On the day the news broke about Diantha’s situation, it caught many eyes. Almost every great power gave it a passing glance.

There are myriads of reasons—from her being a mass murdering tyrant and still being beloved by the populace, to the fact she travelled to the Court of Laks as the criminal, from whence she returned as Grand Duchess of Gracia, or that she was the only criminal in the history of the Laks Empire to be presented before the Emperor and still not executed.

Among those eyes was an elemental fairy—Kirin. It was obsessed with Diantha’s existence. Not the obsession that humans had. It wished to see what would become of her and where she would stand when all was said and done.

Above all else, it yearned to know the fate of the human, who from her very birth was seen as Mother, who was the kindest soul yet had committed one of the most heinous deeds—the execution of 892 nobles and their families, royal treason, the most gruesome murder spree against the noble in the history of empire.

"Master," Kirin addresses its teacher, Fate, the second seat of the Roundtable Rivals. Kirin was a doted apprentice of Fate, so adored that one may not even think they were a teacher and student.

"What is it, Rin? Fate asked, looking through the reports; he was in charge of the administration of Rena.

"Did you hear the news from Gracia? Kirin spoke, excited, its white eyes glowing with lightning.

"I did."

The reason Kirin opened this subject was because it was impatient. Waiting for the months as the tournament unfolds to know the fate of Diantha Lancaster would fizzle out all its lightning-illuminated hair. Fate had mastery over the art of prediction, and his predictions were rarely inaccurate.

"Then…" Kirin need not ask—its master already knew the reason.

Fate let out a sigh; he was expecting this to happen. "Alright," he replied.

Fate placed five jade marbles on the table, and a magic circle formed around every marble. Kirin ducked its head under the desk as the jades became ethereal—tens of thousands of copies of Five Marbles filled the room.

A translucent hand gently cloaked Fate’s hand. He was not here; his eyes were closed, and his body was for the world spirit to govern. Fate’s hand moved and grabbed a jade. Kirin thought this was the prediction, but it was wrong. Fate’s hand moved again—it seized another jade—and placed both of them on the desk.

Kirin’s eyes sparkled. Its master rarely, very rarely, like one in a thousand times, would pull more than one jade. Two jades mean two possible outcomes. And without a doubt, there would never be a third outcome.

Fate opened his mouth and took a deep breath, then gazed at the jades on the table.

"Therein lie two possibilities. The fate of Diantha Lancaster is such: Either on the night of the full of the ninth moon cycle, she would win the tournament, and Hecate 'Raven' Meredith would ascend to Level 5; or Hecate 'Raven' Meredith would never appear for the final match, and Diantha Lancaster would take her own life before the Statue of Grace Lancaster. The third possibility does not lie within the threads of fate."

Kirin was excited—it all lies with Hecate, an apprentice of Lady Ilona. It couldn’t get more thrilling for it.

Ilona later gained knowledge of this conversation and decided to change fate by having Iris as a participant. There lies a single miscommunication between her and Iris.

…

The day Iris woke was also the day when Elimination rounds began. She was, of course, the opening act. Her opponent was a Level 5 Engineer, Ethan Roche.

Ethan Roche had explicit orders from his Lady to not engage with Level 6, even verbally, and forfeit as soon as the battle started. He wanted to forfeit, but Laurent Hestia denied that wish. That Vin boy wanted to see Iris on stage; that was the reason. Ethan was not worried. Rules would protect him from dying.

He watched the little girl step onto the stage. He felt nothing. There was no presence or pressure. All he saw was an ordinary girl. This fact scared him. Nothing was more scary than the unknown.

Iris stopped in front of her opponent. Her hand was on her katana strapped to her left side; she was in her robe. Today, blood would be spilt, and having blood stains on those beautiful clothes—gifted by Diantha—was undesirable.

"Beg—"

"Wait," Iris could not help but smile upon realizing—she had stopped the referee in every single match of hers. The referee stopped in a practised manner.

Iris drew her blade. Blood flowed down the blade, splattering on the floor. The blade seemed to be pulled from someone’s body. "Once the battle begins, I’ll cleave you in half. Create a dense barrier, which may give you enough time to give up."

It was dishonourable to cut down an unprepared opponent who wanted to give up. This was all she could think of. She would kill him; that was set in stone.

