It was the first time many had witnessed the Absolute Compression art. It wasn’t a Korrath house rune art, yet there was no doubting the terrifying complexity contained within it.

Kaelith Korrath had revealed it once, and the result had blown the minds of many. Surely, no one could possibly survive that... the ultimate attack of an Heir.

Yet Zephyrion Calderalth had emerged utterly unscathed. That alone was enough to shock the thousands watching. However, the Lightning Prince had uttered those two words;

"Absolute Compression."

As the minute compressed orb formed before Zephyrion, the thousands froze. The city lords’ eyes widened. Ingrid’s gaze sharpened.

Garrick grinned.

One thought ran through the minds of everyone.

He had copied it.

He had seen it once... yet copied it in mere seconds.

Seconds... the rune art of an Heir.

As the minute orb descended, the thousands remained rooted in shock. Only Garrick moved.

A blinding whiteness swallowed the coliseum.

When it faded, a gaping crater where the massive arena once stood was revealed, alongside an endless sea of silver shrapnel littering the coliseum.

Before the thousands of spectators, a formless shield shimmered, stopping the storm of shrapnel in place.

Only after a moment, when every eye searched frantically for Kaelith, did they realize who had intervened.

Garrick.

He stood atop the city lords’ platform, holding the unconscious Kaelith by the collar while the shaken overseer remained frozen beside him.

Even as the seconds passed, Garrick’s faintly trembling gaze remained locked onto Zephyrion.

"This fucking brat..."

If Garrick hadn’t stepped in, most of the thousands watching would be dead. Kaelith would’ve been reduced to nothing. Even the overseer, whose duty had been to protect and supervise the challengers, would have died.

The attack of a seventeen-year-old carried such devastation...

Garrick’s grip tightened unconsciously against his chest as he felt his heart hammering against his ribs.

This boy... he was the only one capable of making his heart race this much.

’I fucking love this kid...’

Meanwhile, the city lords stared at the scene with ashen expressions. Darius had already shot to his feet. Eyes trembled. Hearts pounded.

Just what... what the hell had they witnessed?

Ingrid released a tired sigh, shaking her head. After witnessing Zephyrion copy the rune art of a Mark Seven in Pulsegrove, this no longer surprised her.

Still, she frowned. Zephyrion winning the Proving had never once been in doubt within her mind. But winning in such an overwhelming fashion would inevitably attract the favourable attention of the city lords. That was not good.

Several seconds passed in deafening silence. Then Garrick nudged the overseer beside him and gestured lazily toward the ruined arena below.

"Well? Get on it."

The overseer snapped out of his daze and stiffly nodded.

"Ah... right. Yes."

Garrick stared at him with pity. It was an understandable reaction. After all, he had nearly died to the same person he was supposed to protect.

"Z-Zephyrion Calderalth versus Kaelith Korrath... winner, Zephyrion Calderalth!"

The silence instantly shattered. Deafening roars exploded throughout the coliseum, shaking it in its entirety.

"LIGHTNING PRINCE! LIGHTNING PRINCE! LIGHTNING PRINCE!"

Zephyrion faced the roaring crowd with an indifferent gaze before calmly turning and walking back toward his seat.

The remaining candidates watched him with darkened, cautious eyes. Vaelor, Kaelion, and even Nedra narrowed their gazes faintly at him.

Of them all, only Lumi was different.

She bounced excitedly in place while clapping, her eyes practically glowing. The sight contrasted sharply against the heavy silence hanging over the other candidates, yet Lumi seemed entirely oblivious to it.

As Zephyrion sat down, Lumi tapped against his lap before giving him a double thumbs-up. Her smile was so bright it nearly blinded him.

Zephyrion felt the corners of his mouth twitch, his indifferent expression threatening to crack apart. He quickly reached toward his blood. A moment later, his racing heart calmed, his emotions settling back under control.

’That was close.’

He thought with relief. Right now, he had to maintain the indifferent demeanor. What he had just done... had to appear effortless.

That needed to become the singular belief of the entire South. That image would engrave itself into their minds, reaffirming his title as Calderalth’s genius prodigy.

’The Lightning Prince...’

The name left a sour taste in his mouth. If he had known better, he would’ve been far more careful about his title during childhood.

A single word from him to his mother, and she would move the South in incomprehensible ways.

Zephyrion suddenly felt a faint ache stir within his chest. He exhaled slowly, forcing the emotions back down.

’Focus.’

He shifted his attention toward the front row, where the descendants of the city lords sat.

’Now two.’

Nedra. Vaelor.

