It had now been three official days since the start of the Continental Grand Festival.

Within the academy grounds, everything was proceeding far more smoothly than most had initially expected.

The grand stages, the divided combat sectors, the constant rotations of students and spectators—all of it moved like a well-oiled machine.

If anything, the excitement surrounding the tournament had only continued to rise with each passing day.

"Winner—Clad Ran!"

Cheers erupted once more as another match concluded. The announcer's voice echoed across the stadium, carrying the thrill of victory and defeat alike.

Every day brought new battles, new clashes of talent and will.

Winners were steadily filtered upward, matched against one another in increasingly intense confrontations.

What truly captivated the audience, however, was the unpredictable nature of the matchups.

While the academy carefully controlled the sectors in which battles took place, the opponents themselves were decided almost entirely at random.

This meant no one—neither students nor spectators—could ever be fully prepared for what came next.

In a quieter corner of the academy, away from the roaring crowds, Fay walked alongside her elder brother, her expression thoughtful rather than excited.

"Elder Brother," she said after a moment, her voice calm but tinged with tension, "I'm probably going to face that honorable warrior again… the one from last time."

Melan glanced at her, immediately understanding.

"Hm… by honorable, you mean Kagami?"

"Yes."

Melan slowed his steps slightly, his expression turning serious. "I see. He's a strong opponent—resilient, disciplined, and far more dangerous in a one-on-one situation."

Fay nodded quietly as he continued.

"You should understand this clearly," Melan said. "His loss to us during the team battles wasn't a reflection of his true strength. There were… circumstances. Nuances that worked against him."

Fay's memories stirred at his words.

The team battle.

Though much of that period still felt strangely foggy—like pieces of her recollection had been deliberately dulled—there was one moment she remembered with absolute clarity.

The confrontation with Kagami's team.

At the time, it hadn't felt particularly difficult.

Kagami and his companions had fallen faster than expected, overwhelmed by coordination and numbers.

Yet now, looking back, Fay could see the truth more clearly.

They hadn't defeated Kagami because he was weak.

They had defeated him because he had been forced to protect too many people at once.

He had placed himself at the center of the battlefield, shielding allies, absorbing pressure, making impossible decisions under constant strain.

In a sense, he had lost not due to lack of power—but because of his character.

In a true duel, without burdens to divide his focus, Kagami was a completely different existence.

There was a reason he was regarded as one of the top warriors in Lumen Academy.

Fay clenched her hand slightly at her side.

"I understand," she said quietly. "If I face him… I won't underestimate him."

But—

That did not mean Fay's chances were low in a fair, one-on-one confrontation.

On the contrary, she was confident.

Very confident.

"I've already made the necessary investigation and assessment regarding my opponent for tomorrow," Fay said calmly, her voice steady and composed despite the weight of the name involved.

"Good," Melan replied, nodding in approval.

For a brief while, the two elven siblings walked side by side through the academy corridors, their long steps synchronized as they moved toward the next sector—the waiting area assigned to Melan's upcoming match.

As they drew closer, the sound of the crowd grew louder.

Much louder than expected.

Cheers, shouts, and excited murmurs surged like waves crashing against the walls, far surpassing what either of them had anticipated.

In fact, the density of spectators rivaled even the main sector, where the emperor himself was personally overseeing matches.

Fay slowed her steps slightly, her ears twitching as she took in the overwhelming noise.

"It seems this match is much bigger than we thought, Elder Brother…" she murmured.

Melan's gaze narrowed slightly as he listened, then he nodded.

"It seems her prestige is far greater than we initially realized…"

Fay glanced at her brother, who had already taken a seat on one of the waiting benches. There was a tightness in her chest as she realized something unsettling—

The crowd wasn't here for him.

That realization made what was about to happen feel heavier, more oppressive. Standing against such expectations, against an audience already leaning toward another outcome, was never easy.

"I believe in you, Elder Brother," Fay said softly, her voice filled with sincerity.

Melan let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Haha… I appreciate your words, Fay. But please, spare me your pity this time," he said with a gentle smile. "I'll just do my best—like I always have."

Before she could respond, a voice boomed through the sector.

"Melan of the Elven Kingdom!!!!"

At the announcer's call, Melan rose from his seat.

