Selorien remained pensive for a moment, while Zarya looked at him with her head tilted in curiosity. The elf analyzed the earlier matchups in his mind, thinking it made sense that they had been predetermined, and not random.

Richard had fought with his ‘sworn’ enemy. Lucretia had an easy win against a perverted lunatic, which pleased the audience for the most part. He was up against a Glyph-focused Gifted, one who could keep him on the backpedal for as long as she wanted.

Lilithra, on the other hand, was going to be up against Rosco, an ex-Guildmate turned enemy. And lastly, Lucio was supposed to fight against Bob, who was plain fodder put in there as a ‘filler’ combatant.

Selorien frowned deeply as he considered his idea. What was the point of rigging the matches? Pleasing the crowd? Manipulating betting money? There was a lot up in the air, especially when the whole predetermined matches thing was just a guess of his.

Was this all orchestrated by a third party? Probably not, seeing how Lucio was clearly involved with it. As he pondered, a creeping thought began to gnaw at Selorien. He felt a bit conflicted, but ultimately let the conclusion flood in: His grandfather was likely to be involved because of Lilithra.

Frustration welled up at the thought as a pained expression took over his visage. His grandfather was still hung up about the incident with Lilithra’s parents, that much was clear—though, who could blame him? But to go as far as to meddle with the colosseum’s matches? Just to mess with a poor girl?

Selorien remembered the great Theoldorien as a doting, gentle elder. But that was before his son had been murdered. There had been many signs, yet Selorien refused to see them. He recalled that one night, when he left Ascalon and Lilithra, and went to dine with his grandfather.

Selorien remembered the whole event vividly. They ate in the enormous dining room, in almost complete silence as usual, while trays of delicacies came and went. Aside from mundane questions and answers, his grandfather had broached two topics that Selorien was now grasping straws at.

The first, questions about the upcoming Guild war. He even faintly remembered his grandfather mentioning Lucio, for some reason. The key detail was, Selorien hadn’t told Theoldorien about the Guild war at that point.

The second, was to remind Selorien of one thing: to ‘cut ties with Lilithra’, ‘for his own good’. Like hell he would. He rebelled then, and rebelled now, looking at the VIP seats with defiance, his eyes reflecting his conviction.

Selorien’s powerful sight met Theoldorien’s gaze, and the elder sighed in disappointment. “You sure keep letting me down, Selorien.” Whispered the old elf, catching Ascalon’s attention.

Ascalon was taken aback by Theoldorien’s words. He realized there was some tension between Selorien and his grandfather, and wondered why. But before he could delve into those thoughts, his friend’s voice reached his ears.

“This is a pain, I give up.” Selorien’s comment boomed throughout the colosseum, and the audience began murmuring in confusion, before shouting complaints and booing cries. Amidst the chaos, J-Rider made himself heard once again, seemingly as shocked as everyone else.

“Wha- well… uh… ehem! Zarya the Charming Delight wiiiiiiiins!!!”

As the battle’s results were announced, the girls in the stands seemed conflicted; some were disappointed, and others worried about the elf. A part of the spectators cheered for Zarya who beamed with confidence, as if her victory had always been a given.

Both Ascalon and Lilithra were perplexed at Selorien’s decision, though they knew he was probably feeling cornered by his opponent’s abilities. They knew him well, especially how he hated dealing with troublesome stuff. Theoldorien, on the other hand, seemed content with the outcome.

“Good.” Theoldorien spoke to himself once more, and Ascalon felt a bit confused by his attitude.

But even so, he was more worried about Lilithra, because the result of her match would determine which Guild was going to be the victor. Most likely, she was going to feel pressured, yet Ascalon wanted to believe that she could overcome it.

“Now then, as anticlimactic as that was, it’s now down to the finaaal maaatch!”

J-Rider’s hype reached the audience, who slowly regained their cheerfulness. Leaving the outcome of Selorien’s match aside, the spectators felt the stakes were higher and were enjoying themselves once more.

Back at the arena, Zarya skipped joyfully around Selorien, probably feeling like the happiest person in the colosseum at the time. “So, date? date?” She asked twice, smiling with delight, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. Selorien rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly, tiredly.

“Maybe another day.” His tone was cold and distant, but Zarya didn’t show any sign of dejection. She even looked more motivated, having taken his words as a promise of sorts.

“Alright! I’ll be waiting!” She exclaimed energetically, raising her arms with excitement. Her scepter vanished, and she hummed as she skipped back to the Flaming Fists’ area.

Selorien felt like he had stepped on a landmine, and his shoulders slumped with the unseen weight of future troublesome events. But there was something more important now: Lilithra had to win her match.

