While chatter and laughter was still echoing from the Smith family corner, and murmurs rippling through the crowd, the announcer’s voice finally rang out across the arena.
"Esteemed guests, the 1st semifinal match is about to begin. Participants,
please head to the stage."
Though Lilith wanted to pry further into her earlier thoughts, the match couldn’t be delayed. And this wasn’t a boring match for her either.
She would be fighting against two opponents—both worthy of respect. If it were only one, she wouldn’t be this much motivated. But two? Both strong! It sure did spike her adrenaline.
She got up from her seat.
"Best of luck, sweetie!" Emily and Noah both blurted out at the same time.
Lilith didn’t reply or look back. She just simply waved back. Though she was only 12 her attitude was nothing less than a smug female lead character of a drama.
She strode toward the stage in her signature black, sleeveless robes. Her pace was unhurried, overbearing, and confident.
From the left-side gate, she entered the stage first.
From the opposite gate, two figures walked out. They came from the direction where healing chamber was. Leading was Morgan Benedict, his dark gray cloak billowing behind him, the sword sheathed on his back catching glints of sunlight. His hair was a little disheveled from his previous fight, but his posture was sharp, focused.
Walking behind him was Zephyr Albrecht, dressed in simple black robes trimmed with frost-blue edges. His massive greatsword was slung casually across his back, his presence silent but commanding.
One after another, they entered the stage and took their positions—each one standing in a different corner of the huge platform.
Three stood still. Thousands roared. The fighters hadn’t even moved a step, but the crowd? They were on fire—shouting, gasping, calling out names like war drums before a battle.
They formed a wide, three-point formation, each facing the center. The referee stood just outside the boundary, wiping his palms nervously against his robes.
"Participants, ready?" the referee called out.
All three gave a slight nod.
"It’s going to start, guys," someone whispered.
Tension rolled through the audience like a wave. Even nobles leaned forward in their seats.
This tournament had already shattered expectations—but now, three of the top five were about to clash in a single match. The silence hanging over the arena wasn’t just heavy—it was suffocating.
Even the referee swallowed hard. A three-way battle ... had never happened before.
The crowd barely breathed. But the participants?
Their eyes burned with hunger. Hunger to test their strength. Hunger to push limits.
Lilith, proud as ever, wouldn’t admit it even to herself—but she wasn’t confident of victory. But still, she was sure of one thing:
This match would be fun.
As for Morgan and Zephyr? They weren’t here to win. One fought for thrill. The other—to grow.
Except these three, only one other person remained calm.
But even the stoic Rowan Hale... couldn’t mask the glint of excitement lighting his eyes.
A spark danced in Rowan’s eyes—subtle, but unmistakable. The prince was intrigued.
The moment the referee shouted the word, he leapt backward, not willing to become collateral damage.
Morgan and Zephyr immediately charged at each other, swords drawn and blazing with intent. They had unfinished business from their earlier match, and they couldn’t wait to settle their scores.
But before their blades could meet—
Two concentrated air bombs struck both of them hard in their sides, blasting them in opposite directions—away from Lilith.
Hovering just above the ground with air magic swirling around her boots, Lilith stood with her arms folded, a smirk playing on her lips.
"You didn’t forget about me, did you?" she called out sweetly. "You can have your little couple’s quarrel later. But if you dare ignore me now, I’ll make sure you both eat dirt."
Then, her grin widened.
"On second thought, go ahead. I’ll just finish you both quickly. Can’t wait for the final to start."
A sharp spark cracked beneath her boots, and she launched forward like a cannon—lightning coiling around her fists.
Morgan and Zephyr recovered mid-air and slashed toward her in a practiced motion.
But Lilith wasn’t there anymore.
She ducked low, sliding beneath both blades, her robes whipping like black ribbons across the arena floor. As she passed between them, she flung both hands backward.
Two spheres of compressed lightning shot out from her palms—one to each opponent.
They had barely completed their slashes and were still in motion—too late to dodge.
The lightning hit them both cleanly, throwing them back in twin arcs.
Zephyr grunted, skidding across the stone floor. "Damn it... she sure is feisty."
Morgan said nothing. But his jaw clenched.
"Whoa! Did you see that?! That’s what she’s capable of!"
"Till now, no one could really force her to go all out. But now... her true battle instincts are surfacing."
"Yeah. She’s not your average prodigy at all."
In the betting corner, Albert was nearly breathless.
"Three freaks fighting at once... and their supporters are just as crazy. Today’s betting isn’t just intense—it’s like a goddamn battlefield of wallets."
Morgan and Zephyr exchanged a glance. No words. But something passed between them—a silent agreement.
Then, without hesitation, they both surged forward toward Lilith.
All three collided at the center of the stage in a storm of sparks and fury.
Up in the noble’s balcony
Noah and Emily Starwind sat silently—eyes locked on the stage. Neither tense, nor relaxed.
"Will she win?" Noah asked quietly. "Or will she taste her first real defeat?"
Emily didn’t answer right away.
"And if she loses..." Noah continued. "Will she grow from it? Become humble? Or fall deeper into herself?"
Emily’s gaze sharpened slightly.
"There’s pride," she murmured, " she may face difficulty accepting the defeat."
"I hope she doesn’t lose herself even deeper."