CHAPTER 87: CHAPTER 86. SPIRIT KINGS BEARER

When the clash finally ended, both Roxanne and Leonhart collapsed onto the cracked stone floor of the stage, their bodies heaving with exhaustion. The air still shimmered faintly from the remnants of their unleashed power. Before the dust even settled, Vivianne rushed forward, Undine flying beside her like a ripple of light and water.

Despite the bruises and the blood running down her arm, Roxanne was laughing, a low, tired, but genuine laugh that carried through the silent arena. She turned her head toward Leonhart, her smile warm despite the pain. "You’ve learned a lot from Mara, haven’t you?"

Leonhart let out a rough chuckle, his chest rising unevenly. "Does it show?" he asked, his voice hoarse but teasing.

"It does," Roxanne replied, before wincing slightly as Undine began her healing work.

Leonhart groaned softly, trying to shift his weight, but every breath made his ribs scream in protest. He could tell at least two were broken, maybe more. Not even his battles for the throne had left him this battered. He gave a small, admiring grin. Roxanne de Borgia, truly a worthy opponent.

"Oh, that’s Undine, huh? Lucky you," he said with a smirk as he watched the water spirit weave glowing threads of liquid light across Roxanne’s wounds.

"You can see Undine?" Vivianne asked, startled, her hands still glowing faintly with mana.

Leonhart nodded weakly. "Yes, madam. Do you see my fur?" He tilted his head, showing his bloodied white fur. "It’s white, unlike my sisters, who all carry the golden manes of our line, just like Mara."

As he spoke, another figure approached the arena floor. The healer, an omega beastwoman, walked with quiet grace, her presence commanding in its serenity.

She’s a white owl, her plumage soft as snow, her feathers glimmering faintly under the afternoon sunlight. A long white coat swept behind her as she moved, trimmed with silver embroidery that shimmered like frost. Her face is calm, her large dark purple eyes radiating both intelligence and warmth.

When she reached Leonhart, she knelt beside him, her movements smooth and practiced. She’s clearly mated, Vivianne can smell her clearly. Mated omegas have strong sweetness in their pheromones, mixed with something pungent, which usually comes from their alpha mate.

But the owl beastman’s focus never wavered from her duty. She glanced briefly at Vivianne, bowing her head respectfully before summoning her spirit. A swirl of cool air stirred around her hand as Naiad appeared, a high spirit of wind, translucent and faintly blue, with wings made of swirling mist.

Before tending to Leonhart, the spirit darted toward Vivianne, circling her playfully once before pausing midair and bowing deeply before her face. "Greetings to you, bearer of the Spirit Kings," Naiad said, her voice light as the breeze that carried it.

Vivianne smiled gently, her eyes soft. "Greetings to you as well, Naiad."

The spirit twirled once in the air, her energy glowing brighter, before returning to her summoner. She spread her wings and hovered over Leonhart’s battered body, a soothing current washing over her wounds. The air filled with the faint scent of fresh water, and the lion beastman let out a shaky breath as the pain began to ease.

Leonhart opened one eye, looking at the owl healer and then at Vivianne with a crooked grin. "What a fitting omega for an alpha like that," he muttered, half in admiration, half in jest, just before another wave of pain made him groan loudly, drawing soft laughter from those nearby.

As the spirits worked their healing magic, the arena began to quiet. The crowd that had once roared in excitement now stood in reverent silence, watching the two alphas sit side by side under the soft glow of spirit light. Undine’s gentle waters and Naiad’s sparkling water wove together like ribbons of moonlight, mending torn flesh and easing shattered bones.

Leonhart rested his head back against the stone floor, his mane tousled and damp with sweat. He turned slightly toward Roxanne, his voice rough but laced with curiosity. "What are you going to do after this?"

Roxanne let out a tired chuckle, her lips curling despite the pain still etched across her face. "The last one," she said, her tone low but certain. "The emperor of the werewolf clan."

Leonhart raised a brow, clearly intrigued. "Why save him for last?"

Roxanne’s grin widened, sharp and confident even as Undine’s healing light flickered across her bruised ribs. "Save the weak for the last," she said, laughing, bold and reckless as always.

But her laughter caught halfway through, turning into a sharp hiss when the movement pressed against her injured side. She winced, clutching her ribs, muttering, "Ugh..." between breaths.

