CHAPTER 124: THE DUEL OF HONOUR SHALL NOW BEGIN OFFICIALLY

Selena finished giving her seventh-ranked blessings to Sylva, her glowing hands hovering for a moment before she drew them back. The light clung to her skin like mist, dimming with every inch she retreated until it was gone completely.

She stood still, head bowed, silence pressing around her like a weight. Guilt or something dangerously close to it lingered in her expression. She felt she had done something wrong. But what else could she have done? She could not go against her father Right?

Sylva flexed her fingers, eyeing the faint, nearly invisible gold shimmer clinging to her hand. It was such a low light. Her lips curled into a sharp, irritated line.

Tch... what a bother.

The Crux of Suffering blessing yes, she could understand that. But healing? Really? Did the saintess forget that the Faerelith family was the strongest in the Empire second only to Luminus and the Church when it came to healing?

No. She didn’t forget. She knew. Which meant she’d done this intentionally. That this so-called "Blessing" wouldn’t matter to her in the slightest.

With the faintest sidelong glance, Sylva studied Selena still standing there, head lowered, looking almost ashamed. So protective over that boy... she thought, her curiosity sharpening. But she kept her observations to herself.

"Alright, preparations are complete. Shall I officially begin the duel?" Selphira’s voice rang out over the arena, cutting through the tension.

"Yes."

Sylva and Razeal spoke almost at the same time, though Razeal’s voice carried an edge of impatience.

"Magnificent~" Selphira’s lips curved in satisfaction. At last, the duel could begin. So many unnecessary delays... But just as her relief began to settle

"Wait."

The single word was quiet, almost fragile. It came from Selena.

What now? A collective groan rippled through the onlookers. Arabella sighed. Nancy sighed. Even Razeal himself exhaled, long and heavy with irritation.

A dark vein threatened to surface on Selphira’s temple, but she swallowed it down, forcing her composure to hold. She turned, her referee’s smile locked in place.

"It is not permitted, Saintess," Selphira said with a professional calm. "Only the participants may decide to halt a duel. As the appointed and honorable referee, I cannot allow outside interference, and.."

She didn’t get to finish. Selena moved past her, past Sylva, still with her head bowed, her voice silent but her presence cutting through the air like a she doesn’t care.

Sylva’s eyes followed her. What happened to her now?

But as her gaze tracked the Saintess’s path, a quiet "Ohh..." slipped from her lips, her curiosity sharpening into that delicious, drama-loving interest only teenagers seemed to master.

Selena walked with measured, heavy steps until she stood directly in front of Razeal. She did not look up. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ground, as though even meeting his eyes would cost her something.

Razeal’s irritation was immediate, his expression tightening like a man confronted by an unwelcome ghost. What does she want now? To mess with me?Annoyed beyond reason, Razeal started to step aside, wanting nothing more than to avoid her entirely. But the moment he moved, Selena mirrored him side stepping just enough to block his way again.

Almost losing it, Razeal turned toward Selphira, not even wanting to look at Selena, let alone exchange words with her.

"I am being delayed. Or interfered with," he said, his voice cold, stripped of patience. "Handle this."

Selphira’s sighed at this.

"Saintess, please.. what are you?" Selphira’s voice faltered.

Selphira hesitated, unsure how to proceed. She couldn’t just call out the Sainteess in front of everyone... could she? Her gaze swept the arena, taking in the sea of thousands watching from the stands. If she said the wrong thing anything that could be taken as disrespect it was impossible to tell how the crowd would react. In the worst case, they might rush the stage and tear the duel apart.

Selena, for her part, didn’t acknowledge the hesitation at all. She simply stepped forward, silent, and raised her hand slow, tentative as if to touch Razeal’s.

Razeal recoiled instantly, taking a deliberate step back.

His eyes narrowed, as though her outstretched hand were something filthy.

Selena’s fingers hung in the air for a heartbeat longer before curling back toward herself. She exhaled, deep and shaky, gathering every scrap of composure she had left. Slowly, she lifted her chin again.

"...Let me bless you," she said barely more than a whisper. The words were careful, controlled, almost tender. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even though every instinct screamed to look away. Her voice softened into something kind, her lips shaping the gentlest smile she could manage.

Selphira froze at the sound of Selena’s tone.

"...Huh?" she muttered under her breath.

Arabella’s eyes narrowed, studying her.

