Sybil’s aura flared, a desperate surge, trying to compensate for the gap in power. His energy burned hot, but it wasn’t enough. Everyone could see it.
Kaerthlyn’s fingers twitched. She glanced at Elysian—silent now, his sharp commands absent. But his expression didn’t change—cold, calm and calculating like before.
The thralgar bared his teeth in a wicked grin. His aura swelled, swallowing Sybil’s like an unrelenting tide. “Goodbye, rootless,” he rumbled, pressing down.
“Roll forward—now!” Sybil reacted without thinking. The moment his body moved, the thralgar slammed his full weight downward—into empty air. The force of his own strike shattered the ground where Sybil had been. Splintered wood and dirt burst up, but the soldier was already behind him.
“Pivot—then attack.” Sybil spun, blade flashing. He struck. Steel met flesh, sinking deep into the thralgar’s exposed back.
A snarl ripped through the air. The thralgar lurched, pain twisting his body, but Sybil didn’t hesitate. He drove forward, aiming for another blow. The thralgar rolled, twisting at the last second. Sybil’s blade carved a shallow gash along his shoulder instead of driving deep, and before he could recover, the beast whipped around.
Elysian’s voice cut through the chaos. “Put the pressure on—forward!” Sybil obeyed, relentless. He lunged, blade flashing as he drove the thralgar back, keeping him from regaining his footing. But the thralgar wasn’t done. His sword rose, intercepting Sybil’s strike with a jarring clang. Sparks scattered between them, light and shadow dancing across their faces.
“Kick the face.” Sybil snapped his foot up—fast, precise. The thralgar moved. He’d heard Elysian too. He rolled sideways, just barely dodging the strike, dirt kicking up around him.
“Swipe right!” Sybil slashed without hesitation. The blade ripped across the thralgar’s back. The beast had attempted to twist away at the last moment, but Elysian's earlier commands had locked it into position, making evading impossible.
The thralgar snarled, rolling away, desperate to create space. But Sybil was already on him. “Stop—retreat!” Sybil obeyed without hesitation, learning from his earlier mistake. He halted, his blade held steady. A sword lunged from below, wicked and fast, aimed straight for his heart. Had he taken one more step, he would’ve been skewered. Instead, the thralgar’s strike found nothing but empty air.
Sybil let out a sharp breath, his chest heaving. He could feel the fatigue settling in, his aura burning through his reserves, so he released it, conserving what remained. Sweat slicked his forehead, but a grin tugged at his lips. The shift had happened.
The thralgar’s situation had worsened. His aura still flared—too much—his rage feeding it, devouring his remaining strength. The difference was clear. His wounds—ones that had sealed quickly before—now lagged, slow to mend. His advantages had vanished. The balance had tipped, and he knew it.
Sybil could have pressed the attack, but Elysian didn’t give the order—not yet. Instead, he let Sybil breathe, let the thralgar burn himself out. Let him waste his aura, let the frustration build.
“Isn’t it cheating?” A voice, smooth as a blade being drawn.
Elysian turned to where the voice had come. He sat among his group of thralgar, lounging like a snake watching his prey. His golden eyes gleamed under the flickering firelight, a grin carved across his face, sharp and amused.
Elysian felt his stomach tighten. “Sh*t,” he cursed under his breath. He had already noticed the thralgar before—how could he not? He had been staring at Elysian as soon as he arrived. No, not staring—studying him.
And now, he’d finally decided to speak. “This is just a fight between those two,” he continued, his gaze never leaving Elysian. “This rootless suddenly decided to interfere in our sacred competition. That shouldn’t be allowed.”
The crowd shifted. A murmur rippled through them, low at first, but growing. Some nodded, glancing at each other, uncertainty spreading like a slow, creeping fire. Then—agreement. One voice barked out in support. Another followed. Then another. A rumble built, discontent rolling through the gathering like an oncoming storm.
