An hour later, Arthur and Alice were still riding in the carriage.
“Aunt Alice?” Arthur called out.
“Hm?” she murmured.
“When you said a few days ago that you couldn’t fight entire royal armies by yourself… is that really because you lack the power? Or is it because you want to avoid unnecessary bloodshed?” he asked.
Alice offered a gentle smile. “The latter, Arthur.” A soft sigh escaped her lips before she continued, “Every single one of those soldiers, mages, and healers… they all have families waiting for them. I don’t want them throwing their lives away over a petty territorial dispute.”
Turning her gaze to the window, Alice watched the landscape roll past. “Honestly, the leaders who start these wars—those kings—should be the ones fighting their own battles, rather than dragging thousands of innocent people into a conflict that robs them of a long, fulfilling life.”
Arthur nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “I agree. To be honest, having lived in a remote village my entire life, seeing the nobility up close and personal… it completely changes how I view them.”
Arthur paused for a brief moment before speaking again.
“About my father…” he started.
“What do you want to know about him?” Alice asked, turning her gaze back to him.
“I’ve lived with my father my entire childhood, but for some reason… I feel like I don’t really know him,” Arthur admitted, staring down at his hands.
Alice chuckled softly. “George was always incredibly secretive. He’s impossible to read, honestly. To this day, I still don’t have a single clue what goes on inside his head. All I know for certain is that he is hiding something massive.”
Arthur shook his head quietly before looking back up at her.
“Flora mentioned that my memories seemed to be sealed. She also asked about the magic I used to hunt—a spell she called akariaíos. She said that specific technique is only ever taught to high-ranking royal assassins.”
Sealed memories? Alice thought to herself, her eyes widening slightly. That would certainly explain why his childhood memories feels so hazy to him, not to mention his terrible sense of direction. But who could have possibly sealed his memories? And what were they trying to hide?
Before Alice could utter a single word, the carriage lurched to a sudden halt.
They both looked out the window, greeted by the jaw-dropping sight of an enormous, high-walled brick dome. Even from outside the fortified walls, the muffled, deafening roar of a massive crowd boomed from within, vibrating through the carriage floor.
“I guess we’re here,” Arthur muttered, his voice entirely unbothered by the noise.
Alice turned to him, gently placing her hand over his. “We will find those answers about your father together, Arthur. But for now, clear your mind. Just focus on your duel with James.”
Arthur nodded resolutely. “Of course.”
The footman swung the carriage door open. Arthur stepped out onto the cobblestones first, immediately turning to offer his hand to Alice. She gladly accepted his grip, stepping down gracefully beside him.
The two paused for a moment to take in their surroundings. A literal sea of extravagant robes and shimmering silk flooded the plaza as hundreds of high-born nobles and foreign royalty filtered into the arena gates.
Stepping forward, Arthur offered his left arm to his aunt. Alice smiled, looping her hand firmly through his arm as they began their walk down the main path, cutting straight through the crowd of elite onlookers.
They continued down the path toward the arena, blending seamlessly into the crowd. As they passed, Arthur’s sharp looks didn't go unnoticed, drawing the eyes of several young noblewomen.
“Oh? He’s cute,” one whispered behind her fan.
“Hm… not bad at all,” a second chimed in, eyeing his posture.
“I wonder what his name is?” a third murmured curiously.
When they reached the structural split in the hallway—where one grand staircase led up to the spectator seats and a dark tunnel path connected directly to the center of the arena—Arthur and Alice came to a halt.
“Arthur…” Alice called out softly. She tightened her grip on his arm, her face clouding with genuine concern. “Please be careful. I don’t know what James has planned… but he is notoriously unpredictable during formal duels.”
Arthur offered her a reassuring, completely relaxed smile. “Don’t worry about me, Aunt Alice.”
Alice smiled back, a wave of relief softening her features. “I know… I trust you.”
Slowly letting go of his arm, she turned and began her ascent up the staircase. Arthur watched her go for a brief second, then turned his gaze toward the dim path leading to the heart of the arena. Without a shred of hesitation, he stepped into the tunnel.