Nancy and Sylva exchanged glances and both wore the same expression: wide-eyed, almost girlish curiosity.

"Ew. No." Razeal’s reply came sharp and immediate

"Why not? I’m not here to hurt you. It would only help." Selena’s voice trembled faintly due to his tone, though she fought to keep it steady. "Please... just let me do this."

Her hands, now hidden behind her back, twitched small, nervous spasms betraying her desperation. Razeal didn’t care. His expression stayed utterly cold, those flat eyes locked on her without an ounce of warmth.

"There’s no reason," he said, tone clipped. "I just don’t take anything from people like... snakes."

The insult landed with precision.

Selena’s breath caught, but she pushed forward.

"I beg you... I won’t ask for anything else. Just let me help.. Just this once or i might not able to take this." Her voice cracked at the edges as she clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture. Her knuckles whitened from the pressure, her fingers trembling uncontrollably. She could feel tears building hot and heavy until they slipped free, tracing uneven paths down her cheeks. Still, she kept looking at him, even as her pupils shook and her body trembled.

Razeal regarded her for a long moment. His gaze traveled over her tear-streaked face, and then... he sighed.

"You know what..." he began.

Selena’s heart lurched. Finally.. finally a reaction. For the first time, his cold indifference broke, and he was looking at her.

"Yes?" she breathed, hope sparking in her eyes.

Her mind raced. Was he going to ask why she had done it? Demand an explanation? Give her a chance to apologize? Maybe just maybe even ask to end the duel? A thousand possibilities tumbled through her thoughts in the space of a heartbeat. She readied herself for anything.

Selena leaned forward, every muscle tense.

"Go fuck yourself. Traitor."

The words hit harder than any blade. Selena’s face slackened, and for a moment it was as if her soul had been yanked out of her body.

"I... I just wanted wait... t-trai...tor?" she stammered, the word catching in her throat like a shard of glass. Her knees wobbled, her chest constricting in panic.

Her lips trembled, her eyes wide but no coherent words would come. Her body’s reaction was faster than her mind’s, a complete breakdown of composure.

"Ouch," Sylva murmured, wincing at the sheer cruelty of it.

"Please, Sainteess... you mustn’t disturb the duel."

Selphira’s voice was firm, but beneath it she felt the pressure mounting. The drama unfolding before her was already dangerous; if she let it continue, the situation could spiral beyond her control. The wisest move was to remove Selena before the tension snapped.

But Selena didn’t respond. She stood motionless, tears spilling silently down her cheeks, eyes fixed somewhere far away.

Selphira’s expression tightened. She glanced at Arabella, who was watching the exchange with an expression that could only be described as... entertained.

Yet even Arabella seemed to acknowledge that this had crossed into disruption. With a languid grace, she tilted her head toward Nancy. "Escort Sainteess to safety," she murmured, her tone smooth but laced with a subtle, knowing smile. "Its time for prayers."

"Yes, Mother." Nancy didn’t hesitate. She crossed the arena floor with quiet urgency, coming to stand beside Selena.

But Selena was rooted in place, as if her feet had sunk into stone. Her body was still, her mind still replaying the moment the rejection, the coldness, the word traitor.

Nancy reached out, gently taking her hand. "Come," she said softly, guiding her away.

Selena allowed herself to be led, her steps slow and mechanical. Her face was hollow, expressionless, her mind spiraling around one bitter thought: He rejected me again... Even when I begged him.

The Sainteess was gone from the arena. Arabella followed soon after, leaving only Sylva and Areon standing at opposite ends, and Selphira positioned between them like a pillar holding the structure of order in place.

Razeal hadn’t reacted at all. No shift of expression, no flicker of interest.

The crowd, however, seethed. Eyes burned with killing intent; some spectators surged forward in rage, only to be restrained by others. None of them truly knew what had been said, but the sight of their Sainteess leaving in tears was enough to set their blood boiling.

They wanted his head.

They wanted to drink his blood.

But reason and the heavy presence of Knights held them back. Attacking now would accomplish nothing but chaos maybe even make death of this disgusting thing late. No... they would remember this. They would find another time, another way, to make him pay for what he had done to her.

For now, they prayed. Thousands of voices, low and fervent, murmured blessings for their Sainteess’s well-being. The stadium took on the feel of a crude, improvised temple a cheap, trembling parody of sacred devotion.

