Though the princess had spoken the word clearly, Michael did not see any new figure appear.
The field remained exactly as it was.
Then Aeloria vanished.
She was simply gone, her presence erased so completely that even the living territory she had woven into the field began to loosen and fade. The vines slowed, then sank back into the soil. The pressure that had weighed on the air lifted all at once, leaving the space strangely hollow.
Michael's body unlocked in the sa instant.
The invisible restraint snapped away without warning, and he staggered half a step as control returned to him. His mana flared instinctively before he forced it down, eyes sweeping the field. Nothing.
No new figure.
Instead, a voice echoed.
It did not co from any single direction. It was not loud, yet it carried across the entire field with effortless clarity.
"The guest has received treatnt and has awakened," the voice said calmly.
"All exchanges and demonstrations are to cease with imdiate effect."
The instructors froze where they stood. Even the Sanctuary supervisor straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening as she listened.
"The Elven Realm extends its courtesy," the voice continued. "The guest is to be escorted back to his domain respectfully and without delay!"
Michael remained where he was, chest rising and falling once as he slowly lowered his hands.
So that was it.
The fight was over.
Michael stood there for a mont, confused.
The ending had co too fast.
Just monts ago the exchange had finally shifted, pressure answering pressure, power clashing with power, and he had been adjusting in real ti. It had been getting good. Too good to simply be
cut off by a single sentence spoken from nowhere.
His eyes swept the field again.
The elves were already withdrawing.
So of the instructors turned away imdiately, faces stiff, s. Others spared him quick, guarded glances as they left, looks that carried sothing between discomfort and reluctant
acknowledgent.
A few of the younger elves did not bother to hide it at all. Their gazes lingered on him with a mix of disbelief and unease, as if they were still trying to reconcile what they had just witnessed.
Michael exhaled slowly.
Before he could move, the space beside him distorted.
Caelum appeared first, stepping out of the air as if it had parted for him. The old man's posture was calm as ever, hands resting behind his back, but his eyes were sharp in a way Michael had not seen before. There was surprise there, unhidden and genuine.
An instant later, the Sanctuary supervisor appeared as well.
Her expression was composed, but doubt lingered in her eyes, deep and thoughtful.
They both looked at Michael at the sa ti.
"Are you alright?" Caelum asked imdiately.
The Sanctuary supervisor spoke almost in the sa breath. "Did you feel any instability? Pain in the soul, pressure, distortion?"
Michael blinked, taken aback.
He had expected words about the fight. About Aeloria. About the voice. Instead, both of them were focused on him.
"I'm fine," he said after a brief pause.
The old woman's gaze sharpened as she studied him more closely.
Caelum nodded once.
"You should not have been pushed into combat so soon after a soul injury," she said quietly. "Even if the treatnt was successful." Michael let out a short breath, half a laugh. "I didn't feel like I was being pushed."
An awkward silence followed.
Caelum was the first to break it.
"Since 'He' has spoken," he said calmly, "this is no longer a place for us to linger." His gaze shifted briefly toward the empty field, then back to Michael. "It would be best if we returned to Aurora imdiately."
Michael nodded.
He wanted to ask.
Why the match had ended so abruptly.
Who the man was that Aeloria had called father.
Why a single voice had been enough to freeze him in place.
But he swallowed the questions.
This was not the right place for them. Even with Caelum beside him, Michael knew better than to pry openly. Those were questions ant for privacy, and even then, he was not certain it would be appropriate
to ask all of them.
The Sanctuary supervisor inclined her head slightly. "Before you depart, you should return to the sanctuary. Your summons are still
there."
Michael nodded again. "Alright."
The old woman turned first, space bending faintly around her as she
prepared to depart. Caelum followed a mont later, pausing just
long enough to glance at Michael once more.
"Co," he said. "We will talk once we are alone."
That was enough.
Michael exhaled quietly and stepped forward as the space around
them folded, the ruined field vanishing behind them as they returned
to the sanctuary.
Far from the ruined field, deep within the Elven Realm, a garden lay in
perfect stillness.
Pale stone paths curved gently between beds of glowing flowers that opened and closed with slow, breathing motions. Small creatures moved freely among the greenery. Feathered beasts no larger than cats perched on branches like ornants, their eyes bright and curious. Translucent insects drifted through the air like living glass, leaving faint trails of light behind them. The atmosphere was calm, cultivated, and old.
