CHAPTER 23: THE TOURNAMENT BEGINS

The grand halls of the Empire’s Royal Dorm were alive with a cacophony of excitement. Nobles draped in silks and jewels mingled with warriors clad in polished armor, their weapons gleaming under the light of enchanted chandeliers. The air buzzed with anticipation, thick with the scent of perfumes, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of steel. Towering banners of noble houses lined the walls, their colors vibrant against the stone—crimson for the Helios family, emerald for the Alastra elves, and the deep obsidian of the Vallis household. At the center of it all stood the massive arena, its sandy floor pristine and ready for the first clash of blades.

Liam Vallis stood among the participants, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. His heart pounded, not from fear, but from the thrill of the challenge ahead. Around him, the other fighters exuded their own unique auras—some radiating confidence, others masking their nerves with bravado. He noticed the varied reactions to his presence: some looked at him with friendly curiosity, others with quiet hostility. He was, after all, the grandson of Adrian Vallis, the legendary mage, and Lady Helena, the Sword Saint whose name was whispered with reverence across the empire.

Among the notable participants, a few stood out. Elara, her violet eyes burning with determination, stood tall and composed, her twin blades resting at her hips. She caught Liam’s gaze and gave him a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of their shared goal. Nearby, Cassian Helios, the empire’s prince, exuded an air of arrogance, his golden armor catching the light as he smirked at the other competitors. His sister, Princess Seraphina, stood beside him, her ethereal beauty and calm demeanor drawing admiring glances from the crowd. Her silver hair cascaded like moonlight, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to see through everyone.

From the neighboring kingdoms came formidable opponents. The elven princess Sylphine Alastra moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her emerald-green robes flowing like water as she surveyed the arena. Her presence was serene, yet there was a sharpness in her gaze that hinted at her prowess. Beside her stood the beastfolk prince Ragnar Bloodfang, his muscular frame and fierce demeanor commanding attention. His sister, Fenra, was equally imposing, her amber eyes scanning the crowd with a predator’s intensity.

But one figure stood apart from the rest—a mysterious commoner girl named Kaela. She wore simple attire, her dark hair tied back in a practical braid, but her reputation preceded her. Whispers of her overwhelming strength had spread like wildfire, and her piercing green eyes seemed to dare anyone to underestimate her. Liam couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity as he watched her. She was an enigma, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

Liam had made a personal decision for this tournament: he would fight only using his sword, refusing to rely on magic. This was his chance to sharpen his skills, to prove to himself and others that he was more than just a mage. His grandmother, Lady Helena, had trained him relentlessly in swordsmanship, and today, he would make her proud.

The tournament followed a structured progression, beginning with the group stages. Each participant had to secure victories against several opponents to move forward. Liam’s first match was against a brash noble named Darius Everwind, an arrogant swordsman who had already made it clear that he underestimated Liam.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, calling the two competitors to the center. Darius stepped forward, his rapier flashing under the arena lights. He smirked at Liam, his voice dripping with condescension. “I hope you’re ready to lose, Vallis. Swordsmanship isn’t for amateurs.”

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Liam remained calm, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. “We’ll see.”

The battle began with Darius lunging forward, his rapier a blur of motion. Liam parried the strike with ease, his movements fluid and precise. He tested his opponent’s reflexes, noting the speed but also the lack of refinement in Darius’s footwork. It was clear that Darius relied on brute force rather than technique.

Liam countered swiftly, launching into a precise sequence of slashes that forced Darius on the defensive. The crowd roared as the two fighters clashed, the sound of steel ringing through the air. Liam’s focus was unwavering, his grandmother’s teachings echoing in his mind. Control. Precision. Patience.

Within moments, Liam exploited an opening in Darius’s defense. With a final sweeping strike, he disarmed his opponent and sent him sprawling to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Liam raised his sword in a silent salute to his fallen opponent.

As he stepped out of the arena, he caught sight of his family in the stands. His mothers, Mara and Lilia, were cheering him on, their faces alight with pride. Mara, his birth mother, clapped enthusiastically, her eyes shining with tears of joy. Beside her, Lilia, ever the playful one, waved wildly and shouted, “That’s my boy! Well, technically Mara’s boy, but close enough!” Her teasing tone made Liam chuckle despite the intensity of the moment.

His sister, Amara, bounced excitedly, her little voice calling out his name. “Liam! You were amazing!”

On the grand balcony, Adrian Vallis sat beside the Emperor, his old friend. The two men exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions a mix of pride and amusement. Liam’s father, Elric, watched with a quiet smile, his arms crossed as he nodded in approval. Beside him stood Liam’s grandmothers, each radiating their unique presence.

Lady Evelina, the matriarch of the Vallis family, sat with regal poise, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. Her piercing blue eyes carried an air of wisdom as she observed Liam’s victory with a faint smile. Beside her, Lady Catriona, Liam’s paternal grandmother, clapped enthusiastically, her fiery red hair catching the light. Her mischievous smile was infectious, and she leaned over to whisper something to Lady Seraphina, who sat with serene grace, her long black hair flowing like a river of ink. The master strategist’s calm demeanor contrasted with the lively energy of Lady Rosalind, the nurturing healer, who wiped a tear from her eye as she watched her grandson triumph.

Lady Helena, the Sword Saint, stood tall and proud, her short-cropped blonde hair framing her sharp features. Her arms were crossed, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her pride. “He’s finally proving himself,” she said, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction.

Lady Valeria, the scholarly grandmother, adjusted her glasses and murmured something about Liam’s technique, while Lady Isabella, the adventurous seventh wife, leaned forward with a playful glint in her eye. “I knew he had it in him!” she exclaimed, her youthful energy undimmed by her age.

As Liam made his way back to the participants’ area, he couldn’t help but notice the reactions of the other competitors. Elara gave him a nod of respect, while Cassian shot him a glare, clearly unimpressed. Princess Seraphina watched him with a curious expression, her lips curving into a faint smile. The elven princess Sylphine met his gaze briefly, her emerald eyes unreadable but undeniably intrigued. Even Kaela, the commoner girl, seemed to take note of his victory, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied him.

The tournament was far from over, and Liam knew the challenges ahead would only grow tougher. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He had proven his skill with the sword, and he was ready for whatever came next.