The sun dipped below the horizon, plunging the world into darkness. The suns above the capital dimmed, allowing the warm glow of the moon to wash over the Imperial Palace.
Inside the grand dining room, the atmosphere was suffocating.
The room was massive and dripping with luxury. A long mahogany table stretched across the center, covered in extravagant dishes and high-quality wines. The ingredients for this single meal cost enough to buy a small mansion on the outskirts of Erzel.
The rich scent of roasted meats and spices filled the air.
But no one sitting at the table dared to take a bite.
At the head of the table sat Emperor Valerius. He slowly swirled a glass of crimson wine, watching his children in absolute silence.
Sitting just a few feet away from the Emperor was First Princess Eliza. She casually twirled a strand of her blue hair around her finger. The seat next to her was completely empty. No one dared to sit beside her, perfectly aware of her bizarre and dangerous nature.
Directly opposite Eliza sat Crown Prince Karlos. He had fiery red hair and sharp golden eyes. He radiated an invisible, scorching aura that made a normal person's instincts scream in terror. He was a genius in both fire magic and swordsmanship, holding the infamous title 'Inferno Diver'.
When he was just a child, he dove into literal magma and climbed out without a single burn. No one in their right mind wanted to make an enemy of him.
Beside Karlos sat his loyal shadow, Second Prince Mark. He had blue hair and crystal-blue eyes, taking after his mother. In the novel, Mark did all the dirty, underhanded work that Karlos couldn't do publicly. He was a bootlicker destined to be face-slapped by the protagonist later on.
A few seats down sat the Second Princess, Mira. She tapped her silver spoon impatiently against her porcelain plate, clearly annoyed that they were waiting for the "honored guest."
The Third Princess was absent, having left to attend a private banquet at a friend's estate.
Two seats away from Mira sat Amyra. The confusion and shock from her private encounter with Rias had completely vanished. Now, only a cold, calculating mask remained on her beautiful face. The seat beside her was empty—the spot reserved for her fiancé.
And finally, at the very end of the long table, sitting as far away from the others as possible, was a lonely boy.
He had pitch-black hair and calm golden eyes. His mana aura felt incredibly weak, almost pathetic compared to the monsters in the room.
But Rias knew the truth. That boy was Alen Celestia. The protagonist. His aura was weak now, but the dormant power of the ancient ancestors resting inside his soul was as vast as an ocean. He just needed time to grow.
*Creak—*
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the dining room opened.
Rias walked in. He wore the dark, tailored suit Lily had prepared for him. His posture was flawless. His crimson eyes swept across the room, taking in the terrifying cast of characters he had created.
He walked smoothly toward the table and stopped near the head chair, offering a polite bow.
"It is an honor to join you for dinner, Your Majesty."
The Emperor looked down at him with a warm, entirely fake smile.
"You do not have to act so formal here, Rias. At this dining table, we are just family."
Rias's eye twitched slightly at the word 'family'. He nodded and took his seat right next to Amyra. She immediately shot him a cold, warning glare out of the corner of her eye.
'Family? My foot,' Rias thought, unfolding his silk napkin.
'You definitely wouldn't invite your political hostage to dinner without an ulterior motive. You either want to test my usefulness, or you are setting up a trap.'
With Rias seated, the Emperor finally took a sip of his wine. The dinner officially began.
For the first time in several days, Rias had a plate of food in front of him that wasn't laced with deadly toxins. The System didn't flash any warnings.
He took a bite of the roasted meat and let out a quiet sigh of relief.
'I never thought I would face a safe-food crisis in my own novel,' Rias thought, chewing slowly.
'I actually regret not appreciating the normal, safe meals my mother used to cook back on Earth. I miss her cooking. What a difficult life I dragged myself into...'
The dining room remained tense and quiet, filled only with the clinking of silver forks against porcelain.
Then, the Emperor set his wine glass down. The sharp clink echoed through the massive room, instantly silencing everyone.
"Next week," Emperor Valerius announced, his deep voice carrying absolute authority.
"The Imperial Tournament will commence."
The princes and princesses stopped eating, giving their father their full attention.
"All the noble houses of the Velmer Empire will send their finest heirs to compete," the Emperor continued.
"The Royal Family will, of course, participate to demonstrate our superior strength to the masses. The grand prize for the victor this year will be from my personal vault. A Saint-tier artifact."
Rias paused, his fork hovering halfway to his mouth.
'A Saint-tier artifact?' Rias's mind raced.
'The power scaling in this world goes from Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum and Diamond, to Saint, to Ascendant, and finally to Mythic. A Saint-tier weapon is practically a national treasure. The Emperor is throwing heavy bait to make sure the nobles fight to the death.'
"However," the Emperor said, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.
"This year, I am implementing a strict tradition. Only the male heirs of the noble and royal houses will be permitted to enter the arena."
A heavy silence fell over the table.
Amyra's grip on her silver fork tightened so hard the metal began to bend. Her golden eyes flared with pure, unrestrained anger.
It was blatant discrimination. Amyra was a magical genius. She was stronger than almost every noble heir in the capital. But because of her gender, her father was cutting her out of the glory entirely.
Eliza simply smiled and took a sip of her soup. She didn't care about the tournament anyway. She preferred pulling strings from the shadows. Mira looked completely uninterested as well.
But Amyra cared. She wanted to prove her worth to the Empire.
"Father," Amyra started, her voice tight with suppressed rage.
"I have trained—"
"My word is final, Amyra," the Emperor cut her off coldly.
The Emperor then turned his head. His piercing blue gaze locked directly onto Rias. A dark, cruel amusement danced in the old man's eyes.
"However, Princess Amyra cannot go unrepresented in the grand arena," the Emperor said smoothly.
"Therefore, her official fiancé will take her place. Lord Rias will fight in the Imperial Tournament to defend her honor."
Rias froze.
Karlos smirked. Mark let out a quiet, mocking laugh. Even Alen, sitting at the far end of the table, looked up in surprise.
The trap had just snapped shut.
The Emperor wasn't just being traditional. He was using the rule as an excuse to throw Rias into a bloodbath.
The nobles of Velmer hated the Leonhart family with a burning passion. If Rias stepped into that arena, every single noble heir would try to publicly slaughter him to avenge their fallen relatives from the war.
It was a state-sponsored execution, disguised as a grand honor.
Rias looked at the Emperor. He was completely speechless at the sheer ruthlessness of the old man's politics. He couldn't refuse. Refusing a direct decree from the Emperor in front of the entire Royal Family would be treason. It would give them an excuse to lock him in the dungeon immediately.
Amyra looked at Rias, a vicious, mocking smile returning to her lips. She leaned in close, whispering so only he could hear.
"Try not to die in the first round, my dear fiancé. It would be terribly embarrassing for me."
Rias took a slow, deep breath. He set his silver fork down on his plate.
He was being thrown to the wolves. But the Emperor had made a massive miscalculation. He thought he was throwing a crippled Bronze-tier boy into the arena.
He didn't know Rias was a Silver Level 9 boy holding a Mythic-tier sword.
"It would be my absolute privilege, Your Majesty," Rias replied. His voice was perfectly calm, and a polite, fearless smile spread across his face.
"I will gladly show the noble heirs of Velmer exactly what the Leonhart family is capable of."