The Imperial Arena stretched toward the heavens, its enchanted marble walls gleaming in the morning sun.
Tens of thousands of spectators filled the tiered seats, their excited chatter creating a constant buzz that echoed through the massive structure.
From his position in the Imperial box, Mikhail observed the preparations below. The duelling platform - a raised octagonal stage, crafted from semi-transparent stone - floated several meters above the arena floor, held aloft by ancient levitation magic.
Runes of protection and containment pulsed along its edges, ready to prevent stray magic or aura from reaching the spectators.
The Emperor sat on an elevated throne, his presence commanding attention even in repose. To his right, Empress Camilla wore an expression of polite interest. Mikhail's siblings were arranged according to rank - Lyanna closest to their father, then Bartholomew, then Aether, and finally Mikhail himself at the furthest edge.
Below them, Duke Draconus and his retinue occupied a section of honoured guest seating. Valerie caught Mikhail's eye briefly before returning her attention to the proceedings.
A gong sounded, its deep resonance enhanced by magic to reach every corner of the arena. The Master of Ceremonies, his voice similarly amplified, began the traditional invocations.
"Honoured guests! We gather today to witness a sacred tradition - the Rite of Imperial Ascendancy! But first, let us enjoy the displays of martial and magical prowess that precede the main event!"
The crowd roared its approval as the first contestants took the stage. Two knights, their armour gleaming with protective enchantments, bowed to each other before beginning their duel.
Their aura techniques were impressive - one specialising in lightning-fast strikes, the other in immovable defence.
As the matches continued, Mikhail found his attention drawn to the subtle undercurrents of power playing out among the nobles.
[System Alert: Temporal divergence detected. Events deviating significantly from original timeline.]
Mikhail tensed at the alert, wondering what change was coming. He didn't have to wait long to find out.
"Honoured guests!" the Master of Ceremonies called out again. "We have an unexpected treat! His Imperial Highness, First Prince Bartholomew, wishes to demonstrate his prowess in an exhibition match!"
The crowd's reaction was immediate and thunderous. Bartholomew stood, his perfect white and gold armour catching the light as he raised his hands to acknowledge the cheers.
At twenty-three, he cut an imposing figure - a seasoned warrior prince in his prime, his face bearing the composed confidence of one who had mastered both battlefield and court.
"And his chosen opponent..." the announcer continued, his voice carrying a note of surprise, "Fourth Prince Mikhail!"
A hush fell over the arena, followed by murmurs of concern and disbelief. The age and power disparity between the princes was stark - a fifteen-year-old boy facing a renowned warrior eight years his senior.
[System Alert: Divine Insight activated]
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Name: Bartholomew Ironforge
Title: Second Prince of the Tiberian Empire (The Iron Fist)
Age: 23
Status: Healthy - Enhanced (Empress's Combat Tonic active)
.
Health: 1200/1200 (Enhanced)
Stamina: 1500/1500 (Enhanced)
Aura Core: 4th Tier Expert Swordsman (Temporarily enhanced to 5th Tier capabilities, 180% of normal capacity, 8 minutes remaining)
.
Attributes:
Strength: 65 (Enhanced from base 45)
Dexterity: 58 (Enhanced from base 40)
Constitution: 55 (Enhanced from base 38)
Intelligence: 35
Wisdom: 22
Charisma: 42
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Notable Skills:
- Imperial Sword Arts (Master)
- Earth Aura Manipulation (Master)
- Military Strategy (Advanced)
- Combat Analysis (Proficient)
- Killing Intent Manifestation (Master)
- Aura Enhancement (Master)
- Formation Breaking (Master)
- Multiple Opponent Combat (Master)
- Army Command (Advanced)
- Tactical Deployment (Master)
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Special Combat Techniques:
- Mountain Sovereign's Dominion
- Earth Dragon Emperor's Rage
- Ten Thousand Army Decimation
- Unbreakable Iron Body
- Crushing Aura Domain
- Territory Control (Advanced)
- Mass Formation Breaking
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Current Enhancements:
- Empress's Combat Tonic (Active)
- Enhanced Aura Output
- Increased Physical Parameters
- Temporary Access to 5th Tier Techniques
.
Side Effects:
- Increased Aggression
- Reduced Impulse Control
- Unstable Aura Fluctuations
- Enhanced Battle Lust
.
Warning:
Subject's enhanced state combined with advanced combat experience makes him extremely dangerous.
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The Emperor looked down at his sons, his expression unreadable. After a moment that seemed to stretch forever, he nodded in agreement.
In the noble seats, the reactions were immediate and varied. Mikhail's enhanced hearing caught every whispered comment, every sharp intake of breath.
"Gods above, is this to be an execution?" Count Deveraux muttered to his companions. "The First Prince is a battlefield commander, a tested warrior. Against a mere boy?"
"The Iron Fist against the family embarrassment," another noble replied. "Though I hear he's been spending time with Lady Valerie. Perhaps Bartholomew means to remind everyone of the proper order of things."
As Mikhail made his way to the platform, Bartholomew's aura began to manifest visibly, causing gasps of awe from the crowd. Golden light surrounded him like a corona, and the air crackled with barely contained power. The stone platform beneath his feet cracked deeply where he stood, evidence of his enhanced strength and years of mastery.
"A true imperial warrior," a noblewoman whispered loudly. "Eight years of campaigns and victories. Now that's what imperial blood should look like!"
When they stood face to face on the platform, Bartholomew's enhanced aura pressed down on Mikhail like a physical weight. His brother leaned in close, speaking in a voice too low for the crowd to hear.
"Consider this a lesson in knowing your place, little brother," Bartholomew said, his voice carrying the cold authority of a seasoned commander.
"Your recent... adventures with House Draconus have not gone unnoticed. I've broken hardened warriors on a hundred battlefields. By the time I'm done, you'll wish you'd never been born."
The crowd watched in anticipation as Bartholomew began demonstrating his power, posturing for the crowd, and performing a series of impressive aura manipulation techniques that sent waves of golden energy rippling through the air.
Each movement spoke of years of battlefield experience, showcasing the deadly precision of a warrior who had led armies to victory.
The platform's enchanted stone groaned under the pressure of his aura, spiderweb cracks spreading with each step he took.
"Ready for your lesson in humility, little brother?" Bartholomew called out, his voice carrying clearly across the platform. "Don't worry, I'll leave just enough intact to serve as a reminder to others." His last words were pitched low, meant only for Mikhail's ears. "After all, what better way to teach House Draconus about the consequences of overstepping?"
The crowd treated the outcome of the duel as a foregone. Even the Master of Ceremonies seemed to be suppressing a smile as he reviewed the rules.
"This exhibition match will be conducted according to standard duelling protocols. Prince Bartholomew has chosen to demonstrate aura techniques, while Prince Mikhail will be limited to magical combat, as is appropriate for their respective specialisations."
Mikhail carefully kept his expression neutral. They all assumed he could only use magic - and for now, that assumption would work in his favour.
His aura abilities would remain his secret, but perhaps it was time to show them that his magic was far beyond what they believed.
Bartholomew's aura flared brighter, the tonic's effects making him look truly impressive as he played to the crowd. Battle-hardened veterans in the audience nodded in appreciation of his form, recognising the stance of a warrior who had proven himself in real combat, not just arena duels.
"I've executed traitors with more dignity than you possess," Bartholomew murmured, years of command lending weight to his threat. "Remember that when you're begging for mercy."
"Let them think what they will," Mikhail thought, feeling his mana stir within him. "It's time they learned that appearances can be deceiving."
The Master of Ceremonies raised his hand, ready to begin the match.
Bartholomew settled into a fighting stance that had been perfected through countless battles, his enhanced aura casting harsh shadows across the platform.
The ground beneath him continued to crack under the pressure of his power, sending small fragments of stone floating into the air around him.
Mikhail stood calmly, showing no outward sign of the power he was preparing to unleash. For years he had hidden his true abilities, and played the role of the weak prince. But now...
The hand dropped.
"Begin!"