' She's probably angry because I barely sent letters to her.' He thought.
Shaking his head, Ivan deliberately shifted his attention away from Briana, redirecting his focus to the path ahead.
The crowd was getting thicker by the minute. The whole arena was filled with spectators.
Gavriel stood up from his seat and spoke, "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of royalty, fellow dukes, and distinguished guests,
I am grateful for the opportunity to address you on this auspicious occasion, the coming of age ceremony. As we gather in this magnificent training arena, my heart swells with pride, and I am filled with awe at the sight of our young nobles embarking on their journey into adulthood. "
He took a few seconds to pause before he continued,
"Today , we have assembled here to witness a friendly competition, a duel of skill and honor. Each of you has been assigned a dueling partner, and together you shall engage in a display of swordsmanship that will undoubtedly leave us all in awe. The winners of each duel shall be bestowed with the highest honor—the prestigious royal Knights cape. This distinction not only signifies victory but also grants the opportunity to join the esteemed ranks of the royal military as junior cadets.
However, let it be known that the outcome of this friendly duel carries no penalty for those who might not emerge as victors. The true purpose of this event is not solely to determine winners and losers but to provide a platform for each and every one of you to showcase your exceptional sword techniques, fostering camaraderie, and celebrating the growth and development of our kingdom's noble youth.
In closing, I express my deepest gratitude to all of you for being part of this momentous celebration. May today's event be a testament to the dedication, perseverance, and remarkable talents of our young nobles. Let the duels begin, and may the spirit of chivalry guide each and every sword in our midst.
Thank you."
With these words resonating in the air, Gavriel gracefully settled into his seat, signaling the commencement of the grand tournament. As the anticipation reached its peak, a symphony of cheers and applause erupted, embracing the arena in an overwhelming wave of excitement. The competitors, fueled by determination, made their way onto the field.
"This is definitely one of the biggest competitions that will ever be held!" exclaimed an excited young lady standing close to Briana and Ambrose.
Her name was Lady Seraphina Crimsonblade, the youngest daughter of Duke Crimsonblade and a dear friend of Briana. With fiery, bobstyled crimson hair that flowed down her shoulders, she exuded a sense of both fierceness and elegance.
Her attire spoke of her noble lineage, combining practicality with style. A loose tunic shirt, crafted from the finest fabrics, gracefully adorned her frame, while a knee-length skirt, intricately pleated and reinforced with meticulous stitching, completed her ensemble. The tunic shirt, embellished with refined embroidery in the hues of gold and scarlet, proudly displayed the emblem of her noble house—a symbol of heritage and honor.
But it was Lady Seraphina's piercing crimson eyes that truly captivated those fortunate enough to meet her gaze. Like molten lava coursing through her veins, they blazed with an intense, vibrant red, evoking a sense of power and passion, coupled with a hint of danger. They mirrored the essence of her untamed spirit, glowing like smoldering embers that held within them the promise of extraordinary feats yet to unfold.
"Indeed, he truly excelled," Briana replied, her voice filled with admiration.
"And Lord Gavriel's accomplishments are truly praiseworthy," Seraphina added, her tone reflecting genuine appreciation. Briana's eyes sparkled with affection as she contemplated Lord Gavriel, causing a faint blush to grace her cheeks.
'I must demonstrate my abilities and completely capture his attention,' Briana mused inwardly, a radiant smile playing across her lips, as she formulated her plan to impress Lord Gavriel.
***
The competition progressed swiftly as competitors clashed in intense duels, showcasing remarkable power and skill with their chosen weapons.
Eventually, only eight contenders remained, setting the stage for the highly anticipated fight—Lord Ivan Ashworth against Lord Evan Winterthorn.
As their names resounded through the arena, both combatants stepped forward, facing one another with unwavering determination.
Armed with identical longswords, they stood poised for combat. Lord Evan's face twisted into a cruel smirk as he taunted, "It's been a while, Lord Ivan. Today, I shall ensure your humiliation once again."
Lord Ivan narrowed his eyes, his gaze filled with resolve, while the crowd watched with bated breath. Both warriors took a deep breath, mentally preparing for the clash that lay ahead.
"Begin!" shouted the heralds, igniting the fervor in the air. With a burst of energy, both opponents lunged forward, their swords arcing above their heads.
"I'm in a foul mood today, so let us conclude this swiftly," Ivan declared, skillfully deflecting Lord Evan's attack with a combination of slashes and parries.
Ivan deflected a few of Lord Evan's blows, but his opponent's superior strength quickly overpowered him. Within moments, Lord Evan had Ivan pinned to the floor. With a swift motion, he lifted his leg and stomped hard on Ivan's chest, sending him flying backward, several meters away.
"That was pathetically feeble! You can barely defend yourself against me," Lord Evan taunted, bursting into laughter. As he jumped to the side, his long, flowing locks of vibrant blue hair cascaded down his back like a waterfall of sapphires, matching the mischievous glint in his sky-blue eyes.
Evan and Ivan had been rivals since childhood, engaging in countless duels, all of which Evan had won. "It's only because your scrawny arms can't wield a proper sword!" Evan called out, his voice echoing off the walls. Ivan glared at him, then sprang back up, preparing himself for another round.
Anticipating Ivan's next move, Lord Evan stepped forward, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "You know I'm stronger, don't you?" he taunted.
"Yes," Ivan responded with a mocking smile. The sight of Ivan's smug expression infuriated Lord Evan. His jaw twitched with annoyance. "I despise that grin of yours!" Lord Evan snarled, his complexion turning an angry shade of red.
'I'll once again demonstrate my superior power,' Evan thought, as a cold mist began to envelop him. The blue light in his eyes grew brighter, emanating an icy aura.
Eveloria's eyes narrowed as she observed the duel unfolding before her. Amidst the chaos, her attention was drawn to Evan. With a graceful, fluid motion, he unleashed his formidable sword technique known as "Glacial Froststrike." Eveloria couldn't help but be impressed by the power and skill displayed by Evan, as if he harnessed the very essence of a frozen tempest in his strikes.
A frigid hush fell over the arena, as if winter itself had descended upon the battleground. A sudden drop in temperature caused frost to creep across the ground, turning it into an icy tableau. Lord Evan, his eyes ablaze with determination, took a swift step forward, his every movement exuding an otherworldly coldness.
As Lord Evan closed in on Ivan, the ground beneath his feet turned treacherous, transformed into a slippery ice sheet. His blade, reflecting the wintry glare, became infused with an intense, bone-chilling frost. With each swing, a haunting mist trailed behind the blade, leaving behind a frosty mark upon the air, a testament to the power held within.
Ivan's eyes widened in harrowing shock, his instincts screaming at him to retreat. Leaping backward in a desperate attempt to regain his balance, he found himself momentarily defenseless. Yet, Lord Evan possessed neither mercy nor patience. Undeterred, he pressed on, relentless in his pursuit.
Once more, Lord Evan lunged, his icy blade poised to strike true. Ivan, his movements belated and feeble, failed to evade the looming danger. And in an instant, the blade grazed Ivan's arm, delivering a pain that transcended the physical realm. It felt as if a multitude of blades had simultaneously pierced him, tormenting his every nerve. An excruciating scream escaped Ivan's lips as the bitter cold seeped through his very skin, his blood staining the pristine ice beneath him.