Ethan did not believe those words. If she were to injure him, she would place Diantha Lancaster’s safety in the hands of a Level 4.

But creating a barrier to save himself was not a bad idea. He clasped his hands together and created a barrier. Its appearance was similar to a mechanical box with visible gears moving.

"Prepared?" the referee questioned.

Ethen Roche nodded. This would save him long enough to utter those words.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Begin!" The referee announced

The next moment, a purple flash flashed before Ethan’s eyes. The barrier melted like butter under a hot knife. The mana-filled blade continued unbothered by Ethan’s barrier. It met Ethan’s right shoulder at an angle, continued to the left, cleaving his heart in half, and stopped by cutting his left arm.

The smell of burnt corpses permeated the stage.

Thump!

Ethan’s body fell, in four parts. He could not even scream; it happened so fast. Neither could the referee realize what had just happened. They were still processing the lightning flash.

Iris’s hand buzzed in pain. She could not believe she was thinking about how fragile she was physically when she just cleaved her opponent in half.

In all seriousness, the swing was the same as swinging in mud; it was filled with mana, whose nature was to rend. She did not need physical strength to cut him down. Yet she felt exhausted.

She killed Ethan using her sword to make a point to the unassuming boy. It was to tell him the right way to strike his opponent. And because he was weak, he shouldn’t have felt the need to backstab an unprepared opponent who was below his level. He should’ve said in her face that he was going to strike, and then he should’ve attacked her. Then, and only then, should he consider himself above her. His mana should’ve melted her weaver’s orb just like this barrier.

She was pointing out the difference between them. He, a level 7, could never do the same to her, even if the distance between her and him was the same as between her and Ethan, after all the disadvantages she had in that situation.

Iris hoped that the retarded boy had enough mental capacity to understand her message.

While she was musing in her thoughts, the attendees in the stadium were going through their own turmoil.

Of them, the inspector was going through unique turmoil. He was so elated that he could not breathe. He slammed his fist on his chest and tried to stop the incoming heart attack from his happiness. His weighty build was already crushing his luxurious chair; now the extra energy released from beating his chest was beyond what the miserable legs could support.

THWAK!

The inspector fell on his back, rocking the whole room. His attendants came to pick him up. However, the inspector was beyond elated; he pushed himself up in glee and rushed to the edge, shoved out the mic from its stand, and laughed. In the microphone.

The audience, who were trying to comprehend the scene before their eyes, covered their ears in pain.

"Hahahahahaha, I WIN! I WIN! TAKE THAT PRIDEFUL BITCH—YOUR FATE IS SEALED!" The inspector roared like a madman, hunching over the fence. His legs slipped, but the imperial knight grabbed him before he could meet his fate.

"Disqualified, Level 6 is hereby disqualified from this tournament."

The inspector was dragged in by the imperial knight before he did something foolish and died. The inspector, for once, did not care about this insolence; he was so happy he could kiss this imperial knight.

…

The situation on Laurent’s side was the opposite. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried and failed to understand the situation. Ethan was dead. Her most talented engineer, who was in charge of creating Hert pills, was dead.

"What…? Why?" She asked in disbelief. She could pass out from the shock. This was the first time she had not smiled since the beginning of the Trinity Festival. She still could not unravel this twisted knot that just appeared in her otherwise perfect plan.

"A message. She is trying to make a point that I cannot do something like that, even when I had every possible advantage against a caster."

"I don’t care about your worthless squabbles! Why, no, how could that Lancaster do something like this? She threw a wrench in her guaranteed survival."

"I do not know," the mechanical voice replied. This was not within his calculations. Even he found it scary—not because it was some genius plan, but because of how foolhardy it was. Now, Lancaster was wagering on Hecate ‘Raven’ Meredith to win against Rian Reed, or she would lose everything. It was beyond foolish. He could not believe that this person was held up as a genius that even great powers paid attention to.

A chuckle escaped me when I saw the worthlessness of the outside world.

On Lambert’s side, he was still impassive. He, of course, had not expected this. He turned to the man who was Hecate's final opponent during group matches.

"What do you think, My Lord?" "Me? It’s interesting…" Man laughed and chugged on the bottle of wine, "to think a non-mage has the courage to do something like this. She is basically declaring she does not need an outsider to win for her—her vassals are capable of lifting her weight. Either the bastard Emperor is aware that Level 6 is not Lancaster’s vessel, which I believe he should be, or she just really wants Hecate ‘Raven’ Meredith to ascend to Level 5."

