After everything that had happened in the realm of time, I returned to the base. The cold wind brushed against my face as I stepped through the portal, the familiar surroundings finally easing my heavy thoughts. Angelica and Sayo were waiting for me — their faces filled with concern and curiosity. The others were still asleep, scattered around the dimly lit hall.

  “Wake everyone up,” I said quietly.

  Angelica nodded and gently went around, shaking the others awake. Sayo stood by my side, her eyes following me as I walked toward the center of the hall. Soon, everyone was gathered — their faces serious, their eyes fixed on me.

  Kael stood in front, calm and sharp as always, leading his assassin unit with silent authority. I didn’t need to say much to him; he already knew what needed to be done. I simply assessed their status — their conditions, their mana stability, their readiness for what was coming.

  “All of you,” I said, my voice low but clear, “are fit for what’s next. From now on, everything will move according to the plan.”

  Then I turned toward the two unconscious female knights — Himan and Maika — who had been brought in earlier. They had fought bravely, but now they lay motionless. I knelt down beside them, my hand hovering just above their foreheads.

  “Forget who you were,” I murmured. “Forget your pain, your doubts… your purpose. From now on, you serve the will of fate.”

  A faint black light glowed beneath my palm. Their eyes slowly opened — empty, calm, and obedient. Their memories of the past had been erased.

  “Himan. Maika,” I said. “You two will escort the princess and her maid. That is your purpose now.”

  “Yes, my lord,” they both replied in perfect unison, bowing their heads.

  Next, I called forward two figures from Kael’s assassin squad — Chelsea and Sheele. Both of them stood confidently, awaiting my command.

  “Chelsea,” I said, “you’ll take charge of disguises. I trust your skill with makeup and transformation. You’ll ensure no one recognizes the princess or her guards.”

  Chelsea smiled faintly and bowed. “Understood. I can even make Maika look like a royal knight from another kingdom, if needed.”

  “Sheele,” I continued, “you’ll stay close to the princess. Your blade will be the last line of defense. Protect her with your life.”

  Sheele’s eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. “I won’t fail you.”

  I nodded. Everything was falling into place — perfectly aligned with my plan. The escort team was ready: the two former knights, the two assassins, and the princess with her maid.

  I raised my hand, conjuring a swirling portal of dark energy before them. Its pull was steady, humming with power.

  “This portal,” I said, “will take you instantly to the outskirts of the royal route. The enemy won’t see you coming. Once you arrive… the battle will begin.”

  Everyone nodded, their determination visible even in the flickering torchlight. Angelica placed her hand on my shoulder, whispering, “Be careful.”

  I smiled faintly and looked at her. “I always am.”

  Then, stepping forward, I opened the gate wider. The team followed my lead, one by one disappearing into the portal’s swirling darkness.

  As I stepped through last, I could already feel the tension of the battlefield beyond.

  The storm was coming — and I was ready to face it.

  We passed through the endless corridor of space — darkness twisting around us like threads of eternity — and then suddenly, the light returned. In an instant, we had reached our destination.

  The capital city stood before us, grand yet trembling beneath the stillness of the coming war. The air carried a strange weight, one that even the strong could feel in their bones.

  Chelsea and Sheele stepped forward first. With a faint shimmer of magic, their appearances began to change — hair color, facial structure, even their voices. Within moments, they looked identical — twin sisters, each with the same calm, unreadable expression.

  The princess and her maid stood beside them, both in traveling cloaks. Behind them were the two knights, Himan and Maika, their eyes blank, completely loyal after my spell.

  “Go,” I ordered. “Protect the princess at all costs. Do not engage unless necessary.”

  Chelsea gave a nod, her voice now slightly altered. “Understood, my lord.”

  The group of six — the princess, her maid, the twin assassins, and the two knights — departed through the cobblestone path leading toward the royal gates. Their figures faded into the mist of the city.

  I turned to Kael and the rest of his assassin squad, who were silently waiting in the shadows. “Follow them from a distance. Don’t reveal yourselves unless something goes wrong. Your mission is the princess’s safety — nothing else.”

  Kael placed a hand over his chest. “As you command, Master.”

  They disappeared, one after another, like smoke vanishing into the wind.

  The city was quiet again, but not for long. Footsteps approached from behind. I turned to see Ririsa and Gamma walking toward me — two of my most capable lieutenants.

  “Have you deployed the soldiers?” I asked, my tone steady.

  Ririsa nodded firmly. “Yes. Every corner of the capital is under surveillance. No one moves without us knowing.”

  “Good job.” I gave a small smile. “Now, listen carefully. When I go to save Alice, I want both of you to seize control of the capital. No hesitation.”

  Gamma’s eyes glowed faintly. “Understood.”

  But Ririsa hesitated. “Master,” she said softly, “you don’t have to do that yourself. We can handle this. You shouldn’t be doing such… low-level work.”

  I looked at her with a calm yet sharp gaze. “Ririsa,” I said, my voice deepening, “you already know I won’t just sit down and watch. So don’t cause your master too much trouble. Just do as I say.”

  Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she bowed her head. “...Yes, Master.”