At the center of the garden stood a low pavilion of white wood and
living vines.
An elf sat there, relaxed, tea cup resting lightly between long fingers.
He was very handso. Silver-green hair fell loosely over his shoulders, untouched by age. His face was refined but unadorned, calm to the point of seeming distant. He wore simple robes, free of insignia, yet the space around him felt settled, as if the garden itself acknowledged his presence.
Across from him stood a young female elf, arms folded, expression
tight.
Aeloria.
"This was unnecessary," she said, irritation slipping through her composed tone. "You ended it without even asking ."
The elf took a slow sip of his tea, unhurried.
"Given ti," she continued, her brows knitting, "there was a real
possibility I would have won."
He lowered the cup and looked at her.
Just quietly.
For a mont, he said nothing. Then a helpless smile tugged at his
lips.
"Listen to yourself," he said.
Aeloria stiffened.
"You said possibility," he went on gently. "Not certainty." His gaze
stayed on her, steady and unyielding. "And this was soone in a lower realm than you."
She opened her mouth, then stopped.
"Even if you had won," he continued, "would it have been a victory you were proud of?"
Silence fell between them.
The garden creatures remained still, as if waiting.
Aeloria looked away.
The elf leaned back slightly, tea resting untouched in his hand. "And
since it was only a possibility for you," he added, "then it was also a possibility for him."
Her fingers tightened.
"The human from Aurora," he said calmly, "could have won as well."
Aeloria's lips pressed together.
She wanted to deny it.
But the mory surfaced unbidden. The pressure. The speed.
She fell quiet.
After a mont, she spoke again, slower now, confusion edging out frustration.
"How," she asked, "could soone like that exist?"
The elf smiled faintly, lifting his tea once more.
"That," he said, "is exactly why the fight had to end." "No one would think of his uniqueness imdiately and use it to attack your reputation. I do not want that."
Aeloria stood there in silence, the weight of his words settling slowly.
She understood now.
It had not only been about the fight itself. It had been about pride.
About face. About the weight carried by the na of the royal family. Ending the match when he did had spared more than just spectators' whispers. It had spared her from standing at the center of a comparison that would never fade.
And yet, the bitterness remained. Anyone who had eyes could see it.
Even if she had won, even if she had forced Michael back in a
spectacular clash, the truth would not change. She had stood in a higher realm, with a stronger foundation, a race blessed with countless advantages. And still, the outco had never been certain.
Which ant that, in so undeniable way, she had been inferior. The thought left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.
Her father watched her quietly, tea forgotten in his hand. When he
finally spoke, his voice was calm, unhurried.
"Do not crush yourself over this." Aeloria's eyes flickered toward him.
"You are the royal princess of the Elven Realm," he continued. "Your
position, your standing, your future are not shaken by a single encounter." His gaze softened slightly. "That child may be special. A holy child, as his people would call it. Such a status grants him opportunities and recognition."
He paused, then added, "But he will never replace you. He will never stand where you stand."
Aeloria clenched her fists at her sides.
"What matters," her father went on, "is not that soone like him
exists. It is that you do not allow yourself to be overtaken." His eyes t hers directly. "Use this as fuel. Grow stronger. Reach a point where such doubts do not even arise. If that youth doesn't die, you
might find yourselves again on a grander stage in less than two years. Make your victory spectacular then."
Only then, he finished silently, would their pride truly an sothing. Aeloria inhaled slowly.
The bitterness did not vanish, but it settled, reshaped into sothing
sharper.
Resolve.
She bowed her head once. Then her body blurred into a flash of green light, vanishing from the garden without another word.
Her father remained seated, tea cooling in his hand, gaze resting on the space she had left behind.
A few seconds later he sighed as he turned to stare at a particular
spot.
"Parenting is really hard isn't it, Dear? No one would imagine even a queen like you would run from it Haha." However he laughed was cut short as a punch landed in stomach as a
female laughter echoed at his sign of pain and helplessness on his
face.
In his heart he decided that he would never let his sons marry soone more powerful than them.
One could only imagine what could make a demigod think like this.
A/N: I did not want to make the progress feel dragged and leave
many readers unsatisfied so I made the two chapters a long one instead. Please vote to show support!
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