Chapter 27

"Thirty gold for a seat like this—honestly, not too bad," Larkin remarked as he, Zee, and Nori settled into their spots in the back row of the coliseum stands. Around them, thousands upon thousands of spectators filled the massive arena, the sheer size of the gathered crowd almost overwhelming.

"I've never seen this many people in one place before," Zee said, her eyes sweeping over the endless sea of faces.

Nori shifted uncomfortably, still not entirely used to the dress he was wearing, though he had at least settled into it better than Larkin and Zee, who were both busy taking in their surroundings.

"Hey, Zee, look." Larkin nudged her arm, nodding toward an elevated platform near the front row.

Zee followed his gaze—and then blinked. "Is that... Is that the Emperor of Aeruna?"

Seated in the VIP podium was a man who, to her surprise, looked far younger than she had imagined. Beside him sat a woman who drew attention from all around—not just because of her frankly beautiful looks but also because of the revealing blue belly dancer outfit that barely seemed to serve its purpose of being clothing. Two armored figures stood behind them, their disciplined stances marking them as elite guards, likely protectors of the Emperor himself.

"That border guard did say he was attendin'," Larkin muttered, watching Zee, who remained transfixed by the sight. This was the closest she had ever been to someone truly important.

Meanwhile, in the front row—

"Oh, I can't wait! This is going to be so exciting!" Clara said, practically vibrating with energy.

"Behave a little, Clara. You need to act like a lady," Elsa said, seated beside her.

Clara turned to her with an impish smile. "Oh, come on! Don't be so uptight! Our friend is competing—how can I not be excited?" She immediately turned back to the arena, her patience wearing thin as she waited for Xain and the other fighters to make their entrance.

"Friend?" Elsa echoed, raising an eyebrow before shaking her head. "You're always so quick to become attached," she whispered under her breath.

Across from them, in the opposing front-row section—

"Your distractions are getting more annoying," Sarandel said, letting out a sigh.

X, sitting beside her, grinned beneath his skull mask. "Hey, he's here somewhere. You felt Ercale's presence, so we might as well enjoy our time here too."

Using Divine Eyes, they had successfully tracked Xain and Ercale to Arcadicia. Even without the spell, X had a feeling this would be their destination—it was the closest major city to where the demon invasion had begun.

"You could have just stopped time and figured out where he is," Sarandel muttered in irritation.

"Come on, that would be abusing my powers. Don't want to upset Father Time now, do I?" X said, his tone laced with amusement.

Sarandel's eyes narrowed. "And using your time magic to get us front-row seats isn't abusing your powers?"

X simply shrugged. "Lighten up, goddess. Why not enjoy one of your people's customs for once?"

Sarandel sighed again, crossing her arms as she turned her gaze toward the arena.

Elsewhere, in the middle rows—

"This should be fun," Wolf said, standing with his arms crossed as he scanned the arena.

The crowd around him kept sneaking glances in his direction—not just because of his all-black attire but also due to the black wolf mask obscuring his face. It was almost laughable, really. He was hiding his identity despite the fact that no one here even knew who he was… yet he wore it anyway.

"Let's see how the kids hold up after all this time," he muttered to himself, anticipation creeping into his voice.

In another VIP podium—

"Do you think we'll see anything of worth this year, Father?"

The voice belonged to a young teenage boy, his neatly combed black hair framing a pair of sharp eyes behind thin, rectangular glasses. He sat with perfect posture, dressed in the fine attire of nobility, the crest of the Mathers family embroidered onto his coat.

"Possibly," his father replied, his tone laced with disdain. The elderly man sat beside him, his long gray hair tied back neatly, his noble garments just as immaculate as his son's. "But don't get your hopes up. Most of these filth won't even use magic. Instead, they'll fight like primitive beasts."

The boy adjusted his glasses, unimpressed. "Hmm. I hope not. That would be disappointing."

His father let out a slow exhale, eyes fixed on the arena. "Always be ready to be disappointed, Matthew. Most in Aetheria aren't like us."

Another VIP podium—

"Can't believe I have to be here with you," the prince of Veridiania spat, his voice dripping with irritation.

He sat stiffly in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, his outfit designed with a balance of military practicality and regal style—elegant but ready for battle. His short, green hair was slicked back, his sharp features twisted into a look of frustration.

"I don't want to be here either, you know that, Mark," Zara muttered, barely able to meet his gaze. She sat a little more rigidly, wearing a similar militaristic uniform, though notably less extravagant.

"And that just makes it so much better, doesn't it?" Mark scoffed, clicking his tongue in annoyance. "Tch. I can't even enjoy the tournament properly."

Zara sighed, brushing a few strands of her green hair out of her eyes as she turned toward the arena.

Elsewhere, in the middle rows—

"Ugh, I'm bored! Where is Even? Why won't they start already?" Lia whined, rocking impatiently in her seat.

Dirk shot her a side-eyed glance, unimpressed. "Could you act your age for once, or is that just impossible?"

Lia turned to him with a huff, dramatically placing a hand on her chest. "Don't you get sassy with me, mister." She exhaled sharply before gesturing toward the arena. "This is a big moment! You should be just as impatient as me!"

Dirk raised an eyebrow. "So you know you're being impatient?"

"I own my impatience, thank you very much," Lia said with a smirk.

Dirk shook his head. "Look, I get that this is important for Even, but complaining isn't going to make it start any faster."

"Yes, it will," Lia declared—before abruptly standing up, cupping her hands around her mouth, and shouting, "Start it already!"

Her voice barely carried in the vast coliseum, but it was loud enough to jolt the people seated around them.

Dirk pinched the bridge of his nose. "Could you please calm—"

Before he could finish, a powerful voice rang out across the arena, cutting through the noise of the crowd like a blade.

"Hello, everyone!"

Heads turned skyward.

High above, a young demi-human woman hovered with large owl-like wings spread wide, her brightly colored attire fluttering in the wind. Her presence alone commanded attention, but her voice—booming and filled with uncontainable enthusiasm—sealed it.

"I hope you're all excited for this year's Tournament of Greatness!" she called out. "I'm the holder of the coliseum, Quincy White! And I'm happy to announce that—" she threw her arms out dramatically— "the tournament begins now!"

From the ground, four robed figures raised their hands in perfect synchronization.

A second later, four firework-like explosions rocketed into the sky, bursting into dazzling streaks of color above the coliseum, their echoing booms signaling the official start of the Tournament of Greatness.