It would be an understatement to say my core was less than one hundred percent. The brief rest between bouts had offered some relief, but it fell far short of what a silver core truly required. Even as I stood facing the powerful energy user, my core struggled to produce energy with desperate urgency.

  Alaric raised his blade, holding it vertically across his face. “I fight this tournament on behalf of my lord, Lord Darrow Alistar, in honor of the recently deceased Duke Alistar. It is for the honor of this great duchy that I shall face my opponent with all that I have and leave no trace of regret on these stone arenas.” His sword arced sharply as he crouched, his left hand sliding beneath his right to adjust the grip on the hilt, positioning the blade for a swift strike.

  I knew the audience watching us expected a show. It was, after all, entertainment to them. But I simply couldn’t bring myself to care. I didn’t need their approval, nor did I need fans or supporters trailing after me like beaten dogs.

  What I wanted was my sword. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Part of me already regretted not seizing Deathbringer by force. Once I obtained it, assuming its power had remained intact, I could easily bridge the gap between my current core realm and the lower gold realms. With proper planning, I likely could have reached the Awakened blade before a gold realm warrior arrived to stop me.

  Still, slaughtering my way to every goal would sooner or later lead to a threat I couldn’t overcome. My knowledge of this kingdom, and honestly this world, was minimal at best. Without a stronger foundation of information, acting cautiously was the wiser choice. This was proven correct by Dame Annalise appearing unexpectedly.

  Not to mention that I doubted she was the only mid-gold core realm user accompanying the traveling Lysorian royal family. Had I given in to impatience, they would have annihilated me before I’d so much as stepped into the King's treasury.

  The prudent choice was to stay low, fight through the tournament, win quietly, and claim the reward. My plan for Elyndor was already taking shape. All I needed was patience and two more victories. Perhaps three.

  Unfortunately, wisdom had never been my strong suit as a princess candidate. When it came to war and destruction, I was unmatched. But in subtlety, tradition, and political maneuvering? Generous observers might have called me average. It had been Abigail who had always excelled in that arena.

  What I considered caution had always been vastly different from her interpretation. She’d have argued that provoking multiple powerful ducal houses with gold realm Awakeners was anything but cautious.

  And so, when I spotted the Lysorian King eying me thoughtfully from his vantage beside Princess Isla, I couldn't help the smirk that crept across my face. Originally, I’d planned to wait until the final battle royale to make my announcement. But since Alaric had so graciously given me the chance to address the audience, there was no better moment to seize it than now.

  I would anger many nobles, I knew that, but hopefully the King would take the bait. A teenage girl already in the same heart realm as the kingdom’s strongest soldiers, with potential to reach high-gold or even low-platinum realms, was someone the King couldn’t afford to lose.

  According to Brianna, Duke Goldenhearts led Lyoria’s aristocratic faction, which rivaled the royal faction’s power. Following Duke Alistar's death, Duke Goldenhearts' influence reportedly surged, significantly overshadowing the King's and destabilizing the balance of power. Even with my limited understanding of the kingdom’s politics, I recognized the opportunity that represented. My allegiance could restore the King’s strength in the Alistar duchy and replace his greatest detractor in the Goldenhearts duchy with a loyal supporter, possibly merging the two duchies.

  “I am Lilliana Silverwater, youngest daughter of the Silverwater barony. Per the dying wishes of Duke Alistar, I am the rightful heir to the Duchy of Alistar. Per the dying wishes of my father, Baron Silverwater, I am the true heir to the Silverwater barony and claim the right to succeed the Goldenhearts Duchy. I have recently been tried and declared this generation’s Saintess of the Goddess of Life, Delilah. I fight this battle in the name and honor of King Zer'Nack of our great country, seeking his support and blade relic, to prove myself under his gaze as a future Archduchess.”

  The colosseum erupted into chaos—shouts, roars, screams, and a cacophony of reactions. From where I stood, I couldn’t make out much, though I caught words like saintess and heathen. Unlike Sealrite, where the audience had been at clear opposite sides of the spectrum, either zealous support or outright hate, this audience was splintered. Some cheered, others booed, and the rest filled the air with unintelligible noise. Peasants shouted at each other and at me, while many nobles turned pale, whispering furiously among themselves.

  My words were a public declaration of intent to succeed Duke Alistar and become Duchess, as well as a challenge to the Goldenhearts Duchy. Under royal law, one could not hold two duchies without being granted the title of Archduchess by the King.

  It was a calculated risk to make such a declaration before reaching the gold realm or winning the tournament. But the timing was critical. When the Hydra attacked the city, I needed the populace to focus solely on my divine right to these goals as I led the charge to defeat it.

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  With myself as bait, the King would, hopefully, be drawn in. A warrior of my caliber, bound to him early on, and who would swear fealty before being able to fully grasp the weight of the commitment, would be an irresistible asset. With his support, my path to Archduchess would be all but assured—especially if I found a way to deal with Duke Goldenhearts during the siege.

  Though the distance blurred the King’s expression, I could have sworn he raised an eyebrow above one of his brown eyes and smiled.

  As good a reaction as any, I figured. With that, I turned back to Alaric. All that remained was proving my worth to the King and convincing him of my capability to overtake two duchies.

  I pictured Abigail’s slight frame lecturing me on my skewed understanding of caution. The memory brought a faint smile.

  I shoved the thought aside before guilt could take hold, before the image of my father forcing me to murder her returned. Abigail, my closest friend. My first kill.

