The dust of the arena still hung in the air when Lukas walked out through the side gate.

  His whole body ached — his shoulder burned, dried blood stuck to his skin, and the crowd’s roar still echoed somewhere between pride and mockery.

  Soft footsteps followed behind.

  He turned his head and saw Sarya Veyrunn.

  Same calm expression. Same amber eyes — no longer angry, only firm.

  Lukas stopped, took a breath, and bowed his head.

  "Sarya... I’m sorry."

  Inside his mind, Cesar mirrored the gesture, solemn:

  "That’s right, my soldier. Honor begins with acknowledging your mistakes."

  Morgana, honey-voiced, couldn’t resist:

  "Sorry for what, docinho? For touching her, or for not enjoying it properly?"

  "MORGANA!" Lukas and Cesar shouted in unison inside his mind.

  He looked up, awkward.

  "It was an accident... I swear."

  Sarya crossed her arms, tone unchanged.

  "I know."

  Silence.

  She stepped closer, eyes scanning every movement of his posture.

  "You used centrifugal force. Turned my own spin to push me out of the circle."

  Lukas scratched his neck. "I got lucky."

  "Luck is the name weaklings give to intelligence."

  She turned to leave.

  "Next time, Chocolatinho... there won’t be a line to save you."

  Her braid swayed behind her like a flame as she walked away.

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  Lukas exhaled slowly.

  "She’s still mad?"

  Morgana laughed. "Maybe in love."

  Cesar sighed. "A dangerous woman. Keep your distance and your guard up."

  A loud laugh broke the tension.

  "HAHAHA! So that’s it, Chocolatinho?"

  Luiz leaned against the wall, spear on his shoulder. "The Huntress of Autumn has a sweet tooth for chocolate, huh?"

  Lukas rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Cups."

  Luiz grinned, teasing. "Now I know your type — stunning, sharp-eyed, and deadly."

  "Shut up, Luiz!" Lukas and Cesar shouted together.

  Morgana, amused: "I like him. Sharp tongue, quick wit — my kind of chaos."

  Farther down the hall, Valen Rowan watched, fists clenched tight.

  His gaze burned — jealousy wrapped in noble pride.

  Sarya, even with her back turned, seemed to feel it.

  But she never looked his way.

  The air turned heavier when another voice slithered through the corridor.

  "What a pathetic display."

  Dariam Fernandes stepped forward, his blue cape trailing behind him, eyes full of venom.

  "A scrawny failure winning by tricks... nothing but luck."

  Lukas wiped blood from his chin with the back of his hand.

  "Looks like I held my ground. Don’t act all wounded — you’re the one who lost and got knocked out."

  Dariam’s jaw tightened. "You survive on luck and pity."

  "And you live in the shadows," Lukas shot back. "The difference is — mine walk beside me."

  Morgana cackled inside his head.

  "Ooooh, was that a confession, chocolatinho?"

  Cesar roared:

  "Silence, woman! That was honor, not flirting!"

  Dariam’s eyes flared red. He leaned closer, his voice dripping poison.

  "Enjoy it while you can. Neither Valquiria, nor Leli, nor Selene, nor your precious Huntress will protect you forever."

  "When the time comes... that elf will be mine, and your little witch will be nothing but a memory."

  His smile was venom itself — and the small metal charm on his belt pulsed with a dark glow.

  Luiz stepped forward, spear tilted.

  "One more step and I’ll cut you in half."

  Dariam smirked and backed away.

  "See you soon, little brother."

  And vanished between the pillars.

  Silence filled the corridor again.

  Only the distant echo of the crowd chanting “CHOCOLATINHO! CHOCOLATINHO!” reached them.

  Then Anibal appeared, holding something wrapped in dark leather.

  "The blacksmith couldn’t finish it — said he’s never seen metal like this. But still... it’s yours."

  Lukas unwrapped it — a curved shield, plain iron, no runes, no shine.

  He raised it, his arm trembling under the weight… and smiled anyway.

  Luiz scoffed.

  "You miserable twig... try not to die too beautifully, yeah?"

  Lukas chuckled weakly. "I’ll do my best to die ugly."

  The deep bell rang again, calling him back to the arena.

  Sarya, already by the exit, glanced over her shoulder.

  "Go on, Chocolatinho... show me what you’ve learned."

  Lukas smiled — exhausted, bleeding, but with eyes carrying the weight of a thousand dreams.

  From the stands, the Patriarchs watched.

  Kyros Fernandes laughed, crossing his arms.

  "That brat... it’s like seeing my younger self. A time capsule!"

  Helena blushed instantly. "He really is... even the stubbornness."

  Kotan chuckled. "You’re red, Helena. Old memories, huh?"

  Aurelius Rowan smirked. "I’d bet on it."

  Flora added playfully, "He does remind me of you, Kyros. But Leli’s still my favorite."

  Kyros grinned. "Of course. She’s your niece."

  Flora winked. "Still... I like little Lukinhas."

  Their laughter mixed with the roar of the crowd.

  "CHOCOLATINHO! CHOCOLATINHO!"

  Voices cracked, fists rose, eyes shone.

  Every commoner in the stands saw in that thin, battered boy a reflection of their own dream.

  If he could prove himself...

  Then maybe the Tenth House would be born.

  And with it, hope — that even a peasant could rise to stand among the noble Houses.

  Lukas didn’t care about status, race, or bloodline. He valued diversity — he believed everyone had worth.

  And the one leading them...

  Was proving his own.

  From Failure to Legend.

  "Cho-co-la-ti-nho, Cho-co-la-ti-nho."

  Lukas raised his shield, his arm steady despite the pain.

  "One less round to die... and one more to live."

  Morgana purred: "And to shine, my sweet."

  Cesar declared, proud: "Forward, my soldier!"

  The bell tolled once more.

  It was time to face the Queen of Clovers.

  End of chapter 17