Selphira, steady as ever, lifted her voice. "Both sides are prepared." Her tone carried the weight of discipline and the authority of ritual. "The Duel of Honour shall now begin officially."

She drew in a breath, her voice sharpening like a blade. "Representing House Dragonwevr heir Areon Dragonwevr, Heiress of the Faerelith House of Spirits, Crowned Princess of the Sacred Spirit Forest of Sylvasyl Her Lady Sylva Faerelith."

She extended her hand toward the right side of the arena. Sylva, standing there, rolled her eyes at the grandeur of the introduction, though the crowd roared with excitement.

Turning to the other side, Selphira continued, "Facing her by rules of the Honour Duel an independent combatant of no listed house or order... Razeal."

Her arm lowered toward him.

Laughter and murmurs rippled through the stands. No titles, no grand lineage even anymore. Just Razeal.

The son of strongest duke family being lineageless.

He gave no reaction, save for a slight roll of his eyes.

"Let it be noted," Selphira’s voice cut through the noise, "all duelists stand under the sacred laws and regulations of the Duel of Honour, and will be judged by them alone."

She paused, letting the silence hang heavy.

"This duel shall proceed until surrender, disarmament, or incapacitation. Death is not required, but is permitted under the Code of Full Rite."

Her eyes moved between the two combatants. Neither showed any visible reaction.

"Contestants," Selphira began, "as is the custom of the Duel of Honor, you are invited to greet one another with a handshake a gesture offered not to the person, but to the principles of respect, courage, and fair contest that this arena upholds."

Selphira’s voice carried across the arena, her gaze fixed pointedly on Sylva.

Sylva didn’t move. She stood perfectly still, chin slightly lifted, emerald eyes cold and unblinking.

"No," she said, without the faintest hesitation.

No matter the ceremony, no matter tradition there was no way she would clasp hands with him. Respect? For what? She felt none, and she wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.

The crowd murmured and laughed at the blunt refusal.

Selphira faltered for a fraction of a second, her lips pressing into a thin line. She gave Sylva the chance to explain, but none came. Turning, she met Razeal’s gaze, but his expression was unreadable, neither offended nor eager.

Rules were rules. The Duel of Honor allowed a combatant to decline the gesture it was customary, not mandatory. Selphira could not force it. She let it go, though the tension it left in the air was almost audible.

From where he stood, Razeal gave Sylva a flat look. Not that I wanted to shake hands, he thought, shaking his head faintly. Just screwing with her.

Selphira’s voice rang out again, steadier now, cutting through the hush:

"By the will of the Empire, and the Law of Honor I, Selphira Kane, appointed to oversee this duel as Referee and Legal Witness declare this duel... commenced!"

Her final word rose like the crack of a whip. She floated up and back, taking a vantage point at the arena’s edge where she could see every movement.

The coliseum seemed to hold its breath. Spectators leaned forward, the air charged and sharp, as every stray murmur fell away.

In the center, Razeal and Sylva faced one another, silent.

"You forgot your armor or weapons," Sylva said first, her voice smooth and dripping with disdain. She flicked her vivid green hair over her shoulder in one effortless motion, her eyes narrowing in mock concern. "Aren’t you being a little disrespectful toward me?"

Razeal’s mouth curved faintly. "I could say the same." His gaze swept over her, noting the form-fitting green dress no armor, no visible weaponry.

She arched a brow. "Oh? Me?" Her lips parted in a slow smile. "I am Sylva Faerelith." She said it as though the name itself was a complete explanation. Pride radiated from every syllable, her tone a quiet proclamation of invincibility.

Razeal didn’t reply. Instead, he cracked his neck, a faint pop echoing in the still air, shifting into readiness.

Seeing his lack of reaction, Sylva raised an eyebrow. "You look confident."

But before Razeal could respond, a voice rang inside Sylva’s head.

[Don’t waste time. I promised the Faerelith family I’d help them with the Eighth-Rank Fire Spirit. You know what to do..... And also remember don’t kill him. DONT] Arabella’s voice rang in Sylva’s mind, reminding her of her agreement with her mother.

Sylva narrowed her eyes but didn’t answer. She did, however, glance toward Razeal with a flicker of understanding.

"Apologies," she said aloud, almost idly, turning her gaze fully on Razeal. "It seems I won’t be able to entertain you for long after all."