For a moment, Leonhart simply stared at her, then burst out laughing, deep and booming. "The weak for the last!" he repeated, his laughter echoing through the colosseum, rolling across the broken stone and out into the night air. The sound was infectious, raw, and full of respect rather than mockery.

The beastmen watching couldn’t help but grin. To hear their mighty king laugh so freely after defeat, and to see the Demon of the North still smirking through her pain, is something none of them would ever forget.

Between them, the spirits continued their healing process, Undine’s glow soft and steady, Sylph’s breeze cool against the heat of battle still clinging to the arena floor. Around them, the scent of blood slowly faded into the smell of wind by Tempest.

Leonhart’s eyes widened just as the white owl beastwoman beside him froze mid-motion. Her feathery ears twitched, her gloved hands pausing over the healing rune she’s tracing in the air. Both of them stared, utterly speechless, at the small creature perched gracefully on Vivianne’s shoulder.

A tiny dragon, no larger than a cat, its scales shimmered in shades of emerald and gold, like sunlight through leaves. Its wings are folded neatly against its back, and its bright eyes, ancient and knowing, are fixed on Roxanne.

"Terranova?" "The owl beastwoman stammered," her voice breaking into a whisper.

Her feathers bristled slightly, as if the very name carried weight beyond comprehension. Because the earth spirit king has never bound herself to anyone—the last was five centuries ago—and now she can see her in front of her eyes.

At the sound, the little dragon turned its gaze toward her, eyes glowing faintly. It didn’t speak; it only blinked once, slowly, as if acknowledging her presence before looking back at Roxanne. The silence that followed was thick enough to make even the spirits pause their work.

Leonhart swallowed hard, disbelief flashing across his battered face. "I knew your wife is a spirit king’s bearer," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "But I thought she only had bonds with Undine and... Tempest." His eyes shifted upward as the wind spirit fluttered above them, its translucent form dancing playfully around them with the wind.

Roxanne, still catching her breath and leaning slightly against Undine’s healing power, gave a faint smirk. "She’s got four."

The beast king blinked. "Four?" he repeated, his tone edging toward panic. The owl healer’s feathers fluffed up in shock, and even Naiad wavered uncertainly in the air.

Leonhart stared at Vivianne like he’s seeing her for the first time, not as the gentle duchess who stood quietly beside her wife, but as something divine, something far beyond even an alpha’s comprehension. His golden eyes went wide, his voice barely more than a rasp. "She herself could beat me to death, Grand Duke..."

Before Roxanne could reply, the air around them grew a little bit hotter, and then, with a flicker of red-gold fire, another presence appeared behind Vivianne. Afrit, the fire king spirit. His form is just a small ball of fire, but its power is oppressive enough to make even the hardened beast king break a sweat.

Leonhart’s jaw dropped. For once, the mighty beast king of Gorhal is utterly lost for words. Afrit’s deep, rumbling voice broke the silence, directed not at Vivianne, but at Roxanne. "You’re hurt again, demon. Why are you so weak?"

Roxanne only smiled sarcastically, exhausted but radiant, her hand brushing Vivianne’s gently. "I’m fighting to make this continent safe for your dearest master," she said, voice low and proud. Afrit scoffed but smirked at her.

The owl healer, still kneeling, bowed her head deeply now, more in reverence than duty. Around them, the crowd of beastmen who had just witnessed the battle began to murmur in awe.

First, there was the duel that shook the colosseum, and now, the revelation of a duchess who commanded not one, but four spirit kings. Most of them can’t see the spirits, but all beastmen can sense the spirits around them. Spirit bearers aren’t rare in their race, but the one who can bond with four spirit kings is not just rare; it has never existed before.

Even Leonhart, the proud alpha, could only laugh weakly under his breath. "If this is what follows you, Roxanne de Borgia," he said, still staring at Afrit’s burning form, "then the world has already chosen its new ruler."

Roxanne gave him a knowing look, the faintest smirk touching her bruised lips. "Took you long enough to see it."

She then tilted her head toward Leonhart again, a hint of amusement glimmering in her eyes. "Rest well, Beast King," she said softly. "Next time, I won’t hold back even this much."

Leonhart grinned through his exhaustion, voice low but full of fire. "And I’ll be waiting," he said. "Maybe next time, I’ll make you sweat first."

That earned another small laugh from Roxanne, and for the first time in a long while, both alphas shared a moment of mutual understanding, not as enemies, but as warriors who had found equals in one another.