Rias walked up the glowing crystal stairs leading to the Royal Balcony.
He didn't look like a boy who had just fought against five hundred people. His dark blue coat was completely clean. He wasn't sweating, and his breathing was perfectly calm. He kept his hands stuffed casually in his pockets as he stepped onto the highest viewing deck in the stadium.
The atmosphere on the balcony was incredibly tense.
Emperor Valerius sat on his massive crystal throne, his blue eyes locked onto the arena below. He didn't even turn his head as Rias walked in.
The rest of the royal siblings, however, couldn't look away.
Crown Prince Karlos glared at Rias, his jaw clenched tight. Second Prince Mark looked like he had swallowed a bitter lemon. Princess Mira refused to make eye contact, staring awkwardly at her lap. Only First Princess Eliza offered a mysterious, highly amused smile.
They had all watched the slaughter in Batch A. They had watched the 'crippled hostage' casually wipe out an entire army without taking a single scratch. The Leonhart trash was supposed to die today, but instead, he had humiliated everyone who doubted him.
Rias ignored their glares. He walked over to the empty, luxurious chair situated right next to Princess Amyra and sat down.
"You took your time," Amyra hissed. She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the dirt arena. But her voice was tight with suppressed anger.
"The stairs are very long," Rias replied smoothly, leaning back into the soft cushions.
"And I had to dust off my boots. The arena dirt is surprisingly clingy."
Amyra shot him a venomous glare out of the corner of her eye.
'He is acting so arrogant,' Amyra thought, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair.
'He hid his strength from us. He made a fool out of the imperial spies. But I am not going to let him sit here and act like he owns the place.'
Down in the massive stadium, the arena crew quickly carried the unconscious fighters out of the ring. The head referee blew his magical horn, calling for Batch B to enter the dirt.
Rias leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
He watched the hundreds of new fighters step into the white chalk circle. And right at the edge of the group, standing quietly with a simple iron sword, was Alen Celestia.
"Batch B," Amyra sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.
"Look down there, Leonhart. Do you see the boy with the black hair? That is Alen. He is the illegitimate son of a palace maid. He shares our father's blood, but he has absolutely zero talent. He is an embarrassment to the Velmer Empire."
Rias looked at Alen. He knew exactly what was about to happen.
"Is that so?" Rias asked innocently.
"I think he looks quite capable."
Amyra let out a harsh, cruel laugh. "Capable? He doesn't even have a proper magic tutor. The mercenaries are going to crush him in the first ten seconds. It will be a pathetic display."
Rias slowly turned his head to look at her. A playful, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"Do you want to bet on that, Princess?"
Amyra frowned. "Excuse me?"
"I bet he wins," Rias said confidently.
"In fact, I bet he clears the entire arena even faster than I did. I bet he dominates the match."
Amyra stared at him as if he had lost his mind.
"You are insane," she scoffed.
"Alen is a weakling. He has never won a real fight in his life. If you want to throw your pride away on a stupid bet, fine. What are the stakes?"
Rias didn't hesitate. He looked her right in the eyes.
"If I win," Rias said, his voice dropping to a smooth, shameless whisper,
"I want to squeeze your cheeks again. For another five minutes."
Amyra froze.
Her mind instantly flashed back to their date and the night street. She remembered him pinching her face. She remembered how incredibly embarrassing it was. And worse, she remembered the accidental kiss that happened right after.
A violent, burning shade of red rushed to her cheeks.
"You... you shameless bastard!" Amyra hissed, keeping her voice low so the Emperor wouldn't hear.
"How dare you ask for that!"
"It is a simple bet," Rias shrugged casually.
"You said he is going to lose. If you are so confident, then you have nothing to worry about. Unless you are actually scared?"
Amyra ground her teeth together. Her golden eyes flashed with pure fire.
"Fine!" she snapped angrily.
"But when that boy gets thrown out of the ring, you are going to jump off this balcony!"
"Deal," Rias smiled, leaning back in his chair.
'Hook, line, and sinker,' Rias thought cheerfully.
'Squeezing her cheeks was incredibly awkward that night, but honestly, it is surprisingly addictive. It is the only time she actually looks like a normal girl instead of a bloodthirsty killer.'
Down in the arena, the head referee shouted for the match to begin.
The brawl erupted. Rias and Amyra watched closely. At first, Alen just dodged. He tripped mercenaries and gently pushed them out of the ring.
"See?" Amyra sneered quietly.
"He is just running away like a coward. He doesn't even have the guts to draw his sword."
"Patience, Princess," Rias replied.
A few seconds later, twenty elite mercenaries surrounded Alen. Earth mages trapped the boy's legs in thick vines. Fifteen heavy weapons swung down toward his head.
"He is dead," Amyra stated coldly.
But Rias just smiled.
*BOOOOM!*
A massive, blinding pillar of golden energy erupted from the center of the arena. The shockwave hit the stadium like a hurricane. The fifteen mercenaries were blown into the sky like broken dolls.
Up on the Royal Balcony, the entire family flinched.
