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Chapter 205: Beyond

"Can you see what is beyond the surface?"

The moment he asked that with his tone low but oddly intense, Valeria for some reason felt that something was different with this question.

The question hung between them, as sharp as his earlier intervention had been. She stared back at him, trying to decipher his meaning.

It was unlike him to speak this way, and it unsettled her, making her feel as though the ground beneath them had subtly shifted.

She could see no clear reason for him to provoke the Cloud Heavens Sect, no gain in drawing their attention and positioning himself as an obstacle.

"What exactly am I meant to see?" she asked, her voice steady despite the flicker of unease his words stirred within her.

Lucavion continued, "You know," he began, his voice low, almost reflective, "for most people, life is filled with faces that come and go. Friends, rivals, strangers—always new ones appearing, old ones drifting away. There's hardly time to truly understand anyone, even those closest to us. So we take shortcuts. We rely on instinct, on impressions that form in the first few moments."

Valeria listened, feeling the weight of his words settle over her, even as she tried to maintain her guarded expression. His tone, usually laced with amusement, was now sincere, and it unsettled her even more.

"We meet someone," he continued, "and before they've said a word, we already have an idea of who they are. Maybe it's something we've heard about them, or something familiar we recognize, a similarity to someone we've known before. And so that impression settles in our minds." He paused, glancing at her as though to gauge her reaction.

Lucavion continued, his gaze distant, as though he were seeing something beyond the walls around them. "And there are people who know exactly how to use that to their advantage," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet edge. "They shape themselves carefully, presenting a face that's flawless, almost angelic. For every one they meet, they find a way to reflect some part of that person's struggles, that hidden vulnerability they've guarded so closely. They make people think they're the same… as if they share a bond. A kinship."

He glanced at her, his eyes piercing in their clarity, and Valeria felt the weight of his words settle heavily in her chest. The subtle hint of warning in his tone was unmistakable, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't speaking hypothetically.

"It's how they pull people in," he went on, his voice soft yet carrying an undertone that sent a prickle along her skin. "They present themselves as though they understand people's every hardship, making use of that emotional vulnerability to make a profit."

Lucavion's gaze held hers, his expression shifting to one of mild curiosity mixed with a sharper intent. "Tell me something, Valeria," he began, his tone soft but probing. "When you were talking to those disciples… you seemed uncomfortable. Why do you think that was?"

The question settled heavily between them, and Valeria felt her jaw tighten. She had been asking herself the same thing since her first encounter with the Cloud Heavens Sect disciples, the strange unease that surfaced every time they approached her. It was as though her instincts sensed something amiss, yet no concrete reason emerged to explain it.

"I don't know," she replied finally, the frustration clear in her voice. "I've been wondering that myself. There was nothing overtly wrong about them—they were respectful, polite, and yet… something about them made me feel…" She hesitated, searching for the right word. "Unsteady. Like there was a hidden intention, but nothing I could see."

Lucavion nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Sometimes, that's exactly how it works. They give just enough, and seem just relatable enough, that the logical mind can't find anything wrong. But underneath, your instincts are telling you the truth." He paused, watching her closely. "That's often the case when people are hiding something. They're so polished, so composed, that it's almost too perfect."

Valeria's brows knit together, her mind racing.

Was that what it was?

The disciples had been all too willing to establish some form of bond with her, highlighting their similarities, and hinting at a shared journey. It had been easy to accept their admiration as genuine, and yet… that flicker of doubt, that tension she couldn't explain, lingered.

"So what are you suggesting?" she asked, her voice low, reluctant but compelled to hear his answer.

Lucavion shook his head, his expression returning to its usual nonchalance. "I'm not suggesting anything," he replied smoothly, his tone carrying a hint of dismissal. "You seem more than capable of finding your own answers."

But then, just as she relaxed a fraction, he gave her a look—one that made the air between them go cold. His lips curved into a smirk, but this one was different, laced with something dark and unsettling. It held none of his usual amusement, none of the teasing arrogance she was used to. Instead, there was a calculated edge, a quiet promise that sent a faint shiver down her spine.