Moments later, Arthur emerged from the mouth of the tunnel and was instantly hit by a deafening wall of sound. The sheer volume of the roaring crowd rattled the sand beneath his boots.
“And the new challenger has finally stepped onto the sands!” the announcer’s voice boomed through his amplification magic, triggering an even wilder explosion of cheers from the audience.
“A courageous student hailing straight from Phoenix Academy, and a classmate to the prince himself… Let’s give Arthur Wright a thunderous welcome!”
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The arena erupted into another wave of noise. Standing a few dozen paces away, James laughed boastfully, his arms spread wide. “Ah! There he is! I thought you’d chickened out on me!”
Arthur tilted his head slightly, a wave of dry amusement washing over him. That is literally the exact same line he used a few days ago, he thought.
Once Arthur reached the center of the ring, the announcer raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “The rules for today’s formal match are absolute! Both participants are permitted to use any spell in their arsenal—all categories of offensive and defensive magic are fair game, by any means necessary. The duel ends when one combatant is completely incapacitated!”
Arthur kept his gaze locked on his opponent, sizing him up. Since I can't risk exposing my golden flames, this all comes down to whoever has the most mana and spells up their sleeves. Not to mention, I have no idea when he's going to take those potions.
“Alright! Are both duelists ready?!” the announcer shouted, checking both sides.
James smirked, bouncing lightly from foot to foot as his mana began to flare. “I was born ready!” he jeered.
Arthur merely closed his eyes. He tilted his head to both sides, letting out a sharp, satisfying crack from his neck before opening his eyes to lock onto the prince.
“Yeah,” he responded, his voice cool, level, and entirely devoid of fear.
“Go!” the announcer bellowed, throwing his hands down before diving toward the sidelines for safety.
James didn’t waste a fraction of a second. He rushed forward, thrusting his hand outward to unleash a human-sized ball of roaring fire straight at Arthur. Arthur casually raised a hand, deploying a transparent barrier of raw mana. The fireball slammed into the forcefield and instantly dissipated into harmless sparks.
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But James was already moving. Stomping his right foot violently onto the sand, a massive earth magic circle flared to life beneath him. The ground rippled like liquid water, surging toward Arthur’s position. Sensing the shift, Arthur immediately leaped backward just as a massive, jagged slab of solid stone erupted violently from the arena floor where he had stood a millisecond ago.
Wow, he’s incredibly aggressive this time, Arthur noted mentally, his feet touching the sand down smoothly.
Suddenly, an explosion shattered the air. James physically blasted straight through the stone slab, punching a gaping hole through the center before the rock crumbled entirely into fine dust. Emerging through the debris, the prince thrust both hands forward, throwing out a sweeping torrent of brilliant orange flames.
With a simple, lazy wave of his hand, Arthur conjured a thick stone barrier right out of the arena floor. The wall absorbed the brunt of the blazing impact, scorching the stone but leaving Arthur completely untouched.
“Come on, Arthur! Where’s all that confidence from earlier?!” James yelled, his voice echoing over the roar of his own flames.
I can feel his mana draining fast with every oversized spell he throws, Arthur analyzed, watching the prince closely. What is he trying to accomplish here? Is he intentionally burning through his reserves?
The moment the torrent of fire died down, Arthur sent his stone barrier sinking back into the earth, leaving the arena floor flat once again.
“Done yet?” Arthur asked, completely unbothered.
James snarled, his face twisting with rage. “Stop hiding behind your stupid shields and fight me head-on!”
With a furious roar, the prince leaped high into the air and thrust both hands downward. A barrage of jagged, violent lightning strikes rained from above, peppering the sand. Arthur didn't even bother utilizing a shield this time; he simply drifted through the electric storm, dodging the precise lightning bolts while keeping his eyes locked dead on James.
Up in the royal spectator stands, King Blackwood let out a booming laugh. “Look at that little runt! He’s utterly terrified of my son.” Turning to King Sinclair beside him, Blackwood smirked proudly before standing up to shout over the balcony, “Teach him his place, James!”
