Chronicles of The God Slayer of Shadows-Chapter 50 - Fifty

The crowd roared as Adrien stepped into the arena, his coat billowing lightly in the breeze. Across from him stood a lanky man with cruel eyes and a jagged scar down his neck — one of Kael's lackeys, known only as Varn. His sneer was immediate.

"Took your time showing up, shadow boy," Varn called, stretching his neck with a sharp crack.

Adrien yawned theatrically. "Sorry, I was busy not growing facial warts from licking boots."

Laughter rippled through the audience, a few guild members chuckling behind their hands. Kael, seated high in the guild box, did not.

The bell rang. Varn moved first — fast, but wild. Adrien sidestepped the initial flurry, dancing between slashes, eyes narrowed. It didn't take long to realize: Varn was trying too hard. His movements felt... strained.

Still, Adrien kept it clean. He flowed like smoke, striking at joints, pressuring his opponent with precision rather than power. In just under five minutes, he swept Varn's leg and pinned him with a dagger's edge to the throat.

Cheers erupted.

But then — Varn's eyes flashed crimson.

Veins bulged unnaturally under his skin as his body convulsed. Adrien leapt back instinctively. Steam hissed from Varn's mouth. The man stood, cracking his knuckles. A violet aura pulsed around him.

"A devil pill?" Adrien murmured, frowning. "Cute."

Varn roared and rushed him, his movements now feral. Each blow hit harder than before, cracking stone and gouging lines in the arena floor. Adrien grimaced, dodging narrowly — shadows barely clinging to his form.

He whispered a word under his breath. The air dimmed.

Then he struck.

A feint to the side, a sharp twist, and Adrien drove the hilt of his sword into Varn's gut, shattering the last of the pill's unstable momentum. With a crackling flash, the aura around Varn dissipated. He collapsed, twitching.

Adrien stood over him, breath steady. "If you're going to cheat, at least try not to look like you're dying halfway through."

Silence followed... then thunderous applause.

Even Kael's expression soured, his fingers tightening on the edge of his chair.

Damien cheered the loudest from the stands.

Adrien sheathed his sword and walked away from the arena floor without looking back.

The coliseum crowd roared as the dust settled from the latest match. In a high viewing room draped in fine Dawnfire silk, Duke Evermoon stood with his hands behind his back, watching the arena through a narrow balcony slit. His expression was calm, but his mind was working fast.

"He didn't even look winded," Seraphine said from her chair. "And the other one cheated."

"Which only made the win more valuable," the Duke replied, eyes still on Adrien, who was now walking off the sands. "He fights like someone used to real danger, not tournament scuffles."

Seraphine leaned forward. "You mean the dark-haired one? Adrien?"

The Duke nodded once. "Yes. He didn't flinch, even when that idiot took a devil pill. That kind of composure doesn't come from a cozy life."

"And his companion? Damien?" she asked. "He's a bit loud but sharp."

"He's fire — bold and reckless, but he's got technique. Someone trained him properly," the Duke said. Then he glanced toward the arena floor as the crowd erupted again. The 7th Prince stepped forward into the ring, his white and gold armor catching the sunlight. "And the prince... well, we already know what he is."

Seraphine smirked. "So, three of the most talked-about fighters in this tournament, and they're all... available."

"Exactly," the Duke said, turning to face her now. "None of them are tied to any of the Empire's noble houses. They're not locked down by military contracts, guild oaths, or royal obligations. Not yet."

"You're thinking of recruiting them?"

"I'm thinking of using them," he corrected flatly. "Dawnfire is powerful, but we're not the capital. My family's influence ends at the border. But if I have fighters like them under my banner — one of them possibly even royalty — it changes things."

Seraphine folded her arms. "And if they say no?"

The Duke gave a small smile. "Everyone wants something. Power, protection, revenge, recognition. I'll find what makes them move and point them in the direction that benefits us. If I have to offer gold, prestige, or something more personal — I will."

Seraphine rose from her seat. "You want me to talk to them?"

"Not yet," the Duke said, shaking his head. "Let them keep fighting. Watch how they act, who they talk to, what they hide. We don't need to make a move until they've shown all their cards."

He walked back to the window and looked down at Adrien, who was now at the edge of the arena, idly exchanging words with Damien. "But mark my words. One of them — maybe all three — could shift power in this Empire. And I plan to be the one holding the reins when that happens."