Her muscles tensed instinctively as his gaze held hers, sharp and unwavering. "But you'll see, soon enough," he said, his voice almost a murmur, though each word carried a chilling weight. "You'll understand why I stepped in today."

The words settled over her like a shadow, and though she tried to dismiss it as more of his typical mystery, a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting beneath the surface—something she hadn't anticipated.

For all her careful judgments of his motives, she realized, she was still unprepared for whatever game he seemed to be playing.

Her gaze remained on him, searching for a hint of his intentions, but he offered her nothing further, and instead, his usual smile returned.

Lucavion's smirk shifted, easing back into something more familiar, though it was clear he was steering the conversation elsewhere. "Now that I think about it, your performance today was impressive," he remarked smoothly, his gaze flicking to her as though he hadn't just left her hanging in icy suspense. "Your basics are solid, and your strength—well, that was no joke. You didn't leave that guy a single opening."

Valeria raised an eyebrow, still tense but now with a hint of wary curiosity.

Just like that?

He had shifted topics so effortlessly as if he hadn't just laid out a dark premonition for her to dwell on.

"And that final move," he continued, a glint of amusement reappearing in his eyes. "I have to wonder… did you get that from me? A little inspiration, perhaps?"

At that, Valeria let out a soft

hmph

and turned her head away, a slight smile pulling at her lips despite herself. "Who do you think you are?" she replied, her voice touched with faint mockery. "I did that on my own. It has

nothing

to do with you."

Lucavion chuckled, undeterred. "Oh, is that so? So you didn't borrow my technique and polish it up just a bit?" He raised an eyebrow, leaning in as though ready to dissect her every move with that same smug curiosity.

Valeria shot him a quick, defiant glance. "I didn't 'borrow' anything," she retorted, her voice firm. "What I did was my own—and if it

looked

impressive, that's because it was. I don't need anyone's help to put someone in their place."

"Heeeee...Reeeeally? Is that really the case, I wonder?"

Valeria crossed her arms and sighed, choosing not to rise to his bait. "I'm not going to argue with you," she replied, her voice cool yet with an edge of amusement. "But since you're so insistent… I watched your fight too. You weren't bad, I'll give you that."

Lucavion's smirk widened, a glint of satisfaction sparking in his eyes. "Not bad, you say?" he echoed, leaning in with a playful arrogance. "Didn't you confirm my strength and technique firsthand? I seem to recall you had a front-row seat to that."

Valeria rolled her eyes, refusing to let him get to her. "You always talk so fraudulently," she replied, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"

"Oh? Fraudulently?" he repeated, feigning shock as he placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Valeria. I speak nothing but the truth—when it suits me."

She let out another

hmph

and shook her head, though a reluctant smile escaped her as she continued down the hall. His words, though laden with bravado, held a truth she couldn't ignore. She had indeed experienced his strength and skill up close, whether she liked admitting it or not. But he didn't need to know how much it lingered in her thoughts.

"Well, let's just say I'll believe it when I see it again," she shot back, glancing at him with a playful spark in her eyes.

"Oh? Let's hope that you won't meet me too early in the tournament. That would not end too well for you."

Valeria's smile widened at his words, her competitive spirit flaring. "Oh, is that so?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Don't worry, I can handle myself just fine. Besides, maybe it's you who should hope not to meet me too soon."

Lucavion chuckled, the sound low and rich with amusement as he matched her pace down the hall. "Confident, aren't we? But let's be realistic—if we clash, you'll have to bring more than just bravado."

"We'll see about that."

She said, though she inwardly knew that, with this guy's strength and talent, his words were indeed true.

Chapter 206: Tournament: Lucavion

The second day of the tournament dawned with the same electrifying energy that had filled the city on the first. As the morning sun rose, casting a warm glow over the arena, the grounds were already bustling with fighters and spectators alike. The early rounds, designed to thin the crowd, were set to continue at a relentless pace, as scores of hopefuls sought to prove their worth before the eyes of Andelheim.

