The two fighters stared each other down in the center of the arena, each in their combat stance. The battle-hardened veteran, experienced and seasoned, felt sweat trickle down his forehead, but something inside him screamed that this was no ordinary fight.

Aemon, eyes as cold as ice, remained motionless, his presence on the battlefield overwhelming, even without raising one of the daggers he held. It was as if the air around him was charged with a dense energy, a pressure the veteran had never experienced before, even in his fiercest battles. It was like facing an impenetrable wall, an enemy whose depth he could not comprehend.

The silence in the arena was almost absolute, broken only by the sound of the wind and the murmurs of the crowd beginning to feel the tension.

Finally, unable to bear the pressure any longer, the veteran decided to act. He charged forward with surprising speed for a man of his age, delivering a powerful and precise strike with his sword aimed at the young warrior. The blow was swift, well-trained, loaded with all the experience of a soldier who had survived countless battlefields.

But Aemon, with unshakable calm, observed every movement, every step. He could see the path of the blade before it even neared, sensing the intent behind each of the veteran's moves. And, at the right moment, he advanced, not to dodge, but to meet the attack head-on.

The young fighter stepped forward, his two daggers crossing in the air in a precise movement to block the strike. The blades clashed with a metallic clang that reverberated throughout the arena, an impact so intense that, for a brief moment, it seemed as if time had stopped.

But the force of the veteran's attack, combined with the fragility of the daggers, was too much for them to withstand. A sharp crack echoed through the area as both of Aemon's daggers shattered in his hands, the blades breaking into fragments that scattered around him. The crowd held its breath, stunned by the scene unfolding before their eyes.

Lilith, watching from her seat in the stands, simply smirked. The breaking of the daggers didn't surprise her; in fact, it was something she had anticipated.

— I expected nothing less from him, — Lilith murmured to herself, her gaze fixed on Aemon.

Lady Cerys, observing everything from her high vantage point, leaned forward slightly, her interest in the white-haired fighter growing even more. She wasn't just fascinated by his skill, but also by the aura of mystery and strength he exuded. There was something different about him, almost supernatural, and she knew she needed to learn more about this man.

The arena was in absolute silence, everyone waiting for Aemon's next move, who now stood unarmed but still relentless.

The veteran, sensing the advantage he appeared to have gained, raised his sword and took a step forward, attempting a more conciliatory tone.

— Surrender, — he said, his voice firm but not without a tone of respect. — I don't want to take the life of an unarmed man.

The white-haired combatant, with a slight smile on his face, shook his head and, in a cold tone, responded:

— Look at your sword.

Confused, the veteran lowered his eyes to his own weapon, and what he saw left him bewildered. The blade, which he had always relied on in combat, was in tatters. Tiny cracks ran along the entire length of the sword, and it trembled slightly in his hand. The metal, once so dependable and solid, now seemed ready to shatter with the slightest effort.

— What... — the veteran murmured, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He knew immediately that with his next move, the sword would break into pieces, leaving him as vulnerable as his opponent.

The crowd, watching intently, had not yet noticed the state of the veteran's weapon, but the tension in the arena grew with each passing second. Lilith, observing from above, couldn't contain a satisfied smile. Lady Cerys, from her seat, felt her interest deepen, intrigued by the young man's skill and intimidating presence.

— It seems we're on equal footing now, — Aemon said, his voice sharp. — But unlike you, I don't need a blade to win.

The veteran, feeling insulted and his honor wounded by Aemon's words, threw his shattered blade aside with a grunt of frustration. His eyes sparkled with rage as he advanced with clenched fists, determined to bring the white-haired fighter down with sheer brute force.

The crowd, which had been watching in stunned silence, began to stir with whispers.

— He's insane! — one onlooker gasped.

— He thinks he can win with his bare hands? — another scoffed, unable to believe what was unfolding before their eyes.

But as the skirmish dragged on, the mood shifted. The veteran's punches, once confident and brutal, became wild and desperate, while the younger fighter dodged and blocked with effortless grace. His every movement seemed choreographed, as though he'd already seen the outcome before the battle even started.

— He's too fast! — someone else murmured, awe creeping into their voice.

Up in the stands, Lilith watched with a satisfied smirk.

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— I expected nothing less, my prince, — she muttered under her breath, golden eyes gleaming with approval.

Lady Cerys leaned forward, captivated.

— Who is this man? — she whispered, completely absorbed by the mystery and power emanating from the white-haired fighter. He was not only skilled but exuded an aura that drew her in, as if he was far more than just a mere warrior.

In the heat of the arena, the veteran, gasping for breath, lunged with a final, desperate punch. The strike was met effortlessly, blocked and answered by a quick, brutal punch to the stomach. The force was enough to send the seasoned fighter crumpling to the ground.

