"Cylien Najel Elaryon will face Alvara Freydis Teraquin." In an instant, the lively murmur of the crowd was silenced, replaced by a tense stillness. All eyes turned, flickering nervously between Cylien and Alvara. The significance of this match was not lost on anyone—two Elf Princesses from two of the most powerful Great Houses of Sancta Vedelia were about to face off in a battle that would undoubtedly be etched into the academy's annals.
I couldn't help but question the intent behind Gamir's choices. Was he deliberately setting the stage for this clash? After all, he was a Teraquin himself, and his loyalty to his House was no secret. Alvara was one of their most prominent figures, and Gamir knew that better than anyone. By pitting Alvara against Cylien, he was practically ensuring a Teraquin victory, tipping the scales in favor of his own lineage.
Not that Cylien wasn't a force to be reckoned with. On the contrary, she was incredibly strong in her own right. She wasn't nad a Main Heroine of the Second Ga for no reason. It was likely she had her own share of plot armor and perhaps a few tricks up her sleeve. But Alvara—Alvara was a different breed entirely. She was a Major Antagonist.
Doubt flickered in the eyes of those watching, but none more so than in the gaze of Dentiel Elaryon, Cylien's older brother. His expression was serious, his concern for his sister evident as he weighed the gravity of the situation. He stepped forward, his voice a bit tinged with protectiveness. "Cylien, if you wish, I can take your place, or perhaps soone else from our group could step in?"
Dentiel's eyes swept across the strongest mbers of his group. Sephira, Sirius, and Cain stood with him..
Sephira, however, was imdiately out of the question. She was known to have a particular weakness against Teraquins, making her an ill-suited candidate for this battle. That left Sirius and Cain. Sirius, though often perceived as lazy and unremarkable, was far from it—there was a quiet strength in him that I could sense, a latent power that could very well turn the tide in a fight against Alvara. Cain, too, had undergone a significant power boost recently, making him a capable opponent.
Yet, of them all, Dentiel seed the most likely to stand a chance. As a Third Year, his experience and skills were beyond those of his peers. If anyone could go toe-to-toe with Alvara, it was him.
But before he could make his case, Cylien shook her head. "No, elder brother. I were to run away from this match, I would not be worthy of the Elaryon House na."
Her words were worthy of a Princess and a Main Heroine too. "Besides," she added, a confident smile curving her lips, "I'm going to win."
Dentiel blinked, montarily taken aback by the certainty in his sister's voice. But then, his surprise lted into a proud smile. "I'll be looking forward to it, then."
"Good luck, Cylien," Sirius chid in to which Cylien nodded.
Sephira, on the other hand, wore a complicated expression. Her face had gone pale, and it was clear that she wanted to protest, to beg Cylien to reconsider. Sephira knew Alvara well, perhaps better than most, and the fear of what could happen to soone who supported her gnawed at her. But as she looked into Cylien's determined eyes, she swallowed her words, offering a hesitant but genuine smile instead. "Good luck…"
"Thanks, I appreciate it," Cylien said as she began to descend the stairs toward the battlefield.
But before she could take more than a few steps, her path was blocked by Rodolf, who stood tall before her, his expression unreadable.
Cylien let out a soft sigh. "Don't try to stop , Rodolf."
Rodolf chuckled, a warm, rich sound that echoed slightly in the tense atmosphere. A grin spread across his face. "I'd never stop anyone from fighting of their own volition. You know better than that, Cylien."
A soft smile tugged at Cylien's lips. "Yes."
"I'm just here to, well… wish you good luck," Rodolf continued, his voice dropping slightly as his usually confident deanor gave way to awkwardness. "Alvara is quite tough, so be careful, alright?"
Despite his efforts to sound casual, the concern in his voice was clear. He couldn't quite mask the worry that clouded his eyes, and though he tried to downplay it, anyone could see how much he cared for her well-being.
"Thank you," Cylien replied, her smile deepening with genuine warmth. Then, in a move that shocked everyone around, she leaned in and planted a light kiss on Rodolf's cheek.
"Huh?!" Rodolf froze, his eyes wide with surprise, a faint blush creeping up his neck. The sudden intimacy had caught him completely off guard, and it wasn't just him—everyone nearby was similarly stunned, including Dentiel, who was the first to react.