  “Good,” I continued. “Take Rhea and Flora with you. They’ll remain on standby until my signal. And as for Angelica and Sayo—” I looked to the far side of the room, where they were waiting silently. “You’re both part of the Seven Shadows. Lead a few teams of your own and support Ririsa and Gamma in securing the capital.”

  Angelica smiled faintly. “Understood.”

  Sayo nodded. “Leave it to us.”

  They all bowed once before departing, their footsteps echoing until the hall was silent again.

  One by one, my trusted people vanished into the growing chaos of the capital.

  And then… I was alone.

  The wind slipped through the cracks in the walls, whispering like the voices of ghosts. I stood there, gazing at the empty corridor, feeling the faint tremor of destiny beneath my feet.

  Everything was ready. The next move — mine alone.

  “Alice… wait for me,” I whispered. “Your fate is mine to reclaim.”

  The moonlight fell through the broken window as I walked into the darkness once more.

  The grand gates of the Royal Palace opened with a low, echoing sound. The guards at the entrance bowed deeply as Princess Marianne stepped through, her cloak fluttering behind her. Her calm expression barely hid the exhaustion in her eyes.

  Beside her walked Reina, her loyal maid, and four escorts — the twin sisters Chelsea and Sheele in disguise, and the two royal knights Himan and Maika. Their armor gleamed faintly in the sunlight filtering through the towering marble arches.

  The palace halls were silent as she made her way toward the Queen’s chamber. Every guard she passed saluted her respectfully, but none dared to speak. The atmosphere felt heavier than usual — something unseen was pressing over the entire capital.

  Finally, Marianne stopped before an ornate golden door. She took a breath and pushed it open.

  Inside, Queen Gizelotte stood on the balcony, her silver hair flowing gently in the wind. Her eyes, sharp and commanding, turned toward her daughter.

  “You have returned, Marianne,” Gizelotte said calmly, though her tone carried both relief and authority. “Where have you been?”

  Marianne bowed deeply. “Greetings, Mother. I went on a journey to find the rebel who disguised themselves as a member of the royal family. That person even tried to kill me… but for the bravery of these girls, I was saved.”

  Gizelotte’s gaze shifted toward the group behind her daughter. Chelsea and Sheele bowed politely, keeping their expressions humble. Himan and Maika followed suit, their blank yet loyal eyes betraying no hint of deceit.

  “I see…” Gizelotte said softly. “So, who is that person?”

  Marianne lowered her head. “I… do not know yet, Mother. But I believe you will soon come to know.”

  The Queen’s lips curved slightly, neither smiling nor frowning. She sighed and turned back toward the balcony. “I’m afraid I cannot hear your full report for now. I must attend today’s ‘Cardinal Hero’s Worth’ ceremony. It’s an important gathering of nations. Go, get refreshed and prepare to join me.”

  Marianne hesitated, wanting to speak more, but she knew it was pointless. “Understood, Mother,” she said quietly and left the room.

  As she walked down the long corridor, her expression hardened. Every step echoed her frustration — the feeling that something much larger was unfolding, just beyond her reach.

  When she returned to her chamber, Reina quickly helped her prepare a bath. The warm water and faint scent of lavender filled the air. Marianne sank into the tub, staring blankly at the ripples.

  Chelsea and Sheele stood outside the door, alert as

  The royal carriages rolled through the marble streets of the capital, their golden wheels glinting beneath the evening sun. Trumpets echoed in the distance, and banners of every color fluttered high above as the city prepared for the grand festival — The Cardinal Hero’s Worth.

  In one of the elegant carriages sat Princess Marianne, her loyal maid Reina, and the disguised twin sisters Chelsea and Sheele. Across from them, the princess’s pale cheeks burned with color. She pressed a hand to her chest, lost in thoughts she couldn’t control.

  Her mind wandered back to him — to Amahiko.

  His calm eyes, his measured tone, the quiet strength that radiated whenever he drew his blade — every little detail replayed in her mind like a melody she couldn’t stop hearing.

  (Why am I thinking about him so much?) she thought, trying to keep her composure.

  But the memory of his cool gaze and the way he faced danger with that unshakable will made her heart skip a beat.

  Her face turned even redder.

  Chelsea, noticing it, leaned slightly toward Sheele and whispered with a teasing smile, “Hey… you see that?”

  Sheele nodded softly. “Mm. The princess looks like she’s thinking about something... or someone.”

  Reina tilted her head, confused. “Is something wrong, Your Highness? Your face is red. Are you feeling unwell?”

  Marianne quickly shook her head. “N-No, it’s nothing. Just the heat.”

  Chelsea chuckled quietly. “The heat, huh? Inside an air-cooled carriage?”

  Marianne turned away, her ears turning crimson. “S-silence!” she said, flustered, her voice slightly trembling.

  Outside the carriage windows, Himan and Maika rode on horseback, their expressions calm and sharp. The two knights kept perfect formation, eyes scanning every shadow along the royal road.

  Meanwhile, in the carriage ahead, Queen Gizelotte sat regally beside her advisor Cease, her left-hand man. The Queen’s golden crown shimmered faintly under the setting sun.

