Chương 116: B2 - Chapter 27: The Surani House

The cobblestones of Oskon blurred under Seth's running feet. Ahead, the colossal form of the city's arena rose against the morning sky, a monument of white stone and grand arches that made Trogan's coliseum look like a provincial sparring pit. Why the hell did Professor Reat leave without me? he thought, panting as he dodged a slow-moving merchant's cart. He had gotten lost. Again.

Even if he had left the inn with plenty of time to spare, the capital's identical-looking streets had twisted him around until north felt like south. A sense of direction in the wild was one thing; urban navigation was clearly neither Seth's nor the Primalist class' strength. Seth finally reached the main entrance, a cavernous archway flanked by two guards in gleaming plates with the crest of Oskon city in the middle of their chests. He skidded to a halt in front of them while breathing heavily.

"I'm here with the—the Trogan Academy delegation," he managed to get out. The guards exchanged a look. One of them, a man with a thick, graying mustache, eyed Seth's slightly disheveled state and his gray uniform.

"The Trogan delegation is already inside," he spat.

"I know they are. I'm late," Seth answered.

"My name is Seth. I'm one of the students fighting in the exhibition." The guard's skepticism didn't waver, but after long seconds, he finally jerked his chin toward the entrance.

"Go on, then. Don't cause any trouble." Seth didn't need to be told twice. He sprinted through the archway and into a wide corridor. He followed the sound of voices as his boots echoed on the polished marble until he finally burst into a giant, sunlit hall. The room was vast and filled with people. Students from all three academies were gathered, all clad in their respective uniforms: Trogan's scarlet, Sidera's navy, and a vibrant green Seth hadn't seen before but could guess belonged to Oskon Academy.

The coiled yellow snake above their chest pocket matched the attitude of their owners, who were all glancing at him with contempt. Seth barely had a chance to take it all in when a sharp voice called his name.

"Seth!" He turned and found Elena standing a short distance away. She was next to Brandon, and they were both flanked by a man and a woman who could only be their parents. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his graying brown hair cut in a military style that matched his stern gaze. He carried himself with unbending authority, maintaining a straight posture. The woman beside him was the picture of noble grace.

Her long crimson hair, a shade almost identical to Elena's, cascaded over an elegant Elementalist's robe. Her smile held a warmth that reminded Seth of his mother's. Elena frowned as he approached, yet before she could speak, Marine's cheerful voice cut in from the right: "Seth! What happened to your beautiful eyes?" Seth turned to the noblewoman and forced a casual smile.

"I went for a hunt this morning and ate a berry I found… When I got back, my eyes were this color." He saw Professor Reat, lingering in the background, press his lips into a tense line. Elena's frown deepened; she clearly didn't buy it for a second. Marine, however, just looked amused.

"You didn't Identify it before you ate it?" Seth rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"No. My direwolf ate one first and was fine, so I figured it was safe."

'Why are you always using me in your lies!' Nightmare exclaimed indignantly through Link.

'Shushhh,' Seth shot back mentally.

"Well," Marine said with a laugh, "that wasn't your smartest idea."

"No," Seth admitted as he smiled and moved closer to Elena and her family. The crimson-haired noblewoman student pierced him with an exasperated look.

"Why would you go hunting on the morning of the exhibition fights?"

"I didn't manage to kill the beast Professor Reat talked about yesterday," Seth lied again, hoping the flimsy excuse would hold. Elena sighed and shook her head, but her mother chuckled softly.

"You can't take the Primalist out of the student, it seems," the woman said. Elena's cheeks flushed slightly.

"Mother, Father, this is Seth. Seth, my parents, Leonard and Marissa Surani." Seth offered them a short, respectful bow.

"It's an honor to meet you."

"We've heard great things about you, Seth," Marissa said with a genuine smile. Seth, taken aback, shot a surprised glance at Elena. That was… unexpected.

"It's rare to see a Primalist in Kastal who can truly rival other classes," Leonard added beside the woman. For a moment, his blue eyes seemed to assess every inch of Seth's being.

"But only in Kastal?" Elena asked, tilting her head.

"Yes," her father replied, his eyes finally leaving Seth to look at her.

"There's a faraway nation across the sea, known for its extremely strong Primalists." Seth's heart skipped a beat, and a knot formed in his throat. He knows about Draeria. A flicker of interest crossed Elena's face.

"You should look into them, Seth. See what makes them so strong."

"No," Leonard said, his expression tightening slightly. He glanced at his daughter, then at Seth, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

"They're extremely dangerous. It'd be best not to do anything that puts you at risk of coming near them." Elena's lips quirked into a smile.