Cylien was not just any ordinary person—she was a Princess, an Elven Princess, one of the most noble and revered among their race. Her actions carried weight and significance, and for her to kiss a man, even if it was just a brief peck on the cheek, was an unprecedented display of affection. The fact that it was Rodolf, the Prince of the Moonfang House, who received this kiss was sowhat of a relief, but still, it stirred up all kinds of implications. After all, Cylien was expected to be engaged to an Elf, preserving the sanctity of her bloodline.
Dentiel didn't harbor any strong objections himself, but he knew well enough that their elder sister, Aerinwyn, would have a very different reaction to this. Aerinwyn, with her strict adherence to tradition, would undoubtedly view this as a breach of protocol, sothing that could not be easily overlooked.
"Ah, Uncle, stop embarrassing us already!" Roda, standing nearby with Victor, groaned in mortification, hiding her face in her hands as the scene unfolded before her.
"Cylien is so bold…" Celeste murmured, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she glanced over at .
Why are you looking at , Celes? Better to just ignore it and move on…
"R-Right?! I never knew Cylien had this side to her!" Alia chid in, her excitent barely contained as she nodded vigorously, her eyes wide with admiration.
"That guy is pathetic for reacting like this," John muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief at Rodolf's flustered reaction.
John, you're the last person I want to hear that from, I thought dryly. It wasn't that long ago when you were stuttering and stumbling over your words around Alia. He's gotten too cocky in the past few weeks since Alia beca his girlfriend.
***
anwhile, on the other side, Alvara's group was having a different kind of discussion, their concerns not rooted in the propriety of the situation, but rather in the strategic implications of the upcoming match.
"Should I go instead of Alvara?" Lykhor offered. He was convinced of Alvara's likely victory, but he was equally confident in his own abilities. If he fought instead, he was certain of his success.
"I–I could also go, sister!" Allen chid in, despite his own doubts. He had once been impulsive, ready to jump into any battle without a second thought, but ever since he had been crippled by a certain Half High Human, he had started to reassess his own strength, reconsidering his life and the choices he had made. Still, his loyalty to his sister was always there.
There were others in their group too, such as Selene and Percy Moonfang, but they seed disinterested. Selene wasn't even paying attention to the discussion, instead, she was off sowhere, likely hanging around Victor…
It was true—they had a large pool of strong contenders who could step in and face Cylien. On any other day, Alvara might have let Lykhor handle it. But today was different. Without saying a word in response to her group, Alvara began to descend the stairs. Her strapped sandals tapped softly against the steps.
As she passed, the spectators seated on either side instinctively leaned back, giving her a wide berth. Their eyes followed her, captivated by her surreal beauty, partially concealed beneath her elegant golden umbrella and also relinquished in the natural perfu emanating from her. They would likely never get this closer to her anymore after all.
With a single, graceful leap, Alvara landed in the stadium.
Cylien stood opposite Alvara on the battlefield, her brows knitted in mild confusion. The silence from Alvra was unexpected, unsettling even. She had braced herself for the usual cold, mocking cold words that Alvara was known for. After all, Cylien had crossed paths with Alvara many tis before, often stepping in to defend those who had suffered under Alvara's cruel hand—especially Sephira, who had endured the worst of it. But now, as they faced off in this mont, Alvara offered nothing but silence. It was almost as if Cylien's presence wasn't worth her ti
"I have waited for this day, Alvara," Cylien said. She drew her sword, a magnificent weapon crafted from erald gems and the sacred branches of the Holy Tree of Eden. Its surface shimred with a vibrant green light.
For Cylien, Alvara wasn't just another opponent; she was a rival that needed to be conquered. Both of them were Elves, both studying in the sa year, but their paths had diverged sharply. Cylien had always felt a burning desire to surpass Alvara, to prove her worth not just to herself but also to her elder sister, Aerinwyn, who held Alvara's strength in high regard. But as Cylien prepared herself, Alvara's reaction was one of utter disinterest. She slowly raised her gaze, her eyes—an eerie mix of green and gold—flickering with a detached coldness. There was no anger, no malice, not even the sharp, cutting sarcasm that Cylien had co to expect. Instead of engaging, Alvara's attention shifted to Gamir.
Gamir, standing on the sidelines, caught Alvara's glance and without hesitation, he raised his hand, signaling the start of the match.
"Start!"
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