  “Everything is proceeding according to schedule, Your Majesty,” Cease reported, his tone crisp.

  Gizelotte nodded slowly, her gaze fixed forward. “Good. The ‘Cardinal Hero’s Worth’ must be flawless. The entire nation will be watching.”

  Cease bowed. “Understood.”

  As the convoy reached the grand arena, the sound of drums and horns filled the air. The arena was vast — a circular coliseum with thousands of citizens cheering from every seat. Flags representing noble houses waved in rhythm with the chants of the crowd.

  The royal convoy stopped before the guest platform, where the empire’s most powerful nobles and dukes were seated.

  When Queen Gizelotte stepped out of her carriage, the arena went silent. Every noble rose from their seats and bowed deeply.

  “Her Majesty, Queen Gizelotte of the Holy Capital!” the announcer proclaimed.

  The queen raised a graceful hand, signaling them to rise.

  Behind her, Princess Marianne descended from her carriage, followed closely by Reina, Chelsea, and Sheele. The crowd’s attention briefly shifted — the princess’s beauty drew quiet admiration from many.

  The royal guests took their seats at the high balcony overlooking the coliseum.

  From there, the entire city could be seen — the people cheering, the warriors gathering below, and the stage where the ceremony would begin.

  Queen Gizelotte turned to her aide. “Let the festival commence.”

  Cease nodded and lifted his hand. “Begin the Cardinal Hero’s Worth!”

  A booming fanfare erupted. The first duelists stepped into the arena as glowing magic circles illuminated the stage.

  Marianne sat beside her mother, trying to focus on the grand event — but her thoughts still drifted toward Amahiko.

  (If only you were here… would you have smiled at me like before?)

  Her heart trembled again.

  The festival had begun, but for Princess Marianne, another battle was already unfolding — one deep within her heart.

  The roaring cheers of thousands filled the vast coliseum as the opening duel of the “Cardinal Hero’s Worth” was announced. The banners of each kingdom waved above the arena, sunlight gleaming off the polished steel of the participants’ armor.

  Queen Gizelotte sat proudly on her throne at the royal balcony, her golden gown shimmering like molten light. At her right side stood Deathes, the silent shadow in white armor — calm, dignified, and feared. Her aura alone was enough to unsettle even seasoned knights.

  She had chosen not to fight today.

  If she did, the arena itself would have been reduced to dust.

  Instead, she remained beside the Queen as her guardian, her glowing crimson eyes quietly observing everything.

  When Princess Marianne entered the balcony, Deathes smiled faintly. “It’s been a long time, Marianne.”

  Marianne smiled back warmly. “Indeed, Deathes. You haven’t changed at all.”

  The two had grown up together — childhood friends bound by royal service and mutual respect. Now, one stood as a princess, and the other as an immortal warrior who could level kingdoms.

  Their short reunion ended as the announcer’s booming voice filled the air:

  “The first duel of the ‘Cardinal Hero’s Worth’ — Kei of the Eastern Guard versus Taiga of the Iron Shield Legion!”

  The crowd erupted in excitement.

  Two figures walked into the arena.

  On one side stood Kei, tall and sharp-eyed, holding a gleaming silver spear engraved with runes. His light armor allowed quick movements, and his stance was calm but deadly.

  Opposite him stood Taiga, a towering warrior with a massive shield that looked more like a wall than a weapon. His armor was black and gold, radiating toughness — the embodiment of defense.

  They both bowed slightly before taking position.

  The announcer raised his hand. “Let the duel begin!”

  A deafening horn sounded.

  Kei dashed forward first, his spear slicing through the air with blinding speed. The tip glowed faintly with blue mana, leaving trails of light in its wake.

  Taiga raised his shield instantly — clang! The impact sent a shockwave across the arena, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

  “Fast,” Taiga muttered, pushing Kei back with a single shove.

  Kei smirked. “And you’re annoyingly sturdy.”

  He leapt sideways, spinning his spear in a dazzling arc before thrusting again. The spear’s aura shifted — this time imbued with wind magic.

  Slash! Slash!

  Each thrust landed perfectly, but Taiga’s golden shield absorbed every hit like solid stone. Sparks flew everywhere.

  Taiga countered, bashing forward with his shield, the force strong enough to send a gust of wind across the arena. Kei barely managed to dodge, his spear scraping along the ground before he jumped high into the air.

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  “Let’s see you block this!” Kei shouted, gathering mana at the spear’s tip.

  He hurled the weapon downward — a burst of blue lightning followed its path, striking directly at Taiga.

  The explosion thundered across the arena, dust rising high. The audience gasped.

  When the smoke cleared — Taiga was still standing. His shield glowed with radiant gold light.

  “Hah… Not bad,” Taiga grinned, stepping forward. “Now it’s my turn.”

  He slammed his shield into the ground — and instantly, dozens of golden energy shields appeared in the air around him, floating in formation.

  “Heavenly Bulwark: Shattered Impact!”

  The shields launched one after another like cannonballs, surrounding Kei. He spun his spear and deflected them rapidly — each strike a spark, each movement precise as lightning.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Both warriors clashed at the center once again, their magic colliding — wind and steel against light and fortitude.

