The crowd had grown restless.
The earlier matches of the Crimson Circle had stirred excitement—a mix of raw, frantic skill from new combatants and shining displays of perfected technique from the more experienced descendants. But nothing compared to the tension now hanging in the air. All eyes were fixed on the arena.
Two figures faced each other in the circle.
On one side stood Lux Solaris, the whip of light uncoiling at her side like a living thing. She was the favorite by far, not just of this match but perhaps of the entire trial. Composed, confident, and battle-hardened, there wasn't a single lick of doubt in her sharp blue eyes. A faint smile played at her lips, equal parts condescension and anticipation.
On the other side stood Merir Solaris*, unassuming in his black tunic. His sharp but subtle presence was an anomaly among the gilded competitors. Unlike his sister, he carried no luminous aura of superiority. He stood still, silent, as if the weight of the crowd's gaze didn't affect him in the slightest.
But if one looked closely—truly closely—they might have noticed the faintest flicker of light gathering at his fingertips.
Lux's smirk widened as she glanced at the crowd before looking him over. Her voice carried loud enough for all to hear.
"This is what they send to fight me?" she drawled, spinning the radiant whip in a slow, lazy coil. "You've set yourself up for humiliation, Merir. But don't worry—I'll make it quick."
The murmurs in the audience grew louder.
"She'll crush him."
"He shouldn't even be here."
"Watch him embarrass himself."
Merir didn't reply. His hazel eyes remained steady, fixed on Lux. He didn't need to defend himself—not with words. Not with the gathering heat in his chest, the steady reminder of the power he'd forged in solitude.
The herald's booming voice cut through the murmurs: "Prepare yourselves. The duel begins upon my mark."
The Crimson Circle lit up. The glyphs around its edges shimmered a deep red as a faint dome of energy crackled into place, signifying the start of the match. Inside, there would be no outside interference, no soft landings—this was where skill would decide victories and destinies.
The herald's arm dropped.
"Begin!"
---
Lux erupted into motion, her whip snapping forward with blinding speed. The radiant coil burned white-hot as it lashed toward Merir's chest, aiming to force him back before he could even think about countering. She moved with the precision of someone who had fought this fight a dozen times in her mind already, convinced of its inevitable outcome.
But Merir was not where she thought he would be.
The moment her whip lashed forward, his legs shifted instinctively, pushing his body sideways with practiced precision. The glowing coil lashed harmlessly against the ground where he stood moments earlier, sending sparks flying only to fizzle against the red glyphs below.
Lux's smirk faltered, but only slightly. "Not bad," she conceded, snapping the whip back into her hand. "But you can't dodge forever."
Her whip struck again, faster this time, snapping toward his legs. The energy blazed so brightly it left faint trails in the air. This strike wasn't meant to be threatening; it was meant to control. To force him on the defensive, to hem him in until he made a mistake.
But Merir stayed seven steps ahead.
The moment her whip lashed again, he whispered, low but deliberate:
"This light is a blade."
Golden light shimmered at his fingertips, condensing with a sharp focus into the form of a longsword. This wasn't the jagged, flickering blade of a year ago. What emerged in his hand was stable—a small but sharp weapon of precision. Smaller than most Solaris Blades, its deadly sharpness gave it a fearsome, predatory quality. It hummed faintly as he swung it downward.
The whip's golden energy struck against his blade, sparks scattering as the two radiances collided... and Merir's blade held.
The crowd gasped audibly.
"How...?" someone muttered loudly.
"That's Merir?!"
Even Lux's eyes narrowed in faint surprise. She twisted her whip back quickly, retreating a step to regain control of the fight.
Merir didn't wait. Stepping forward, he lashed out with his blade in one smooth, efficient motion. The small sword hissed through the air, aiming for her unprotected side.
Lux barely dodged, twisting just fast enough for the blade to swipe past her and miss by inches. Her movements carried the grace of practice, but now there was no hiding the faint tension in her stance. He wasn't the useless outcast she'd mocked earlier.