While the atmosphere in the arena buzzed with anticipation, the absence of Marquis Ventor was keenly noted by the crowd. His seat in the private lounge remained empty, a quiet reminder that, though he had organized the tournament, his attention was not wholly dedicated to these preliminary bouts. There were matters of state that required his presence, and he'd left the early rounds to proceed under the watchful eyes of his advisors and attendants.

The matches began as soon as the sun cleared the horizon, the clashing of blades and bursts of mana filling the air. Fighters from across the empire stepped forward in quick succession, each eager to carve out a name for themselves if only to earn a chance at the main stage where true glory awaited.

Among the contestants, the disciples from both the Cloud Heavens Sect and Silver Flame Sect garnered special attention.

Each fight they entered drew murmurs from the crowd, the underlying rivalry between the sects adding a layer of tension to even the simplest bouts.

Younger disciples, inspired by their seniors, fought with fervor, eager to secure wins not only for themselves but as symbols of their respective sects' honor.

But these early rounds were brutal and unforgiving.

Many contestants barely had a moment to prove themselves before they were dispatched, the thinning of the crowd merciless and efficient.

The officials were strict in their pacing, allowing little time for recovery between bouts. Only those who truly excelled in skill or resilience would survive these grueling trials.

In the absence of the Marquis's observant gaze, the arena became a crucible where raw strength, skill, and reputation were tested. For some, it was a mere stepping stone. For others, it was the end of the line.

Lucavion's eyes scanned the crowd, the intensity of the arena's energy seeping into him like heat from a blazing fire. He felt Vitaliara's presence within his mind, her voice calm yet curious as she observed the scene alongside him.

'Quite the spectacle, isn't it?'

he mused, his thoughts directed inwardly.

[Indeed. Though it hardly seems worth it for most of them. So many come here hoping to make their mark, yet they're barely noticed beyond a single moment,] Vitaliara replied, her tone thoughtful. [Do you ever think about that? About how quickly people can forget?]

A faint smile crossed his lips, though he kept his face unreadable to those around him.

'If I let myself worry about being remembered, I'd be no different than these hopefuls. Greatness doesn't concern itself with validation, only with victory.'

Vitaliara's agreement was almost a hum, resonating in the quiet of his mind. [True enough. Only those who stand at the peak will be remembered, and the rest will fade as quickly as they rose.] She paused, a hint of mischief creeping into her voice. [But in your case, greatness or not, it seems you already have some admirers—or perhaps rivals—watching your every move.]

'Indeed.'

Lucavion thought as he spread his senses slightly. There were certain people who were observing him from a distance.

'As expected, it worked.'

Yesterday's show seems to have worked, as now he was seeing the benefits of what he did with Valeria.

Lucavion's gaze remained steady as he took in the movements around him, his senses heightened. He felt the pointed stares from the Cloud Heavens Sect members, their intent sharp as a blade's edge. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought,

'Two-faced parasites.'

There had been a reason for provoking them, after all. It wasn't merely about stirring up tension—it was about drawing their attention and observing who couldn't resist taking the bait. As expected, yesterday's display with Valeria had done the trick, and now, he could see the fruits of his effort. Every look, every sidelong glance from their disciples, only confirmed their interest.

Vitaliara's presence shifted as she curled herself comfortably around his shoulder, her gaze sharp as she observed the arena floor. [It seems they're not alone in watching you,] she murmured, her tone lightly disdainful.

Some of the younger female disciples were indeed watching him, their expressions torn between curiosity and calculation.

Vitaliara sniffed delicately, her tail flicking against his shoulder. [They don't smell good,] she said, her distaste evident.

'Why do you think so?'

Lucavion asked, an amused curiosity in his voice.

Vitaliara sniffed again, turning away with a small, dignified

humph

. [They reek of males,] she replied, her tone layered with distaste. [And no, I won't elaborate.]

He didn't press further—he understood what she meant. Beneath the subtle charms and calculated glances of the Cloud Heavens Sect disciples, there was a familiarity in their airs, a practiced sweetness masking intentions that were anything but pure.