"I see… What should I do?"

"Ask your representative to give up... A young girl already being crushed under the pressure of her master’s legacy and the weight of their Lord’s expectation—if she is to fight a level 5 today, the weight will break her before she ever becomes interesting."

"As you wish, my lord," the head of Lambert's house bowed.

…

Yet, the most upset person in this situation was Elder Lord Ilona.

Hecate, who sat beside her, was quiet. She was covered in sweat. All the pressure that she never felt, that was hers to bear, due to the arrival of Iris came crashing down. Now, she needs to fight two Level 5s and win. She cannot lose. And she must win both battles. One was not enough. She needed to win against someone who was as strong as Rian Reed and then win against Rian Reed in the final.

In the next match that will start in 5 minutes, she needs to win. She could not use her soul as a final stand. She needed to save it for Rian. Hecate clenched her jaws. She did not understand why Iris did this. Was it because of their conversation? Was she taking revenge? Hecate shook her head. Iris was not like that; she would never do something so pitiful. There should be a reason for doing this.

Hecate looked at her hands; they were shaking. They shouldn’t be. She was not afraid. She would win. They were not as talented as her, no one in the empire was. There was nothing to worry about. She would win. Hecate whispered to herself, trying to calm her thumping heart. Her ears were ringing. What was happening? She did not understand. Her vision blurred, and tears fell on her lap.

"What if I lose?" She muttered, weak and pitiful. She could not lose. If she does, then her lady, her only family, would be— and she alone is to blame for this. She was the reason this mess even began. She could not help but wonder if, had she not resisted the inspector’s son, none of this would have happened. She should not have.

Ilona stared at Hecate, who was on the verge of mentally collapsing. "Ianthe."

"Y-yes," Iantha sat on the sofa behind them; she was shocked too. But, as someone who was not deeply involved in the situation, she was not emotionally affected.

"Take Hecate for a walk," Ilona ordered. Ilona wanted to have a conversation with Diantha.

"I will…"

After a little effort, Hecate finally stood up from her seat and walked out like a zombie.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ilona asked, and for once, her voice was not warm. She knew Iris would never have done this. Iris did not burn with revenge. Even after her miserable childhood, she never once said she wanted to take revenge on the village. That thought may have never crossed her mind.

Ilona believed that Iris would not break an agreement and leave Diantha to her fate, just to make a point.

It was the person sitting beside her. She was doing this. And it was Ilona’s own fault that Iris went ahead with this. Because she nodded in the opening ceremony when Diantha ordered Iris to strike down Rian. That changed the nature of the agreement. Iris believes that as long as Diantha says it, she could kill her opponent and disqualify.

Another realization dawned on Ilona: perhaps, at that moment, Diantha ordered something out of the blue for this moment alone. Why else would Diantha, who had known Iris for less than half a day, ask to save her precious citizen? It should’ve been Jasper or Viktor.

Ilona had expected Rian to back away, so she nodded that time. Otherwise, Diantha would’ve appeared a fool after ordering Iris like that.

Ilona had been played.

"The Emperor is no fool. He knows Iris is not a vassal of mine if she wins the tournament—at best, I would have the least say in the court of Laks, at worst, stripped of the Grand Duchess’s seat. Iris will need to forfeit in the next round for Hecate to fight in the final; they were going to be each other’s opponents in the semi-final. So, I decided to make use of her one final time."

"Is that all?" Ilona asked sharply.

"No, Hecate needs to break out of the chain of her birth; she needs to kill the raven," Diantha said emotionlessly, her voice perfectly matching her appearance.

"And if she does not?"

"Then, I failed to replace her mother... I failed."

"And what of her?" Ilona through clenched teeth. She knew Diantha was not a selfish, self-centered, egoist bastard. Yet, that was all she could see—an emotionless ruler moving a pawn. If it dies, then so be it.

"Before that happens, I’ll take Hecate from here and return to Rena. I will not allow her to collapse for your ego." Ilona stood up from her seat. It was time to leave—perhaps she placed too much expectation on a noble. In the end, they couldn’t care less about their pawns. All of them are the same.