The instant their eyes met, the ground behind her split open.

A massive vine, as thick as a grown man’s torso, erupted upward with the force of a launched spear, its surface gleaming with fresh sap. It whipped toward Razeal’s face at bullet speed, the strike so sudden and violent that dust swirled in its wake.

Sylva was certain it would be enough. One hit and her job done.

As for arabella’s hint about "torturing him" hadn’t interested her such cruelty was beneath her. Just a disgusting thing to do to someone weaker than her, even if he was a disgusting kind of person. She didn’t care about that, unless it was directed at her or her people.

Sylva’s massive, twisting green strike tore through the air with a violent whip-crack, the sound alone sharp enough to make the front row flinch. Dust trailed in its wake, the sheer velocity compressing the air around it until it sang with a low, murderous hum.

She watched intently, curious to see how Razeal would handle this.

Will he dodge? she thought, amused at the idea of him trying to leap aside from something moving this fast.

But instead of moving, Razeal stood perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the massive vine whipping toward him. Rather than stepping back or avoiding it, he raised his right hand, index finger poised over his thumb in a flicking gesture.

What is he doing? Is he... planning to take it head-on?

It was madness. She could sense no mana from him, no aura, no trace of any reinforcing spell. That meant he intended to face it with nothing but his physical body. And that flicking posture was he trying to act cool?

High above, Silphira drifted in the air, adjusting her glasses. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on every micro-movement.

Will he use the killing intent different application like this ine before? That must be it... if he’s developed something new. That could be the only reason he accepted this already-won duel for himself and why he looks so confident and unbothered.

The crowd, however, saw it differently. Most believed Razeal was about to be flattened by Sylva.

But then he moved.

The vine, thick as a pillar and moving with brutal speed, closed the last meters toward him. Just before it struck, his finger flicked it.

"Tectonic Kinetic Flick," Razeal whispered, a faint smirk curling his lips.

And

BOOOOM.

The sound ripped through the arena.

An invisible force slammed into the vine, launching it back the way it had come at hundreds of times its original speed. It thrashed violently, its flexibility the only thing keeping it from snapping in two. but its flexibility only made it more dangerous like a serpent flung into a frenzy.

The ground beneath Razeal blasted with a sharp cracks. A shockwave erupted outward, visible and deafening, tearing through the arena floor. Stone shattered. The once-smooth stage crumbled to rubble, fractures spider-webbing to the very edges as the invisible force rippled outward, pulverizing everything in its path.

Sylva’s eyes shone suddenly as put hand before her eyes as coming strong wind. "Ohhh... this might not be boring after all." She said with a grin, voice barely audible over the roar. An intrigued smile touched her lips as the shockwave’s wind lashed her hair back. She stood firm, unshaken, but glanced down at the wreckage under her feet.

"Cool," she whistled softly.

But the wave didn’t stop at the arena’s edge.

It slammed into the spectator stands, rattling seats, scattering dust, sending people stumbling into each other.

And the vine...

The vine Razeal had struck was no longer Sylva’s weapon it was a missile.

"Oh... no." And this vine now was hurtling toward the crowd like a green missile.

She moved.

One moment she was high above, the next she was in front of it appearing between the vine and the terrified spectators. No hesitation. No wasted motion.

"Halt."

Her hand came up, fingers open, calm eyes locked on the strike. She had done this a hundred times before. She knew she could take the hit.

The vine connected.

BAAAAAAM!

The sound was like a cannon blast.

Her body was ripped from the air, flung backwards with brutal force. She slammed into the lower coliseum wall, stone splintering on impact, debris tumbling into the seats below.

Her glasses split, one lens cracked into a spiderweb of glass.

The world around her was still shaking.

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3.2K words

Hey guys, first of all, apologies for being late. I had a family emergency and wasn’t able to update. I did try writing, but only got halfway about 1,600 words or so and it’s still unedited. I didn’t want to miss the daily update and my monthly bonus because of it, so I went ahead and uploaded the Chapter to Privlage. Really sorry about this, but I think everyone understands that emergencies happen.

Also, a huge shoutout to our big supporter Yuri_IsNTR for the spacecraft worth 10k coins, the dragon, and the golden tickets, of course!

I really appreciate it thanks so much for supporting the book and my efforts. It truly means a lot. 🤧❣️

And to everyone else also, thank you so much for all the power stones and golden tickets!

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