  For minutes, the battle raged, neither giving an inch.

  Sweat rolled down Kei’s forehead; Taiga’s breath grew heavier.

  Cracks appeared on the arena floor, and waves of mana pulsed through the crowd.

  Queen Gizelotte smiled slightly. “A splendid duel. Both hold the dignity of true heroes.”

  Deathes nodded silently beside her, her gaze sharp. “They fight not to kill, but to prove. That’s rare.”

  At last, both fighters’ weapons clashed one final time — a brilliant explosion of light filled the arena.

  When the dust settled, Kei’s spear was broken in half, and Taiga’s shield had shattered. Both warriors fell to one knee, exhausted, smiling faintly at each other.

  “I guess… that’s a draw,” Kei said, panting.

  Taiga chuckled. “Yeah… you’re not bad, spear guy.”

  The announcer raised his arms.

  “The first duel ends in a draw! What a magnificent display of courage and strength!”

  The crowd cheered wildly, chanting both their names.

  From the royal balcony, Princess Marianne clapped her hands with excitement, her earlier worries forgotten for a moment.

  Deathes glanced at her and smiled gently. “You seem to enjoy it.”

  “Yes,” Marianne replied softly. “It’s been so long since I saw a battle like this.”

  As the arena lights shimmered and the crowd’s roar echoed through the sky, the first duel of the Cardinal Hero’s Worth came to a close — fierce, unbroken, and unforgettable.

  The cheers of the crowd echoed through the grand arena as the dust from the first duel finally settled. Kei and Taiga’s battle had left deep marks on the ground—cracks and scorch lines from their furious clash of shield and spear. Now, anticipation rippled across the stands as the announcer’s voice rang out:

  “Next duel—Mayuka the Silent Archer versus Tifa the Shadow Dagger!”

  The crowd roared.

  Both girls stepped into the arena from opposite gates.

  Mayuka, calm as a breeze, held her sleek white bow carved from Silverwood, her quiver filled with mana-etched arrows that glowed faintly. Her long hair swayed under the sunlight, and her focused eyes looked as sharp as the arrows she drew. Her figure is attracting the view with little show-off her breasts upper skin while exposing her beautiful legs.

  On the other side, the perfect competitor in figure challenge who has as same size breasts and beautiful legs, Tifa—lean, swift, and deadly—walked silently with twin daggers crossed behind her back. She wore a short cloak that fluttered like a shadow itself. Her movements were smooth, catlike—her eyes gleamed with the same focus that Mayuka carried.

  When the bell rang, neither moved. The wind brushed between them, and tension thickened. Then—

  Thwip!

  An arrow shot across the arena like a beam of light. Tifa twisted her body, the arrow slicing a lock of her hair as it passed. She sprinted forward, closing the distance like a blur. Mayuka leaped back, loosing three arrows in rapid succession.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  Tifa deflected each with her daggers, sparks flying as her blades struck the mana arrows midair. She landed low, rolled, and threw one of her daggers—straight toward Mayuka’s shoulder.

  The archer spun sideways, the blade grazing her sleeve, and in that instant, released a point-blank arrow toward Tifa’s leg. Tifa jumped, but the arrow exploded midair, throwing dust and wind around.

  “Using Explosive Marksmanship this early? She’s serious,” muttered Cease beside Queen Gizelotte.

  The Queen’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, watching her knights fight. “Both are gifted… but only one will advance.”

  Down in the arena, Tifa dashed through the dust cloud, her dagger flashing with dark energy. Mayuka crouched, eyes darting, sensing her opponent’s movements. Suddenly, Tifa appeared behind her—dagger ready to strike.

  But Mayuka smirked.

  “Hawk Eye — Vision Burst!”

  Her pupils glowed blue. She ducked under the blade, spinning, and shot another arrow at near point-blank range. It pierced through Tifa’s cloak, barely missing her shoulder.

  Tifa jumped back, breathing heavily, dagger dripping with her own blood from a shallow cut. “You’re faster than I thought, Mayuka.”

  Mayuka nocked another arrow, panting slightly. “And you’re quieter than I expected.”

  The crowd could feel their tension—speed against precision, shadow against light.

  Tifa vanished again—this time truly gone, not even her shadow visible. Mayuka’s eyes scanned rapidly, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

  Suddenly—clang!—a blade scraped her bow from behind. Mayuka spun, firing blindly. The arrow met a dagger midair, exploding with sparks.

  The two girls clashed again and again—Tifa darting around like a phantom, Mayuka spinning and firing arrows in every direction, creating a spiral of golden streaks across the battlefield.

  Both breathing hard, both bleeding lightly, neither backing down.

  The audience was silent now, watching the storm of precision and chaos unfold.

  As the dust whirled again, Mayuka’s voice rang softly, “If you think shadows can hide you”

  “—then you’ve never fought someone born in the dark,” Tifa whispered from behind her.

  And with that, their next strike began—faster, fiercer, and deadlier than before.