Three if he counted Kaelion, though the rune art he possessed, Titan Armor, belonged to Calderalth. With his rank now exposed, learning it was only a matter of time.

Nedra and Vaelor both sat with narrowed eyes. Though they concealed it well, their gazes still drifted toward him from time to time. The city lords seated atop the platform were no different.

Zephyrion knew exactly what was running through their minds.

He had just copied the rune art of an Heir. An art filled with indescribable complexity. All from seeing it once.

Now, they were wary.

The rune arts their houses had cultivated for centuries... were they truly safe?

On the surface, revealing his ability to copy rune arts appeared detrimental. In reality, it was the exact opposite.

First, it further cemented his image as a genius within the minds of the South. More importantly, it created a buffer.

Zephyrion fully intended to use these rune arts in the future. If he suddenly revealed their secret house arts without explanation, suspicion would arise immediately. At worst, rumors would spread that he had acquired them through theft, torture, or worse.

But now, the source had been laid bare before the entirety of the South.

As for the possibility of the city lord descendants hiding their arts during battle, Zephyrion wasn’t worried in the slightest.

The descendants of the city lords, youths pampered since childhood, were far too prideful for that.

They would believe themselves different. Superior. They would believe their rune arts were too profound for him to comprehend.

They would be wrong.

And if they truly attempted to hide them... he would simply torture the arts out of them. Humiliation had a way of making people break.

A moment later, Zephyrion exhaled, allowing everything to settle within his mind.

With this, his plans were complete.

Suddenly, his instincts stirred. Someone was watching him while attempting to conceal it. Years spent within the dangerous environment of the Order had sharpened such senses far too deeply.

Zephyrion turned, his gaze landing on Kastor seated on the highest throne.

Yet the Head of House wasn’t looking at him. Zephyrion squinted, studying him for a moment.

For an instant, he caught the corner of Kastor’s mouth twitch upward.

But it vanished immediately. Kastor’s face returned to its usual indifferent calm, as though nothing had happened at all.

’What was that?’

Zephyrion frowned. For a moment, he questioned whether he had imagined it. Eventually, he shook his head. It had to be his imagination. There was simply no way the father he knew would smile.

Several minutes passed afterward. The booming cheers of the crowd gradually began to settle. By then, many Calderalth instructors had already entered the coliseum, attempting to clear away the near endless sea of shrapnel.

Afterward, they gathered around the shattered remains of the arena, uncertain how to proceed.

Unfortunately, none of them possessed the earth element. As they discussed possible solutions amongst themselves, a ripple suddenly spread through the coliseum.

Every soul froze. Even Zephyrion.

The weight contained within that aura... it could only belong to one person.

He turned toward Kastor. The air around the Head of House trembled faintly.

Suddenly, metal condensed at an astonishing pace, rapidly taking shape into a vast arena far larger than the previous one.

As countless eyes landed upon Kastor, the Head of House merely gave a single nod.

"Continue."

The fights resumed shortly afterward. Once the round ended, another hour was given for rest. By then, the remaining candidates had shrunk to nine.

Calderalth still held three seats among them despite losing three candidates during the earlier round. Zephyrion. Lumi. Kaelion.

Regardless, they still possessed the highest number of candidates remaining within the Proving.

The hour soon passed, and the battles resumed once more. Zephyrion observed carefully, gleaning everything he could from each fight.

Unfortunately, Nedra and Vaelor had both been matched against merely decent opponents, preventing them from revealing their true house arts.

Then suddenly, an unexpected match was announced.

"Zephyrion Calderalth. Lumi Calderalth."

Beside him, Lumi blinked before tilting her head. Then she turned toward Zephyrion with furrowed brows.

Zephyrion gave a small shrug.

"Looks like we have to fight."

Lumi’s frown deepened instantly. She stared at him as though convinced he was lying.

But Zephyrion merely shrugged once more before rising from his seat and making his way toward the arena.

Even as Lumi followed after him, the frown never left her face.

Above them, smiles gradually spread across the faces of the city lords, everyone except Darius, who still hadn’t fully recovered from both his son’s defeat and Zephyrion’s monstrous display earlier.

Lumi had defeated Draven, a city lord descendant, with ease. Every battle afterward had ended just as swiftly. At this point, none of them knew the full extent of her strength.

Zephyrion’s subordinate or not, the two of them were now about to fight each other. If fortune favored them, the two Calderalth candidates would eliminate one another from the race.

A cold smile slowly formed on City Lord Ociden’s face.

’Then... Vaelor will win.’

Suddenly, the overseer’s voice rang out across the arena.

"Begin!"