Emperor Valerius stood up so fast his crystal chair scraped loudly against the floor. Crown Prince Karlos dropped his wine glass. It shattered, spilling red liquid all over his expensive boots.
Amyra stopped breathing. Her golden eyes widened in absolute, pure shock.
Down in the dirt, Alen pulled his glowing fist back. The phantom of an ancient golden dragon roared behind him. He punched the ground.
*KRRAAACK!*
The second shockwave ripped through the arena. It tore the dirt apart, sending all the remaining fighters flying completely out of the white chalk ring. In less than fifteen seconds, Alen had completely cleared Batch B.
The stadium was dead silent. A million people stared at the illegitimate prince in total disbelief.
Then, the cheering started. The roar of the crowd shook the very foundations of the arena. They screamed his name, absolutely mesmerized by his overwhelming power.
Up on the balcony, Rias turned his head to look at his fiancée.
Amyra was still frozen. She stared down at the ruined arena, her mouth slightly open. The "weakling" brother she had mocked her entire life had just displayed a level of raw power that rivaled the Emperor himself.
"Well," Rias said softly, breaking her out of her trance.
"It looks like I win."
Amyra slowly turned her head to look at him. Her face was completely pale.
"That... that is impossible," she whispered.
"Nothing is impossible," Rias smiled.
Without waiting for permission, Rias reached his hands over the armrest. He didn't care that they were sitting on the Royal Balcony. He didn't care that the Emperor was standing just a few feet away.
He gently pinched both of her cheeks.
Amyra gasped quietly. Her pale face instantly flooded with a brilliant, furious red blush.
She tried to pull away, but a deal was a deal. Her pride wouldn't let her break a bet. She sat there, completely rigid, glaring daggers at him while he casually squeezed her soft cheeks.
Rias just smiled back, thoroughly enjoying the moment.
But they weren't as hidden as they thought.
A few seats away, Crown Prince Karlos finally ripped his eyes away from the arena. He looked over at Amyra to see her reaction to Alen's absurd power.
Instead, he saw the Leonhart boy casually pinching his sister's face. And worse, he saw Amyra blushing furiously, pouting instead of burning the boy to ash.
Karlos blinked, completely baffled.
He nudged Mark, who was sitting next to him. Mark looked over and his jaw dropped.
Even First Princess Eliza, who noticed everything, gave them a long, calculating side-glance. She tapped her chin, a highly amused glint in her eyes.
'How interesting,' Eliza thought.
'They were supposed to hate each other. Amyra promised to torture him. But look at them. They look like a perfectly normal, bickering couple. This Leonhart boy is full of surprises.'
Rias noticed the siblings staring at them. He didn't stop. He just kept his hands exactly where they were, letting the five minutes slowly tick by. Amyra refused to look at her brothers, staring stubbornly at Rias's chest while her face burned with embarrassment.
Down in the stadium, the head referee finally managed to calm the screaming crowd.
"Batch B is concluded!" the referee yelled into his magical amplifier.
Immediately, dozens of high-tier earth mages rushed out of the dark tunnels. They wore grey robes and carried glowing staffs. They spread out across the ruined arena.
They slammed their staffs into the ground.
Green and brown mana flooded the dirt. The massive craters left behind by Alen's shockwave began to close. The scorched earth flipped over, bringing fresh, hard-packed dirt to the surface. The shattered rocks melted back together.
In less than three minutes, the arena floor was completely smooth and repaired. The pristine white chalk ring was redrawn perfectly in the center.
The crowd cheered again, eager for the next fight.
"The arena is reset!" the referee shouted, raising his flag.
"All fighters assigned to Batch C please step into the ring!"
The atmosphere in the stadium instantly shifted.
The first two matches were mostly filled with commoner mercenaries and minor nobles. But Batch C was different. This was the batch where the true monsters of the younger generation were placed.
From the VIP tunnels at the bottom of the stadium, the high nobles began to walk out.
Lukas bounded onto the dirt, a massive, wild grin on his face. He stretched his arms, looking completely relaxed and eager for a fight.
Right behind him walked his twin sister, Nia. She moved with absolute, silent precision. Her violet eyes scanned the crowd, her face a blank mask of cold calculation. The sheer, freezing aura rolling off her body made the nearby mercenaries step back in fear.
From the opposite tunnel, Kaelen stepped out. He wore a sleek silver combat suit and carried a beautiful, glowing rapier at his hip. He walked with his chin raised high, looking at the other fighters like they were garbage waiting to be thrown away.
Dozens of other famous noble heirs poured into the ring, their expensive weapons gleaming under the bright afternoon sun.
Up on the balcony, Rias finally let go of Amyra's face.
She immediately slapped his hands away, rubbing her red cheeks and glaring at him with pure murderous intent.
"Don't ever do that again," she hissed quietly.
"We will see," Rias chuckled, turning his attention back to the arena.
He leaned forward, his crimson eyes locking onto the high nobles gathering in the dirt. The true powerhouses of the Velmer Empire were finally stepping onto the stage.
The real tournament was about to begin.