"Father, if you actually knew Seth, you'd know that warnings like that don't work on him. Trying to get himself killed is practically his hobby." Leonard gave an uneasy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Sensing the shift in mood, Marissa stepped in smoothly by resting a gentle hand on her husband's arm.

"Darling, come on. We should go find our seats. The King and Empress will be here any minute." As the Suranis excused themselves, many of the other nobles and instructors in the room began to disperse, heading toward the arena's main viewing galleries. The grand hall slowly emptied, leaving the student delegations alone and chatting among themselves. That was weird, Seth thought just as Elena turned back to him, arms crossed.

"Now," she said, her emerald eyes locking on him.

"What's the real story about your eyes?" This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"It is the tru—" Seth began before being cut off by a new arrogant voice that sliced through the room.

"It's cute how your grandfather believes in you, Marine." An Oskon student with slicked-back black hair and a sneer that seemed carved on his face had approached Marine. He was flanked by a severe-looking young woman and another young man who shared his haughty demeanor.

"Especially when you know what's at stake in this war." Marine didn't even turn fully toward him, examining her nails with feigned interest.

"I've heard about it, Jaxar. That wouldn't be the first time your grandfather and mine made a little bet about our performance."

"Yeah, but this time the oh-so-grand marshal truly screwed up," Jaxar retorted.

"It's going to make him lose everything he and the other traitors stole from the Bridan Empire." As the noble spat the last word, his eyes flicked toward Elena and Brandon. Elena's hands had clenched into tight fists at her sides, but she remained silent, her jaw set like stone. Jaxar's gaze then moved to Seth; the noble's lip curled in disdain as he scrutinized the academy's plain gray uniform.

"The Surani," he scoffed.

"Always with the commoners. Is that one of your House Slave Wielders, Elena?" That's it. Seth moved forward, his core throbbing violently in his chest, a hot rush flooding his senses. I'll smash his face. Before he could take a second step, a black-clad arm shot out, blocking his path.

"Well, that was a great discussion!" Professor Reat said cheerfully as he stepped between Seth and the royal cousins.

"But I think it's our cue to head into the arena." He then turned to the gathered Trogan students, his voice suddenly booming with false enthusiasm: "We'll go first! C'mon! Let's make Kastal and Trogan proud!" He clapped his hands and gestured toward the large archway leading to the arena stands, already moving in that direction and leaving no room for argument. As Seth, Elena, and the others fell into step behind the professor, the noblewoman leaned close to Seth's ear.

"That was Jaxar Linster," she whispered, barely masking her anger.

"The grandson of the king. And his two cousins."

"He seems like an ass," Seth muttered.

'Totally agree,' Nightmare said through Link with a mental snort.

'Want me to rip his throat?'

'Tempting, but no,' Seth answered. Elena glanced over her shoulder in the noble's direction, and something—hate? Fear? —flickered across her face.

"He is… but you still shouldn't say that aloud." Then, recalling the prick's words, Seth glanced at Marine a dozen feet ahead.

"Do you know what he means about a bet? The one the King and Marine's grandfather made?"

"Yeah… a little," Elena answered.

"Basically, they agreed to give the rewards for winning the war to the House whose soldier makes the best overall contribution." Seth's mind flashed back to his classes with Captain Michaelson. He knew that in every Warfare Rift, some kind of impartial spirit associated with Gorrhat, the God of War, would supervise the battle and attribute contribution points for capturing or killing an enemy. It had struck him as bizarre when he'd first learned it—almost as if the NEVAK had wanted to turn war into a macabre game.

So, he thought, the one who kills or captures the most enemies gets to keep the Legacies…

'You could win one and offer it to Elena,' Nightmare's voice piped up in his head.

'A gift to win her heart.'

'Oh, shut it,' Seth shot back.

'Will she join our family soon?' Colossus asked, his thought pure and earnest.

'I will protect her if she does.' Seth stopped himself from smiling and decided to not add onto that. Odds were he would only make it worse. Trogan's students followed Professor Reat down a winding stone staircase that opened up into the heart of the Oskon coliseum. The sheer scale of the place was breathtaking. They stood on a floor of white compacted sand in the center of a massive arena with a large battle ring.

Ten-foot-high walls of polished marble encircled them, and atop those walls was a sweeping platform that ran the entire circumference of the arena. At the center, directly opposite where they stood, were two massive chairs carved from single blocks of granite, both resembling thrones more than seats. Behind the platform, the tiered stands climbed high, stretching toward the sky. Only a quarter of the seats were filled, yet the air was heavy, pressing in on Seth from all sides.

