Endless whispers filled the coliseum. With the final showdown approaching, every conversation centered around it.

Numerous theories were thrown around on both sides about who was most likely to win.

Many favored the lightning prince. With his mysterious ability to copy other rune arts so effortlessly, many envisioned the same thing happening during the final. The Korrath candidate, as well as Heno, had both fallen in exactly that manner.

But many also favored Vaelor Ocren. Also Mark Six, every single one of his fights had ended swiftly, without any visible strain. Kaelion had fallen the same way.

Some proposed that Vaelor could possibly end the battle before Zephyrion ever got the chance to copy his art, while others argued that Vaelor being Mark Six himself would make it far harder for Zephyrion to even copy the Ocren art.

The people were torn.

Yet that only intensified the excitement.

Numerous bets were made. Entire fortunes exchanged hands. Sons and daughters were used as wagers. Many were going to make a fortune... or lose everything they had.

Garrick completely considered himself among the former.

In his mind, countless ways to spend his riches flashed endlessly. He leaned back in his seat with a thrilled grin on his face. None of the gloom hanging over the city lords reached him.

As time passed, more and more of the candidates who had been injured or knocked unconscious woke up.

One after another, they left the clinics and returned to the coliseum. Before the two-hour rest period ended, every single candidate who had participated had gathered across the coliseum once more.

Kaelith Korrath wore an unreadable expression. Despite the endless chatter around him, his intense gaze never left Zephyrion.

But he wasn’t the only one.

Nedra Heno. Fiona. Kaiden. Even Kaelion.

While the rest of the primary city lords’ descendants gnashed their teeth over the fact that they had lost so early, they still watched with sharp eyes alongside every other candidate.

The winner of this battle would be crowned the Prime.

The singular most talented youth of their generation in the entire South.

The significance of such a title could not be overstated. Endless support. Reverence. Respect. One would become an important political figure recognized across the Ferran dynasties.

Only one person could claim it.

As the seconds passed, the tension settling across the coliseum, and even the utmost reaches of the South, became palpable.

Eventually, the time came.

"People of the South."

Ingrid’s firm voice silenced the endless chatter. Everyone held their breath.

"It’s time for the final battle of the Proving. Are you all ready?"

"YESSSSSSSSSS!"

People shot from their seats, ripping clothes apart as they roared at the top of their lungs.

"Good." Ingrid gave a faint nod before turning toward Zephyrion and Vaelor. "Candidates, congratulations on surviving this far. Unfortunately for one of you, this is where the happiness ends. The winner of this battle will claim the Proving and be crowned the Prime of this generation... so I suggest you do your absolute best."

Zephyrion slowly opened his eyes.

Ingrid was staring directly at him, almost as though she had addressed him alone. The moment their eyes met, she immediately looked away.

A moment later, she gave the overseer a nod before stepping back.

"..."

Zephyrion tilted his head slightly, watching her for several seconds. These past few days, she had been acting a bit erratic.

Was she planning something he was unaware of?

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" The overseer’s booming voice pulled him from his thoughts. "For the final showdown of the Proving... the battle you’ve all been screaming yourselves hoarse for... I give you, Zephyrion Calderalth versus Vaelor Ocren!"

As both candidates calmly stepped into the arena, violent roars tore through the coliseum.

Above, Ociden straightened slightly before exhaling deeply. Confidence radiated from his entire body.

In this Proving, House Ocren would carry it.

Zephyrion might have defeated the others, but his son was different.

He was a true prodigy.

The other city lords also watched with keen eyes. Their descendants hadn’t made it to the finals, but they too wanted to know who would win this battle.

On the arena, Vaelor Ocren slowly licked his lips.

’Finally.’

Beating Zephyrion had been his true goal in the Proving, perhaps even more important than actually winning it.

Before the entire South... it was finally time to show them who the true genius prodigy of this generation was.

Vaelor stared ahead.

Zephyrion stood there calmly with the same indifferent gaze he carried into every single battle. Everything Vaelor had observed and taken note of flashed through his mind.

’Mark Six. Strong. Fast. Likes to show total dominance in battle. Calm. Confident. Calculative. Can somehow copy the rune arts of others. Lures people into revealing their arts.’

Zephyrion was also Mark Six, in the same rank as he was. Their strength and speed should be similar, or otherwise only slightly apart.

What he truly needed to be wary of, however, was Zephyrion’s ability to copy rune arts.

Though Vaelor remained certain Zephyrion should be unable to copy the Ocren art due to its sheer complexity. It had taken him months to master. Across the South, Vaelor had yet to encounter anyone whose comprehension surpassed his own.

And he was certain Zephyrion would not become the first.

Vaelor mulled over everything, conclusions forming rapidly.

’He won’t attack first.’

Zephyrion was calm. Extremely confident.

Like every other battle, he would likely wait for him to attack first. He would casually block his attacks, wound his pride, stir his ego, and eventually bait him into revealing his rune art.

Then he would copy it, or at least try to.

Vaelor scoffed inwardly. Because...

’None of that will happen.’

He had already read Zephyrion like an open book. Slowly, a plan crystallized in his mind.

Once the battle began, Zephyrion would expect him to attack casually, thinking he would first probe and determine his strength.

Vaelor exhaled slowly.

’I’ll finish it immediately.’

Vaelor emerged from his thoughts as time resumed around him.

The coliseum fell into silence.

Zephyrion and Vaelor locked eyes without exchanging a single word. The tension soared.

Then the overseer’s voice rang out.

"Begin!"