It was nearing midnight when Vane returned to Room 404 in Block D. As he walked in, Elian was already curled up in his bed; judging by his steady breathing, the scrawny boy was fast asleep.
Vane sat on the edge of his bed and reached into that dark ocean within the depths of his mind. Tomorrow, I will step into the arena to become Julian's shield, he called out internally. Do you have any advice?
Yet, the only thing echoing in his mind was a cold silence. Lysandra wasn't speaking. Perhaps she was still resting after the aether transfer, or perhaps she just wanted to watch whether her pawn could stand on his own two feet. Vane shrugged. Silence was nothing new to him. He closed his eyes, shutting out tomorrow's possibilities, and drifted off to sleep.
When Elian opened his eyes the next morning, he was startled by the rhythmic sound of heavy breathing in the middle of the room. Vane was grinding out push-ups, drenched in sweat. A complex expression crossed the scrawny boy's face as he looked at the visible muscle mass Vane had built and his relentless discipline. Without a word, Elian quickly put on his uniform and slung his bag over his shoulder. Right before walking out the door, he paused and glanced back.
"Just... don't die, Vane," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, then closed the door behind him.
Vane stopped his push-ups. As he took a cold shower, his mind was already simulating the battlefield. There would be dozens of Pillar vassals wanting to be Julian's shield. He calculated who might step up against him and what kind of aether they wielded. After stepping out of the shower, he put on his academy uniform—still bearing the stitched marks of previous battles—and headed for the dining hall.
The moment he stepped through the heavy doors, the familiar roar of the hall filled his ears. His eyes immediately darted to the table at the center. Prince Julian was there. Surrounding him was a literal wall of flesh made up of vassals from nearly every Pillar, though heavily dominated by the Sixth (Earth). They were all hovering around him like moths to a flame, desperately trying to catch the prince's attention and exchange a single word.
Vane steered clear of the crowd and sat next to Elian, who was quietly eating his meal in the corner.
The second he sat down, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Without lifting his eyes from his plate, he scanned the room. Almost all the Pillar heirs sitting at the other tables—including Mirabelle Robshaw and Kristina—had their eyes fixed on him. There were only two heirs not looking at Vane: Julian, who was completely focused on his food, and Kravitz, who had been walking around like a beaten ghost ever since the explosion in the arena.
Mirabelle and the others... Vane thought with absolute calm. They are weighing whether I'll be a part of their bloody plot against Julian.
When Julian finished his meal and stood up with a graceful motion, the massive crowd of vassals rose with him. As the prince exited the dining hall, they trailed behind him like a small army. Leaving his meal unfinished, Vane silently fell in at the back of this crowd.
The group stopped in front of the massive iron doors of the indoor arena, a facility the academy had been renovating and keeping closed. Julian gave a slight nod to a gloomy, mysterious boy standing right beside him. The boy pushed the heavy iron doors open.
Julian entered first, followed by the mysterious boy and the swarming crowd. The arena was empty; there was nothing but black sand and stone bleachers. The mysterious boy brought over an ornate wooden chair from the sidelines, placing it at a height where Julian could clearly see the entire arena.
Julian slowly sat down on the chair. His posture, his gaze, and the overwhelming aura he exuded... For a second, Vane felt as though he wasn't looking at Julian, but at the cold, soulless silhouette of King Vorian—the very man who had sent him to his death in the throne room. Inwardly, Vane couldn't help but acknowledge the boy's terrifying charisma.
"I offer my gratitude to the vassals of every Pillar gathered here for the honor of becoming my shield," Julian said. Though he didn't shout, his voice echoed into every corner of the arena like a commander's decree.
A thunderous applause immediately erupted from the crowd.
Julian raised his hand slightly, demanding silence. "In a crowd filled with such talent, to simply point my finger, say 'it's you,' and disregard the potential of the others... would not befit me, nor the Leynthey bloodline."
The vassals held their breath, listening to their prince's every word as if it were a sacred text.
"Here," Julian continued, lowering his voice to a dangerous, compelling pitch. "On these sands, the last person standing will earn the right to be my shield."
