Celia remembered the first time she met Ronan. She had been five years old, clutching her mother's hand tightly as the Ashcroft and Arcanveil families gathered for a formal meeting. Their parents were deep in discussions about alliances, but to young Celia, it was just another tedious event where adults droned on endlessly.

Her mother leaned down, a gentle urgency in her voice. "Celia, take Ronan to play with you and Dante. His parents will be occupied for a while." Celia nodded, noticing the boy beside his parents looked anything but engaged. With his messy dark hair and an expression that seemed carved from stone, Ronan appeared distant, as if the world around him were merely a nuisance.

When Celia and her brother Dante tried to draw him in, Ronan remained silent, sticking close to his twin sister, Liviya. The four children wandered into the sprawling garden, but it quickly became apparent that Ronan wasn't interested. While Liviya mingled and laughed with the newcomers, Ronan lingered in the shade of a tree, a silent observer.

"Why don't you come and play with us?" Celia asked, approaching him with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

Ronan didn't even lift his gaze from the branch he lounged on. "I'm not interested in playing with kids."

Celia raised an eyebrow, arms crossed defiantly. "Aren't you a kid?"

"My age says so," Ronan replied flatly. "But I'm smarter than most adults." His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of arrogance—just cold honesty.

Irritated by his indifference, Celia kicked the tree hard. Ronan yelped in surprise, losing his balance and tumbling down to land with a dull thud on the soft grass.

He glared at her, brushing leaves off his clothes. "Why did you do that?"

"Because you're boring," Celia shot back, folding her arms smugly. "Now come with me. I want to show you something."

Ronan narrowed his eyes, suspicious yet intrigued. Without a word, he stood and trailed after her through the garden like a reluctant shadow.

That day marked the first time Ronan had ever followed anyone besides his sister. Not long after, their parents made a fateful announcement:

"Ronan and Celia," their mothers declared, "will be engaged to each other."

From that day forward, her life had been irrevocably tied to Ronan's—whether she wanted it to be or not.

The battle raged across the frozen expanse of Antarctica, their breath visible in the frigid air. Ronan stood still, his aura dark and suffocating, watching Celia as if he were calculating her every move. He raised his hand to the sky.

High above, the heavens rippled—like the surface of a still lake disturbed by a stone. From that tear in reality, a brilliant red light streaked downward, carving through the sky with the precision of a hunter's arrow.

"System," Ronan's voice was a low growl, "Summon Gungnir."

The air trembled under the weight of his words, as if the universe itself bent to his will. With a deafening crack, the weapon descended—a polearm forged from celestial metal, its surface gleaming with ancient runes that pulsed with malevolent energy. It spiraled toward Ronan, slamming into his outstretched hand like it had been destined for him.

Celia's eyes widened in shock. It's coming from above… just like last time.

In one smooth motion, Ronan hurled the spear toward Celia. It sliced through the freezing air, glowing red-hot against the icy landscape as it plummeted like a meteor from the heavens.

The moment of impact came faster than Celia could react.

Boom!

The force of the strike sent her hurtling backward, her body skidding across the ice until she came to a jarring halt. Pain radiated through her ribs, and the freezing ground bit into her skin like a thousand needles.

Ronan wasn't finished. With an almost fluid grace, two additional blades materialized mid-air from gunnir, spiraling beside him as if summoned from thin air. They plunged into the ice, embedding themselves deeply, forming an anchor point.

Before Celia could regain her footing, Ronan used the blades like chains, propelling himself forward with blinding speed. The force of his movement shattered the ground beneath him, sending cracks rippling across the ice.

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Gungnir shifted as he moved—a transformation both seamless and terrifying. The polearm morphed into a massive war hammer, glowing with ominous energy. Ronan gripped it tightly, his expression cold and resolute, aiming it directly at Celia.

The hammer came down with a thunderous roar, its impact sending shockwaves rippling across the continent. Icebergs split apart, and the very earth trembled beneath the sheer force of his strike.

Celia raised her arms just in time, summoning her strength to block the blow. The ground beneath her shattered, but she held her ground, teeth clenched in fierce determination.

Ronan's voice was low, almost amused, as he watched her struggle beneath the weight of his assault.

"Not bad, Ashcroft. But let's see how long you can keep up."

Celia's arms shook, but she didn't falter. With a defiant glare, she forced the hammer back with all her might.

"I'm not backing down," Celia gritted her teeth, her arms trembling as she fought against the crushing weight of the hammer. You can't win against me with only 30% of your strength, Ronan.

