The arena should have cald after Donovan’s disqualification, but it didn’t.
If anything, the atmosphere beca more volatile.
The spectators were not watching a trial anymore. They were watching a powder keg.
And Donovan Young had just thrown another torch onto it.
The Drevlorn noble stood among his companions near the edge of the arena floor.
The swelling on his chiseled face had not faded. Neither had the humiliation.
The crowd continued to boo him whenever his na was ntioned.
Candidates openly mocked him.
Even so instructors looked at him with disappointnt.
To Donovan, it felt unbearable.
He had arrived in Bentram expecting admiration, respect, and fear.
Instead, he had beco a laughingstock, and he hated every second of it.
His eyes drifted across the arena, thousands of faces, thousands of people who believed they had the right to judge him.
The thought disgusted him. Then his gaze found Thane.
The giant was laughing about sothing with Sky and Rimon.
The crowd loved him, the judges watched him, and the principals spoke about him.
Everywhere Donovan looked, he saw Thane.
An unknown hero, an erging champion, and a symbol.
The sight only deepened his resentnt.
Finally, Donovan laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. It was sharp and bitter.
The kind of laugh people made when they had already decided to burn bridges.
Several nearby candidates looked toward him, and the arena gradually quieted.
People sensed sothing was coming.
Donovan spread his arms. "Interesting."
His voice carried surprisingly far. "Very interesting."
The spectators began murmuring.
The Drevlorn noble smiled. "You people are clever."
A few instructors frowned. Donovan pointed toward the judges. "Very clever."
His gaze swept over the administration platform. "You conveniently place against Etno."
His smile widened. "Why?"
The answer ca before anyone could speak. "Because you are afraid."
The crowd imdiately reacted. Boos erupted.
Yet Donovan continued. "Afraid your mighty Thane might lose."
The giant blinked. "Huh?"
The crowd ignored him.
Donovan laughed again. "You have all convinced yourselves he’s special."
He pointed directly at Thane. "Yet the mont real competition arrives, suddenly the brackets change."
His gaze moved toward Etno, then back toward the judges. "What a coincidence."
The arena’s mood darkened. Even so foreign guests shifted uncomfortably.
Because Donovan was not rely insulting a candidate anymore.
He was accusing the entire trial of favoritism, and he wasn’t finished, not even close.
His voice rose. "That has always been Bentram’s problem."
The crowd quieted, dangerously quiet.
The kind of silence that precedes violence.
"You lack strength."
Donovan’s smile stopped as he shrugged. "So you compensate."
The smile returned. "Tricks, innovations, machines, gadgets, and all the worldly clever little tools."
The words dripped with contempt. "But power?"
He laughed. "You’ve never had much of that."
The crowd exploded. Thousands imdiately began shouting.
Candidates surged to their feet as nobles cursed openly. Several instructors clenched their fists.
Yet Donovan continued speaking, because at this point he no longer cared. There was no turning point now.
The humiliation had broken whatever caution remained.
"And perhaps that explains your history," he said.
The arena slowly fell into pin-drop silence.
The sort that made even Donovan’s companions nervous.
One of them tugged his sleeve. "Don, stop now."
Donovan ignored him and continued. "Perhaps that’s why your kingdom spent generations begging stronger nations for peace."
A pause.
Then the final blow.
"Perhaps that’s why your king had to beg for truces."
Silence.
Eyes widened. Hearts raced. Anger surged.
One second. Two seconds. And just when the third second ended—
Then the entire arena erupted. People rose from their seats.
Not dozens, but hundreds. So spectators vaulted barriers.
Several candidates rushed toward the Drevlorn delegation.
Shouting filled the stadium. A chair flew through the air.
Soone threw a boot. Another threw both boots.
One elderly noble actually attempted to climb over a railing.
The guards imdiately moved. Academy instructors descended onto the field. The trial had completely lost control.
Sky stared. "Did he really say that?"
Rimon nodded. "I think he wants to die."
Even Thane looked shocked. "Can you get disqualified twice?" The giant genuinely wanted to know.
No one answered, because chaos was spreading.
Bentram candidates confronted Drevlorn candidates.
Argunts beca shoving matches, and shoving turned into fights.