"Not getting it all your way, huh?" Merir said suddenly, his voice calm but pointed. He straightened slightly, keeping his blade steady in front of him.
Lux's smirk returned, sharper this time. "That's cute. You're better than I expected. But you don't think this changes anything, do you?"
Without another word, her whip lashed again, this time in rapid succession. Left, right, then straight down in a brutal overhead strike. The attacks came faster now, each one demanding Merir's full attention.
And still, he moved with precision, sidestepping where he could, deflecting with his blade when he couldn't. The year of relentless training in the wilderness showed in every motion. He wasn't as fast as Lux, but what he lacked in speed, he made up for in economy. Every swing, every step he took conserved energy, delivering just enough reaction necessary to avoid being hit.
Lux snarled under her breath. She could feel the momentum of the fight slipping—not because he was overpowering her, but because he wasn't breaking apart as she'd expected.
---
What Lux didn't realize—what no one watching had realized yet—was how carefully Merir was managing every part of the fight.
Lie Gauge: [73% Remaining].
The system's cold voice buzzed faintly in the back of his mind, an ever-present reminder of the cost of each summoned blade, each teleportation. His year of training hadn't just been about improving his skill—it had been about understanding the limits. The balance between pushing forward and overextending.
Lux wasn't bad. She'd been training to be a winner, disciplined and relentless, but her radiance burned hot, fueled by the expectation that no one would match her strength. That arrogance made her hasty.
Merir, however, was cold and calculating. He wasn't trying to dominate her. Not yet. Instead, he let her strikes come as he carefully maintained control over his breathing, his movements, his lies. Dodging. Blocking. Conserving everything for a single critical moment.
The audience, caught by the rhythm of their battle, leaned closer. The match was no longer merely convincing—it was a spectacle.
---
Lux furrowed her brows as she flicked the whip back once more, its glowing light quivering slightly between strikes.
"You're stalling," she said plainly, her voice sharper now. "You're afraid to do any real damage."
Merir's lips curled into a faint smile, his breath surprisingly steady.
"Stalling?" he said, his voice a little louder now, carrying across the courtyard. He raised his narrow, gleaming blade, angling it toward her as golden sparks flared along its razor-sharp edge. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about myself."
The battle had shifted from raw skill to something more calculated—something colder, sharper.
Lux's light whip hissed as it coiled back into her hand, its burning edges glowing like molten sunlight. Her breath quickened, but her expression didn't falter. The smirk at her lips remained firmly in place, though it no longer radiated smugness—it was a mask she wore to hide the crack of uncertainty beginning to creep into her thoughts.
This wasn't supposed to be a challenge.
Every prediction, every expectation, had framed this "duel" as a formality at best. The runt of the family, the one who couldn't even summon a blade back in their childhood training sessions—he was destined to crumple under her whip like ash under a flame. But the opponent standing before her wasn't weak. He wasn't broken.
He was waiting.
Lux's Perspective
Lux adjusted her stance, her fingers tightening imperceptibly around the hilt of her whip, the radiant coil humming faintly as her thoughts raced. She extended her other hand slightly, preparing to summon an extra shield if needed—a precaution she hadn't thought necessary before.
"It's just a fluke," she told herself, her internal monologue sharp but measured. "He's spent a year fumbling around the woods, swinging at trees or whatever it is he does outside the estate. That's not discipline. That's desperation."
She rolled her shoulders, feigning relaxation, the whip flickering briefly as she tested its range.
"I let him land a few dodges. Big deal. He doesn't have the speed to keep this up, not against me."
Still, something gnawed at the corner of her mind. His blade. That sharp, predatory thing summoned in his hand wasn't the crude, jagged energy weapon she had expected. It had no wasted edges. No wasted swings.
Lux's lip curled faintly at the memory of their childhood in the training grounds.
I used to watch him struggle over summoning something as simple as a spark. No focus, no strength, nothing useful... and now, he's fighting like this? She hated that she couldn't explain it. Whatever he's doing, her mind growled, I'm ending it now.