The arena fell into a stunned silence. The battle had ended before most had even realized what was happening. The victor stood over the fallen veteran, his cold gaze sweeping across the crowd for a moment before he turned, leaving the arena behind without so much as a word.

For a fleeting second, his eyes met Cerys's from across the stands. She felt her breath catch—there was something in his gaze, something that spoke of hidden depths she couldn’t quite grasp.

Lilith, still smiling, was already on her way to intercept him. She stepped out from the shadow of a column as the fighter approached, her expression gleaming with satisfaction.

— Well, my prince, — she began, her voice velvety smooth, — how does it feel? This new body... this power?

He paused, running a hand through his pristine white hair, his mind still lingering on the battle.

— Surprising, — he admitted, a trace of awe in his voice. — I didn’t expect this... strength. It’s as if it’s always been there, waiting.

Lilith’s smile deepened, a flicker of something dangerous in her eyes.

— This, my prince, — she said, stepping closer — is only a fraction of what you can achieve. There’s so much more to unlock... and every challenge will bring you closer to your true potential.

Before the conversation could continue, a herald appeared, his face lined with hesitation as he bowed before the warrior.

— Your next match is in two rounds, sir. Please prepare.

The victor nodded, his face already hardening back into that unreadable, cold expression.

— Understood, — he said simply, turning to follow the herald back to the tunnel.

As he headed back to the tunnel, Lilith watched him, her thoughts wandering as she saw him disappear into the darkness. She knew she was only beginning to shape the man who could change the fate of all the kingdoms.

Inside the tunnel, the white-haired warrior mentally prepared himself, his hands still feeling the impact of the last fight. He knew the true test was yet to come, and this time, he was more than ready to face whatever lay ahead.

After the next two matches, the arena was steeped in anxious silence. What had once been a tournament cheered with enthusiasm had now devolved into a visible bore for Lady Cerys and Lilith. The two women watched as the fighters clashed, but their expressions betrayed disinterest. The lack of skill and mediocrity of the combatants made it clear that, to them, these fighters were nothing more than weak and temporary distractions.

Finally, it was time again.

As the snow-haired man stepped into the arena, Lady Cerys adjusted herself in her seat, her gaze locking onto him with renewed interest. Her eyes gleamed as she observed the young man with an imposing stance. With a discreet motion, she beckoned one of the servants beside her, whispering something into his ear. The servant nodded and quickly departed.

Cerys then leaned forward, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

— From this point on, things will change — she said, her voice echoing loud and clear across the arena. — This tournament needs a special touch... something that will truly test the strength and courage of the fighters.

Lilith, upon hearing these words, frowned, her golden eyes fixing on Lady Cerys. A chill ran down her spine as she realized what was about to happen. She knew well of Cerys' cruelty, and what was coming could be too dangerous, especially considering that his newly transformed body was not yet fully accustomed to the power it now held.

— It can't be... — Lilith muttered, her eyes narrowing with anger and concern.

— Now, let's test this young fighter's bravery, — Cerys continued, ignoring the uneasy murmurs that began to ripple through the crowd. — Bring the cages!

The silence in the arena was shattered by the heavy sound of doors opening, and then, three massive cages were brought to the center. Each one was reinforced with thick iron bars, and inside each, something roared, straining against the chains that held it. The air in the arena grew tense, and the spectators, who had been bored moments before, now watched with a mixture of fear and fascination.

Cerys, savoring the suspense, took a step forward and explained:

— Inside these cages are three monsters. Each stronger than the last. One of Rank C, another of Rank B, and the most fearsome of all, a Rank A.

She paused, letting her words sink into the minds of the spectators before continuing:

— Our brave fighter here will have the chance to choose which one he wishes to face. So, what will it be?

The pale-haired fighter remained silent, his calm demeanor contrasting with the growing tension in the arena. He glanced up at Lilith, who was seated in the stands, visibly uneasy. Her expression was a mix of worry and excitement; she knew that he was far from reaching his full potential, but the thought of seeing his strength tested against a beast was both alarming and irresistible.

He knew Lilith well enough to understand that, as much as she was concerned, she also longed to see how far he could go. Knowing this, the decision was made.

— I choose all three cages, — he said, his voice firm and decisive, cutting through the heavy air of the arena.

The crowd erupted into shocked and surprised murmurs. No one expected him to be so bold. Lilith, though concerned, couldn't help but flash a sly smile as she anticipated what was to come. Lady Cerys, on the other hand, could barely contain her sadistic pleasure, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

— Very well, boy... — Cerys said, her smile widening. — Let the spectacle begin!

The guards began to unlock the bolts on the cages, and the roars of the trapped beasts intensified. The warrior prepared himself, his muscles tense, his senses sharpened. He was about to face a challenge like no other, but in his eyes, there was no fear. Only determination.

And then, the cage doors swung open, and the beasts charged forward.