Several referees began separating groups. The few delegates of Drevlorn were facing a mob attack.
The trial was seconds away from collapsing, then a voice spoke.
Not loudly, nor angrily. Yet sohow everyone heard it.
"Stop this madness."
The words cut through the noise like a blade.
The arena gradually quieted. Heads turned and eyes lifted.
Thane recognized the voice. He had heard such a loud yell before during the yearly aspirant tournant. It belonged to Principal Zoases.
The Principal of Golden Crown Academy, the highest-ranked academy in the kingdom.
He calmly folded his hands behind his back. Five black lines marked his face.
The old man looked neither angry nor amused.
That frightened people more. When powerful n shouted, their emotions were obvious.
When they spoke softly, one had to wonder what they were truly thinking.
Zoases looked toward Donovan, then toward Thane, and then toward the judges. "If the young lord believes the trial protects Bentram’s candidates..."
His voice remained calm. "...then let us remove all doubt."
The arena listened. Every person, candidate, and judge.
The old principal pointed toward the arena floor. "Change the pairings."
The judges blinked, and murmurs spread.
Zoases continued. "Thane has two battles remaining."
His gaze settled on the giant. "Assign those battles."
A pause before he continued. "To Etno Kamsi and Donovan Young."
The stadium froze. Even the wind seed to stop.
Then another figure stood.
Athenok, the principal of Blue Leaf Academy. The third-highest-ranked academy in Bentram.
Blue robes flowed behind him, his expression stern. "I support the proposal."
His voice bood across the arena. "If strength is the issue..."
The middle-aged man smiled. "Then let strength answer."
The crowd exploded, this ti with excitent.
Candidates began shouting. Spectators roared.
Everyone suddenly forgot the earlier chaos, because now they wanted to see it. They needed to see it.
The giant. The swordsman.
The noble. The three nas dominating the examination.
anwhile, Etno remained silent. Several people looked toward him.
Waiting. Expecting. Demanding.
The Krynovan swordsman simply folded his arms.
His expression revealed nothing. This wasn’t his kingdom. This wasn’t his dispute either.
He would not beco a political weapon, not for Bentram, nor for Drevlorn.
So he said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Only watching. Calculating. Waiting.
The judges argued for nearly ten minutes, so furious.
Others supported the idea imdiately. The rules had already changed repeatedly. Now they would change again?
Veteran instructors shook their heads. This was unprecedented. Nothing remotely similar had happened in decades. Perhaps never, historically.
Eventually, however, a decision erged. The proposal passed.
The pairings would be changed. Officially, legally, and imdiately.
The announcent had barely finished when a massive figure began walking toward the arena.
No permission, no invitation, no official call, just confidence and eagerness.
It was Thane. The giant stepped forward with a grin so wide it looked painful.
"Finally!" His voice echoed across the arena.
The crowd laughed. He had already beco their favorite.
Rimon buried his face in his hands. Sky looked ready to disown him.
Thane pointed toward the battle area. "Where should I stand?"
He asked, as the normal positions were already occupied by Etno and Donovan, and neither had yet left the arena.
Nobody answered quickly enough. So he pointed toward another spot. "There?"
Still nothing. He pointed again. "Or there?"
Everyone was still struggling to find a reason why he was so impatient.
The giant shrugged when no response was given, then walked directly into the center of the arena, standing between Etno and Donovan.
Thousands watched, amused, confused, and entertained.
Thane spread his arms. "Who am I fighting first?"
His eyes looked at Etno. "The sword guy?"
Then another direction. "Or him, whose family na is infant? No. Wait... it was sothing else. Old. No... young! Yes, young."
The arena erupted with laughter. Even so referees failed to hide their smiles.
They thought Thane was intentionally mocking the man from Drevlorn, but unbeknownst to them, Thane was just acting as Thane.
In the crowd full of cackles, only Donovan wasn’t laughing.
The Drevlorn noble stared at the giant, hatred burning in his eyes.
Yet Thane remained blissfully unaware. The giant simply grinned. He had finally gotten the chance to beat the arrogance out of soone.
Because while everyone else saw politics, kingdoms, pride, and consequences...
Thane saw only one thing...
A chance to beat a bad guy. And in his mind, that was a very good day.
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