She raised the whip again, letting it crack sharply in the air, drawing murmurs of anticipation from the crowd.
Merir's Perspective
Across the glowing red glyphs of the Crimson Circle, Merir watched his sister's movements with detached focus.
Every flick of her whip, every glare, every soft scoff—it was all too familiar. Lux acted as though the fight was still under her control. She had no idea she'd already lost it.
That's why she won't win, he thought, controlling his breathing as he adjusted the grip on his narrow Solaris Blade. She fights to dominate, not to learn. She moves because she expects others to crumble—not because she thinks they'll push back.
The year in the forest had taught him a simple, painful truth: survival didn't care about who you thought you were. You lived only if you adapted faster than the next attack, harder than the next enemy.
Lux's whip crackled loudly as it snapped back toward her hand again. Still, Merir didn't move. He waited, his chest rising and falling with deliberate precision.
"You're getting frustrated, aren't you?" he thought, catching the faint shadow of tension in her footwork—the tiniest twitch of her whip hand as she drew it slightly higher than before. It wasn't obvious to the crowd, but Merir knew. Someone like Lux… someone who'd never actually fought without everything stacked in their favor… she couldn't handle her rhythm being broken.
The crowd's gasps and murmurs, the sharp sparks of golden energy left in the air from each clash—all of it became white noise. Merir wasn't fighting for them.
"Let her move first," he thought. "Let her overextend."
The audience's disbelief intensified with every exchanged blow. Too many of them had dismissed Merir before the match began. Yet now, as the duel stretched into its third phase of extended volleys, they couldn't deny what they were seeing.
Whispers scattered like wildfire across the courtyard.
"I thought Lux would've wrapped this up by now."
"She's toying with him," someone dismissed, though the tremor in their voice betrayed doubt.
"No, look closer. He's… he's controlling the pace."
Kael Solaris leaned forward on the raised dais where the main family representatives sat. His sharp golden gaze remained locked on the circle, his lips pressed into a thin line. He hadn't said much during the earlier matches, but now, his brow furrowed as Lux's whip lashed out again—only for Merir to deflect it with a clean, economical move.
"Interesting," Kael muttered, just loud enough for those near him to hear.
"Interesting?" interjected an elder from the branch family nobles, raising a brow. "Sure, he's managed to avoid a beating so far, but Lux is clearly superior."
Kael didn't respond. His gaze lingered on Merir, watching the understated but deliberate way he shifted his weight before each reaction. The others thought Merir was surviving through luck or desperation. Kael wasn't so sure anymore.
Reigniting the Fight
Lux launched forward, snapping her whip toward Merir with the ferocity of a lightning strike. The radiant coil split the air in sharp cracks, blurring with heat as it struck again and again. This time, her strikes were relentless, a series of calculated lashes meant to overwhelm him entirely.
For a moment, Merir gave ground.
The whip lashed toward him diagonally, forcing him back a step. He raised his Solaris Blade, deflecting the strike with a loud clash of sparks, but the whip recoiled instantly, forcing his shield arm up next.
Lux pressed the attack, her face split into a wide grin as she advanced.
"What's wrong?" she mocked, her whip flicking toward his legs. "You're slowing down! Getting tired already after all that quiet little forest training?"
Merir gritted his teeth, stepping back again to avoid her next strike. She was faster now—more aggressive. His muscles burned from the effort of staying ahead of her rhythm, but he forced himself to focus.
"She's faster because she's trying to end it," he realized. "She's not waiting for an opening anymore. She's swinging for one."
That made her dangerous… but it also made her predictable.
Merir adjusted his stance subtly, his shoulders relaxing as he allowed her next lash to strike his shield. As the crackling energy ricocheted off, his blade arm coiled like a spring, poised to strike. Quietly, out of Lux's sight, golden energy pulsed faintly beneath his feet.
"I say, therefore I am…" he thought, his lips twitching into something between a grin and a grimace. "I am there, not here."