Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins-Chapter 70: Clash of Hero

Despite the soaring prices, the crowd only grew. The allure of food once blessed by three queens—and rumored to be endorsed by the Flame Queen herself—was too irresistible.

Nobles began sending butlers to secure boxes of flame-fried dumplings and packs of shadow ramen. There were even formal petitions to pre-order meals for after the ceremony.

Julie, hair tied tight and brow beaded with sweat, yelled out, "Four deluxe combos for the Cloudhall Envoy!" while Sasha zipped through tables delivering plates with impossible grace.

Seraphina, decked in our new festival uniform—a stylized battle apron with gold trim—flirted, negotiated, and up-sold like a war general in silk. Noora was managing our runic queue system, adjusting time delays to optimize table flow. Even Eren had stopped complaining, focusing purely on grilling and portioning with a rare seriousness.

I spent an hour circulating the stall, checking quality, reorganizing logistics, and secretly handing out free food to a few kids who looked like they needed it.

Then I washed my hands, fixed my collar, and turned toward the Academy Hall.

It was time.

The final event was beginning.

The hall wasn’t just a hall anymore.

It had been transformed into a stadium.

A ring of floating crystal seats orbited the stage like planets around a sun. The battle platform hovered mid-air, powered by dense enchantments. Below, the audience seats had been extended with illusionary rows for overflow.

Noble families in ornate robes. Merchant guild leaders. Military commanders. Representatives from the Dragon and Vampire academies.

And, sitting in the front row, Queen Althea, Queen Lilith, Headmistress Evelyn... and my sister, Lucielle.

I walked in slowly, scanning the room.

Layla stood near the judges’ box, still managing event logistics despite being part of the council.

Even Kali was here. Arms crossed. Eyes focused.

She noticed me, gave a short nod.

I nodded back.

Then I turned toward the platform.

The energy in the air changed.

Rin and Rayne were stepping into the ring.

Rin, in his pristine white tunic lined with gold mana threads. His signature longsword sheathed at his back. His movements calm. Calculated.

He was the Academy’s star. A symbol of light.

Rayne, by contrast, wore matte-black robes. His gloves crackled with static. His twin daggers shimmered with dark miststeel, vibrating faintly with forbidden runes.

Where Rin stood tall and proud, Rayne moved like a shadow—coiled, ready to strike.

The announcer’s voice boomed through amplification orbs.

"Presenting the final match of this year’s Festival Championship! On the left, representing the Holy Lance Division—Rin Elvareth! On the right, representing the Obsidian Path—Rayne Varthis!"

The crowd roared.

I took my seat in the shadows, high enough to observe without being seen.

The referee raised a hand.

"Begin!"

And the world exploded.

Rin dashed forward with impossible speed, drawing his longsword in a single motion. His mana flared golden, forming a light barrier that shimmered across the ring.

Rayne met him halfway.

He twisted through the first strike like smoke, using his shadow step to pass Rin’s guard. One dagger slashed toward Rin’s ribs.

Clang.

Rin blocked the blade with the hilt of his sword, pivoted, and kicked Rayne backward.

Rayne flipped mid-air and landed on one knee.

He grinned. "Still predictable, Rin."

Rin said nothing.

He activated a rune on his gauntlet.

Ten golden swords appeared in the air.

Mana Constructs.

They launched forward in unison, whistling with heat.

Rayne’s daggers spun, releasing a pulse of dark mist that shredded the first three. He backstepped, weaved left, and rolled beneath the fifth blade, his feet gliding with shadow magic.

Then he snapped his fingers.

The arena dimmed.

From the shadows, spikes erupted. Dozens of tendrils of pure void mana surged toward Rin, slashing through the floor tiles, turning them into black glass.

Rin didn’t flinch.

He raised his hand.

A sigil of radiant light burst outward, dispelling the darkness in a blinding wave that illuminated the entire hall.

Rayne hissed and leapt back.

But Rin followed.

They clashed mid-air. Blade against dagger. Light against void.

Each collision echoed like thunder. Sparks and dark wisps danced in the sky.

Rin spun, blade carving an arc of mana that seared through Rayne’s sleeve. Blood flew.

Rayne retaliated with a mist bomb—a sphere of cursed fog that exploded between them. Rin coughed and fell back, vision clouded.

Rayne appeared beside him.

"Got you."

He thrust his dagger forward.

But Rin spun unexpectedly, parrying the blow and landing a clean elbow to Rayne’s face.

Rayne hit the ground hard, skidding across the arena.

He coughed, blood trailing from his lip.

Still, he smiled. "Didn’t think you’d fall for the mist again."

Rin exhaled. His mana surged.

A second layer of runes lit up across his body. A crest formed behind him—a radiant lion of pure light.

Rayne’s smile faded.

The audience gasped.

Rin was activating his Divine Manifestation.

The lion roared.

The air warped. Aether vibrated underfoot.

Rayne leapt, desperate to close the distance. His daggers blurred, forming a spiral slash of darkness meant to pierce defenses.

But Rin moved first.

He vanished—reappearing mid-air—and brought down his sword like divine judgment.

The impact cracked the arena floor.

Rayne was thrown backward, slamming into the barrier wall.

But even now, Rayne rose slowly. Breathing heavy, but standing.

"You’re not done?" Rin asked.

"Not until I break the light," Rayne replied, gritting his teeth.

He raised both hands. His shadow mana erupted. Two massive tendrils lashed forward, turning into serpentine dragons of void magic.

Rin narrowed his eyes. The radiant lion behind him roared, and mana surged into his blade.

He sliced once.

A beam of golden energy tore through the dragons.

Rayne gasped as the feedback hit him. He dropped to one knee.

Rin didn’t hesitate.

He rushed forward, blade drawn back.

Rayne crossed his daggers in defense.

Their clash sent a shockwave through the stands.

But Rayne’s strength was spent.

The daggers shattered.

Rin’s blade stopped inches from his throat.

Rayne’s head dropped. Unconscious.

The light faded.

Silence fell.

Smoke lingered.

The announcer hesitated.

Then his voice rang out:

"Winner: Rin Elvareth!"

The stadium shook with applause.

Nobles stood. Royals clapped. The academy buzzed with praise.

But I didn’t move.

I watched Rin.

He didn’t celebrate. Didn’t raise his sword.

He turned.

Looked at the Vampire King seated among the dignitaries.

The king raised a crystal glass.

Rin offered the smallest of nods.

And the wheels of fate turned again.