Glancing up, he caught sight of the clock hanging above the arena floor, its hands ticking toward his match time. It was close, and he could feel the mounting energy as the next round drew near.

'I will be on my way then.'

[Humph.]

Without another word, he turned from the crowd, weaving his way toward the arena's preparation rooms.

The male fighters' room was filled with competitors, each preparing in their own way. The air was thick with tension and the clink of armor, punctuated by the low murmur of hushed conversations. The room was crowded, as he'd anticipated. Even with his usual calm demeanor, Lucavion had little patience for the restless noise that hung thick in the air.

Though knowing this would happen, he came prepared.

Instead of lingering in the cramped room, he took a place in the corridor just outside, resting his hand lightly on the sheath of his estoc.

"CONTESTANT LUCAVION!"

His name echoed, and then he readied himself.

At the sound of his name echoing through the corridor, Lucavion's posture shifted, his focus sharpening. With a final, calm breath, he pushed open the door and stepped into the arena. The roar of the crowd crashed over him, a wave of excitement and anticipation, but he paid it no mind. His gaze was already fixed on the figure waiting for him in the center of the battleground.

His opponent was a middle-aged man, sturdy and composed, his stance solid as he held a classic longsword in hand. The man's presence was understated yet palpable; he radiated the calm confidence of someone well-versed in the ways of battle.

Lucavion's senses quickly honed in on his energy, estimating it to be that of an early 3-star fighter—a feat not easily achieved, and he allowed himself a brief flicker of respect.

'A 3-star,'

Lucavion mused inwardly.

'Impressive. A disciplined man with experience.'

The middle-aged man squinted, his gaze sharpening as he studied Lucavion. "Hmm? Someone without a core?" he mumbled, a hint of surprise coloring his tone. It was a typical reaction, Lucavion knew; his unique constitution prevented others from sensing his cores directly, even if they attempted to probe with mana. This had served him well, allowing him to blend seamlessly when needed, even concealing his Awakened status in the army.

Without missing a beat, Lucavion raised his estoc, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Old man, use your brain a little bit. If I weren't strong, how would I have passed the first round?"

The man's eyes widened briefly, but then they were narrowed.

"I am not old."

"This is what old people say."

The man's eyes flashed with a glint of irritation at Lucavion's taunting. His stance tightened, and he gripped his longsword with renewed fervor, his voice carrying an edge of impatience.

"Who are you calling old, boy?" he growled. "The younger generation seems to lack a proper sense of respect these days. If that's the case, then it falls to us to instill that respect into our juniors."

Lucavion's smirk deepened, unfazed.

'So easily provoked,'

he mused inwardly, keeping his gaze steady on the man. "Well then, old man, by all means," he replied, his tone laced with mocking courtesy. "Show me what the experienced generation can do."

–SWOOSH!

The man's face hardened, and without another word, he lunged forward, his longsword gleaming as it arced through the air.

The man lunged forward, his longsword arcing through the air in a powerful strike, brown mana rippling along the blade. Lucavion's eyes narrowed as he studied the attack, and in a fraction of a second, he saw through it all.

'Experienced… but unrefined.'

The man's swordsmanship, though familiar with the basics, was riddled with weaknesses. His stance, while solid, carried too much tension, his movements lacked fluidity, and his strike, though powerful, was easy to read.

CLANK!

As their weapons met, the man's longsword clashed against Lucavion's estoc with a resounding clang. Mana surged from the man's blade, spilling over in an attempt to overwhelm him with raw power. But Lucavion's instincts were sharp, his reflexes honed. He evaded the mana with ease, sidestepping smoothly without even summoning his own. With a graceful pivot, he rotated his body 90 degrees to the side, slipping out of the direct path of the attack.

And in that fluid motion, he made his move.

As he rotated, Lucavion subtly applied pressure with his estoc, tilting the man's sword just slightly, creating a small opening in his guard. It was all he needed. The man's technique was full of openings due to his excessive reliance on strength, leaving him vulnerable to someone like Lucavion who immediately deciphered the swordplay.

"What?"

Before the man could even register the shift, Lucavion repositioned himself, his footwork quick and light.