  The crowd held their breath. The dust-filled arena shimmered under the morning sun as both Mayuka and Tifa stood, panting, weapons raised, eyes burning with resolve.

  Their clash had already drawn blood, but neither was ready to surrender. The announcer’s voice trembled with excitement.

  “Both combatants are unleashing everything they have—prepare yourselves for a battle of attributes!”

  Mayuka closed her eyes for a moment, her mana flaring like a golden flame. She whispered softly, “Elemental Arrow Fusion.”

  Her bow started glowing in five radiant colors—red for fire, blue for water, green for wind, brown for earth, and white for light. Her arrows shimmered like crystal shards of raw power.

  Across from her, Tifa smirked. “Five attributes? Then I’ll match you.”

  Her daggers pulsed with dark aura as she infused them with her own elemental control—fire, water, wind, lightning, and shadow. Black lightning crawled across the blades as they hummed with destructive energy.

  Boom!

  Mayuka shot her first arrow—flaming red, spiraling with wind.

  Tifa spun, slicing through it with a dagger infused with water and wind. Steam exploded around them, hiding their forms.

  Then—flash!—a streak of blue light cut through the mist.

  Mayuka’s arrow clashed with Tifa’s lightning-infused dagger, the shockwave cracking the arena floor.

  Both girls were panting now, their magic pressuring the air. The nobles in the stands leaned forward, amazed by the level of their control.

  “Unbelievable…” whispered one duke. “They’re using multi-element fusion—something only high-tier magicians can maintain!”

  Down below, Mayuka drew another arrow, combining earth and light this time. The arrow grew heavier, solid, glowing with divine energy. She pulled the string to its limit.

  “Pierce the dark—Holy Terra Shot!”

  She released it.

  The arrow tore through the arena like a comet, dust and rocks flying everywhere.

  But Tifa… didn’t dodge.

  Instead, she crossed her daggers and infused them with all five of her attributes at once—fire, water, wind, lightning, and shadow.

  Her eyes glowed crimson. “Elemental Collapse — Shadow Reversal!”

  KRAAASH!

  The arrow met the daggers head-on. The explosion that followed split the ground in half, wind sweeping through the stands.

  The crowd screamed in awe and terror.

  When the smoke finally cleared—Mayuka was kneeling, her bow cracked, her right hand trembling. Her mana was spent.

  Tifa stood just a few meters away, her cloak torn to shreds, bleeding from her shoulder, but still standing. One dagger was broken, the other glowing faintly black.

  Mayuka looked up at her with a faint smile. “You’re… stronger than you look…”

  Tifa sheathed her dagger and sighed, her voice calm. “You too. You almost got me.”

  Then, Mayuka’s bow shattered completely, scattering fragments of light as she fell unconscious.

  The announcer raised his voice:

  “Winner—Tifa, the Shadow Dagger!”

  The arena erupted in cheers. Some shouted Tifa’s name, others clapped for Mayuka’s valiant effort.

  Queen Gizelotte nodded with a faint smile. “That was a battle worthy of the festival.”

  Beside her, Deathes crossed her arms. “Both would make fine soldiers… though the one who walks in shadows—she reminds me of someone.”

  The queen smiled slightly. “Perhaps… someone we’ll need soon.”

  As Tifa walked off the stage, exhausted but victorious, the next duel’s combatants began to prepare. The festival wasn’t over yet—

  But the shadow had already left its mark.

  Episode 23 — Chapter 8: The Sword Against the Arcane Storm

  The third duel of the Cardinal Hero’s Worth began. The air was heavy with anticipation after Tifa’s fierce victory. The arena’s shattered floor was repaired by royal mages, but traces of mana still lingered like echoes of the previous fight.

  The announcer’s voice thundered, “Next duel—Rion the Arcane Virtuoso versus Akira the Sword of the Dawn!”

  The two contestants stepped forward.

  Rion stood tall, her silver hair glimmering in the sunlight. She carried an elegant wand with a crystal orb glowing faintly purple at its tip. The orb pulsed with intense mana, humming like a living heart. Her figure is outstanding with her sexy breasts.

  Akira, in contrast, drew his long blade, a crimson sword engraved with black runes. His stance was calm but sharp, his eyes locked onto Rion’s every movement.

  The bell rang.

  “Begin!”

  Instantly, Rion’s mana surged, shaking the ground beneath her.

  She raised her wand, chanting rapidly—her voice fluid like water.

  “Arcane Burst—Wind Spiral!”

  A cyclone erupted from beneath Akira’s feet. He leaped back just in time, slicing the air downward to cut through the wind pressure. The force still pushed him several meters back.

  “Fast reaction,” Rion smirked. “Let’s see how long you can last.”

  She waved her wand again.

  “Blazing Arrows!”

  Flames burst from the ground, forming dozens of fiery spears that darted toward Akira like homing missiles.

  Akira dashed through them, twisting his body with precision, sparks flashing as he deflected two arrows mid-air. But even he couldn’t dodge them all—one grazed his shoulder, leaving a burn.

  “Tch…” He gritted his teeth. “She’s layering spells—nonstop.”

  Rion laughed softly, “You can’t win if you only run, swordsman.”

