The silence stretched across the coliseum like a veil, heavy and dense. Not even the boldest of the demons in the stands dared to whisper. The six hundred thousand present stood frozen, as if the mere sound of their breathing could be interpreted as a provocation by the two entities who now faced each other in the center of the arena.
Raphaeline, enveloped in an intense crimson aura, looked more like a goddess of war than a simple queen.
Her elegant, deadly trained body stood erect, wielding her blood sword with an almost provocative lightness, as if challenging Cabernet to make the first move.
The living blade pulsed in his grip like an extension of his will, molded directly from his real blood - concentrated, sharp and with a consciousness of its own. His violet eyes stared at Cabernet with implacable focus, without a trace of hesitation. There was no mother, wife or noblewoman. There was only the warrior.
