"Then let’s pick up the pace," Rowan said, his eyes gleaming with a newfound thrill—one he had never tasted before.
Logan gave a polite nod. "Sure."
The air snapped with tension the mont their feet moved. What followed was no longer just a tournant match. It was sothing more—a collision of instincts, pride, and the desire to push beyond personal limits. A will to try sothing new. A will to uncover sothing unknown.
Boom! Crack! Whoosh!
Lightning clashed against swirling fire. Wind blades ripped through the dust. Every collision sent tremors across the arena floor, and with each blow, the very air seed to grow heavier—thicker, like the weight of unseen pressure hanging over the audience.
The cheers faded into stunned silence. What once felt like a tournant match now felt like the birth of sothing far more significant. So spectators covered their mouths. Others stood frozen, forgetting to breathe.
In the noble balcony, Alice leaned forward, hands clasped just under her chin. Her heart thundered, but her gaze stayed fixed and steady.
He’s holding on. No critical injuries... he is okay. He is still okay...
Mirena, however, was not nearly as composed.
Her fan twitched in her hand. Beside her, Darius’s jaw was clenched tight. The deeper the fight went, the more dread crept into their expressions. If Logan sohow pulled off another victory... then Darius’s entire future—his years of effort and ambition—would collapse under the weight of Logan’s shadow.
Behind them stood Ardyn Vex and Kael Thorne.
Ardyn’s arms were folded, his face unreadable, but his eyes followed Logan’s every move with precision. He was proud—Logan had earned both respect and recognition. But this battle...
It was different.
His years of experience, the instincts honed from countless battles, spoke to him with piercing clarity.
"Even if he uses all five affinities... it may not be enough."
Ardyn’s thoughts remained calm and analytical. Rowan’s foundation is too deep. Too controlled. He’s a Tier Three mage already. Logan may be talented... but he’s still just Tier One. The gap isn’t just big—it’s enormous.
On the Arena Stage
Logan continued to fight—relentless, unyielding. Rowan had begun shifting into a new rhythm, adapting with alarming speed.
A fiery arc soared toward Logan, followed imdiately by a lightning-laced thrust. Logan blocked with a reinforced air barrier, but the force was overwhelming. The shield cracked like glass, and he skidded backward across the ruined stone.
He stumbled, but didn’t fall.
Another exchange.
Lightning bolts rained from above. Logan retaliated with twin waves of compressed wind, countering the blast and leaping forward with a surge of speed. For a mont, he closed the gap—and Rowan smiled.
"He’s still pushing forward. No matter how much pressure I throw at him... he doesn’t stop. Good."
The audience started murmuring with newfound energy—stunned by the intensity, unable to tell who held the advantage anymore.
anwhile...
In the gallery, the betting corner roared back to life.
Shouts flew back and forth, along with coins and wild hand gestures.
"I told you! The prince would turn it around!"
"He didn’t win yet, you moron! Logan’s still standing!"
"Yeah, barely! Did you see that last hit? He flew like a sack of potatoes!"
Albert, the betting manager, scribbled notes at record speed. "Odds update! Odds update! Last call before the match ends!"
The tension in the crowd swirled like a storm. Eyes were locked on the stage, hearts pounding with every move.
In the Upper Balcony
Sitting beside the Smith family and her parents, Lilith Starwind watched quietly. Her arms were folded, chin resting on her knuckles. Her silver eyes followed every strike with growing curiosity.
"He really is amazing," she murmured. "Still, he seems close to his limit. Sha. I really wanted to fight him myself."
She paused, watching Logan get knocked back again by a spiraling arc of fire.
Back on the Stage
Rowan ducked under a streak of lightning and struck back with a sudden burst of wind-enhanced montum. His elbow slamd into Logan’s side, forcing him to slide across the broken tiles.
The match continued—blow after blow.
Each ti Logan rose, he fought like his life depended on it. His limbs were heavy. His breaths shallow. But he never backed down.
He gritted his teeth and surged forward again.
The ground cracked beneath his foot as he flew toward Rowan, his fist whirling with both lightning and air.