  She lifted her wand once more, the crystal orb now radiating dark light.

  “Arcane Convergence: Elemental Storm!”

  Suddenly, the sky darkened. Bolts of lightning crackled, chunks of ice rained down, and blades of wind spun in chaos. Fire pillars burst from the earth, each one chasing Akira like hunting beasts.

  The entire arena became a storm of destruction.

  The crowd gasped—this wasn’t a duel anymore; it was a disaster.

  Akira’s movements blurred as he dashed through the storm, slicing through fire, flipping over rocks, and parrying wind blades with his sword’s glowing edge.

  Every breath burned in his chest. Sweat dripped down his face. His sword aura flickered, struggling to maintain stability under the pressure of Rion’s endless mana barrage.

  From the stands, the nobles murmured in awe.

  “Unbelievable control… she’s casting multiple high-tier spells without pause!”

  “And that swordsman—how is he even alive? Guess after all he is one of the cardinal heroes!”

  Akira slashed upward, releasing a shockwave of his own sword aura. It tore through a section of the storm, dispersing the flames for a brief second.

  He leapt forward, closing the distance—finally!

  But Rion smiled wickedly. “You’re too predictable.”

  She slammed her wand into the ground.

  “Gravity Zone!”

  Suddenly, the air around Akira thickened. His body felt ten times heavier. His knees bent under the invisible weight as the ground cracked beneath him.

  He tried to move, but his muscles screamed. The mana around him pulsed with crushing intensity.

  Rion aimed her wand. “Now fall, Akira!”

  “Arcane Cannon!”

  A massive beam of purple energy surged forward, shaking the entire arena.

  Akira roared, channeling everything he had into his sword.

  “Flare Slash!”

  His sword ignited with red flames as he swung it upward, slicing through the beam. The collision exploded, sending shockwaves across the entire arena, breaking the sound barrier.

  When the light faded, both fighters were panting, standing amid dust and rubble.

  Akira’s uniform was torn, his face bruised—but his eyes still burned with determination.

  Rion raised her wand again, smiling confidently. “Not bad… but I’m far from done.”

  Akira tightened his grip on his sword. “Then bring it.”

  And as the crowd rose to their feet, the duel continued—flashes of swordlight and bursts of magic clashing again and again, shaking the very heart of the capital.

  The Cardinal Hero’s Worth was far from over—

  And this was only the beginning of their storm.

  The duel between Akira and Rion raged on like a storm that refused to fade. Dust and mana crackled through the air, forming a battlefield of shattered ground and glowing embers.

  From the audience stands, everyone’s eyes were glued to the arena—no one dared blink. Even Queen Gizelotte leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with faint interest.

  Akira stood in the middle of the destruction, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His arms trembled, his breath was uneven, and his blade, once glowing bright red, now flickered dimly. Every cut, every burn, every drop of sweat told the same story—he was reaching his limit.

  But still, his eyes burned.

  Rion, on the other hand, stood at a distance, her wand still gleaming with steady mana.

  She smirked. “Why do you keep standing up, swordsman? You can’t win against magic with that broken body.”

  Akira exhaled, wiped the blood from his lip, and raised his sword again.

  His voice came out hoarse but firm—

  “Because I… don’t know how to stop.”

  He dashed forward, ignoring the pain that shot through his legs.

  Each step was like running through fire, but his heart beat louder than fear.

  “Thunder Arrows!” Rion shouted.

  Bolts of lightning rained from above. Akira leaped, rolled, and slashed through the air. Sparks exploded around him, the smell of ozone filled the arena.

  “Come on, Akira!” a voice from the stands shouted—it was one of the younger soldiers who admired him.

  “You can do it!”

  Akira clenched his jaw, his knuckles white on the hilt. He remembered their faces—his comrades, his students, everyone who looked up to him. He could not fall. Not yet.

  Rion raised her wand once more. “Then disappear!”

  “Mana Burst—Heaven’s Judgment!”

  A gigantic circle formed in the sky. Thousands of light spears rained down.

  Akira’s body screamed to move, but he couldn’t dodge them all. A spear grazed his leg, another tore through his shoulder. Blood sprayed across the battlefield.

  He fell to one knee. His vision blurred.

  The crowd gasped, thinking it was over.

  But then—

  Akira laughed.

  A quiet, broken, yet fearless laugh.

  “Heh… That all you’ve got?”

  He forced himself up again, using his sword as a crutch.

  Rion’s expression faltered. “Impossible…”

  Akira’s aura flared suddenly, crimson light bursting from his body. His sword vibrated, responding to his will.

  He shouted, “If the world gives up on me—then I’ll carve my own fate with this blade!”

  He dashed again, faster than before. His movements blurred, leaving afterimages behind. His sword clashed against Rion’s wand in a shockwave that blew away everything nearby.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  Each strike carried the weight of his resolve, the echo of his pain. His blade chipped, his hand bled—but his strikes only grew stronger.

  Rion’s defenses began to crack. “This can’t be happening…!”

  Akira roared, his voice tearing through the noise.

  “Even if my body breaks—I’ll stand till the end!”

