The ground of Sorriso’s main arena looked like a desert of golden stone, surrounded by packed stands. Above, the sun poured down merciless heat over the field, as if it wanted to melt the tension in the air.

  The gates opened with a thunderous crash. From one side, Darian Fernandes, the living blade of House Swords, marched forward with calculated steps. His silver armor gleamed under the light, and the longsword in his hands already seemed thirsty for blood. From the other side came Lukas Fernandes — plain in clothing, a gladius at his waist and a shield on his arm. His body was light, but his gaze was sharp — a gaze that had not existed in the previous life.

  The crowd roared, split between cheers and mockery.

  — This will be quick! — someone shouted from the stands.

  — The tenth son won’t last two strikes! — another jeered.

  Morgana purred inside Lukas’s mind:

  — Oh, look at how they love you, chocolatinho… Why not show them how many extra centimeters of pride you’ve gained since your last life?

  — Morgana, not now, Lukas answered silently.

  — I disagree, César said, his tone heavy as steel. This is exactly the time. That man is not just your brother… he is a warning. If you don’t break him here, everyone will believe you are still weak.

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  Lukas raised his shield. — I know.

  The herald lifted his staff high:

  — “First Trial of Legacy! Duel of House Swords!”

  The trumpet blast echoed.

  — “Begin!”

  Darian didn’t wait. He surged forward with a sharp sidestep, bringing his sword down from above, aiming to crush Lukas’s shield in the very first blow. The impact boomed like thunder. Lukas’s arm shook all the way to the shoulder, but he planted his foot firmly, shoving the strike aside and carving an opening for a quick counter. His gladius slashed past his brother’s helmet — a warning strike.

  “Hm. So the failure learned how to raise his arm,” Darian sneered with a cold smile. “Shame I came here to cut it off.”

  The duel grew fiercer. Darian was pure pressure, each step an attack, each swing a lethal threat. Lukas retreated in control, absorbing the force with his shield, letting the elder brother waste energy.

  Up in the stands, Luiz leaned closer to Valquíria.

  — “He’s lasting longer than I thought.”

  — “I told you he changed,” Valquíria replied, her eyes fixed on the arena.

  By the fourth minute, Lukas caught the rhythm. He twists his wrist every time before striking left… and steps back half a pace before a thrust. A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on his lips.

  — Morgana…

  — Hehe… finally. You’ll use it?

  — Not yet. I want him to think he’s winning.

  — Delicious.

  Darian lunged with a direct thrust. Lukas deflected sideways, spun his body, and struck back low at the knee. The clash of metal echoed. Darian stumbled back a step, irritation flashing across his face.

  “Luck. Nothing more,” the elder spat.

  “Call it what you want,” Lukas replied, steady.

  The crowd began to shift its tone. Those who had booed were now watching in silence, surprised at the endurance of the “skinny failure.”

  Darian raised his blade into a high guard.

  — “Time to finish this.”

  Lukas drew in a long breath, his gaze razor-sharp.

  — “Agreed.”

  The next movement would decide the exchange.

  And this time, Lukas didn’t intend to only defend.

  End of chapter 15