The roar of the crowd still echoed when, from the top of the imperial balcony, El Dourado raised his metallic arm and began to laugh with that comic and arrogant tone everyone in Marlen knew:
— "HAAA! HAAA! HAAA!... Congratulations to our finalists! You have reached the supreme honor of competing not only for the glory of Gálvora but for the engagement to my beloved daughter!"
The audience burst into new murmurs. Nobles, soldiers, commoners — all held their breath.
In the arena, Diaz and Aron stood side by side, breathing heavily, their bodies still marked from previous battles. Both looked up as El Dourado descended slowly from the balcony via a magical staircase. Upon reaching the center of the arena, he raised his arm — a gleaming metal prosthetic with golden claws and ancient runes pulsing in dark blue.
Then, the relic emerged from the ground.
A colossal vessel, about 1.7 meters tall, rose as if spit out from the bowels of the earth. Its shape resembled a petrified spring, with navy blue runes pulsing in concentric circles around its base, sealed with ancient containment spells. The structure seemed to breathe, as if time itself had been captured within it.
The crowd fell silent. Even the winds stopped.
The nobles beside Sofia stood involuntarily, eyes wide. Several arcane masters, hidden among the nobles, murmured among themselves, unable to hide their shock.
El Dourado turned to the crowd, and then spoke — this time with a somber solemnity:
— "This... is the ancestral relic of Marlen. The legacy my father died for. An artifact so powerful... it can transform a raw primordial core into a fragmented primordial core."
Total silence.
Some mages lost their balance. Others placed their hands over their chests.
It was magical blasphemy... and at the same time, an absolute miracle.
— "Yes... you heard right. This evolution, which normally takes decades — or that many never reach — can be achieved by one... with a drop of blood. And not a corrupted or unstable core... but a pure one. Stable. Forged by a legendary relic."
He then turned to Diaz and Aron.
— "One of you... will be the chosen one. The fulfiller of the prophecy. The one who, by sealing his engagement with my daughter, will pour his blood into this relic... and open the doors to Marlen's new magical era."
A new roar spread across the arena.
But it wasn't celebration. It was veiled panic. Contained ambition. Fear of what this could mean.
El Dourado then raised his hands and proclaimed:
— "Ten-minute break before the final battle!"
Side stands — Finalists' rest zone
Diaz and Aron sat side by side, separated only by their own tension. Neither said a word, but the air around them pulsed with raw energy.
Diaz's gaze was filled with contained fury. His eyes analyzed every rune on that relic at the center of the arena as if he wanted to tear it apart. He gritted his teeth."If this makes me stronger... I'll be strides ahead of my goal."
Meanwhile, Aron, head lowered, muttered to himself, eyes half-closed:"With this power... I'll crush them all. All of them. And make them kneel before me."
Both were at their limit. Both knew they weren't fighting for a woman... or for glory.This was a new birth. A new empire.
While the arena's buzz grew, Asla sat beside El Dourado, her expression heavy.
— "That relic shouldn't be here." — she said firmly, crossing her arms. — "You didn't listen before, and I doubt you'll listen now. Do you really think I'm invincible?"
El Dourado looked at her seriously. The theatricality in his eyes vanished.
— "You're the strongest mage I know. That's why my father entrusted you to me. Whatever problems this causes... we'll handle them together."
Asla raised an eyebrow. Her enigmatic smile returned, cold and sweet at the same time.
— "Interesting... this will move forces that have slept behind the curtains of Elyndros."
El Dourado nodded with a proud, subtle smile.
— "My father gave his life to preserve this legacy. And I... won't stop for anything."
Backstage — Gálvora Arena Medical Room
The room was quiet, scented with healing essences and lit by floating magical globes on the ceiling. In the central bed, Alkan Vir sat up slowly, muscles still aching, bandages marking the cuts and bruises from his battle with Diaz.
But what hurt the most wasn't physical.
"You can win too. But you have to stop running from pain."
Diaz's words still echoed in his mind like a mantra. He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. And then... smiled. A different smile. Not of defeat, but of realization.
— "Looks like you had an epiphany, little bro!"
The soft, ironic voice came from a figure leaning against the wall — Sara Vir, his half-sister. Her face bore a serene expression, yet full of emotion. Alkan looked at her, unsure of what to say. Shame still burned in his chest.
— "Sara... I—"
Before he could finish, she walked up and wrapped him in a firm hug.
— "I know we don't share the same blood... but you're still my brother. And I'm happy you're okay."
Alkan froze. He wasn't ready for that. He felt the sincere warmth in her words. And, for the first time in a long time, a solitary tear slid down his face.
Sara took his arm and smiled.
— "Come on. The final battle's about to begin... and we have to watch up close this Diaz who made you cry."
Alkan laughed awkwardly and stood up with her. Something inside him had changed — he was no longer the bastard trying to prove his worth. He was a fighter.
Another room — Arena Backstage
The light here was dim. The silence... suffocating.
Sitting on a bed, hands wrapped in bandages where once the powerful rune glove shone, Vlad Vince stared at the floor with red eyes. Tears fell silently, fed by rage and shame.
"I'm a Vince... and even so...""I failed."
He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. His breathing was erratic. Shame devoured him.
Then... the door creaked.
An imposing figure entered, standing tall in pristine clothing: Klaud Vince, patriarch of the lineage. To Vlad's surprise, there was no coldness in his gaze — there was something worse: false sweetness.
— "Don't cry, my son..." — he said in an overly sweet voice, kneeling in front of him. — "Don't forget you're a Vince. My heir. Daddy will take care of everything for you."
Vlad froze. Those words didn't comfort him... they caged him.
Klaud then slowly stood up. His eyes... changed.
His irises vanished into a deep black. Shadows pulsed in the veins around his eyes, as if something ancient lived inside him.
— "Marlen... won't stay peaceful forever." — he murmured with terrible calm.
The words seemed to reverberate beyond the walls.
Ancient Cave — Unknown Location
In the depths of Elyndros, hidden among roots of stone and forgotten magic, a shadowy figure remained seated before an ancient arcane circle. His eyes, as black as Klaud's, glowed in the dark like cracks torn in the fabric of reality.
He smiled.
A macabre, predatory, cruel smile.
— "Looks like... we can finally intervene."
The whisper echoed like a harbinger.
The board was starting to move.And the war for Marlen... was about to begin.