SWOOSH! STAB!

With one smooth thrust, he drove his estoc forward, the thin blade piercing the man's shoulder with deadly precision.

"Argh!"

The man grunted in pain, retreating back instantly with mana channeled into his legs. For a 3-star Awakened, while that injury was definitely painful, it was not an end to the fight.

SLASH!

His eyes flashed with determination as he swung his sword, unleashing a slash of brown mana to keep Lucavion from closing in on him.

But it didn't go as planned.

The slash of mana flew toward Lucavion, only to be cut down midair in a single, effortless movement. Lucavion's estoc glinted as he deflected the mana with precision, the energy dissipating harmlessly around him. The man's eyes widened in disbelief, his breath catching as he watched the impossible unfold.

'You can do that?!'

Before he could even process it, a glint of grey caught his eye, slicing through the air with lethal grace. In the blink of an eye, Lucavion was upon him, his estoc poised at the man's neck, the cold, unwavering blade pressing gently against his skin.

The man froze, his pulse racing as he felt the icy edge of the blade. The sheer speed, the absolute control, and the effortless precision with which Lucavion had moved left him stunned.

Chapter 207: An Insight

The disciples of the Cloud Heavens Sect watched Lucavion's fight with wide-eyed focus, their expressions a mix of astonishment and intrigue. Each had anticipated a drawn-out battle, given that Lucavion's aura suggested he was, at best, a peak 2-star Awakened. Yet, what they had just witnessed defied their expectations.

"That… technique," one of the disciples murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might disrupt the memory of his movements. "He didn't even summon his mana fully."

Another disciple nodded, his gaze still locked on Lucavion, who stood relaxed, his estoc lightly resting at the defeated man's throat. "He read through every move as if the fight was choreographed. Six seconds… That's all it took."

For disciples trained in rigorous swordsmanship and the arts of combat, the display was nothing short of impressive. They were all 3-star Awakened, well-versed in the basics and subtleties of swordplay, but none of them could say with confidence that they would have dispatched an opponent so effortlessly.

"It's not his strength," a disciple beside them remarked, her brow furrowed in thought. "It's his form and precision. His understanding of the blade. Even though he's only a peak 2-star Awakened, he wielded his estoc like an extension of himself."

They exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing among them. It was rare to see someone at his level dispatch an opponent so cleanly without relying on raw power or overwhelming mana.

Finally, Zerah, the Senior Disciple, spoke up, her eyes narrowing as she watched Lucavion's form. "Skill like that… it shouldn't be ignored. He might not have the raw power of a 3-star Awakened, but he's clearly someone we should keep an eye on." She looked at her disciples, her tone authoritative.

After the previous day's confrontation with Lucavion, Zerah and the other disciples hadn't wasted any time. The moment they were alone, Zerah had quietly ordered a background check on him. Information within this world traveled at its own pace, and she knew it would likely be three or four days before any details came back. But with the tournament stretching over several days, that wait was acceptable.

In the meantime, they had approached a tournament official under the pretense of innocent curiosity. A few well-placed words about one of their disciples "taking a fancy" to the young swordsman, coupled with a small but persuasive amount of gold, ensured they'd get what they wanted. The official, his eyes gleaming with understanding, had been more than willing to oblige.

"A man named Lucavion's next match?"

he had said with a casual grin, tucking the gold discreetly into his sleeve.

"I'll get that for you."

That was exactly how they ended up here, as they did not want to look at all those lists that were pinned on the bulletin board of the tournament center.

And now, at this right moment, Zerah had an outline of this guy named Lucavion.

'Heh...Arrogant bastard….Even if you are somehow talented, with your measly strength like this, you think you can act like that before us?'

She thought, remembering the fight.

Yesterday, Zerah had mulled over the encounter with Lucavion, and an unsettling thought had crossed her mind. She had replayed the incident from a more detached perspective, analyzing his timing. The moment he'd intervened—just as Valeria seemed close to engaging with them—felt too precise, too intentional, as if he had planned to obstruct them from the start. The realization only fueled her irritation.

