His face darkened. "Official count is two hundred and thirty-seven dead. Two hundred civilians. Thirty-seven resistance members and soldiers. Another eight hundred injured, ranging from minor to critical."

I'd known it would be bad but hearing the number still hit like a punch. Two hundred and thirty-seven people are gone just like that because the League wanted to make a point.

"Could have been worse," Uncle Victor continued quietly. "If you and Celestius hadn't held The Huntress and if Victoria hadn't arrived when she did. If the evacuation hadn't succeeded..." He shook his head. "We'd be counting thousands."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's supposed to remind you that you saved eight thousand lives. Don't lose sight of that in the grief."

I closed my eyes. Tried to process it and failed.

"What about politically?"

"Its a disaster." He didn't sugarcoat it. "The tournament is permanently cancelled. The arena is destroyed and Silvercrest's government is demanding answers and reparations. Three kingdoms are calling this an act of war, though they can't agree on who committed it. The Church is claiming divine punishment for 'harboring villains and heretics.'"

"They're blaming who?"

"They're blaming everyone, but yes, you're getting a significant share." He leaned forward. "Baron Celestius is leading the charge. Claiming you provoked the League and that your 'villainous faction' attracted their attention. That if you'd just accepted your role as stepping stone, none of this would have happened."

"That's insane."

"That's politics, the truth doesn't matter, the narrative does." He rubbed his face. "Several nobles are calling for your arrest. Questioning why the Ravana family harbors a known rebel. Suggesting we're complicit in the attack."

"What's Father's response?"

"Father is dead, Hadeon." Uncle Victor's voice was gentle. "He has been for two years. You keep forgetting?"

I blanked out. What?

I had forgotten? What the...I force a deep breath.

"What's your response then?"

"Raven family stands with you, publicly and without reservation." His jaw set. "I told the noble council this morning: My nephew saved eight thousand lives while fighting beside the hero everyone claims is perfect. If that makes him a villain, then villainy is more honorable than their cowardice."

"That won't make you popular."

"I don't need to be popular. I need to be right." He stood. "Rest. Heal. Let me handle the politics for now. You've done enough."

"Uncle... "

"That's an order, not a request." He moved to the door, paused. "Adrian Celestius is in the room down the hall, by the way. Similar condition to you, you know with broke three ribs, severe mana exhaustion, various contusions. He's been asking about you."

"Asking what?"

"If you survived. If your team survived. If you blame him for not stopping the League." Uncle Victor's expression softened slightly. "The boy is going through something. Whatever you two fought about in that arena, it changed him."

After he left, I lay back carefully. Stared at the ceiling.

Two hundred and thirty-seven dead.

Eight thousand saved.

Victory and defeat, inseparable.

I sigh long and hard and tried to sleep.

But I couldn't. Too many faces in the darkness. Civilians I couldn't save. Resistance members who died buying time for evacuations. Cipher's hollow eyes before Kael executed him. Sleep wouldn't come easily tonight. Or any night soon.

Down the hall, Adrian Celestius sat in his hospital bed, staring at his hands. The door opened without knocking. He knew who it was befor turning.

"Father."

Baron Celestius entered like a storm cloud given human form, two guards flanked him, his face was stone.

"You have embarrassed me," the Baron said without preamble. "Embarrassed the family. Embarrassed your supporters. Embarrassed the kingdom itself."

"People died yesterday....."

"And you questioned your own heroism in front of the entire continent." The Baron's voice was ice. "Do you understand what you've done? The Church is questioning your blessing. The nobility are questioning your competence. Your supporters are abandoning you in droves."

"Good."

The Baron's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I said good." Adrian met his father's gaze. "If they're abandoning me because I told the truth, I don't want their support anyway."

"The truth? The truth is you're a hero. Chosen. Blessed. Destined for greatness." The Baron stepped closer. "Everything I've done, the training, the resources, the political maneuvering has been to secure your place in history. And you throw it away with one impulsive speech?"

"It wasn't impulsive." Adrian's voice was steady despite the exhaustion. "I've been thinking about it for weeks. Since the rescue mission. Since I realized I don't know if I'm actually strong or just protected."

"You're SSS-rank...."

"It was given to me. Not earned." Adrian looked at his hands again. "Hadeon Ravana is just S rank and he nearly beat me through skill and preparation. What does that say about me?"

"It says he got lucky....."

"It says I'm a fraud!" Adrian's shout surprised even himself. "It says I've been coasting on destiny and backing my entire life. It says I don't know who I really am beneath the hero label."

Silence.

The guards shifted uncomfortably.

The Baron's face was unreadable. Then. "You're making a mistake."

"Probably. But it's my mistake to make."

"If you continue this path, I will disown you. Publicly. You'll lose access to family resources, political connections, everything."

Adrian felt something break inside him, it wasn't painfully but more like a chain snapping.

"Do it."

"What?"

"Disown me, cut me off and remove the family name if you want." Adrian's voice was calm now and clear. "I nearly died yesterday. Hundreds did die. And you care about embarrassment. About legacy and about control."

The Baron's jaw clenched. "You're overwrought. The trauma of battle...."

"The trauma of battle showed me what matters. And it's not your approval." Adrian stood despite his broken ribs. Despite the pain. "Get out."

"Adrian...."

"I said get out. GET OUT!"

The Baron stared at his son. Seeing, perhaps for the first time, actual defiance of actual independence.

Actual growth.

"Very well." The Baron's voice was cold as winter. "You are no longer my son. The Celestius family disowns you, effective immediately. Your accounts will be frozen. Your title revoked. Your connections severed."

He turned to leave and paused at the door.

"I hope your principles keep you warm when you have nothing else."

He left.

The guards followed, and the door closed. Adrian stood alone in the sudden silence. Then his legs gave out and he sat heavily on the bed.

The door opened again. He tensed.

But it wasn't his father. It was Elena, Diana, Thomas. His team. They'd been waiting outside. Had heard everything.

"You okay?" Elena asked quietly.

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