He raised his eyes and met her gaze as he approached Casanova's side. He had given up partly because he was fed up with the match, but also because he had confidence in Lilithra. His grandfather was probably thinking he had done it for him, but no. He wanted her to show that old elf what she was made of.

As he approached her, the girl hit him on the shoulder playfully, though it made him lose his balance. Maybe he was in worse shape than he thought.

“Oh! Sorry!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto his arms to help steady him. Selorien smiled softly and gently brushed her off.

“You should be worrying about your match instead.” He spoke bluntly. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it or joke around, not this time.

Lilithra looked into the elf’s eyes, and saw on them a resolute, serious stare. He was counting on her. She was nervous, of course she was. But knowing her friends believed in her filled her with courage.

She had been absorbed by the matches before hers. Everyone’s conviction and might had awed her, and she had managed to convince herself, over and over, that she had to rise to the challenge. She had to do her best; that way, even if there wasn’t much chance of beating Rosco, she could at least hold her head high.

She looked over at the VIP stand, fueling herself by acknowledging Ascalon’s presence. Right on cue, J-Rider’s voice boomed as the screens showed the next matchup.

“I can't believe we’re already here, people! After a succession of incredible, blood-pumping matches, we’re finally arriving at the tipping point! The peak, the apex of… okay, okay i’ll cut it short, please stop shouting in my ear!!!”

The man complained to whoever rushed him, most likely a member of the colosseum’s staff. People laughed jovially at the sight, the mood completely changed from Selorien’s post-battle. Perhaps J-Rider was a master entertainer, Ascalon thought.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Sorry about that guys! Anyway! Give it up for the last two combatants, who carry the weight of their whole guilds on their backs!”

The crowd cheered wildly, their levels of excitement through the roof.

“On the flaming fists’ side, we got one of the most notorious and nefarious guys around. He’s the kind of man that would kill the killer in a horror movie! He’s got many nicknames, a reaper taking the visage of a man! The cruel, and merciless, Rooooooscooooo the Crescent Glinnnnnnnnt!!!”

The scythe wielder walked slowly toward the center of the arena, amidst booing and cheering alike. His stare was fixated on Lilithra, a hint of rage dwelling within. She gulped loudly as Lucretia patted her on the back. She smiled shyly, her cheeks reddening in surprise, and nodded at Lucretia, then at Selorien, and lastly to Richard, who simply grumbled in the distance.

“On Casanova's side, we got another newbie! Also her first match here, no nickname nor renown… though some may know… no, forget that! Ehem! What I can say is that she’s a reaaaaaaaaaal cuuutie! And her name’s Liliiiiiiithraaaa!!!”

Lilithra let out a big breath and clutched her Guild scarf as she advanced toward her opponent, her eyes focused on the scary-looking Rosco. Each step felt decisive yet heavy. The oppressive aura of her enemy was testing her willingness to proceed, but she soldiered on, even when her heart was beating louder than the cheers around her.

Ascalon watched over her with his fists closed tight, his eye hiding a mix of concern and belief. She looked confident, her stride unwavering. The sight filled him with various emotions.

Lilithra arrived at the center of the arena and breathed in and out before her hoodie disappeared into her inventory. Her long hair swayed at the slight change of clothes, as she was now showing her shirt below the scarf, which she rolled a few times around her neck. She didn’t want it in the way of her movements.

The crowd gasped in awe as they saw her horns, curious whispers, and cheers surrounding her. “Is that a half-daemon?!” One of the many voices asked animatedly. “That’s a rare sight!” Chimed in others, amidst the reigning rallying.

She did her best to shut them out. To shut everything out, and focus solely on Rosco, who looked both perplexed and infuriated. Right, he was probably expecting her to hide her horns, as she always did. Tough luck! She felt she had changed, for the better, and it boosted her morale. Though he was still scary as hell.

In contrast to the crowd’s reactions, the VIP balcony’s mood turned somber, and Ascalon perked up in surprise. Gazing around, he saw everyone looked more serious, even the scrawny-looking guy had leaned forward and watched Lilithra with narrowed eyes.

But most of all, the old elf was digging into the chair’s armrests with his fingers clenched tight around the edges, his face painted with pure, unapologetic hate. This surprised Ascalon greatly, and many questions started to appear in his mind.

“So that’s the Vexeria’s spawn, huh?” Ignis’ voice cut through the tense silence, drawing everyone’s attention to Lilithra, their faces a mix of discomfort and doubt.

“Yep… the daughter of these two demons…” Jay chimed in, his smile souring as he spoke. His words didn’t sit well with Ascalon, who found himself frowning in his direction.

