CHAPTER 117: COLISEUM

The coliseum pulsed with roaring excitement. Cheering voices filled the air, as if the very stones of the arena were trembling from the energy radiating through them. Today, the heart of the Empire beat here. People from every district of the capital and empire had gathered here nobles, commoners, travelers, and even outsiders from beyond the Empire’s borders all drawn by one event: the duel.

The reason? The public disgrace of a young man who had dared to challenge the pride, honour, and integrity of the prestigious Dragonwevr Duke household by slapping the heir and demanding a duel of honour. That act alone was enough to stain his name forever. For many, it was shameful... unforgivable.

Most of the spectators in attendance were fervent believers of the Church of Light. They had come with righteous fervor, eager to see the downfall of the "sinner" the one who dared defy Her Holiness, the Saintess To them, today was not a battle. It was a divine sentence being carried out. The Judgement Day

Others, fewer in number but sharper in interest, were here for a different reason. They wanted to see whether the Dragonwevr family would truly go so far as to extract the bloodline essence from a true direct Virelan. That possibility alone had caught the attention of political minds and silent observers alike.

Then there were those who came for simpler reasons: to see the shame of the Empire erased. Razeal, in their eyes, represented disgrace. And today, he would be erased.

But strangely enough, despite all their different motives, no one seemed to be here to witness an actual duel. That detail was almost forgotten. Whether drawn by religion, politics, vengeance, or curiosity every last person in the coliseum had come for one thing only:

To watch Razeal die.

They treated the event not as a fight between two equals, but as an execution. The outcome, in their minds, had already been decided.

"Has he arrived yet? He didn’t run away, did he?" someone murmured from the lower stands.

"I don’t think that’s possible," another replied. "You cant just walk away from a duel of honor especially not one involving a Duke household. They’d hunt you to the ends of the continent."

"They wouldn’t let him escape. That much is certain."

"No, you don’t get it. I Heard he’s been absent from the academy for five days straight. No one knows where he lives. No one has even seen him and all these days," said another voice, frustration in their tone as the delay dragged on.

"I would disagree," a man argued, shaking his head. "Just because you and us ordinary people don’t know where he is doesn’t mean no one does. The Duke families, the Imperial household even the Church they all definitely know where that shit is hiding."

"And if he had really fled or died, Do you think today’s duel still be going forward? Would all four Duke households have sent representatives here one even herself is present here tday? Even the Imperial Princess herself is present she personally announced her attendance as the official representative of the Imperial family."

He gestured upward, pointing toward four elevated viewing chambers, each positioned precisely at four corners of the circular coliseum. Each one bore the distinct banner of a Duke house, flanked by armored knights standing at attention.

Directly opposite the Imperial chamber flew the flag of the Empire, surrounded by an elite guard. The positioning of the chambers was no accident. Balanced, equidistant, and steeped in symbolism they marked the political gravity of this duel.

All around the arena, conversations buzzed. Nobles, adventurers, travelers, merchants, and commoners sat side by side, their voices overlapping in a chaotic yet strangely unified chorus. Speculation, gossip, and rumors filled the air.

Some whispered that Areon, the Dragonwevr heir, had been undergoing secret training, explaining his recent absence from the academy. But no one could understand why such a prodigious heir would need special preparation to face someone like Razeal. Still, the rumors persisted.

On other side

"He’s so late," Riven muttered, slouched in one corner of the arena stands. With both palms pressing against the sides of his face, elbows resting on his knees, he stared at the arena floor in a haze of theatrical boredom.

Then suddenly

Click. Click.

The sharp, deliberate sound of polished shoes stepping onto the arena floor cut through the hum of the crowd.

A figure had entered.

He wore a sharply tailored tuxedo-like suit. His long, royal purple hair was tied neatly behind his head, and a silver circlet rested across his brow. His every step radiated calm arrogance. He made no dramatic gestures. He simply walked toward the center of the arena, posture straight, expression unreadable.

And the crowd fell silent.

The silence grew so thick it pressed on the ears. The only sound was the crisp echo of his footsteps against the arena’s smooth stone floor.

Riven was the first to snap his gaze toward his eternal best friend and the moment he did, his hands slipped from beneath his chin, nearly sending him tumbling off his seat.

"Fuck... Creation God’s wife...wife.. What the actual fuck"

The curse slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it not that he cared. Even gods weren’t supposed to curse openly, but right now, none of that mattered.

All of his focus was locked on Razeal.

More specifically, on the glowing red numbers hovering above Razeal’s head.

35,636,076.

His pupils dilated. His mind froze.

Thirty-five million deaths?!

What in the absolute hell did this kid do?

When?! How?!

Who survives that?!

Just how much pain, how many resets, how many deaths could one soul endure?

Was he even mortal anymore?

Is he the actual son of the Creation God or something?!

Shock rippled through the usually bright and playful god. He blinked hard, forcing composure as he instinctively reached out with his divine senses searching for the threads of fate, the outcome of the match, something but...

Nothing.

A flicker of darkness clouded his divine sight, like an oil slick spreading across the lens of his power.

"What... is this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, stunned.

The all-seeing divine vision of a Preserver the very tool meant to pierce the veil of time and space blinded. Shut out.

No matter how many times he tried, the result wouldn’t appear. Only that roiling, moving darkness swallowing all insight.

The shock on the ever-so-cheerful god’s face was now unmistakable. Pure, speechless disbelief.

The dude seated beside him cast a weird glance his way, confused by his reaction but quickly dismissed it. Their eyes were still focused on the surprise unfolding in the arena below.

