Beneath the blinding light, which was still slowly fading, the arena remained shrouded in a thick veil of fog and dust, through which only faint silhouettes could be seen. The crowd held its breath, afraid to move, as if the slightest disturbance could shatter the fragile balance between life and death that hung over this place. Servants exchanged nervous glances, knights stood with tense expressions, and common soldiers rose onto their toes, straining to see anything through the haze.
Then the cries began to break through the murmur of uncertainty:
— The heir… lost?..
— He's not moving!..
— What happened there?
— I can't see anything…
— Where is his opponent?..
— Where is that knight?!
The fog, which had seemed almost alive just moments ago, began to dissipate, as if obeying some unseen will. The air trembled with the lingering resonance of foreign energies, carrying with them the echoes of magic, the scent of ash and blood, and the taste of tension that clung to the tongue. Slowly, almost painfully, the onlookers finally saw a figure emerging from the mist.
He stood there—unscathed, towering and imposing, his back straight, his face carved from stone.
Gerasim, a knight of the duchy, sixth rank, looked as if he had not even been touched by that unimaginable attack. His armor was nearly unscathed, his movements steady, his gaze heavy and unwavering.
He stood facing Reinhard, and his lips barely moved as he uttered a single word—hoarse, filled with disbelief, fear, and… unbearable defeat:
— "How?"
There was no answer.
The next moment struck the arena like a thunderclap. Gerasim twitched. His body froze in an unnatural posture, as if something inside him had broken, disrupting the harmony of his movements. Then, his chest, encased in dark armor, suddenly cracked, as though his very flesh was beginning to disintegrate from within. Slowly, inevitably, as if submitting to some unknown law of retribution, his body split in two. The heavy impact of his flesh against the stone echoed through the arena. Thick, crimson blood, almost black, with an unnatural viscosity, spilled across the ground, leaving behind a terrifying image of an ending.
Everyone stood still.
For a moment, no one dared to even breathe. And then, as if caught between reality and shock, a weakened voice echoed through the center of the arena:
— "Well… at the very least, I… won…"
The words, raspy and barely audible, belonged to Reinhard, whose body was still kneeling. He wavered, his arms limp, and in the next second, he collapsed forward, striking the shattered stone. His shoulder was deeply cut, the bleeding unchecked. His head hung lifelessly, his hair—turned white from the activation of his power—clung to his forehead, damp with sweat and blood. His breath was barely perceptible.
And then it began.
— "He won!.. He won!" — someone among the servants screamed.
— "The heir of House Deir has defeated a sixth-rank knight!..
— "That's impossible…"
— "The knight… lost?..
— "No… He's just a mage!"
The entire arena erupted into a thunderous roar of voices—first astonished, then awed, and finally, ecstatic.
Soldiers, warriors, even officers stared at the fallen young man with an emotion they had never considered before—respect, bordering on fear.
And among the stunned crowd stood Renny. His eyes were wide, his lips barely moving, as if he couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. Something tightened in his chest. His brother… a mage, so calm, so wise, so distant… had defeated a sixth-rank knight? He? Alone? Without artifacts, without support, without an army?
— "That's… impossible," he whispered, staring at Reinhard's body lying on the stone. But then, as if something inside him snapped, he shoved past one of the servants and ran forward.
— "Hey! Hey! Call the healers! He's bleeding out, damn you all!" Renny, stumbling, reached the arena, and for the first time in years, his voice held desperation, fear, and pain. — "Reinhard… Brother, you can't die! You have no right to disappear now, not when I've only just…" He choked on his own words, realizing that for the first time, he had spoken to him as a brother.
And from his eyes, silent tears fell.