  He swung down with a final strike, the crimson blade cutting through the air like thunder.

  The explosion of light blinded the crowd for a moment.

  When the dust cleared, both fighters were on their knees—bloodied, exhausted, yet still conscious.

  Akira’s sword was buried in the ground beside him. He used it to stay upright, panting heavily.

  Rion’s normal wand was broken in two, the orb shattered, but she too refused to collapse.

  It was no longer about winning or losing.

  It was about endurance—

  About two souls refusing to yield.

  The crowd stood in stunned silence, the tension so thick that even the wind seemed to stop.

  Akira looked up, his voice low but strong.

  “This… this is what I live for. The fight itself.”

  His eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, burned with pure, unshakable will.

  And as the arena filled with the sound of roaring applause, even Queen Gizelotte couldn’t help but whisper—

  “…That man… he truly lives by his sword.”

  The battle hadn’t yet declared its victor—

  But in everyone’s heart, Akira had already won something far greater.

  The night in the imperial capital was unnervingly silent.

  Only the faint hum of the wind and the distant flicker of broken street lamps filled the air. I walked alone through the narrow alleys, where the echoes of the past still lingered. The walls were cracked, the houses half-collapsed, the streets covered in dust — as if time itself had abandoned this place.

  I kept moving forward, my boots echoing softly against the stone road. Then, I stopped.

  A faint growl — low and sharp — cut through the silence.

  I turned toward the sound. In the dim moonlight, I saw her — a red-haired girl, barefoot, her fists bruised, her body trembling yet unbroken. Around her lay the mangled bodies of wolves she had fought with her bare hands. The fire in her eyes wasn’t one of anger, but of survival — desperate, wild, and painfully human.

  She was fighting for someone.

  A man stood nearby, calmly watching. He looked like her master. His face was indifferent, almost amused, as he clapped slowly.

  “Well done, Morgiana,” he said. “You truly are a beast worth keeping.”

  The girl didn’t respond. Her breath was uneven. She bled from her knuckles, yet her eyes still burned faintly beneath the fading moonlight.

  But then, something shifted.

  From the shadows behind him, two men appeared, their movements quick and silent — assassins, their intent clear. They moved to restrain the girl. The so-called master smiled, stepping closer, his words dripping with cruelty.

  “You’ve served your purpose, Morgiana. Now die quietly, won’t you?”

  He reached for his sword, his gaze cold.

  The two men threw iron chains around the girl, pulling tight, burning her skin.

  Her eyes widened — fear, betrayal, heartbreak — everything poured out at once.

  I stayed in the shadow, watching.

  Her voice cracked as she shouted, “Why… why are you doing this? I… trusted you!”

  The man laughed. “Trust? From a slave?”

  And that was enough.

  Her body trembled violently, the chains rattling as her mana erupted. Flames surged from her skin, red and gold, bright enough to light the forgotten street.

  Her scream split the air — not of pain, but of release.

  The fire devoured the chains, melting them into ash.

  The two men holding her burned alive before they could even scream.

  The so-called master stepped back, cursing, his sword drawn.

  He charged forward—

  And in that moment, I moved.

  My blade sliced through the air, faster than lightning, quieter than breath.

  A flash — and his head fell. His body collapsed before he even understood what happened.

  The red-haired girl fell to her knees, trembling, staring at me with wide eyes.

  I stepped closer, lowering my sword. “What’s your name?”

  Her lips quivered. “Mo… Morgiana.”

  “Hmm,” I said softly, crouching to meet her eyes. “Wanna come with big brother?”

  Her eyes widened further, disbelief and confusion filling them — then slowly, tears began to fall.

  She nodded weakly, unable to speak.

  I wrapped my cloak around her small, burnt body and pulled her into my arms. She cried into my chest, her hands gripping my sleeve tightly.

  “It’s alright now,” I whispered. “You’re free.”

  On her left arm, a faint glowing mark flickered — a seal of enslavement. I placed my hand over it, releasing a stream of mana.

  With a soft crack, the mark shattered like glass and vanished.

  System notification blinked before my eyes:

  [Sub-Scenario: ‘Morgiana Death Row’ Completed]

  [Reward: +500 Karma Points | Character ‘Morgiana’ joins as a Follower Candidate]

  I sighed quietly. “So it was a hidden quest after all.”

  From the shadows nearby, two of my soldiers from the Obsidian Heaven of Silhouette appeared, cloaked in dark hoods. Their presence was silent, their loyalty absolute.

  They knelt before me.

  “Master.”

  I nodded toward Morgiana, who clung to my arm. “Take her. Give her something good to eat. She’s had enough for today.”

  They nodded respectfully. “Understood.”

  Morgiana looked up at me, her tear-stained face confused.

  “B-but… why?”

  I smiled faintly. “Because even broken things deserve warmth.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. The soldiers gently helped her stand.

  As they led her away, the night wind blew softly, carrying the faint scent of ash and fire.

  For a moment, I watched her — a small, trembling spark walking away from the darkness that had nearly consumed her.

  A smile touched my lips. “Flames… that choose to live are the brightest.”

