"Raphael Garcia is unable to continue the battle. Azrael Garcia wins the match," the Duke's voice echoed through the arena, the words reverberating in the still air.
Rael stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the broken form of his brother, the crowd's cheers washing over him like an indifferent tide. His expression remained impassive, the weight of his decision settling in his bones.
The Duke moved swiftly, using his soul energy to stabilize Raphael's damaged heart, preventing it from failing until the High Priestess could reach him. Despite the clear seriousness of Raphael's condition, the cheers rang loud and unyielding from the stands.
People shouted Rael's name, clapping, some even jumping to their feet in excitement. Whether they had supported him from the beginning or only now acknowledged his strength didn't matter. In the end, victory was the only thing that mattered. The winner was hailed, the loser forgotten.
The crowd's adoration felt distant to Rael, as though it wasn't meant for him. He glanced at his brother, whose once proud form now lay shattered and broken. "Indeed, the world of Arcana Masters is quite cruel. Strength above loyalty."
Rael's gaze fixated on Raphael for a while. The cheers continued, but they fell deaf in his ears. He only clenched his fists tightly. "I did it. Eon, my sister, I served you justice."
While the crowd was celebrating the success of Rael, praising him as the next heir of Duke and the pillar of the kingdom what not, the scene was slightly different in the VIP Box.
As the ministers gathered in the royal box, murmurs filled the air. Their gazes were fixed on Rael, who stood still, the victorious figure in the arena, surrounded by the growing adoration of the crowd. The nobles, however, had their faces bore expressions of deep concern.
"That boy's powers… they are too dark," one minister said in a hushed tone, his voice barely audible over the cheers. "If left unchecked, Azrael Garcia could become a force of evil. He may have won the tournament today, but what will happen when that power grows unchecked?"
Another minister nodded gravely. "The House of Garcia… the descendants of Angels, I never expected they of all of people would be cursed by fate."
A third minister, usually more composed, leaned forward with a question. "But does His Majesty truly plan on giving the princess away?"
King Arthur sat silently, his eyes flickering between the ministers and the scene unfolding below. His face was a mask of calm, but his mind was racing. "Azrael may be dark, yes," he murmured aloud, more to himself than anyone else. "But he still won the tournament, and as such, he will receive everything a champion deserves. And yes, whatever I planned on giving it to Raphael when he wins the tournament, I will give it to Azrael."
There was a slight pause as the ministers exchanged nervous glances, listening to the King's murmurs. Meanwhile, King Arthur's gaze shifted to Raphael, lying unconscious and shattered in the arena, his soul orb completely destroyed. "More than his future, I now worried about ours."
Raphael, once the pride of the Garcia house, was now nothing more than a mere mortal. The implications of this loss were not lost on King Arthur. He thought back to the fact that Raphael's master, Alexandrus, the grandson of Zeus himself, was an unpredictable force that he had no control over.
The king's hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. If Alexandrus, one of the strongest individuals on the planet, ever decided to unleash his wrath, Camelot would be destroyed before he could be suppressed.
"I need to speak with Alexandrus after this before the news reaches him," King Arthur muttered, his voice cold and determined. "And Azrael Garcia… I also need to understand what drives him. There's something about his powers that is unsettling. I should have a closer look at them."
He stood abruptly, his mind made up. The ministers exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared speak out. Arthur walked toward the exit, his thoughts consumed by the implications of what had just unfolded.
A few hours later;
Garcia House, Duchy of Freyles;
Rael stood in the dimly lit room, his mind still swirling with the events of the day. His victory, his revenge—it all felt so hollow in the quiet aftermath. He had returned home, and the atmosphere in the manor was heavy, thick with the conflicting emotions of his family.
The elders, once his haters, now looked at him with a mix of fear and worry. Their beloved heir had been destroyed, and though some shifted quickly to congratulate him, their praise felt like an afterthought. A way to cover up their fear of what he would do to them in the future, considering the fact that Rael is next in line to become the Duke.
The Duke had taken Raphael away, his son now unconscious, broken. He had gone to the High Priestess for treatment, but Rael remained in the manor, alone with his thoughts. He could still feel the heat of battle in his veins.
He had to let go of the anger—he had avenged Eon, as he had promised. But even in victory, a part of him still felt empty. There was no satisfaction in Raphael's downfall, no sense of triumph as he hoped he would feel.
His steps were slow as he moved toward Eon's room. The door creaked open, and there she lay. The girl who had always been a beacon of light in his world.
The girl who had suffered, and yet, who still remained strong, even in her silence. Rael's heart tightened as he knelt beside her bed, his hands shaking as he gently took her cold hand in his.
"Eon," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I did it. I... I defeated Raphael. I took revenge for you."
For the next fifteen minutes, he went on narrating his battle with Raphael and how he destroyed him thoroughly. "I know how proud you would be if you witnessed that battle. I won against Raphael, broke his invincibility. From now onwards, no one would look down on us anymore or try to show their disdain, atleast right in our faces. It's just… it's just… I wish you would see all this… No, as long as you just wake up… that's all enough for me. So, please open your eyes…"
He could feel the tears welling up again, the pain threatening to swallow him whole. His fingers curled tighter around her hand, praying for Zeus to help her.
And then, as if the heavens had heard his plea, her eyelids fluttered all of a sudden.
"E… Eon?" Rael's breath caught in his throat, and his heart skipped a beat. Eon's eyes, though heavy with weariness, slowly opened.
"Eon," he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes were filled with tears. "You're awake…"
Her voice was hoarse, fragile as if each word took all the strength she had left. "Rael… forgive Raphael…"
Rael froze. His grip tightened on her hand, his thoughts racing. "I can never do that, Eon, after watching what he did to you. He nearly killed you. If not for Father's timely rescue, you would have been dead.," he replied, his voice harsh with the weight of his actions. "But fear not. I had already punished him for every past deed of his. I won't go and punish him again."
Eon's eyes met his, a gentle sadness in them. "Forgive him in your heart, Rael, and save him. He can be saved… with the Hourglass…" she whispered, her words barely audible.
"The Hourglass?"
Rael was aware of the Hourglass' ability to turn back the time of a specific individual and fix all the damage. But he wasn't interested. "Why?" He asked.
"Because he is family, Rael."