“Unfair!” someone snapped.
“The rootless cheats!”
“He has no honor!”
Booing followed, insults hurled like stones.
Elysian stayed calm—unmoved. The crowd’s discontent swelled around him—muttered insults, sharp jeers, the simmering heat of growing unrest. And at the center of it all was a single thralgar on the other side. His words had done exactly what he wanted. The tension shifted, tilting in his favor, the weight of the gathering pressing against Elysian. Not a full turn—not yet—but enough to make the air feel heavier.
‘So this is how it is. He’s stirring the pot on purpose. And he’s enjoying every second of it.’
Elysian exhaled slowly. He understood people like this—those who dominated battlefields without drawing a blade, wielding words like poisoned daggers, each syllable precise and calculated to wound. How could he not recognize their kind, when he himself was cut from the same cloth, turning language and circumstance into weapons?
And in that moment, Elysian saw it clearly. This confrontation had nothing to do with the fight. It was about him. It had always been about him.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
‘Kaerthlyn called him Thrynzak, right? Yeah, that’s his name. Damn it. I don’t want his attention. I can feel it—he’s dangerous.’
Then—Kaerthlyn’s voice cut through the noise. “Cheating?” She didn’t yell, but her tone carried, slicing through the murmurs like a blade. The voices died down in an instant. “Is there anything in the rules that disallows it?” She let the question hang, scanning the gathered thralgar and troll that was listening, daring anyone to argue. Silence stretched. “There isn’t. So how can you say it’s cheating?”
A scoff. She turned her gaze to the opposing clan—Clan Gulthram, the most vocal in their complaints. “You could do it too, you know,” she added, shrugging. “No one’s stopping you.”
The challenge was clear. But Thrynzak only smiled. “Didn’t it occur to you,” he said, voice smooth, “that no one does it because it’s understood to be against the rules?” He sounded casual—as if the conversation barely mattered to him—but his eyes gleamed, watching reactions unfold. “You’re right,” he continued, tipping his chin slightly. “It isn’t written anywhere. But the essence of the competition is simple—two combatants fight. Any outside interference goes against that. No one needs to say it.” His words slithered through the crowd, and murmurs began to rise again, agreement rippling outward like a stone hitting water.
Elysian finally stepped in. “Isn’t that subjective?” A pause. Eyes snapped to him. He met Thrynzak’s piercing gaze and held it. Even as the weight of the crowd’s attention shifted to him, even as dozens of stares pressed down, he did not flinch.
Thrynzak’s grin widened. “Ah,” he mused. “You do have a voice, rootless. I thought you only use it in cheating.” Laughter followed—scattered at first, then building at his expense.
Elysian didn’t react at the jab. Didn’t rise to the bait. He let them laugh, let them think they had gotten under his skin.
Thrynzak studied him, grin never faltering. “You said subjective,” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “But I’d have to disagree. Like most here can clearly see.”
Elysian didn’t flinch—didn’t blink. He held Thrynzak’s gaze, let the weight of silence settle, then exhaled—slow, measured. “Then you’re blind—and deaf.” The words cut through the space between them, cool and effortless. Elysian sighed, casting a glance at the crowd. “Most of the people here aren’t on your side, but mine. Right?”
Silence—a heartbeat, and then, laughter. Mostly from Clan Gulthram, mocking and derisive.
Elysian barely reacted. He let them laugh, let them think they had the upper hand. But his next words came smooth, deliberate. “Right, Clan Draekthar?” He stressed the name, let it sink in. Let the right people feel it. Because this was their territory. And that was their rival. For a moment, there was no response. Then, a stir—small, but there. A shift in the air.
Elysian pushed forward, voice light, almost amused. “Gulthram are just sore losers.” A pause followed by a smirk. “They can’t handle the fact that they’re being beaten—played—by a rootless.”