With a fierce shout, she twisted her body and drove a kick into Ronan's chest. The force sent him staggering backward, his boots skidding across the ice until he dropped to one knee. A jagged crack splintered beneath him as he caught himself with one hand.

Celia's eyes flashed with determination. "If I win this duel, you'll listen to my plan. No objections."

Ronan stood up slowly, dusting off the frost clinging to his armor. As he straightened, the mask shielding his face fractured and crumbled away, revealing his sharp features beneath it.

Celia's breath hitched. His eyes... they're red.

A small, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of Ronan's lips. "I accept your deal."

Before she could react, his voice sliced through the icy wind.

"Authority... of Speed."

The air around them seemed to shatter. One moment, Ronan stood across from her—then, in the blink of an eye, he was right in front of her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin.

Her heart raced as a chilling thought crossed her mind. He never used Authority this entire time—not even when summoning Gungnir.

Ronan leaned in slightly, his next words dripping with menace. "Authority... of Fear."

An invisible wave crashed over her, slamming into her mind like a tidal force. Her breath hitched, and her muscles locked in place. Cold terror spread through her body, leaving her paralyzed, unable to move or think clearly. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as if trying to break free from her chest.

She clenched her fists, trying to resist, but the fear seeped deep into her bones.

Before she could regain control, Ronan's voice rumbled again.

"Authority... of Power."

In an instant, his fist connected with her stomach—a single blow charged with overwhelming force. The impact blasted through her, and the world spun violently.

Celia felt her body lift off the ground and crash into the frozen surface with a deafening thud, the ice shattering beneath her like glass. The pain rippled through her limbs, and the air was knocked from her lungs.

With a swift flick of her wrist, Celia summoned her telekinetic power, shattering the platform beneath Ronan's feet. The move was so sudden he barely had time to react before plummeting into the dark water below. Celia leaped in after him, the cool rush of water cloaking her as she focused her energy. A powerful surge rippled through the water, forcing Ronan further down, deeper into the dark depths where light struggled to reach.

Ronan fought to hold his breath, but the relentless pressure around him was crushing, paralyzing his movements. He was trapped, his lungs burning as he struggled to fight against the unseen force holding him in place.

Celia surged through the water, aiming straight for him. Her fist collided with his face, a powerful strike that sent him hurtling back toward the surface, breaking free of the water with a violent splash. He lay there, utterly drained, his strength depleted.

Celia began to approach him, her gaze fierce, but before she could close the distance, she staggered and fell to her knees. Her vision blurred, and a strange numbness spread through her body. Staring at Ronan, she realized the truth—he had used his authority over poison, weakening her from within.

Ronan slowly rose, a slight, triumphant smirk crossing his face. "I knew I couldn't beat you one-on-one," he admitted, his voice dripping with malice. "So I had to rely on a few tricks. You've lost, Celia. Arcaneveil Victory is mine."

Lying in the icy crater, Celia gasped for breath, her mind reeling. He was toying with me the entire time.

Ronan turned away from Celia, the chill of their confrontation still hanging in the air.

With a steady voice, he called out, "Gerald!"

Moments later, Gerald appeared, his expression shifting from concern to focused determination as he assessed the scene.

"Take her away and see to her injuries," Ronan ordered, his tone devoid of warmth.

Gerald approached Celia, concern etching lines across his forehead as he knelt beside her. "Celia, can you stand?"

"I… I'll try," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. With Gerald's help, she struggled to her feet, wincing at the pain that shot through her body.

Ronan watched, his expression inscrutable as Gerald supported her. "Remember, Celia," he said, his voice firm. "Your priority is to help with revenge. There's no room for personal vendettas."

With that, Ronan turned on his heel and strode away, the weight of his decisions pressing heavily on him. He didn't look back, knowing he had done what was necessary.

As Gerald guided Celia away, she shot a final glance toward Ronan's retreating figure.

"Let's get you healed," Gerald said softly, leading her away from the remnants of their clash, while Ronan flew away, his mind racing with the implications of their confrontation.

Ronan landed gracefully in front of his mansion, the sprawling estate looming majestically against the twilight sky. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before striding inside, the weight of the day pressing on him.

Once inside, he activated Z, the AI integrated into his suit.

"Z, make a call to the Hayes family," Ronan ordered, his voice steady. "I want to meet them tomorrow for a business deal at their company. Every family member must be present."

"Understood," Z replied promptly, ready to proceed with the arrangements.