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Chapter 11: Flames in the Arena
The morning sun spilled molten gold across the massive coliseum, its stone walls vibrating with the roar of tens of thousands of spectators.
The Tournament of Stars had begun.
Suzan stepped into the waiting area beneath the stands, the heavy sound of drums above shaking the floor. Dozens of contestants—nobles, mercenaries, prodigies—sat in tense silence. Some sharpened weapons, others meditated, while a few whispered insults under their breath toward rivals.
Suzan ignored them.
His focus was on the distant sound of chanting—an almost imperceptible hum woven into the air. It wasn't part of the crowd.
It was something darker.
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High Above – Imperial Box
The Emperor reclined in his throne, surrounded by golden banners. His eyes scanned the fighters, pausing briefly on Suzan.
Beside him, his advisor murmured, "The boy's aura… it's concealed, yet I feel a pull. Almost… predatory."
The Emperor smiled faintly. "Good. A wolf in a sheep pen. Let's see if he bites."
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Beneath the Arena – The Assassin's Arrival
In a hidden corridor beneath the coliseum floor, a tall figure in a crimson hood knelt before a robed handler.
"You know the target," the handler said, handing him a small obsidian dagger carved with runes. "He dies before he reaches the semi-finals."
The assassin twirled the blade in his fingers, eyes gleaming with inhuman light.
"Consider it done."
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First Round – Blood and Dust
The arena floor was a battlefield of shifting terrain—stone pillars, pools of shallow water, and patches of burning sand conjured by the Empire's magi to test adaptability.
Suzan's first opponent, Varrin Duskblade, was a hulking warrior from the northern frontier. His armor was etched with frost patterns, and his weapon—a massive glaive—dripped with cold mist.
The referee's voice thundered:
> "First match… BEGIN!"
Varrin lunged instantly, his glaive sweeping in a wide arc aimed to cleave Suzan in half.
Suzan sidestepped effortlessly, his movements unnervingly calm. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword, and in the same motion, he struck—just once.
A single thin line of red appeared across Varrin's chest.
The crowd erupted in confusion.
Varrin froze mid-step, eyes wide, before collapsing to his knees. The cut was shallow—but his weapon arm was completely limp.
Suzan sheathed his blade. "Next."
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Kael's Hidden Viewing Post
Far from the arena, atop a distant watchtower concealed by illusion magic, Kael Elvador stood with his arms crossed, watching through a crystal mirror.
"His control has grown," Kael said quietly.
Beside him, Rath grinned. "He's making it look easy."
Kael's eyes were sharp. "That's what worries me. Easy fights make you careless. And the Silent Thorn won't play fair."
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Second Round – The Trap
Suzan's next opponent was Liora Veilcrest, a lithe woman in flowing silver robes. Her beauty drew whistles from the crowd, but Suzan's eyes narrowed the moment she stepped forward.
Her aura was too… faint. Controlled.
When the match began, she danced backward, throwing small crystal shards into the ground.
Suzan advanced cautiously. The shards began to hum.
Suddenly, a chain of blazing light shot upward, forming a barrier around them. The air inside grew thin.
> "An arena trap?" Suzan thought. "No… this is something else."
Liora smiled sweetly. "They told me to make it quick."
Her fingers brushed the hilt of a dagger—the same obsidian rune-blade given to the assassin beneath the arena.
She vanished in a blur.
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The Assassin Strikes
Suzan's instincts screamed. He turned, sword flashing, barely deflecting the dagger from piercing his heart.
The crowd thought it was part of the fight, but Suzan saw the truth in her eyes—this wasn't a match.
She feinted left, appearing at his side, her dagger grazing his ribs.
Pain flared. He countered, forcing her back with a flurry of precise strikes, his Sword Soul humming with killing intent.
Her smile faltered. "You're faster than I was told."
"Who told you?" Suzan asked coldly.
She didn't answer—only lunged again, aiming for his throat.
Suzan caught her wrist, twisting sharply until bone cracked. The dagger fell, clattering on the sand.
He kicked her backward, sending her sprawling, then placed his blade at her neck.
"Yield," he said.
The referee hesitated, clearly unsure if this counted as a win.
From the Emperor's box, a faint nod signaled the match's end.
The crowd cheered wildly, but Suzan's eyes searched the stands. He could feel them—watchers in the shadows.
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Flashback – Rath's Warning
The night before the tournament, Rath had found Suzan alone in his quarters.
"They'll try to kill you," Rath had said bluntly.
Suzan raised an eyebrow. "During the fights?"
"No. Between them. Or during them, disguised as competition. The Emperor's snakes are already here."
Suzan smirked. "Then I'll just have to bite harder."
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Interlude – Emperor's Private Chamber
The Emperor stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out over the city.
"That assassin failed," his advisor said nervously.
"I expected as much," the Emperor replied. "But she was only the opening move. The real test comes next."
In the corner of the room, Lord Veyren stood in chains, grinning. "Shall I play?"
"Not yet," the Emperor said. "Not until the boy bleeds."
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Third Round – The Storm Breaks
The next battle was unlike the others. The terrain shifted to a circular platform surrounded by a swirling void—an illusion designed to disorient.
Suzan's opponent was a cloaked figure whose face was hidden by a bone mask. No name was announced, only a title: The Pale Fang.
From the moment the match began, the Pale Fang was in his face—attacks too fast for the crowd to follow.
Suzan parried one strike, then another, but the force behind them pushed him to the edge of the platform.
Then he saw it—carved into the Pale Fang's mask—a faint symbol matching his own chest mark.
> "You… have the Devourer's Mark?" Suzan demanded.
The Pale Fang didn't answer. He only whispered:
> "Brother."
A cold shock rippled through Suzan's veins.
Before he could speak, the Pale Fang's blade swept low, and the world tilted.
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To be continued in Chapter 12