When Julian finished his sentence, the arena plunged into a deep silence. Minutes passed, but the prince didn't say another word. Finally, a hulking boy from the crowd gathered his courage and took a step forward.
"Forgive me, Our Prince," the boy said, bowing respectfully. "My name is Hernance, Palmont vassal of the Sixth Pillar. How exactly will the qualifiers work, and when will they begin?"
Murmurs were just about to ripple through the crowd, but Julian's smooth, ice-cold voice sliced through it all:
"It already has."
While the crowd looked at each other in confusion, Julian's eyes found Vane at the very back of the group. The two brothers' gazes locked. There wasn't a millimeter of emotional shift on Julian's face, not the slightest hint of surprise or anger. I just can't figure this guy out, Vane thought.
The millisecond Vane shifted his gaze away from Julian, the mysterious figure next to the prince swung his hand. A dagger tore through the air and embedded itself in the sand right at Vane's feet.
"Battle Royale!" the mysterious boy roared, a maniacal grin spreading across his face. "No rules! The last one standing becomes the shield!"
The moment those words dropped into the arena, the gates of hell opened.
Within seconds, everyone summoned their soul weapons. The space was instantly filled with blades of fire, hammers of earth, and whips of water. No one knew anyone; they just viciously attacked whoever was closest. The old arena had turned into an absolute bloodbath.
Vane didn't even attempt to summon his rusted dagger. Exposing his aether-devouring ability this early would be sheer stupidity. He moved using only the hunter reflexes he'd learned from Kael and the raw physical strength granted by the newly forged, steel-like aether coursing through his veins. He sidestepped an incoming earth spear and ducked under a lethal water whip.
He glanced at the bleachers from the corner of his eye. The mysterious figure was taking a twisted, sadistic pleasure in the carnage, laughing out loud. Julian, however, leaned back in his chair, watching the slaughter with a soulless expression, as if he were viewing a terribly boring play.
Just then, a ground-shaking roar erupted right behind Vane.
"DIE, BASTARD!"
Vane spun around quickly. The one charging at him was Caelum, a vassal of the Third Pillar, raising his massive fire axe high into the air. Vane had forgotten for a moment that this hulking boy was Prince Julian's biggest fanatic in the academy.
"I thought you'd be playing with the Ignis heir, bull," Vane said, pulling off a flawless pivot at the very last second to dodge the lethal, flaming axe crashing down on him.
Caelum's eyes were bloodshot, and he was literally huffing like a raging bull. "I've been waiting so long... to crush that arrogant face of yours!" he hissed, swinging his axe horizontally toward Vane's waist.
Caelum was expecting a long, bloody duel. Vane, however, had absolutely zero intention of wasting time.
Vane slapped the handle of the incoming axe hard with his palm, deflecting the weapon's trajectory. Seizing the momentary opening, he sprang on his toes and closed the distance before Caelum could even process what was happening.
BAM! Vane's right fist sank into Caelum's liver like a concrete sledgehammer. The hulking boy's breath was instantly knocked out of him.
BAM! His left elbow crashed into the jaw of the bending Caelum in a flawless arc. The sickening crack of bone could be heard even over the roar of the arena.
BAM! Finally, his rising right knee exploded right into the center of Caelum's ribcage.
Three seconds. Everything had happened in just three seconds. Caelum's massive body, his eyes rolled back white, crumpled onto the black sand like a sack of potatoes.
At that moment, everyone fighting within a ten-foot radius of Vane suddenly froze. Their eyes locked onto this "farm bastard" who had just put one of the biggest guys in the arena into a coma in three seconds, bare-handed, without even using his soul weapon. Combining yesterday's rumors with the brutality they were witnessing right now, they all realized in that very second who the true, greatest threat was.
A few people took a couple of steps back from Vane in fear. Then, as if synchronized by an invisible thread, they all looked at each other. Abandoning their own brawls entirely, they slowly began to form a circle around Vane, their glowing soul weapons raised. Dozens of furious eyes were now focused on a single target.
Looking at the lethal circle closing in around him, Vane let out a deep breath and dropped his shoulders.
"Ah, shit," he muttered in a cold voice.