  A shudder rippled through me as Alaric’s face shifted, his confusion hardening into grim determination.

  Then our fight finally began in full force.

  From the very start, it was clear that Alaric far outstripped anyone I’d fought since the Soul Transference. His energy reserves were staggering, easily double my own. That alone confirmed my suspicion about his core having more than three rings.

  He struck with a speed and precision I hadn’t seen since I'd trained with Ordite silver realms as a princess candidate. Alaric's blade cleaved through the air with such ferocity that it tangibly parted the space between us. The shockwave from his swing hit me moments before his sword clashed against my hastily raised defense.

  His strength was overwhelming. I couldn’t block his attacks outright, so I twisted my blade at the moment of impact to redirect his force. Any normal fighter would’ve been thrown off balance by having that much of their weight redirected, but Alaric barely faltered. He flowed seamlessly into his next strike, his momentum unbroken.

  Faster and deadlier blows followed in a relentless barrage. I quickly understood that, by all measures, Alaric should have been in the gold realm. While I’d guessed he might have more than the normal three rings, I hadn’t expected the additional rings to amplify his raw energy so exponentially.

  Still, my plan remained unchanged: overload his heart core. If that failed... well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

  For now, I had to reveal most of my cards just to stay alive. It made sense—Alaric had dispatched Edith with ease, and she’d been on par with the Hidden Sage.

  Sparks and embers erupted with every clash of our blades, their speeds rendering them nearly invisible. We became a blur of motion, our duel carving deep craters into the stone stadium. Each exchange left more of the arena in ruins, the ground buckling beneath the weight of our energy.

  During one strike, Alaric’s blade became wreathed in shadow-attributed energy right before it phased through my sword as if it weren’t there, reappearing mere inches from my shoulder.

  I had no time to dodge. Lunar energy surged from my core into a makeshift shield, angled just enough to deflect the blade. Fortunately it worked and Alaric’s sword slid off the shield, cutting harmlessly through the air.

  Instinct took over. I activated my energy channels, flooding my body with dense black-and-purple Soul Weaver energy. Although I wasn't surprised that it absorbed the Lunar energy as it surged through me, the savagery of the process still caught me off guard. The energy was brutal, merciless, yet carried a strange levity that set it apart from ordinary attributes.

  The Soul Weaver energy grew stronger with every ounce of power it consumed, until my body could no longer contain it and it erupted from me in a volatile cascade.

  Fueled by this newfound power, I charged at Alaric. Purple-black flames flared in my wake, curling down my arm to merge with my blade. When our swords met again, flames leapt to Alaric’s weapon, erupting into a bonfire of blackened fury.

  Alaric shouted in surprise, retreating several paces and attempting to shake off the flames. His efforts were futile; the fire clung to his sword, spreading toward the hilt without burning the blade.

  It’s seeking his soul, I realized. The Soul Weaver attribute had always been soul-focused, amplifying my own power internally in order to affect others externally.

  Seeing Alaric’s shock, I grinned and pressed the offensive. He didn’t know what the flames did, and I intended to keep him distracted until they reached him.

  Alaric obviously caught on to my plan as the moment the fire flickered against his skin, his face contorting in pain. He hurled his sword away and staggered back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

  “What… what in the Dark God’s forsaken name was that?” he stammered with a shudder that racked his body. “It… it burned my core.”

  I tilted my head, intrigued. It burned his core? Not his soul?

  “You don’t know?” I taunted, leveling my blade at him as I smoothly enacted my lie. “I am a Saintess of the Goddess of Life. That was Her Holy Fire. You have been judged and found unworthy of Her grace.” My voice echoed across the arena, amplified by whatever magic system was in place.

  “Unworthy?” Alaric whispered, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Saintess?” Then, his expression hardened, his brows narrowing with a desperate sort of anger. “You lie!”

  I shrugged, exhaling deeply. “Why would I lie?”

  “To win?”

  “I’ll win anyway.”

  For a moment, he simply stared at me, unblinking. Then, with deliberate care, he drew a small dagger from a hidden sheath in his cloak. Its blade shimmered with blue and white runes, glowing as he channeled energy into it.

  “This,” he said, pointing the dagger at my heart, “is a holy relic from the Church of the Sky God. Test your lies against its judgment, and we’ll see who is unworthy.”

  I raised an eyebrow, sparing a glance at the viewing stands where Darrow sat. He looked just as confused as I felt.

  Shouldn’t he, as Alaric’s knight, have known about the relic?

  Curiosity got the better of me. “Why do you have that?”

  Alaric surprised me by answering, his tone sincere. “I was born in Silia, a city in the Holy Kingdom.”

  As honest as the answer might have been, it explained little. I gestured toward the dagger. “And this relic? You think it can prove I’m lying? Why does it matter? Whether or not my words are true, your core was still injured.”

  Alaric’s composure cracked, his face twisting into a feral snarl of rage and anger. “Because I am worthy of divinity. I must be."

  “Ah.” I smiled faintly, letting Soul Weaver energy curl around me once more, dark and ominous. There wasn't much more I could say to the knight.

  I needed the public to believe I was the Saintness, and my bluff had served that purpose. Yet, it seemed I had somehow unintentionally struck a nerve with the knight. If his faith ran as deep as his anger suggested, perhaps I'd be able to turn it to my advantage.

  That, or I’d just really pissed off a zealot.