Jay tensed up, feeling Ascalon’s intense stare, and wondered if he had offended him in some way, though he was also surprised by the man’s presence. Jay was confident in his unshakable easy going nature, yet Ascalon had made him flinch. It was interesting, to say the least.

“Ehem! Be mindful of Mr. Theoldorien, please.” Calista said from her seat, visibly embarrassed by the reactions around her. Ascalon felt out of the loop and slightly agitated.

It was clear they were looking at Lilithra with the same prejudice and disdain he had shown her a few days prior: as if she were an impure, evil demon. He didn’t know the reasons behind their behavior, and even though he could take a few guesses, the atmosphere felt really uncomfortable for him.

He hated the way they treated her, seeing himself in their reactions and realizing how he had been acting before. His fists were turning white as he kept clenching them tight. He had to focus on the upcoming match and ignore them, otherwise he would lose his composure.

Coincidentally, another man was sharing similar feelings of irritation, and he was standing right there in the arena. Rosco, who looked clearly pissed off, but… something about him was odd.

Lilithra looked at him with a focused gaze, slowly noticing some curious details. Rosco had huge bags under his eyes, and his posture, though intimidating, was nothing like his usual imposing demeanor. It was a surprising sight, taking into account that Rosco had always been strong and confident in her eyes.

She steeled herself, and her battle banner slowly materialized on her hands. She twirled it and raised it high, the cloth on her weapon dancing freely in the air—a show of encouragement to herself. The crowd cheered at the display, and Rosco flinched.

Rosco himself had been going through a hard time since that one fateful night. His eyes darted around nervously, driven by a gnawing feeling at the back of his head. Rosco knew he was there, he had to be—the man that had humiliated him just a few days ago: The wanderer that went by the name of Ascalon.

Rosco had never experienced such a resounding defeat. He had been beaten to a pulp multiple times while he grew in strength and kept going undefeated for a long time afterward; but his fight against Ascalon was completely different. He was put in place by an unstoppable, superior force. He wasn’t even that hurt physically since his opponent didn’t deem him a threat big enough to inflict pain upon.

But the wound to his pride was deep, and kept gushing uncontrollably. Rosco was still under the trauma of such a defeat, and had been drowning his frustrations with booze and women, neglecting training and sleep. Still, how could he rest when the fight against Ascalon, if you could even call it that, kept replaying inside his head?

The sound of the spear meeting his unruly scythe, the frustration he felt as every single one of his blows was parried effortlessly. He clenched his teeth and shook his head wildly, trying to drive away those thoughts. He regained as much of his senses as he could, his eyes fixing once again on Lilithra.

Lilithra herself looked confident, different. She was baring her horns to a thousand curious eyes, yet she was standing tall and ready before him. How? How could she have changed so much in such a short span of time? The cowering, pitiful girl he had always known was there no more.

Rosco felt desperate. He couldn’t stand her attitude. She should’ve been scared to death, her eyes gleaming with tears, her body shaking uncontrollably! He gripped his scythe, rage burning fiercely in his eyes. His thoughts were in disarray, and as much as he tried he couldn’t shut out the outside world. The audience’s cheers and shouts were incredibly exasperating.

His agitation was clear, and someone in the colosseum’s staff seemed to notice, as they went ahead and blared the starting signal without waiting for J-Rider’s pre-match speech. The sudden sound, coupled with a new set of erupting rallies from the spectators, snapped Rosco back, and he quickly unsheathed his scythe.

Lilithra tightened her grip on her battle banner, her throat feeling dry and nervousness trying to take over. But her confidence and the thought of her friends kept the shadows at bay. Still, seeing Rosco with his great scythe in hand was always an ominous sight.

The weight of her friend’s and her own expectations suppressed the feeling. She furrowed her brows, a small, nervously bold smile appearing on her lips as she raised her banner high once more.

image [https://i.imgur.com/Xz1neGS.gif]

“Be brave!” She shouted with energy, her voice booming throughout the colosseum while her figure glowed momentarily.

The personal skill - Be Brave - Has been activated in the surrounding zone.

Her resolution shines on the battlefield, her demonic heart a beacon of hope!

—Skill info—

Lilithra Vexeria’s unique skill.

Rank: E - Level 32.

Potential: SSS.

Attribute: Holy.

Effects:

All units considered an ‘ally’ by Lilithra Vexeria will get a 14% increase in all stats.

Additional effects:

* Has a 10% chance of shaking off fear debuffs.

* Has a 15% chance of rousing up morale.

* Has a 0.2% chance of doubling all effects percentages.

Her signature skill surged amidst the deafening cheers. She felt ready for the fight ahead.