'An arrogant bastard through and through,'

she thought, her eyes narrowing at the memory. He carried himself with the typical swagger of a "sect genius," the kind commonly seen in the lower-ranked sects, where anyone with a hint of skill was put on a pedestal. His precision in the fight, while admirable, only confirmed her theory. In a low-ranked sect, Lucavion's sword skills would surely be considered remarkable enough to earn him an inflated sense of superiority.

Zerah's gaze hardened as she considered his intentions.

'Of course,'

she thought, the pieces falling into place,

'that insufferable arrogance was because he's used to admiration. And now he's likely got his eye on Valeria—typical, really. Men like him, spoiled by attention, always see women as prizes to be won.'

The more she thought about it, the clearer the picture became.

Zerah's jaw tightened as her simmering disdain for Lucavion intensified, her inner resentment flaring at the thought of him—a mere disciple of some likely insignificant sect—daring to cross paths with them so boldly.

The audacity was almost laughable, but more than that, it was infuriating. For her, who had been raised with discipline and tradition in one of the most respected sects, men like Lucavion embodied the worst kind of arrogance. Spoiled by superficial talent and minimal competition, they strayed from order and respect due to those of higher standing.

'Men like him,'

she thought darkly, her hands curling into fists at her sides

, 'think themselves untouchable, flaunting their skills and treating everything—everyone—like a conquest to be taken. They forget that there are rules, boundaries they don't get to cross just because they think they're exceptional.'

The more she dwelled on it, the more her anger grew. The Cloud Heavens Sect had earned its status through generations of discipline, countless hours of training, and sacrifices made by their disciples.

After all, in the time when the Cloud Heavens Sect acted up, at that time, the traditional values of the world were rather strict when it came to women.

Most of them were not even allowed to cultivate and form a core, let alone other things. It was the founding Matriarch, who had gone against the will of the whole world and created the sect. She had put her blood and sweat into achieving a position in this world, which was why they could cultivate this freely.

This legacy was the heart of Zerah's conviction. The Cloud Heavens Sect had not only risen from the blood and sweat of its founding Matriarch, who had defied the entire world to give women a place of power, but it had also thrived in a society that had long stifled women's potential.

Her Matriarch had sacrificed everything to secure that right, carving out a space where women could cultivate freely, form cores, and become forces to be reckoned with. Every disciple who walked their halls carried this legacy, a living testament to the Matriarch's defiance and strength.

And yet, men like Lucavion—men who never faced such barriers, who strutted around as if the world were theirs by birthright—had the audacity to act as though they understood power, as though they had truly earned their place.

Everything had been handed to them, opportunities lining their paths, unchallenged by prejudice or restriction.

Zerah's anger hardened into determination as she thought of Valeria.

Talented, strong,

and with a spirit that reminded her of the sect's founding principles. Valeria was the kind of woman who deserved to stand with them, to carry the legacy forward—not to be wasted around men like Lucavion, who saw women as mere prizes or allies to charm.

'Yes,'

Zerah thought, her gaze steady with resolve,

'Valeria belongs with us, among those who understand the value of true discipline, of earned respect.'

If she could guide Valeria toward their side, away from the distractions of arrogant men, the Cloud Heavens Sect would gain a worthy ally and sister.

A slow, cold smile spread across her face as she settled her resolve.

'If you refuse to follow the order of things, then don't blame me for being… impolite.'

Lost in her thoughts, she was a little late to notice that someone stepped up beside her, the faint shuffling of robes snapping her back to the present. She glanced over to see one of her fellow disciples watching her with a curious, almost mischievous smile.

"Senior Sister, what's on your mind?" the disciple asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Zerah blinked, quickly masking her previous thoughts with a practiced, composed expression. "Nothing of consequence," she replied smoothly, her voice steady and calm. She gave a slight shake of her head, casting off the intensity of her inner resolve.

The disciple chuckled, not pressing further, though her gaze lingered knowingly. "We were just discussing something, Senior Sister," she continued her tone light. "Since we've all finished our fights for the day… shouldn't we head somewhere for a drink? There's this rumored spot nearby, and I hear some rather interesting…

pets

gather there."