"He’s here..." someone whispered, almost involuntarily.

But before the crowd could react before the boos, the curses, or the shouts could erupt a voice rang out.

It was commanding, confident, not loud... just undeniable. And flawlessly professional.

"Ladies and gentlemen... please."

The words, spoken in impeccable Received Pronunciation, sliced clean through the tension like a scalpel through silk. The voice sounded young no older than fifteen or sixteen but carried with it a composure well beyond its years.

Then, a shimmer appeared above the center of the coliseum like a veil of heat distorting the air. A figure descended slowly from the sky. The crowd tilted their heads upward as a woman hovered high above the arena floor, framed against the sun.

She had silver-grey hair, cascading in soft waves, and clear grey eyes behind refined blue spectacles. Her dress was a simple, elegant blue, flowing to her ankles in a single unbroken line, the kind of quiet dignity that spoke louder than gold. A faintly glowing crest pulsed at her chest marking her as a neutral representative of the Imperial Arbitration Council.

"Silence."

The word left her lips gently but it struck like iron. Her voice was cool, articulate, and unwavering a scholar’s precision wrapped in quiet steel. Not loud, but every syllable carried clearly through the arena, the amplification crystalizing her tone into perfect resonance.

The crowd heard it not just in their ears, but in their bones.

"You will observe silence during all official proceedings. This is a sanctioned imperial duel of honour. You now stand in the presence of high nobility, duke representatives, ministers of state, and Her Imperial Highness herself. Interruption, insolence, or any display of uncouth behaviour shall be treated as contempt of court."

She turned slowly, surveying the vast terraces with the patience of a storm choosing not to break. Her gaze carried weight not anger, but understanding. She had sensed exactly what the crowd had been about to do.

"So, if I may... manners."

And the hush that followed was total.

Those who had opened their mouths to curse upon seeing Razeal on the arena floor found themselves falling silent. Their anger didn’t dissipate but they somehow just closed there mouths up.

The very air changed. Her presence made the stone walls of the coliseum feel like a cathedral.

Only then did she turn to the arena floor, where Razeal stood, quiet and still, as if ignoring the entire commotion.

"With both combatants present, we may proceed."

She adjusted her glasses with exacting care.

Though Areon had yet to appear on the arena floor, she knew. The Dragonwevr family was already seated in the upper chamber. His entrance, she understood, was only a matter of formality.

"Permit me to introduce myself. I am Selphira Kane, Magistrate of the Supreme Court of Imperial Justice, third rank, appointed under the Writ of Martial Procedure and authorised by the Honour Codex of Year 984."

"By decree of the High Council, with binding consent from the Duke Houses and the High Church, I have been selected to oversee this duel in the capacity of Referee and Legal Witness."

She paused, letting her presence settle across the arena

"As the appointed arbiter of this duel," she continued, her voice calm and precise, "I shall ensure the integrity of every motion the legality, the rules, the safety, and above all, the honour of the duel itself."

Her tone was plain, serious without embellishment, without the need for it.

Somewhere near the arena floor, a young man swallowed audibly.

"Woww, can’t believe she’s just a 17-year-old girl," one guy on the ground said, clearly feeling the weight of authority. The words she spoke carried power her presence was magnetic, like she could attract anyone and control them with a mere glance. "She definitely does deserves to be a low magistrate at Supreme Court," he added, wiping his forehead.

"What do you expect? She’s the granddaughter of the headmaster of Arkanveil Academy afterall, not to mention one of the greatest geniuses the Empire has ever seen," another voice chimed in. The young man’s eyes sparkled as he looked up, filled with admiration. "I believe she’ll be the greatest scholar of this generation."

"If this world respects power, she’s the type of person who can make you respect her, even if she were weak. It’s not just her intellect it’s the sheer weight of her scholarly knowledge," the guy continued, clearly in awe. "It’s said that she’s the best rune language expert in the entire Empire right now, a feat even the Imperial Highness herself has admitted."

Meanwhile, Selphira slowly descended to the arena floor, her feet touching the ground with all the grace of a falling feather. She came to a calm stop just before Razeal.

"Greetings," she said evenly, keeping her manners in check. Her gaze met his not aggressive, not deferential. Just... neutral. She was here as an arbiter, not a participant. And no matter what she thought of him personally, she would not allow herself bias.

Razeal didn’t return the courtesy.

"My opponent hasn’t even stepped into the arena," he said, hands in his pockets, voice cool. "And you’re already declaring yourself the overseer of the duel?"

Selphira paused not at the words, but at the tone. Rude. Needlessly so.

Still, her expression didn’t change. She refused to let one disrespectful duelist rattle her professional detachment.

Turning toward the far side of the arena platform, she frowned. Areon Dragonwevr had yet to appear.

Then, she raised her voice not louder, but clearer.

"Will the contender Areon Dragonwevr kindly present himself in the arena. Should he fail to appear within the next 28:26, the match shall be declared a victory in favor of the opposing party by default."

The crowd shifted, there gazes directly turning towards Dragonwevr vip stands.

Razeal glanced sidelong at her, studying the way she stood her posture exact, her expression unreadable. He gave the slightest nod to himself.

So I won’t be judged unfairly today... That’s something, at least.

Of course, he recognized her.

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2.1k words done!

Alright guys, I’m finally heading to sleep 😭😭 I stayed up all night just to finish two Chapters.

Sigh... Don’t forget to send powerstones and golden tickets, okay? 😭

Sigh... Maybe just one more Chapter.

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