Each spectator radiated an absurd amount of strength, making it clear each of them could crush him easily. It reminded Seth of how he'd felt when Orwen and the other Champions of Chaos had faced the Essence's Keeper—multiplied a thousandfold for each spectator. Breathing felt harder. Seth could practically sense all their eyes on him, their stares alone nearly able to pin him in place.

As his gaze swept over those influential figures, it snagged on a man with long, striking blond hair seated among a group of Kastal nobles. Seth's hands immediately turned into fists. Lucius' father. Just the sight of the man made Seth's core stir, and a simmering anger rose in his chest. He pictured Lucius, still bedridden, still unable to walk. Yet even that wonderful image wasn't enough to calm his anger. Not even a bit.

Especially since the noble's brother, Sergeant Faertis, the one who'd orchestrated the Black Hounds' human trafficking, was still missing. Hiding somewhere. Seth clenched his jaw. He probably knows where that bastard—"It's open only to the higher-ups of both countries," Elena whispered beside him, interrupting his thoughts as her green eyes scanned the stand. A tremor of what seemed like both excitement and nervousness grasped the noblewoman's body. Seth swallowed his rising rage before glancing at her.

This is the grand stage she'd always dreamed of. A chance to make her first impression on the military elite of Kastal. As all the students from the three academies were directed to stand in a neat line to one side of the arena floor, Professor Reat gave Seth a final nod before retreating. Almost on cue, Director Ryehill arrived along with Director Chester and a grim-faced man clad in the same military uniform Captain Michaelson had been wearing every day. That has to be Director Cranner, Seth guessed.

From the Oskon Academy. The three higher-ups took up positions behind their respective student groups: seven from Trogan, six from Sidera, and seven from Oskon. Twenty students in total. Ten for the Rank 21 to 40 fights, and ten for the Rank 41 to 60 ones. Seth still found it absurd that Director Ryehill had chosen him, Elena, and Brandon for the lower-ranked bracket, considering none of them had reached the Rank-40 soft cap.

Elena had argued that showing how strong they were for their Ranks would be even more impressive and intimidating than just sending a handful of 'normal' Rank-40 Irons. Seth disagreed.

'I think I'll use that new spell of yours for my fight,' he then said to Nightmare.

'Why?' the direwolf immediately blurted out.

'Wouldn't Shadow Step be better? You could end your fight in a second.'

'Using a Silver-Tier spell in front of all these people would be stupid,' Seth argued.

'Even if I've used it before, most of them don't know about it. It's best to keep it that way.'

'That's a terrible excuse,' Nightmare grumbled. Clearly the direwolf didn't like the idea of Seth using his new spell.

'Just use Chains of Darkness. The Agility debuff will be way more useful, trust me.'

'These exhibition fights are all about leaving a strong impression. Mantle of Terror is perfect for that.' Nightmare let out a rumbling growl.

'I hate you.' Ignoring him, Seth focused inward on Share. He released the spell's hold on Shadow Step and moved the thin thread to the newly formed grooves of Mantle of Terror within Nightmare. Immediately, the aether from the spell flooded into him and a new network of channels began to carve itself into existence inside Share's complex network. The moment the crafting process ended, he glanced up at the stands. His eyes found Professor Reat joining a familiar group.

Seth recognized Orwen's shock of silver hair and Drack's massive frame; Krystel and Lyria were there too, along with three other people Seth didn't recognize. Probably other members of the branch, he thought, recalling that the Champions of Chaos had a little over twenty-five members, spread around various cities. Just then, a gate on the far side of the arena opened. A man and a line of ten students entered, their uniforms a mix of stark black and silver. Seth frowned, taken aback. Only ten of them.

He turned to Elena.

"Why the hell are there only te—" A horn blast cut him off, echoing through the vast coliseum. A herald's voice, amplified by aether, then boomed from the platform: "All rise for his Royal Majesty, King Theron Linster of Kastal!" Seth turned and watched as the king entered. The man, who seemed to be in his sixties, stepped forward with his curled, graying hair and piercing green eyes that seemed able to make anyone he looked at yield.

He wore a robe of gold and ermine that seemed to swallow his frame, and a heavy crown rested on his head. Seth shut his eyes for a moment, forcing down the sudden wave of hatred which had just surged in his chest. That man, that greedy bastard, was the cause of all his problems. The reason Kastal was broken. The reason thousands of commoners had been suffering and dying so a handful of nobles sat on mountains of stolen wealth. The nation would never change without that man falling.

He was one of the stones in the wall that needed to collapse. The rot that needed to be eradicated. The king gave a cursory wave to the assembled nobles and took his seat in one of the massive stone thrones. A moment later, another voice, this one from the Bridani delegation, rang out with equal power:"All rise for her Imperial Majesty, Empress Freydis of Solaria, ruler of the Bridan Empire!"