"...The condition is," Emily said with a sly smile, "you tell the full truth."
Logan blinked. "The full truth about what?"
Emily’s gaze sharpened, and the light-hearted tone vanished. "About your strength. I know you’re holding back—and not just a little. The way your spells moved, your control, your instincts—those aren’t things a Tier 1 child with two affinities should possess."
Logan hesitated.
Emily folded her arms. "I’m not asking as a noble. Or even as a healer. I’m asking because if I’m going to help you, I need to know what I’m dealing with. No more masks."
A long silence stretched between them.
Finally, Logan sighed. "Alright. But you can’t tell anyone. Maybe only your husband. But make sure you both tell no one else."
Emily nodded. "Sure. You have my word."
Logan glanced at the door, then back at her. "I don’t have just two affinities."
"I figured," Emily muttered. "How many?"
"...Five."
Emily’s eyes widened slightly. "Five?"
"Lightning, fire, air, gravity... and water."
A beat of silence. The air around them felt heavier.
"My mana core was ford when I was only five. But many feared my potential and had my mana core sealed up. But once it was unsealed, five elentals awakened. My family wanted to keep it hidden—so for their own benefit, and so to avoid unwanted enemies."
Emily stared at him, then let out a soft breath. "No wonder you gave such a different vibe. Though I couldn’t clearly put it in place, I had a hunch that you were no ordinary kid for sure. But five elentals???"
"I didn’t want too much attention. And Lady Mirena doesn’t want it either," Logan added bitterly. "But it seems fate had other plans."
Emily stepped forward again, her tone shifting to clinical professionalism. "Alright. Sit still. Let’s fix that mana problem of yours."
She placed her hands over Logan’s chest. A golden healing rune spun into existence beneath her palms. But this ti, it wasn’t just for injuries—it was diagnostic.
"...There it is," she said after a mont. "A tiny residue. Very subtle, but nasty. It’s laced with Tranquilin Dust and layered with a suppression glyph. Clever."
"Can you remove it?" Logan asked.
Emily smiled. "Easily. Watch."
A silver-green aura enveloped her hands as she began to extract the lingering poison. Logan felt a strange warmth crawl through his veins—like shackles unbinding.
A mont later, the spell ended. The room cald.
"Try channeling mana now," she instructed.
Logan closed his eyes. A breath. Then—crackle—air shimred around him. Lightning curled up his arm. He opened his palm, and a gentle fla flickered there before vanishing.
"...It’s back," he said quietly.
Emily stepped back, visibly impressed. "Good control. Now show the truth." She said with clear excitent and anticipation.
Logan didn’t hesitate.
He raised his hand again—this ti summoning thin currents of air, a ripple of water, a trace of gravity shifting the light around them. Five elental signatures danced in harmony.
Emily took a step back. "That’s... insane."
"I trained myself to keep them hidden. Only used two during matches. I didn’t want to draw attention."
"Well," Emily muttered, "too late for that."
Before Logan could respond, a knock sounded at the door. A healer poked his head in.
"Lady Starwind, the final match of the day is about to begin. Would you like to return to the balcony?"
Emily nodded, then turned to Logan. "Rest here. Don’t try anything reckless yet. You’ll need every drop of strength tomorrow."
She paused at the doorway. "But thank you... for trusting ."
Logan offered a faint smile. "Thanks for believing ."
Back at the Arena – Final Match of the Day
The sun dipped low over Arcadia’s great stadium, painting golden streaks across the final battleground. The crowd leaned forward eagerly. The announcer’s voice rang out:
"Match Eight—Second Round! Arven Skell of the Chainbound Sect versus Jerrik Vale!"
The crowd stirred with interest.
On one end stood Arven Skell, clad in dark robes and a sleeveless combat tunic. His weapon—a long, enchanted combat chain—coiled like a serpent around his waist, gleaming with wind-etched runes. Each link pulsed faintly with mana.
Opposite him was Jerrik Vale, lean and poised, with two curved windsteel blades strapped to his hips. His stance was loose, almost lazy—until he moved.
Clang!
The match began in a flash.
Jerrik burst forward, blades twirling like a storm. Each slash curved in elegant arcs—fluid, rhythmic, graceful like a dancer. He spun, flipped, and sliced through the air with precision.
But Arven didn’t flinch.
With a flick of his wrist, the chain uncoiled.
Whoosh!
The steel links flew like a serpent—arcing through the air with brutal montum. Wind magic guided each segnt, letting him redirect it mid-flight. It danced like a whip and struck like a spear.
Jerrik deflected, weaved, and retaliated with stunning grace. Their battle beca an aerial waltz—chain clashing against blades, bursts of wind colliding in sharp blasts.
From the betting corner:
"That Vale boy is fast."
"But Arven’s control... look at how he redirects the chain—without touching it. Pure wind mastery."
"Ten silvers on Jerrik!"
"You’re insane. Arven’s gonna choke him out."
Back on the field, the pace intensified.
Jerrik tried a cross-slash—but Arven ducked low, swept the chain around his leg, and yanked.
Jerrik stumbled.
In the sa motion, Arven leapt, the chain coiling around his arm like a living thing. He spun it overhead—then slamd it down.
CRASH.
The impact cracked the stone beneath Jerrik’s feet. A gust of wind exploded outward, sending dust across the arena.
When it cleared, Jerrik was on the ground—his blades flung from his grasp.
"Winner—Arven Skell of the Chainbound Sect!"
The crowd erupted in applause.
It wasn’t as shocking as Logan’s match—but the precision, power, and creativity displayed by both combatants earned respect.
In the noble stands, Noah Starwind clapped politely, then turned as Emily returned to her seat.
He leaned in slightly. "So? How did it go?"
Emily didn’t respond at first.
Then a soft smile curved her lips. "I found sothing... interesting."
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