As soon as Edwin's and Elysia's match came to an end, the crowd's cheers were still echoing across the arena.
Both fighters were catching their breath, sweat dripping down their foreheads, their swords lowered but still trembling from the strain of the fight.
Edwin glanced up toward the VIP seats, where the Celestial Royal—draped in lavish golden robes—sat in a position of dominance.
His father, a man of humble but proud bearing, was walking up the steps toward that section.
His steps were cautious, respectful.
When he finally reached the edge of the Celestial's dais, Edwin's father went down on one knee, bowing his head deeply.
"Respected sir," he began in a steady voice, "I would like to know… why my son and his opponent had to fight two matches in a row?"
For a moment, silence lingered. Then the heavy-set man in the royal seat—round-faced, with beady eyes that carried arrogance in every blink—slowly stood up.
