Liora blinked against the harsh noon sun as her first opponent lay sprawled at her feet—helmet askew, dignity in shreds. The noble prince staggered, staring skyward as if begging for divine intervention. Instead, he got Luziel's mocking whistle.
"Impressive," Luziel called, strolling over with that carefree swagger of his. "Few can send a grown man flying with a single kick."
Liora sheathed her sword with a casual flourish and gave the crowd a modest nod. "Thank you—for the most gracious fall."
Cheers erupted. From the stands, Morian lifted his teacup in a genteel salute. Liora rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small grin. Nothing like a little heavenly approval.
---
Round Two
Next up was a Frostvale bruiser—fur-clad, steel-armored, and half-frozen from head to toe. He thundered in, twin axes dragging, frost crackling with every step.
Liora sighed. "Couldn't we have someone less… glacial?"
The herald roared her name. The giant roared back. Liora simply raised an eyebrow, gripped her sword—and stood perfectly still.
The Frostvale champion blinked, then charged.
Liora sidestepped with lazy elegance, letting him thunder past before planting a backhand so solid it rattled him against the arena wall. He slid down like an icicle, dazed.
"Second place!" Luziel hollered. "Almost too easy."
Morian remained unreadable—though Liora swore she saw a flicker of… concern? Nah, must've been the heat. Or too much tea.
---
Interlude: Tea Break?
Between rounds, spectators fanned themselves while vendors hawked spiced meat skewers and honeyed wine. Morian had thoughtfully arranged a small table for Liora just outside the combat zone, complete with porcelain teapot and cups.
"You look parched," he said, pouring steaming tea. "Better than that arena water, yes?"
"I look like a warrior," Liora shot back, curling her fingers around the cup. "Warriors drink water and sweat freely."
He raised his cup. "To utterly dominating our opponents?"
Liora considered, then tapped her cup to his. "To saving face—for the realm."
Luziel drifted over, snagging a honeyed skewer. "Treachery!" Liora teased, flashing him a wink.
He shrugged. "Just enjoying the show."
Morian met her gaze. "Nervous?"
"Nervous?" Liora laughed. "Me? I've faced demon hordes at dawn. This is a Sunday stroll."
He arched an eyebrow. "Arrogance can be as dangerous as a frost giant's fist."
Liora smirked. "Then let's see if your tea has any hidden curses."
She emptied her cup in one go—nothing happened, aside from a pleasant caffeine buzz.
---
Round Three
Her third challenger stepped in like a living shadow: an assassin of the Shadow Court, draped in midnight-blue silks, twin daggers glinting.
The crowd hushed. Liora braced herself.
The assassin feinted left and struck right. Liora parried effortlessly, blade singing. They danced across the sand—daggers versus sword—every clash drawing gasps and applause.
Luziel leaned toward Morian. "Even I'm impressed."
Morian merely sipped his tea.
The assassin spun, kicked, and for a heartbeat their weapons locked. Then Liora tilted her blade, unbalanced her foe, and with a deft twist disarmed her—offering back the fallen dagger, its blade gleaming.
"Good form," Liora said kindly. "Keep practicing."
The assassin bowed deeply, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. The audience erupted. Liora gave a modest nod and returned the bow.
---
A Whisper in the Stands
As the assassin retreated, a ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. A hooded figure slipped among nobles at the railing, whispering urgently. Morian's eyes narrowed.
Luziel noticed too, frowning. "That… wasn't on the roster, was it?"
Morian's teacup hovered midair. "No, it wasn't."
Liora, brushing sand from her gauntlet, peered up. "Is this where I face… Mystery Competitor Number Four?"
Morian's eyes gleamed. "Quite possibly."
From the shadowed entrance strode a warrior clad in unfamiliar black armor, etched with silver runes. A wolf-jaw helm concealed their face.
Silence fell.
Luziel cracked his knuckles. "Now this is interesting."
Liora's pulse raced. No pompous prince, no frost giant, no agile assassin—this was something new.
Morian set down his cup. "It seems our tournament has gained a surprise entrant."
Luziel's grin was predatory. "Finally, someone worthy of you."
Liora drew her sword once more, blade catching the light. "Then let's begin."
---
Cliffhanger
The wolf-helmed warrior raised a hand, and a low growl echoed—not from the crowd, but from some hidden source. Torches flickered as if the air itself trembled.
Liora's grin was fierce. "I hope you're as good as the legends say."
Morian leaned forward, voice soft: "Let the real fun begin."
And high in the stands, a spy scrawled on a parchment: "Subject confirmed: former demon general. Proceed with caution."
To be continued…