The next morning, the events of the ceremony still hung over our heads like smoke from a fire that hadn't fully burned out. Word spread faster than a rogue on a sugar rush. Apparently, someone recorded my roast of Blaze Helhart and it had already gone semi-viral across GuildNet under the title "Harem Boy Roasts Fire Daddy."
I didn't even know what half those words meant.
We were supposed to be laying low after all that — maybe slip back into a quiet quest or two until the storm passed. Instead, we found ourselves invited (read: dragged) to the Guild Coliseum, a training arena used for sparring, bet-settling, and "controlled, totally non-lethal" duels. It was also the Blazing Tyrants' personal playground.
"It's a trap," Iris said as we stood in the waiting chamber. Her voice was even flatter than usual.
"They literally said it wasn't a trap," I argued.
"They would say that," Kaela muttered.
Lina cracked her knuckles, eyes gleaming like someone had just offered her a free punch card to her favorite punching bag shop. "I hope it's a trap. I could use some cardio."
The coliseum was massive — all polished stone and enchanted flames that flickered from braziers without producing smoke. Tiered seating circled a central ring, where mock battles were often held for training or bragging rights. Unfortunately, today's event had a bigger crowd than usual.
Dozens of guild members sat along the upper seats. Many were from local guilds. Some were just thrill-seekers hoping to witness the rumored "Harem Upstart" get smacked down.
I wish I could say I felt confident. Or that I had a brilliant plan. But mostly, I was sweating through my only decent shirt and praying not to trip in front of this many people again.
And then he arrived.
Blaze Helhart didn't even look at me this time. He strode into the coliseum like a general surveying a battlefield. Behind him walked a woman — or rather, a walking flame in human form.
Tyria Flamehand. His second-in-command. Her red hair was braided in a crown of embers, her armor shimmered with heat runes, and her expression could melt glaciers. She was known for three things: pyromancy that rivaled dragons, a short fuse, and a deadly rivalry streak.
And unfortunately, she had eyes only for Lina.
"I hear you're the one pretending to wield real fire," Tyria said, voice echoing slightly in the heat-hazed coliseum. "Cute. Want me to show you what it really means to burn?"
Lina grinned. The kind of grin that came before very bad decisions. "Lady, I am the fire. Let's see who gets burned."
The audience leaned forward in unison. Magic pulsed faintly in the air — an unspoken challenge waiting to erupt.
Before I could stop it, flames flickered along Lina's arms, twisting into twin spirals of searing orange. Tyria responded with a flick of her wrist, summoning a narrow pillar of blue fire that licked the edges of the arena without burning the stone.
It was like watching two thunderstorms glare at each other before the lightning struck.
"Hey," I said, stepping forward with both hands raised, "let's maybe take this down a notch? You know, no murders before breakfast?"
They didn't even glance at me.
Tyria stepped into the ring, boots clicking like hammers on the stone. "One hit," she said. "No lethal spells. First to fall loses."
Lina was already rolling her shoulders. "I'm going to toast that smug look off your face."
The crowd roared, sensing a duel seconds from ignition.
And then—because I am the universe's favorite chew toy—I tried to intervene.
See, the arena floor had just been watered down earlier that morning. Safety protocol or something. So when I stepped forward, I didn't step so much as ski. My boots lost traction, and suddenly I was airborne, limbs flailing, sliding directly between the two most flammable women in the world.
I let out a heroic battle cry. Which sounded a lot like, "Whoooaaaaa—!"
My shoulder slammed into Tyria's hip, and momentum did the rest. She yelped, spun, and tumbled backward like a flaming ballerina… straight into the central fountain.
SPLASH.
Steam exploded skyward as the fire mage landed in the water with all the elegance of a fish being insulted mid-dive. The arena went dead silent. Then someone in the back let out a snort.
I scrambled upright, soaked from the knees down, and turned to find both Lina and Tyria glaring at me. One with barely-contained rage, the other trying very hard not to laugh.
"I was… diffusing the situation?" I offered weakly.
Tyria stood, drenched and radiating boiling anger, her soaked robes clinging to her like wrath incarnate. "You," she hissed, "are dead."
Before she could launch a counterattack — of fire, fists, or fierce litigation — Blaze's voice rang out.
"Enough," he said from the shadows of the viewing deck. "It's clear we underestimated the clown."
"Clown?!" I choked.
Lina stepped in front of me, eyes still glowing with magic. "Say what you want, but this 'clown' has more guts than your entire guild combined."
Kaela added, "And more luck. Which is arguably more dangerous."
Iris, ever helpful, handed me a towel.
Tyria opened her mouth to say something else but stopped. Her eyes flicked over me, then my party, then the steaming pool she was now standing in. With a growl, she stomped off toward the exit.
The crowd, stunned for a moment, slowly erupted into laughter, applause, and a few cheers.
We hadn't meant to win anything. But somehow, we'd just walked into the lions' den and accidentally taught one of them how to swim.
Back at the edge of the ring, I finally exhaled.
"I hate this guild life," I muttered.
Lina patted my shoulder. "You love it."
"…Maybe a little."
The flames of rivalry were definitely lit.
And for better or worse, we were now in the spotlight — soaking wet, lightly singed, and more united than ever.
END OF CHAPTER 28