"Interesting information?"
"Indeed."
Sudai stopped a short distance from the throne, his posture relaxed but respectful.
"The entrance tournament at Legion Academy has begun. It started today, and from what I've observed a few hours ago, the competition is already underway."
Abel's expression changed only slightly.
"Is that so?"
"Yes, my lord."
Sudai tilted his head, his lively manner returning as he considered the information.
"So, what do you plan to do about it? Should I go over there and interrupt the festivities? Or would you prefer that I send a few demons to raid the place?"
He spoke with a hint of playfulness, as though presenting the Demon King with two possible courses of action.
Nyx's attention sharpened.
Abel, however, remained perfectly composed.
"No."
Sudai paused.
"No?"
"I want to see what kind of Scouts Legion Academy intends to produce this generation."
Abel leaned back against his throne.
"I want to observe them. Their abilities, their potential, and the strength of the kingdoms that send them there."
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
"Once I have seen enough, I will massacre every single one of them. One by one."
The words were delivered without a trace of hesitation.
There was no anger in his voice, nor any need to raise it. He spoke as though he were describing an outcome that had already been decided.
Sudai remained silent for a brief moment.
Then a smile spread across his face.
"I see."
He inclined his head slightly.
"Very well, my lord. I'll leave the festivities alone for now."
His tone remained lively, but the respect in his response was unmistakable.
"If that's what you want, I'll trust your judgment."
Abel's faint smile returned.
"Good."
Neither of them bothered to notice the figure standing near the far corner of the throne room.
Cadoc had been there long enough to overhear their conversation.
He remained still for a moment, his expression difficult to interpret. Then, without announcing his presence, he turned and began walking toward the exit.
But he had not gone unnoticed by everyone.
Nyx's eyes followed him as he left.
She said nothing.
Instead, she quietly returned her attention to Abel and Sudai, keeping what she had seen to herself.
The throne room settled back into silence.
Yet the Demon King's decision had already been made.
For now, the entrance tournament would continue.
And the students competing within its walls remained unaware of the danger that awaited them.
Back to the Legion Academy — The Coliseum
The sound of the crowd gradually returned as the two contestants resumed their positions.
Darius lowered his arm and settled into his fighting stance once more. His breathing had become more controlled, though the poison coursing through his body continued to weigh upon him.
Across from him, Riven adjusted his footing.
Neither contestant spoke.
But the spectators had plenty to say.
"I don't even know who's going to win this fight anymore," one spectator remarked.
Another immediately scoffed.
"Are you serious? It's obviously Riven Veylor. He's one of the strongest among the contestants here."
"Then explain why Stonewell is still standing," someone else interjected. "Look at him. He's been fighting with poison in his body, and he's still ready to continue."
"Don't be ridiculous," another spectator replied. "Riven hasn't even shown us everything he can do. He's probably just playing around."
The argument spread through the surrounding seats, with some spectators confidently supporting Riven and others beginning to reconsider Darius.
On the battlefield, however, neither man paid the crowd any attention.
A gentle breeze swept across the damaged ground, stirring their hair as they stood facing each other.
Riven's golden-amber eyes remained fixed on Darius.
Darius stared back, his clenched fist trembling slightly.
Two fighters.
Two different pasts.
And a conflict that seemed destined to reach beyond the boundaries of the tournament.
Was this the beginning of a rivalry?
Or was something far more complicated taking shape between them?
What had Riven's father done to make Darius carry such hatred toward his family?
And what other burdens had Stonewell been forced to endure before arriving at Legion Academy?
The answers remained hidden.
For now, all that mattered was the battle before them.
To be continued...