Before stepping forward, he reached out and gently patted Fay's head, a familiar, comforting gesture.

Fay looked up at him, worry still evident in her eyes.

Melan met her gaze and smiled warmly—calm, reassuring, unwavering.

Then he turned to walk toward the stage.

Halfway there, he paused.

"Oh—right," he said, glancing back. "Is the princess watching?"

Fay hesitated for just a moment before answering.

"…Yes. Princess Vanessa is present. Though her presence is faint… she is definitely here."

Melan nodded once, his expression turning resolute.

"Good."

With that, he stepped forward and disappeared into the roaring crowd, leaving Fay behind in the waiting area—hands clenched tightly together, heart pounding, silently praying that the stage ahead would not swallow her brother whole.

With every step he took, the pressure grew heavier, more real.

It wasn't just the crowd.

It was the gaze.

Melan had fought humans before.

He knew they loved battles, spectacle, blood and glory—but this was the first time he had seen such overwhelming awe and pride centered on a single person.

The way they looked at her wasn't admiration alone.

It was faith.

He lifted his eyes and saw his opponent standing there, unmoving.

Seo Gyeoul.

Her face was calm. Empty, almost. No killing intent spilling out, no aura screaming danger.

If anything, she looked like someone waiting for rain to stop.

And yet, Melan knew better.

He had heard the stories.

He knew the outcome of this match would be fast.

Still… standing before her now, it was hard to believe this woman could cut someone down before they even understood they were dying.

His fingers tightened around his bow.

He hardened his resolve and took a slow breath in… then out.

Yes, she was a monster.

Yes, she was a genius with the sword.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

No one had lasted even a second against Seo Gyeoul.

So his goal was simple.

Just one second.

That alone would be enough.

"Let the battle begin!!!!"

The instant the announcer's voice rang out, Melan moved.

His bow rose in one smooth motion, elven mana flooding into the string and arrow.

Ancient runes flared faintly as he aimed straight at her center mass—not to kill, but to disrupt.

To force movement. To break her opening rhythm.

That was his plan.

But—

Before the sound of the bowstring could fully reach his ears—

Purple lightning flooded the field.

The world tilted.

Melan didn't feel pain.

He didn't even feel fear.

The next thing he knew, his cheek was pressed against the cold stone floor, the smell of scorched air lingering around him. His bow lay several meters away, split cleanly in two.

He blinked once.

Then darkness took him.

The match was over.

He had already lost—

before he even realized it had begun.

....

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The soft, almost lazy sound echoed across the quiet edge of the arena.

Seo slowly lifted her gaze.

Standing there was Snow, lightly clapping with a gentle smile on her lips, as if she had just watched an amusing play rather than a one-sided slaughter.

"It seems your match ended rather quickly this time as well," Snow said calmly.

"Yes…" Seo replied.

"Fufu. I understand this competition isn't really important to us," Snow continued, her tone light, almost teasing, "but holding back a little might make your matches more fun, don't you think?"

"I did hold back."

"Oh…?"

Snow blinked, clearly not expecting that answer.

A brief silence settled between them.

"By the way," Seo added, "why are you here? Did your match end early as well?"

"Yes."

"I see…" Seo paused, then said, "Should we go find Riley together now?"

Snow shook her head gently. "That would be fun, but that's not why I came."

Seo turned to her, finally giving her full attention.

"I actually came here to see you," Snow said. "There's something I want to ask… a small favor."

Seo tilted her head slightly, thinking for a moment. Then she nodded.

Snow smiled faintly, satisfied.

Not long after, the two of them left the arena and made their way toward the back gardens of Killian Hall.

The noise of the crowd faded behind them, replaced by quiet wind and rustling leaves.

Sunlight filtered through tall trees, casting long shadows across trimmed hedges and pale stone paths.

They stopped near the center of the garden.

Seo took a moment to look around before turning back to Snow. "So," she said, "what is it you wanted to ask?"

Snow didn't answer immediately.

Her smile slowly faded.

When she spoke again, her voice was calm—too calm.

"Seo," she said softly, "kill me."

"…?"

Seo tilted her head again, instinctively, but this time there was no confusion in her eyes—only sharp focus.

She looked at Snow's face.

Serious.

Clear.

Unwavering.

Snow wasn't joking.

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