Then, just as he closed the distance, Logan activated his gravity manipulation—this ti, three tis stronger than before. He intended to finish the match with one final strike.
But Rowan was ready.
He had already adapted to Logan’s tricks.
The prince raised his hand and conjured a large fireball, hurling it toward Logan with impeccable timing.
Logan anticipated it. His left arm shot upward and launched a wind bomb at the incoming fireball. It didn’t completely neutralize it—but it slowed it just enough.
Enough for him to push through.
He closed the gap and unleashed everything he had. Air magic boosted his speed, lightning sparked across his knuckles, and gravity warped the air around him. Three affinities combined into his most powerful attack.
But what happened next stunned not just Logan—but everyone in the arena.
A bolt of lightning zapped from the ground—right beneath Logan’s path.
His montum broke. The attack halted mid-charge.
And before he could even recover—
Boom!
A fiery punch slamd squarely into his chest.
Logan tried to defend, but his guard faltered. The strike landed clean.
His body was launched across the battlefield, crashing into the far end with devastating force. Cracks split across the stone floor beneath him. Dust rose. Silence fell.
Not a single voice in the arena dared to speak.
Logan stirred... tried to push himself up... but collapsed again.
Then—
Ding!
The referee’s voice echoed through the silence.
"The winner of this match: Prince Rowan Hale!"
First ca a dreadful silence.
Then....
The stadium exploded in cheers.
Nobles erupted into applause. The crowd roared. Nas were chanted.
Rowan Hale!
Rowan Hale!
Even the guards on duty exchanged glances of disbelief.
Alice exhaled, trembling slightly but smiling in relief. Rudeous gave a single nod. Logan had lost—but he had brought more glory to the Smith Family than Rudeous had ever expected.
Mirena let her fan drop to her lap as her expression finally relaxed. Darius felt relieved as well.
Logan slowly pushed himself up with great effort, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, then bowed toward Rowan.
"Thank you for the match, Prince. It was a valuable learning session for ."
He turned and marched slowly toward the upper balcony.
The crowd erupted once more, this ti for him.
He had lost, but he had earned sothing greater.
Respect.
"Well done, kid!"
"Yeah! You were fabulous! Don’t lose hope—you’ll be the champion next ti!"
What Logan had achieved was nothing short of incredible. To stand against a Tier Three opponent and fight like an equal—no one could look down on that.
Logan nodded politely to the cheering nobles and spectators.
But one person stood frozen on the stage.
Rowan Hale.
He stared at his own fist, still crackling faintly with fire. His gaze was distant—dazed.
Later – In The Noble Balcony
As Logan returned, nobles offered respectful nods. So clapped as he passed.
"He lost, but that was incredible..."
"No Tier One should be able to push Rowan like that."
"He’ll still go down as one of the strongest."
Above the arena, the magical panels flickered once again:
Final Match: Prince Rowan Hale vs. Lilith Starwind
Match begins after the lunch break.
The crowd buzzed with excitent.
The mont had arrived—to see who would be crowned the champion of Arcadia.
Back in the Corridor
"Let’s go and have sothing to eat, honey," Alice said warmly, holding Logan’s hand. "You fought well and made us proud. And more importantly, you ca back in one piece this ti."
The entire Smith family was relieved—even Mirena and Darius. Their reasons, however, were quite different.
The Starwind couple also congratulated Logan.
Lilith said nothing. She wasn’t particularly familiar with Logan. And though she had wanted to fight him, she still felt it beneath her pride to start the conversation.
The crowd began to thin as everyone moved toward private lounges and rest areas.
Logan stepped into the corridor alongside his family and the Starwinds. Lilith was tagging along, her expression calm.
Then, suddenly—
"Logan."
Everyone turned.
Rowan stood at the far end of the hallway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.
"Can I talk to you for a mont?"
The nobles all bowed politely. Though Rowan was junior to many in age, he was still a prince.
Logan blinked, surprised. "Sure."
The two stepped away from the crowd into a quiet side corridor lined with softly glowing mana lanterns. The roar of the arena was left behind.
For a few seconds, there was only silence.
Then Rowan asked—without anger, without sarcasm—just quiet certainty:
"...Why did you lose willingly?"
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