In the stands and lounges, murmurs grew louder.
“This can’t be a coincidence,” a spectator said, his tone skeptical. “The Silver Flame Sect keeps drawing the toughest matchups. First, they fight each other, and now this?”
“Look at Lucavion,” another chimed in, pointing to the swordsman preparing in the corner. “He’s been tearing through opponents like it’s nothing, and now they pit him against Joel? That’s practically sabotage.”
“The Monk against Varen is just as bad,” someone else added. “Varen’s all fire and aggression, and The Monk thrives against that kind of style. It’s like they’re trying to stack the odds.”
Meanwhile, the elders of both sects were notably tense. Elder Kael of the Silver Flame Sect sat with a tight-lipped expression, his eyes narrowing as he reviewed the matchups. “This is no coincidence,” he muttered under his breath. “Someone’s interfering.”
Elder Xue of the Cloud Heavens Sect, while outwardly calm, seemed equally suspicious. Though her disciples’ matchups were challenging, they were not as egregiously skewed as the Silver Flame’s. Still, she knew better than to dismiss the possibility of manipulation. “If this is deliberate,” she murmured to herself, “then the question is, who benefits?”
Marquis Ventor, seated in his private lounge, watched the arena below with an amused expression, his sharp eyes glinting as he observed the reactions. The matchups were indeed intriguing, but whether they were the result of chance or design, he gave no indication of his thoughts. To him, the controversy only added to the spectacle.
In the fighters’ preparation chambers, the tension was equally palpable. Each combatant focused on their respective battles.
Among them, Varen Drakov sat with an air of quiet confidence, his fiery presence tempered by a calm resolve. His opponent, The Monk, stood not far from him, his posture serene, exuding an unshakable composure that mirrored his disciplined fighting style.
Varen glanced briefly at The Monk, his expression unreadable but his voice steady when he finally spoke. “The opponent doesn’t matter,” he said, his words more to himself than anyone else. “If I rise by defeating weaker opponents, it means nothing. The finals will expose me to who I am. If I’m good, I’m good. If not…” He shrugged slightly, his tone even. “That’s the end.”
The Monk turned his head toward Varen, his calm eyes studying the Silver Flame Sect disciple. After a moment of silence, he nodded respectfully. “You carry yourself with honesty,” he said, his voice measured. “For that, I respect you. To acknowledge strength and weakness alike without delusion… it is the mark of a true martial artist.”
Varen regarded him for a moment, a flicker of surprise in his sharp gaze before he offered a slight nod. “Respect goes both ways,” he said simply. “Your reputation precedes you. I’ll fight you as I would anyone else—nothing less, nothing more.”
The Monk allowed a faint smile to cross his lips, his hands folding in front of him in a gesture of quiet acknowledgment. “Then let us test our convictions in the ring.”
******
Across the room, Lira Vaelan and Zerah sat together, their gazes fixed on the opposite side of the preparation area, where Lucavion and Valeria were seated. Lira’s expression was calm, but the faint narrowing of her eyes betrayed her irritation as she watched the unaffiliated pair. On the other hand, Zerah’s glare lingered on Lucavion as he sat across the room, his relaxed posture and ever-present smirk only fueling her simmering anger. The memory of his open insults to her and Elder Xue played like a loop in her mind, each instance another blow to the pride of the Cloud Heavens Sect. Her jaw tightened as she clenched her fists, struggling to maintain the composure expected of a senior disciple. But it was slipping—she could feel it.
He’s too arrogant,
she thought, her nails digging into her palm. Explore stories on
But not for long. Elder Xue has made it clear—his days are numbered.
Her lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk as the thought settled in her mind. Knowing that Elder Xue was taking matters into her own hands, Zerah allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Lucavion’s antics would be short-lived, and she would relish seeing the smugness wiped from his face.
Beside her, Lira Vaelan glanced at her, her sharp eyes catching the change in Zerah’s demeanor. “You seem… amused,” Lira said quietly, her voice calm but curious. “What’s on your mind?”
“Senior Sister.” Zerah’s smirk widened slightly as she straightened in her seat, her earlier frustration melting into something closer to anticipation. “Just thinking about how temporary his confidence is,” she replied, her tone laced with quiet malice. “Lucavion’s arrogance has only one outcome, and it won’t be favorable for him.”
Lira Vaelan’s calm gaze remained fixed on Lucavion for a moment longer before she turned to Zerah, her expression cool but laced with quiet authority. “I understand your frustration,” Lira said evenly, her voice a careful balance of understanding and admonishment. “I don’t like him either. But your focus should be elsewhere—on Valeria. She’s not an opponent to take lightly.”