  Then, I turned and disappeared back into the shadows — where my next plan awaited.

  The arena grew quiet as Duke Villanea stepped into the center. A cold hush fell over the crowd—his presence made people uneasy. Princess Marianne felt a bad feeling twist in her chest.

  Villanea spoke with a smooth voice. “As you all know, many dukes and nobles were assassinated. We have lost generous leaders. I feel deeply sorry for them. I too was nearly killed. But thanks to my soldiers, I am safe.” He bowed to the queen. “Your Highness, I have captured one of those bastards.”

  With a flourish he revealed a small cube. The cube grew until it was large, and inside floated a woman, motionless as if time itself had stopped around her. She slept in a frozen world of black mana. The crowd gasped.

  “So I ask Her Majesty,” Villanea said, voice loud so everyone could hear, “shall I bring salvation by ending this leader of the so-called ‘Obsidian Heaven of Silhouette’?”

  Prime Minister Heron nodded from below. “You should be given permission, Your Majesty. These evils must be rid from our land.”

  Queen Gizelotte raised her hand and granted it. “Do as you must, Duke.”

  Villanea smiled and stepped forward to end the cube with a blade, but he never had the chance. A shadow moved faster than any eye could follow. Someone struck him down—silent, precise. The crowd screamed as chaos exploded.

  From the corners of the arena, dozens of figures in shabby black coats rose up. They had hidden among servants and traders. Now they moved as one, a tide of dark shapes. They surrounded the royal box and the guest stands. No one could move. The ropes of guards froze, their weapons falling from their hands as strange magic bound them.

  “Do not try to resist,” a voice called, calm and cold. “We are the Obsidian Heaven of Silhouette.”

  The black-coated soldiers stepped forward and took control. They forced masks over guards’ faces and pressed cold blades to throats. Queen Gizelotte, Princess Marianne, Prime Minister Heron, the Cardinal Heroes—everyone in the royal balcony—were seized and held hostage. The arena became a prison.

  The crowd panicked and backed away, but the masked soldiers kept their formation perfect, silent and deadly. Villanea’s body lay still on the ground, a red stain bright against the marble. The cube hovered, untouched, the woman inside still frozen in black sleep.

  From the royal box to the farthest row of nobles, no one moved. The Obsidian Heaven made their presence known—bold, ruthless, and fearless. Their leader stepped forward but did not remove the hood. Only the voice was heard: low, threaded with amusement. “We have come,” the leader said, “to change the story.”

  The arena trembled, and the festival turned into the stage for a new danger. The throne, the queen, the nobles—all were now hostages under the shadow of the Obsidian Heaven of Silhouette.

  The arena was a storm of chaos. The guests—nobles, the queen, Princess Marianne, and the Cardinal Heroes—were all captured by the soldiers claiming to be the descendants of the Obsidian Heaven of Silhouette. The one who had struck down Duke Villanea now called himself their leader.

  “We will bring salvation to this corrupt world! Hahaha!” he bellowed, his voice echoing across the arena.

  He raised his hand and ordered, “Kill the princess as we targeted. Also don’t spare those valuable guests after all finally we have got the queen Gizelotte. And that inferior who couldn’t even do their job properly!”

  The crowd froze in shock. Even their own members were being turned against each other. Marianne’s heart pounded, preparing for the worst. The Cardinal Heroes moved, but even they were powerless in this situation.

  A soldier approached Marianne with a blade, while another aimed for the cube containing the woman named Alice. Then, a voice cut through the chaos like lightning.

  “Huh? You will kill my women? And you’ve accepted the fate that awaits, Marianne?”

  In an instant, the soldiers holding the guests were slayed. The self-proclaimed leader fell to the ground, eyes wide in disbelief. Silence fell over the arena, broken only by the soft hum of magical energy.

  Six figures now surrounded the cube. Half of the arena was filled with girls in black bodysuits with flowing robes, while the other half centered on a boy floating above the cube. The boy held Marianne gently in his arms, his presence radiating overwhelming power.

  The six figures around the cube wore form-fitting bodysuits made of magical slime that could change shape and color at will. Golden trims traced the contours of their armor-like suits, which exposed their sternum, giving a militaristic, commanding presence. Their movements were fluid, graceful, and deadly.

  The boy kneeling on one leg beside the cube smiled faintly. His ebony bodysuit was shapeshifting, a perfect blend of offense and defense, with gold-trimmed high boots and a long hood that partially obscured his face. Slowly, he pulled back the hood.

  “I am Shadow,” he declared, his voice calm yet absolute. “Emperor of the Shadow Realm: Shadow of Creation. And I am the true ruler of the real Obsidian Heaven of Silhouette. We are the true Obsidians. Not losers like you, the fakes.”

  The arena trembled with the weight of his presence. Shadow’s power radiated outward, and the remaining fake soldiers fell back, paralyzed with fear.

  Princess Marianne blinked, still clutched in his arms, her heart racing. She realized now that salvation had arrived—not from the corrupt nobles, not from the desperate rebels, but from the one who had always lurked in the shadows, unseen and unstoppable.

  The battle for the true Obsidian Heaven had begun.