Glancing back toward his father for a split second, James smirked. Fueled by the royal praise, he unleashed an even faster, more chaotic storm of lightning strikes. Yet, Arthur continued to weave through the electrical downpour like a ghost.
Suddenly, Arthur scoffed. Planting his foot, he leaped directly up at the airborne prince, completely bypassing the remaining lightning strikes mid-air. Before James could even react, Arthur delivered a devastating, rock-solid kick straight to the side of his head.
The impact sent James crashing violently into the arena floor. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, kicking up a massive, blinding cloud of sand that completely obscured him from view.
King Blackwood suddenly went silent. Beside him, King Sinclair leaned forward, his eyes widening in surprise, while the surrounding royals exchanged murmurs of disbelief.
Elaine clasped her hands tightly against her chest, her gaze anchored to Arthur.
“Please be safe, Arthur…” she muttered under her breath.
Across the stadium, Alice sat quietly in her reserved section, her sharp eyes thoroughly analyzing the battlefield. On the opposite side of the grandstands, Frederick and Owen were practically leaping out of their seats, cheering at the top of their lungs.
“Go, Arthur!” Fred shouted.
“Teach that arrogant prince a lesson!” Owen roared.
Arthur landed gently back on the sand. The instant his boots touched the ground, James burst violently through the smoke. The prince hurled a rapid-fire combination of blazing fireballs and jagged ice shards. The opposing elements collided mid-air, instantly triggering a massive explosion of dense white steam that rapidly blanketed nearly half the arena.
Arthur closed his eyes, entirely unfazed by the blinding vapor. Instead of relying on sight, he extended his senses, feeling for the slightest ripple of motion through the thick cloud.
The moment James appeared directly behind him for a blindside attack, Arthur reacted with veteran instincts, leaping straight upward. James anticipated the evasion, thrusting his hands out to send a deadly flurry of sharp ice shards slicing through the air toward Arthur's mid-air position.
Arthur deployed another localized mana forcefield around himself. The shards slammed into the transparent barrier, shattering into harmless crystalline dust upon impact.
As the thick veil of steam finally began to clear, James lunged forward. He thrust his right hand out, summoning a massive, thorny wooden vine that roared across the sand toward Arthur as he descended. Arthur fired back instantly. Extending his hands forward, he unleashed a sweeping torrent of bright orange flames. The inferno incinerated the charging vine, traveling down the wood like a fuse straight toward the prince.
Panicking at the oncoming heat, James stomped the ground, violently tearing a massive slab of stone from the earth to shield himself from the blast.
Damn it! Why won’t this vermin just go down?! James snarled internally. I can’t sustain this pace... my mana is practically dry. I have to use the potions. It’s the only way... it always has been.
Sheltered behind the thick barrier of stone where the spectators couldn't spy on him, James hastily snatched the two glass vials from his pocket. A dark, murky liquid swirled sinisterly inside them. Seizing the brief window of cover, he ripped the corks off and chugged the contents down in one frantic gulp.
The response was immediate and violent. An agonizing throb hammered against the inside of his skull. James clutched his head, his teeth grinding together so hard they threatened to shatter as he fought the desperate urge to scream.
Come on! Come on! Kick in, you stupid potion! he screamed in his mind.
Across the sand, Arthur stared at the stone slab, instantly sensing the sudden shift in the air. His opponent's natural mana reserves were dangerously low, but a completely different, foul power was rapidly flooding the void. Demonic energy. Arthur clicked his tongue in irritation. He already took it.
Before he could think any further, a raw, animalistic screech tore through the arena. The stone slab finally collapsed into dust, revealing James on his knees. The prince was clutching his head in utter agony, his veins bulging unnaturally as jagged sparks of pitch-black electricity began to leak violently from his skin.
Arthur’s expression suddenly shifted, a cold, intense focus hardening his features as he locked eyes with James—who was now glaring back at him with nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred.
To Be Continued…