The air grew thick. The laughter stopped. Silence stretched, teetering on a knife’s edge. Then, someone scoffed—loud, breaking the silence. “He’s right.” The thralgar beside him—the same one who helped him earlier—stepped forward. His voice carried, strong, clear. “They’re just bitter they got outmatched.”
“I agree,” Kaerthlyn cut in, grinning. “They’re making excuses.”
And just like that—the shift. Murmurs, a ripple through Clan Draekthar. A few nods, and then more. The hum of conversation built, swelling, gathering weight.
“Tch. Gulthram always act high and mighty until they lose.”
“They hate it when the game doesn’t favor them.”
“He didn’t cheat, he outplayed you.”
“He used his head. That’s what a real fighter does.”
The murmurs turned into voices. The voices turned into momentum.
Elysian’s smirk deepened.
‘Yes, that’s it.’
It didn’t matter whether they saw him as an ally or not. All that mattered was that both sides wanted to win. And if Elysian could fan that into something useful—something advantageous—he would.
His gaze never left Thrynzak. And Thrynzak—he was still grinning. But the nonchalance was gone. His eyes were sharper now, more focused, cutting through the noise with something else. Not anger, not frustration—enjoyment. And curiosity. Like he was amused by the pushback. He was interested now, more than before.
Elysian knew that look.
‘I really didn’t want this b*stard’s attention on me. But at this point? I have no choice. Because if I don’t do this—if I don’t win the remaining competition—I’ll have fewer allies in the trial. And that will make everything harder. More dangerous. And I can’t afford that.’
The voices swelled—louder, sharper, cascading around like a rising tide. Elysian let it crest, let the weight of it settle. Then, tilting his head ever so slightly, he let amusement bleed into his tone. “So, what say you, Thrynzak?” He gestured lazily to the crowd, the noise, the shifting tides of opinion. “Seems most people agree—I played fair. Not cheating.”
The challenge hung between them. And Thrynzak? Still smiling. But silent. His gaze did all the talking.
Elysian felt the prickle run up his spine, instinct tightening like a coiled wire. Thrynzak’s stare didn’t just look at him—it peeled him apart, layer by layer, as if testing what lay beneath. There was no heat to it, no anger—just something razor-sharp and dissecting, like a blade slipping between ribs.
‘Another monster.’
Elysian clenched his jaw. His body wanted to react, to shift or look away, but he held firm.
‘I can feel it. This thralgar—he’s going to be dangerous someday. Hopefully, he doesn’t take this personally.’
But Elysian knew better than to hope. Thrynzak didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He just kept watching—considering. The silence stretched—tight and taut. And then, a furious roar shattered it.
Elysian barely had time to react before Sybil’s opponent stepped forward, shaking with rage. “I don’t care if he’s cheating! I’ll still win!” The thralgar’s voice thundered through the open air, his breath heaving, aura crackling with raw fury. Then—his head snapped briefly toward Elysian. “And you—” His tone turned venomous, full of seething hatred. “When I’m done with him, you’re next, rootless.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Elysian sighed, barely holding back an eye-roll.
‘What arrogance. The idiot is all brawn, no brain. No control, no strategy—just an overgrown beast letting his aura flare wildly, burning himself out before the fight began again.’
Elysian would use that, too. He exhaled, then turned slowly to Sybil. “Hear that?” His voice was loud enough to carry, casual but sharp at the edges. “He’s telling me you’ll lose.” A pause. Then, deliberately, he let his smirk fade, his gaze hardening as he locked eyes with Sybil. “And if you still lose… after everything I did?” He didn’t need to say the rest.
Sybil swallowed hard, spine going rigid. Then, he nodded—firm and determined.
Elysian gave a single nod back. “Enough stalling.” His voice was crisp, commanding, slicing through the murmurs. “Let’s finish this.” The air shifted—a moment teetering on the edge. “Release your aura.” He paused, gaze cold. “Move.”
Patreon
Ko-Fi
* Volume 1:
