When the light faded and the protective runes finally stopped screaming, silence fell over the Imperial Arena.
Through the settling dust, spectators strained to see the outcome of Mikhail's devastating attack.
Bartholomew lay crumpled at the edge of the platform, his once-magnificent form broken and still. The golden aura that had made him seem invincible moments ago was gone, replaced by sporadic flickers of energy that sparked and died like a guttering candle.
Blood trickled from his nose and ears, and his chest rose and fell in shallow, irregular gasps.
What the spectators couldn't know was how precisely calculated Mikhail's seemingly brutish assault had been.
The sheer force of his mana had destabilised the magical enhancement tonic flowing through Bartholomew's veins, turning his brother's borrowed strength against him.
Where others saw only destruction, Mikhail had performed magical surgery with a battle-axe, deliberately shattering the delicate matrix of the tonic's enchantments at their weakest points.
[System Alert: Divine Insight activated]
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Name: Bartholomew Ironforge
Status: Critical
Condition: Severe trauma, multiple organ system failures
.
Notes:
- Subject will never progress beyond current aura tier.
- Permanent damage to cultivation base.
- Enhancement tonic residue causing continued internal damage.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mikhail stood calmly at the centre of the crater his magic had created, his multiple mana circles still spinning lazily around him.
He studied his fallen brother with cold detachment, noting how the combat tonic had indeed magnified the damage exactly as he'd intended.
The silence broke as healers rushed onto the platform. Their faces grew increasingly grim as they assessed Bartholomew's condition, their diagnostic spells revealing the true extent of the damage.
"His aura core..." one healer whispered to another, horror evident in his voice. "It's completely shattered. Quickly, we must hurry."
In the Imperial box, the Empress's face had gone deathly pale. Her strongest son, her pride, lay broken before the entire empire. The Emperor's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes never left Mikhail's form.
Without waiting for the Master of Ceremonies to formally conclude the match, Mikhail turned and walked calmly toward his private quarters within the arena.
The whispers followed him as he went, noble families hurriedly conferring among themselves, alliances and plans shifting like sand in a storm.
As he passed the House Draconus seating area, he caught Valerie's eye. She wasn't scribbling in her research journal as she normally would - instead, her gaze held a mixture of admiration and longing.
She offered him a small, knowing smile before turning back to watch the continuing proceedings.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Lydia and Bella were waiting in his quarters, having anticipated his return. Bella immediately rushed forward, her face etched with concern.
"Your Highness! Are you hurt? Should I fetch a healer?" Her hands fluttered anxiously, wanting to check him for injuries but not daring to touch him without permission.
"I'm fine, Bella," Mikhail said quietly, allowing a small smile to reassure her. "Though some tea would be welcome."
As Bella hurried to prepare the tea, Lydia stepped forward, her expression thoughtful. "That was... quite a display, Your Highness."
"Indeed," Mikhail replied, settling into a comfortable chair. "What's the immediate reaction?"
"Chaos," Lydia reported succinctly. "The noble houses are scrambling to reassess their positions. Several have already sent messages seeking private audiences. And the Empress..." She hesitated.
"Yes?"
"She left the Imperial box immediately after you departed."
Mikhail nodded, accepting a cup of tea from Bella. The sound of continuing festivities drifted in from outside - the preliminary matches continuing as scheduled despite the shocking display they'd just witnessed.
"Your brother," Bella ventured timidly as she poured more tea, "will he...?"
"Recover? Partially, perhaps. But his days of military glory are over." Mikhail's voice held no satisfaction, only quiet certainty. "Sometimes pride demands a terrible price."
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. A palace servant entered, bowing deeply.
"Your Highness, His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, requests your presence immediately."
Mikhail set down his tea with deliberate calm. "Of course. Inform my father I'll be there shortly."
As the servant departed, Lydia and Bella exchanged worried glances. Mikhail stood, straightening his robes.
"Continue monitoring the situation," he instructed Lydia. "I want to know every whisper, every reaction, even the gossip you enjoy so much."
"Yes, Your Highness," Lydia replied with a slight blush of embarrassment.
He strode out of his quarters, heading toward the Imperial Armoury where his father waited. The day's events had changed everything, but the most important match - the duel between his father and Duke Draconus - was yet to come.
[System Alert: Timeline significantly altered. Host's actions have created cascading changes that will affect future events.]
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
While Mikhail headed to meet his father, the healing chambers were a flurry of activity as the empire's finest practitioners worked to stabilise Bartholomew. The air hummed with healing magic, the scent of medicinal herbs heavy in the air.
Empress Camilla swept in, her perfect composure masking the panic beneath. "Report," she commanded, her voice sharp with tension.
The head healer stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty, the Prince's condition is... complex. We've detected traces of an unknown strengthening tonic in his system. During the final clash with Prince Mikhail, it appears to have caused an unstable surge in his aura."
Camilla's face remained carefully neutral, though her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on her sleeves. "A strengthening tonic?" she asked, her tone measured.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The interaction between Prince Mikhail's magic and the tonic caused catastrophic damage to His Highness's aura core."
The healer hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "While there may be... some hope for partial recovery with time and proper treatment, I regret to inform you that Prince Bartholomew will never progress beyond his current level of cultivation. The damage is simply too extensive."
A younger healer stepped forward, her diagnostic spell creating intricate patterns in the air above Bartholomew's unconscious form. "There's something else, Your Majesty. The tonic... The magical resonance suggests it was exceptionally powerful. When Prince Mikhail's attack connected, it caused a cascade failure in His Highness's aura pathways."
Camilla's eyes narrowed slightly. She knew exactly what tonic had caused this - her own creation, meant to give her son an overwhelming advantage and display his battle prowess before the empire.
Instead, it had contributed to his downfall, making him more vulnerable to that bastard's unexpectedly powerful magic.
"Can anything be done?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"We can heal his physical injuries, Your Majesty," the head healer replied. "And with time, he may regain some control over his remaining aura. But..." he trailed off, his professional demeanour cracking slightly.
Camilla moved to her son's bedside, looking down at his pale face. Bartholomew had always been her proudest achievement - strong, talented, destined for greatness. Now he lay broken, his promising future shattered by that filthy bastard's hand.
"Leave us," she commanded. The healers bowed and quickly withdrew, leaving the Empress alone with her injured son.
Only then did her mask crack, a single tear sliding down her perfect cheek. "My son," she whispered, her hand gentle on his brow. "What has that monster done to you?"
Bartholomew stirred slightly at her touch, his eyes fluttering open. "Mother?" his frightened voice was weak, barely a whisper. "I... I can't feel my aura. Why can't I feel it?"
"Hush," she soothed, her heart breaking at the fear in his voice. "Rest now. We'll discuss everything when you're stronger."
As she watched her son drift back into unconsciousness, Camilla's grief crystallised into cold fury. She had underestimated Mikhail, and treated him as a minor inconvenience rather than the threat he truly was. That mistake had cost her precious son everything.
"This isn't over," she promised silently, her fingers brushing Bartholomew's cheek. "That bastard will pay for what he's done. I swear it."
She composed herself, her mask of imperial dignity sliding back into place as she prepared to face the court. But inside, her mind was already racing with plans for revenge.
As she left the healing chambers, Camilla crossed paths with a servant hurrying to deliver a message. The girl immediately pressed herself against the wall, bowing deeply as the Empress passed.
Only after Camilla was gone did the servant continue on her way, unaware that she carried another piece of news that would further complicate the imperial family's troubles - the first reports of strange phenomena in the Dragon Scale Mountains, where Grand Mage Thorne was stationed.
[System Alert: Further timeline alterations detected. Multiple convergence points approaching.]