Zerah’s smirk faltered slightly as Lira’s words settled in. She turned her head toward her senior sister, her jaw tightening at the subtle rebuke. Zerah didn’t like being corrected, especially not by Lira who is the person that destroyed the relationship between the two sects, but she knew better than to openly challenge her. Lira’s position as the senior disciple was unshakable, and her reputation as the Silent Thunder wasn’t just for show.
Lowering her head slightly, Zerah forced herself to respond with deference. “Understood, Senior Sister,” she said, her tone careful but restrained. “I will focus on my fight.”
Lira studied her for a moment, her sharp gaze catching the flicker of resentment in Zerah’s posture.
Though Zerah masked it well, Lira knew this younger disciple resented her authority.
It wasn’t uncommon; many in the sect viewed Lira’s calm façade as stifling, a stark contrast to the fiery pride that burned in others like Zerah. But Lira didn’t care about their opinions.
‘When I get the matriarch position, then you will all be kneeling before me.’
That was why, she didn’t care.
“Good,” Lira said simply, her voice firm but measured. “Valeria Olarion is skilled, and her determination is commendable. Don’t underestimate her, or you’ll regret it.”
Zerah clenched her fists at her sides, swallowing the retort that rose to her lips. She hated being lectured, especially by Lira, but she couldn’t deny the truth in her words. Valeria was strong—stronger than most of the opponents Zerah had faced so far. If she let her focus waver, even for a moment, the Olarion heir could easily turn the fight against her.
“I won’t,” Zerah said, lifting her head to meet Lira’s gaze with a forced calm. “Thank you for the reminder, Senior Sister.”
And with everything settled, they focused on their fights anyway. At the end of the day, things like these were common after all.
On the other hand, Maelis, the other girl was staying silent and watching her two fellow disciples talking.
Since she was clearly the weakest out of the two, her fate was already decided. And she didn’t win her matches by her own effort either. That was why she had no say in this matter.
*******
In their corner of the preparation chamber, Lucavion and Valeria sat in relative quiet, a contrast to the tense murmur of other fighters. The low hum of conversation echoed faintly against the stone walls, broken occasionally by the sound of footsteps or the clinking of weapons being prepared. The air was thick with anticipation.
Valeria closed her eyes, her fingers resting lightly on the hilt of her sword. Her breathing was steady, deliberate, as she worked to center herself. The matches were progressing quickly, and with her bout following Varen’s clash with The Monk, she had little time to waste on distractions.
Lucavion, meanwhile, lounged on the bench beside her, one leg crossed over the other, his arms stretched along the backrest. His ever-present smirk danced on his lips, as though he found the entire situation amusing. Despite the undercurrent of tension in the room, he radiated an aura of unshakable calm, his posture as relaxed as if he were about to watch a play rather than enter a deadly contest.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Lucavion said, tilting his head toward Valeria. His voice was light, teasing as always. “A bit nervous, perhaps?”
Valeria opened her eyes, casting him a sidelong glance. “Focused,” she corrected sharply. “Something you should try sometime.”
Lucavion chuckled, the sound low and easy. “What makes you think that I am not?”
“…..” fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cm
She rolled her eyes but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she straightened in her seat, her hands folding neatly in her lap as she let out a slow exhale. “The Monk and Varen are first,” she said, as much to herself as to him. “That gives me some time.”
Lucavion’s smirk widened. “True. Enough time to overthink every possible outcome of your match. Very productive.”
Valeria shot him a glare, but her annoyance quickly gave way to a small sigh. “You have a gift, you know,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“For irritating you?” he quipped. “Why, thank you.”
“No,” she replied, her tone softer now, though still tinged with exasperation. “For acting like nothing ever gets to you. Not the stakes, not the pressure, not even Elder Xue.”
“Why let it? All of my actions have consequences and as long as I know that, there shouldn’t be any problem with that no?”
Valeria frowned, her gaze dropping to the floor as she mulled over his words. “It’s not that simple,” she said quietly.
“Sure it is,” he replied, leaning back again with a lazy shrug. “You’re strong, Valeria. Just don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
“I will not.”
She looked up at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a fleeting moment, her irritation faded, replaced by something she couldn’t quite place. Gratitude, perhaps? Or maybe just an odd sense of reassurance.
Before she could respond, the sound of a bell echoed through the chamber, signaling the start of Varen’s match against The Monk. The fighters rose to their feet, the tension in the room shifting as the focus turned toward the arena.
“Looks like the show’s starting,” Lucavion said, his grin returning as he stood. “Come on, let’s watch the fireworks.”
And just like that, the quarter-finals started.