Xander kept his eyes closed, though his ears were open. He held his blue sign high, diminishing his siblings' red-voted verdicts. The king had won the duel 2-1, but the assistant hesitated, glancing at Xerxes for a sign, a cue to proceed—but the king’s expression was unreadable. Slowly, the crowd began to clap, a tentative celebration of their king’s victory.

It was Xemena who finally spoke, breaking the tension. “Congratulations on your victory, King Xerxes! With this, the duel is over—you’ve won!” She turned to the assistant. “Please, announce the end of this.” The assistant nodded, taking a deep breath to proclaim the king’s victory. It could have ended there. But as he looked to the duelists, something held him back.

Niles, though defeated, stood tall, his gaze unbroken. And the king, despite his victory, still had fire in his eyes. In that moment, the assistant realized that neither man felt this was truly over.

Steeling himself, he addressed the crowd with sweeping gestures, his voice booming like a showman’s. “Our king—King Xerxes—has claimed victory in the baking duel!” The crowd erupted, with Xhiva and Xemena nodding, pleased. But he wasn’t finished. “BUT!” The word sliced through the air, drawing all eyes. Xander’s eyes cracked open, curiosity dawning.

“What is a single battle won if the war is yet undecided?” The assistant’s voice grew louder, filled with anticipation. “Do you, the audience who have gathered here, truly wish to end this duel while a final test of strength and will is still waiting?” He flung his arms wide, as if daring anyone to disagree. “Can we really let it end here?”

The crowd erupted in a frenzy, shouts of “NO!” and “TO THE FINAL DUEL!” shaking the training yard. Xemena, trying to quiet them, faltered as the king’s voice rose above the noise. “That’s right—there’s no way we can end it here,” he said, his gaze sharp and unyielding as he turned to Niles.

Niles met his eyes, smirking. “It’s nearly dark—aren’t old men supposed to be in bed by now?” He jabbed. “Careful, when I win the last duel, I’ll claim one of my requests.”

The king’s eyes narrowed, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. “Then show me what you’re made of,” he replied. “I’ll take the final victory.”

Their gazes locked, charged like thunderheads, as the crowd roared with crackling anticipation for the last, decisive duel.

Both duelists walked to their respective corners of the training arena, as torches were lit around the fortress, their flames casting dancing shadows across the ground. The royal staff busied themselves, clearing away the ovens and pantry to make room for the final clash.

The king was greeted by congratulatory murmurs from his elite Xargian guards, whose snarling beast helmets reflected the firelight ominously. The lead guard, masked by her dragon-maw helm, stood silent beside the king. At last, the guard broke the silence. “What do you think?”

Xerxes replied with a single word, his tone short but telling. “Interesting.” A flicker of something new glinted in his gaze—a reluctant respect for his rival.

Niles returned to his corner, where Roy and Gustavus stood waiting. “Alright, team! Huddle up!” he grinned, his earlier pain dulled to a manageable throb.

They closed in tight, whispering conspiratorially as though their discussion were a matter of state secrecy. “What’s the plan for the last duel?” Niles was brimming with anticipation. “To be honest,” Gustavus started, hesitant, “we didn’t expect you to make it to the final fight.” Roy looked thoughtful, squinting as if inspiration might arrive at any second. “If only I had mana left—we could work some sort of cannon trick on him.”

Niles raised his eyebrows in excitement. “Perfect!” he said, perhaps a little too loudly.

Gustavus leaned in, hissing, “That’s not perfect, that’s terrible!” He shook his head. "I mean, how are you supposed to use a trick play in a thumb war?" Gustavus muttered, exasperated, as if Niles had suggested taking a shortcut through a brick wall.

Roy tried again, with all seriousness. “What if you just… overpower him?”

“Yes! Let’s go with that!” Niles nodded eagerly, much to Gustavus’ horror, who was too busy mentally calculating the king’s strength to notice the fourth person who had quietly joined their huddle.

A calm voice cut through their brainstorming. “First rule—hold the grip tight. Don’t let go, no matter what,” the voice advised.

Niles and Roy nodded as if they’d just heard a revelation. Gustavus, finally looking up, froze. Standing beside them, leaning in like a co-conspirator, was none other than Prince Xander himself. Before Gustavus could accuse him of espionage, Roy and Niles exchanged a look, welcoming the prince with ease. “And after that?” Niles asked eagerly.

Xander’s voice dropped to a hush. “The king’s gaze is… formidable.”

Roy and Niles exchanged glances, awestruck, as if Xander had handed them the key to the universe. “So… we should avoid it, right?” Roy whispered, brow furrowed.

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Xander considered, then smiled gently. “Keep your aim steady and your word true.”

Roy and Niles let the words sink in, nodding earnestly, while Gustavus, almost beyond exasperation, kept his protest about it being a mere thumb war to himself. Xander offered them a quiet, “Good luck,” before slipping away.

With the arena cleared, the assistant stepped forward, calling for silence. “The duelists, to the center!”

Niles and the King strode toward each other, their steps reverberating across the training square as the crowd gathered close, eager for a front-row view of the final duel. No one was seated now. Their eyes met in a mutual challenge, an unspoken agreement to settle this once and for all. As they came face-to-face, the king extended his massive hand, and Niles gripped it, fingers interlocking. Xerxes’ thumb looked like a boulder next to Niles'—David and Goliath, waging war with thumbs.