A sly glint shone in her eyes, and the other disciples nearby exchanged amused glances, clearly in on the plan. Zerah could feel the playful tension among them; this wasn't an unusual suggestion. After the heat and rigor of the fights, some relaxation and diversion were commonplace.

After all this type of freedom was what the world owed them, after all years of oppression, wasn't it?

Zerah's lips curved into a faint smirk as she felt a slight tingle 'somewhere.'

"A drink, then," she said, her tone approving. "Lead the way."

Chapter 208: Faint but Visible

As the slightly cool midafternoon breeze of Andelheim, which was already alive with the sounds of the tournament blew, Valeria strode through the crowded streets toward the arena, her thoughts focused yet shadowed by her lingering exchanges with Lucavion.

The tournament atmosphere was electric; merchants hawked their wares with aggressive cheer, and vendors offered everything from enchanted amulets to energy potions aimed at competitors.

Her head was filled with thoughts as she approached the grand arena, its towering structure looming over the city like a fortress.

What was he implying with his talk of masks, and of people who manipulated others' vulnerabilities? She had left their exchange feeling more exposed than she was comfortable admitting.

Stepping inside, she was greeted by the stark scent of dust and adrenaline filling the arena corridors. As she navigated the winding passageways, her gaze fixed on the glow of the preparation area, she noticed several other fighters already deep in their routines, focused and intent. Her own mind sharpened, shaking off the remnants of yesterday's confusion. She would channel all her focus into today's match, using the clarity her early morning training had granted her.

Just as she was about to settle herself near the entrance to the coliseum, she felt an all-too-familiar presence beside her.

"Well, you seem very much in your element today," came Lucavion's voice, disturbingly close.

She shot him a sideways glance, her expression hardening into a glare as she resisted the urge to sigh. "Did you come to gloat, or do you simply lack anywhere else to be?"

He smirked, unperturbed. "You wound me, truly. I'm merely here to support you, of course."

"Hmm…."

Valeria's expression remained guarded, but inwardly, she couldn't help but feel the tension of his presence—an edge she hadn't felt moments before. There was something about Lucavion's insistent shadow that pushed her focus tighter, her resolve sharper. Despite herself, she allowed his presence to linger.

"When's your match?" she asked finally, her tone casual, though she felt a strange flicker of curiosity.

"Oh, it's already done," he replied with a shrug, adjusting the collar of his coat as though his victory were an everyday affair.

She paused mid-step, a brief flash of surprise crossing her face. She realized with a pang of annoyance that she hadn't thought to ask him, and hadn't even looked at the tournament schedule for his matches. How was it that he always seemed to be there for hers?

"You could have told me," she murmured, half to herself, eyes narrowing as she recalled how she had assumed he'd be waiting until later to compete.

Lucavion's gaze sharpened slightly, though his mouth twitched for little. His expression slightly faltered, though Valeria did not notice it.

However, in an instant, he took control of it again and then smiled teasingly.

"Ah… I should have told you the time of my duel, shouldn't I? You could've had the honor of watching me—maybe even picked up a few pointers."

Hearing his response, Valeria felt a prick of awareness at her own thoughts.

Why had she said that?

The realization settled in, and, despite her best efforts, a faint blush crept over her cheeks.

"You!" She shot him a glare, though the heat rising in her face made it feel less convincing. "You arrogant bastard."

Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel, striding away from him with brisk, determined steps, as if to outpace her own embarrassment. She could sense his gaze on her back, the faintest ripple of amusement lingering in the air behind her. But she didn't dare look back—she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

The cool corridors of the arena, bustling with activity and focused intent, provided the perfect cover. Yet, as she moved further into the preparations area, her heartbeat with a sharper rhythm, his words echoing despite her attempts to shake them off.

Had she really expected him to tell her about his match?

The thought lingered stubbornly, much as she hated to admit it.

*******

Lucavion remained where she'd left him, just outside the arched entryway, half shrouded in the cool, late afternoon shadows.

