Charles walked through the clan's hallways with firm but slightly shaky steps.
Rian's memories of this place were fuzzy. He'd turned down several wrong corridors, running into stone walls and servants who shot him dirty looks, until he finally reached a double wooden door with carved details.
'This has to be it,' he thought, taking a deep breath before pushing it open.
Lira's room unfolded before him like a different world from his own. It was spacious, with woven rugs covering the floor and a large bed in one corner, draped with fine fabric curtains.
A polished wooden table was cluttered with scrolls and items that screamed high rank.
But what made Charles freeze in the doorway was a flat-screen TV taking up an entire wall.
'What the hell?' he thought, blinking in disbelief. 'A TV? Seriously?'
For a second, his mind raced.
Was this a modern world masquerading as fantasy?
They were totally breaking his immersion!
Before Charles could wrap his head around it, Lira looked up from an armchair where she sat, a remote control in hand.
With a sharp click, she turned off the TV, the screen going black. Her blue eyes locked onto him.
"About time you showed up, Rian…" she said, tossing the remote onto the table with a casual flick. "Your tasks from now on will be simple. There are crops in the east wing gardens. You'll water them, keep pests away, and make sure they grow right. Not hard, even for someone like you."
Charles frowned, confused.
"Crops? What's that got to do with my fight today?" he asked, stepping into the room.
Lira raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard.
"Fight?" she echoed, her tone dry and mocking. "You seriously think you're fighting today?"
She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms like she was waiting for some ridiculous explanation.
"Yeah," Charles replied, nodding firmly. "I'm fighting. That's my choice."
Lira stared at him for a beat before letting out a long sigh.
"You're so stubborn…" she muttered, rising from the chair with graceful ease. She snatched a parchment from the table and started reading aloud, her voice cold and flat.
"Your first opponent: Darion Veth. Started controlling air as a kid. Trained by different masters for years. He's here today to test his skill in our arena."
Lira paused, glancing sideways at Charles's reaction, but before he could speak, she pressed on.
"Second: Syris Kael. Similar deal, but he controls fire. Word is he was taught by spirits in the southern lands. A prodigy, according to rumors."
Silence settled over the room when Lira finished.
Charles stayed quiet, trying to recall a game with characters like that.
The concepts rang a faint bell—like something from a fantasy RPG he'd played once—but the specifics slipped away.
As his mind churned, Lira set the parchment down and looked at him with a hint of pity.
"That's why I'm giving you this chance, Rian," she said, her voice softening just a touch, though still laced with condescension. "Become my servant, and not many here will mess with you. Just stay out of the fights."
Charles pressed his lips together.
'So I'd basically still be a slave, just with her as the boss,' he thought, a knot forming in his stomach.
Watering plants and dodging bugs while Lira lorded over him wasn't much better than the miserable life he already had.
Lira seemed to assume she'd sold him on it, because she pointed at the door with a casual wave.
"Your new servant clothes will show up in your room this afternoon. You can start tomorrow."
"Wait," Charles said, raising a hand.
Lira stopped, frowning at him.
"What now?" she asked, her patience obviously thinning.
"I never said I wasn't fighting," Charles replied, holding her gaze.
Lira blinked, surprised, then let out another sigh—this one heavier.
"Rian…" she said, her tone dripping with irritation. "Don't treat this like a joke. Becoming a slave isn't a game. You're a Cole, even if you've got no powers. If you lose and get sold… whoever buys you could use you for experiments—or worse, as cannon fodder for some dumb scheme. Listen to me for once and take my offer."
Her voice rose at the end, showing she was getting worked up.
Charles studied her, processing her words.
'Experiments on me…?' he thought.
It was a grim fate, but not totally shocking.
This clan seemed rotten to the core. Still, something about Lira's attitude threw him off.
Why did she care so much?
"Lira," Charles said, using her name directly for the first time, "I want to fight."
Lira stared at him, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged.
Then, with a sharp motion, she slammed the papers onto the table.
"Drop that stupid idea!" she snapped, her voice now openly heated. "You won't just end up a slave—you'll drag the Cole name through the mud. We don't lose, Rian. We win or we tie. Don't you get it? Even if by some miracle you win or draw the first fight, what about the second? What shape do you think you'll be in after Darion? It's impossible to beat Syris with everything I just told you!"
Charles froze, caught off guard by how intense she'd gotten.
'Why's she so rattled?' he thought, a weird pang hitting his chest.
Charles inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to stay steady.
"I want to try," he said finally, his voice solid despite the pressure bearing down on him.
Lira looked at him like she couldn't believe her ears.
"Try?" she repeated, her tone dropping to a dangerous murmur. "Then I'll have to convince you the hard way, huh?"
She stepped away from the table with a quick move and stood in front of him, just a few paces apart.
"Right here, right now, Rian. We're having a duel. If you win, I'll let you do those fights. But if you lose, you shut up and become my servant. Got it?"
Charles's jaw dropped.
'Another duel?' he thought, his pulse kicking into overdrive.
He hadn't seen this coming.
Apparently, he wasn't just locked into two fights today—now he had to beat the same half-sister who'd just said he couldn't handle two fights in one day.
'This woman's nuts!'