The assistant moved between them, carefully aligning their hands with surgical precision to ensure a fair start. As he fussed over their grips, Prince Xander made his way back to his corner, passing his siblings. Xemena’s cold eyes followed him. “What did you tell him?” she demanded, a sharp edge to her voice.

“Just what was needed to make it interesting,” Xander replied softly, as if answering to himself.

She pressed further. “And what does that mean?”

Xander gazed skyward, the faintest smile on his face. “Who’s to say?” he murmured. His vague answer only irked Xemena more.

“Don’t worry, sister,” came the calm voice of Prince Xhiva, still chewing over the last remnants of food. “Against Father, there can be no victory.” Sighing, he hoisted himself up like a lumbering mountain, taking his stool under one arm. “Out of the way!” he called out, maneuvering to the front for a closer view. “I need to see the final duel!”

Xemena scoffed at her brothers. “Ridiculous. Baking contests, thumb wars—none of these are real battles! This would all be over if Father had just taken his sword in the first duel.” She turned, starting to walk away, only to pass one of the Xargian Guards, their leader in the dragon-maw helmet.

The guard spoke, her tone gentle but resolute. “Princess, battles come in all forms. Sometimes, the challenge is to face them, embrace them, defy them, and ultimately, conquer them.”

Without breaking stride, Xemena replied, “What would you know of real battles?”

“Perhaps these contests don’t cloud us, but reveal who we truly are,” the guard continued. “Sometimes, out of difficulties, come miracles. Right now, your father needs your support.” She gestured toward the square, where the king and Niles were preparing to clash. Roy and Gustavus cheered wildly for Niles, their shouts echoing through the arena, and the crowd roared in response.

“A soldier always feels pain,” the guard went on, her words low. “But when your comrades, your family, cheer you on, it fades to nothing.” She paused. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Princess.”

Xemena hesitated, arms crossed. “I’ll overlook it this once.” She turned, reluctantly heading toward the buzzing crowd, and as she approached, the spectators parted to make way for her. In the center, Xhiva was hopping on his stool, calling out for the king, while Roy and Gustavus shouted support for Niles.

The assistant raised his voice above the roar, steadying the contestants’ hands for the last time. Niles and the king stood locked in place, eyes set, each reading the other’s resolve. Xemena, against her own inclinations, felt the tension build.

“Begin!” the assistant shouted, pulling his hands back as the final duel commenced.

Their thumbs collided with a thunderous energy. The King’s thumb struck first, powerful and precise, while Niles countered with nimble evasions, his thumb darting like a blade. As they grappled, Xerxes poured strength into his grip, while Niles, with dexterity earned from countless phone swipes, danced around his rival’s massive thumb.

"Impressive!” the King bellowed. “BUT LET'S SEE YOU COUNTER THIS!" With a swift motion, Xerxes’ thumb snapped down like a bear trap, narrowly missing Niles as he nimbly countered and dodged.

The crowd leaned in, cheering louder with each move, tension thickening with every failed attempt. Xerxes attempted to unsettle Niles by wiggling his arm to throw him off balance, but Niles held steady, responding with his own feints and near misses. They began to circle each other like dancers, drawing the audience in with them. Prince Xhiva fell off his stool in the shuffle but barely noticed, too engrossed in cheering for his father. Even Xemena, swept up in the thrill of the match, joined the crowd’s roar, her voice ringing out, “Crush him, Father!”

Xander, however, had found a quiet spot against the castle wall, watching the entire scene like an outsider. From his pocket, he withdrew a second scone from the earlier baking contest and took a thoughtful bite, smiling. He decided to save the other half, wrapping it carefully and slipping it back into his pocket, feeling a rare warmth within the castle walls.

Meanwhile, Xerxes adjusted his grip, his arm moving like a whip to unsettle Niles. Niles’ thumb hovered close but never quite yielded, taunting the King with mock-surrenders. At every opening, Niles would try to maneuver over Xerxes’ thumb, only to find it as immovable as a rock. Sensing the match tipping in the King’s favor, Niles threw caution aside and shouted, “IS THIS THE BEST YOU CAN DO?”

"THIS IS THE BEST I CAN DO!” roared Xerxes, his grip tightening. With a surge of strength, he lifted Niles into the air, suspending him like a sack of grain. But Niles, even aloft, held tight, unfazed. "GET READY FOR MY ULTIMATE ATTACK!" he declared, much to the horror of Gustavus and Roy, who watched helplessly from below.

They circled once more, and then Niles unleashed his move. “PUPPY EYES ATTACK!” he yelled, halting his movements. His face twisted into a mockingly innocent expression, eyes wide, lips puckered in a pout. The King, taken aback, fixed his Veritas Gaze on Niles, momentarily stunned by what he saw as the world’s worst attempt at a cute face. “What... is that?” he thought, his focus slipping.

In that moment, Niles acted, softly, almost tenderly, pressing his thumb down over Xerxes’ as if tucking in a sleeping child.

It took a second for anyone to notice. Gustavus gasped, shaking Roy, but Roy was too busy cheering to comprehend. Slowly, realization spread through the crowd, a wave of murmurs and gasps. The King felt it too, his thumb pinned gently beneath Niles’.

The assistant, seizing the moment, raised his arm high and shouted, "FOR THE FINAL DUEL, THE WINNER IS NILES!"

The training square erupted in wild cheers and despair. Niles, still dangling in the King’s grip, grinned with unrestrained triumph as the echoes of his unexpected victory reverberated through the night.