The faintest breeze tousled a strand of his hair, catching on the cloak he wore, as he let his gaze linger in the direction Valeria had vanished. He'd seen the flush on her face, that brief moment when her pride had slipped just enough to reveal her, and he'd savored it.

There was always something satisfying in catching her off-guard, in finding the chinks in that carefully forged armor she wore so tightly around herself.

He exhaled, an amused chuckle escaping him, hand drifting to his chest where his heartbeat had quickened without his permission.

"That face just now…" He murmured to himself, tilting his head slightly, lips curving in a grin that was both pleased and amused. "Might have made my heart skip a beat."

Letting the thought linger in his mind, he couldn't help but wonder just how deep he could push her next time, how close he could get her to that edge of impatience where her walls faltered.

Lucavion shook his head to himself, the faint grin slipping into something more reserved as he glanced toward the arena's outer courtyard. 'While it's fun,' he thought, brushing a gloved hand over his mouth as though to conceal his expression, 'it's getting a bit harder to keep this face.'

The thought lingered with him as he made his way outside, moving through the bustling crowd until he reached the front rail, where he could watch her match with a clear view. He settled against it, gaze sharp, fixed on the archway where she'd soon appear. The arena hummed with anticipation, the voices and footfalls merging in a familiar din that only half-registered to him. His attention was already singular, anchored in one figure.

He still remembered her first duel. She'd fought formally, every step and swing calculated, crisp, and executed with the precision of her training. But each strike back then had lacked something.

Since then, though, something had shifted. He could sense it in her sword.

'Though faint, she is changing.'

And this change was a good sign. Since, if she were to get stronger, maybe the fate that awaited her in the novel could change?

'If you want to overcome it, you better get strong faster, Lady Knight….'

Just as Lucavion's thoughts drifted to that future—the one looming like a dark, unwelcome specter—Valeria stepped into the arena, her stride carrying the poise and intent of a seasoned warrior. Her pale pink hair cascaded down onto her shoulders, shifting like silk as she moved. She held her sword with practiced ease, her grip firm, the blade gleaming under the afternoon light.

Across the ring, her opponent took his position. He was a tall man, his figure lean but sturdy, and in his hands, he wielded a spear, the polished wood and metal catching glints of light.

He twirled it with a flourish before leveling its sharp, glinting tip toward her.

The contrast between the two combatants was striking.

From his vantage point, Lucavion could see the faint tension in Valeria's posture. Her shoulders were held a touch too high, her stance a shade too tight. It was subtle, but telling—she was still adjusting to the eyes of the crowd, an audience she didn't quite know how to ignore.

Despite the fact that the stands weren't focused on her alone, with other matches drawing scattered cheers and gasps across the arena, some attention inevitably drifted to her. The kind of attention that followed beauty, especially one that bore itself with such visible strength.

And she

was

beautiful, he noted, his gaze sweeping over her again as if to confirm it. There was something striking about the contrast between her delicate features and the cold, glinting steel in her hands, the set determination in her jaw.

It was the kind of image that would inspire respect—or envy.

Then he noticed her gaze shift, scanning the crowd in that quick, nervous way she'd done the day before. He kept his expression neutral and casually leaned against the rail, though his attention was fixed entirely on her.

And as her gaze found him, he saw it—a subtle shift as she held his eyes, the faintest easing in her shoulders, the tension rolling off her with something close to relief.

He let an arrogant smirk play across his face, arms crossed, watching her with a faint look of indulgence, like an audience of one. It was almost enough to make him laugh at her readiness to let her guard down at the mere sight of him. But he held back, the thought settling into silent amusement as she turned back to face her opponent, more grounded, her sword poised with renewed focus.

'Well….Though this kind of development is not good in the long run, for her who is doing this for the first time, she should be given at least this much leverage, shouldn't she? Or else, she may just break.'

Knowing how it felt to be in front of an audience like this and having seen countless youngsters break down on stage as Bruce, Lucavion was familiar with this feeling.

'Well, show them how it needs to be done, Lady Knight. I really am quite expectant of you.'