Ask my Fist

All eyes in the hall were fixed on the winners, who were seated together at the same table. 

"Wow, Dorian and Princess Seraphina make quite the pair, don't they? It's like they were made for each other!" Said someone from the crowd.

"Absolutely! Not only are they the most beautiful in the first year, but they're also the two strongest," replied another one.

Seraphina smiled politely as she moved beside Dorian to the podium, fully accustomed to being the center of attention since childhood.

Dorian, on the other hand, had his own way of handling the spotlight. While he was no stranger to admiration, he maintained a stoic expression as he stood beside her, his demeanor cool and collected.

Evandro greeted Dorian and Seraphina with warm smiles.

"Good evening! Please, allow me the honor of presenting the Queen and King of the ball." 

As he spoke, two attendants approached the podium, each carrying a crown.

With deep reverence—not for their victory in this small competition, but for the significance of their future roles as the Duke and Queen of the Vampire Realm—the attendants gently placed the crowns atop Dorian and Seraphina's heads.

The hall erupted in applause, the cheers echoing off the walls.

Seraphina greeted the crowd with a warm, polite smile and a graceful bow, while Dorian remained with his stoic expression.

As Dorian and Seraphina began to step away from the podium, Evandro suddenly called out to her. "Princess, I've been an admirer of yours since childhood. Seizing this opportunity, I would like to present you with a gift—blood from a seventh realm beast, a delicacy comparable to that of a Paragon practitioner. I procured it with great effort."

A hush fell over the crowd, quickly replaced by a murmur of surprise and intrigue. Whispers filled the air as students exchanged incredulous glances.

"Does he really think he can woo the Princess in front of Dorian?" one student whispered, barely able to contain a laugh.

"Bold move. He must be out of his mind," another replied, shaking their head in disbelief.

Meanwhile, Seraphina maintained her polite smile, her expression perfectly composed. "Thank you for the generous gift, but it's too precious for me to accept." 

A few days ago, blood from a seventh realm beast would have been considered a rare delicacy, something to savor and cherish. However, having experienced the richness of Elion's blood, which surpassed even the finest offerings she had tasted in all her life, she felt no desire to indulge in anything else. 

Even if she had not tasted Elion's blood, she would have still politely declined the gift, recognizing the importance of maintaining her dignity in the face of such boldness.

"Please, Princess, I insist," Evandro urged, his tone earnest. "I don't mean anything by it; I simply wish to share a toast with you. That would be enough to make me content."

After Evandro finished speaking, another student, one of those who assisted with the coronation, stepped forward, holding two cups—one in each hand. 

Evandro produced two small bottles from a space ring. He poured a modest amount of blood into one of the cups, then filled the other with a fine alcohol from the second bottle.

As the first cup filled with blood, a noxious stench assaulted Elion's nostrils—a scent he recognized all too well. 'Damn it, there's something demonic in that blood!' His expression hardened at the realization. 

'I couldn't pinpoint it at first, not with this hall crawling with demon followers, but that odor is unmistakably from a demon itself. It means that Evandro must also be a demon follower. I can't let the Princess drink that shit!'

Just as the Princess contemplated accepting the toast—feeling it would be impolite to refuse once more—she noticed a figure stepping in between her and Evandro: Elion.

Evandro's expression twisted in annoyance as he caught sight of the boy standing in front of him, disrupting his plans. However, he quickly masked his irritation, forcing a calm facade to return to his face.

"Excuse me, Junior. Don't you think it's impolite to interrupt a special moment like this?" Evandro said, his voice smooth but laced with irritation as he tried to take Elion off the podium.

Elion remained firm, his gaze sharp. "And don't you think it's impolite to woo the Princess right in front of her escort?" he countered, voice calm but carrying an undeniable edge.

"Wait, so Dorian wasn't the Princess's escort? It's that human? What luck!" someone murmured in disbelief.

The crowd stirred, murmurs rippling through the hall as the tension built. All eyes were now locked on the standoff, eager to see how this bold drama would end.

'What is Elion doing?' Seraphina wondered, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched the scene unfold. 'Could he be... jealous?' The thought sent a ripple of surprise through her, stirring a mix of curiosity and amusement as her mind raced to make sense of his sudden boldness.

Evandro forced a smile, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Junior, I assure you, my intentions are nothing but pure admiration. I simply wish to offer the Princess a respectful toast. No harm in that, is there?" His voice dripped with feigned politeness, though the tension between the two was palpable.

"What if you refuse?" Elion asked again, his tone laced with fake politeness, eyes locked on Evandro's.

Dorian, standing just a few steps away, felt an unsettling weight settle in his gut. He'd been watching the exchange. 

'Elion's not the type to cause a scene without a reason,' he thought, mind racing as he considered the possibilities.

Then, it hit him like a bolt of lightning. 'Could it be?' Dorian's eyes widened for a split second before narrowing in suspicion. 

'Is that guy a demon follower? Could there be something wrong with the blood?'

Dorian's eyes lingered on the cup of blood, his brows furrowing slightly. From a glance, there was nothing visibly off about it. The rich, crimson liquid held the same potent aura expected from the blood of a seventh realm beast—a rare and powerful beast. He could feel its strength radiating faintly, confirming its origin.

He knew about Elion's unique ability to identify demons and those who accepted their power by scent—an ability that had saved them more than once. It all started to click. 

'If Elion felt that this guy is a demon follower, then it all makes sense' Dorian thought, his body tensing with newfound awareness. His gaze sharpened.

Without a word, Dorian stepped closer to Seraphina, his stance protective, ready to act at a moment's notice. 'If anything goes wrong, I'll be ready. No harm will come to her tonight,' he vowed silently.

"If you refuse, you're not giving me any face, Junior. I can only challenge you to a duel to restore my honor," Evandro said coldly, his eyes narrowing.

Elion let out a mocking chuckle. "And who are you that I should give you any face?" His voice dripped with contempt. "You want a fight? Fine, I couldn't ask for anything better." Elion's lips curled into a daring smile, his eyes gleaming with readiness.

The crowd erupted again, whispers spreading like wildfire. A tension filled the air, the prospect of a duel between the two stirring excitement. Some students backed away, creating space, while others leaned in eagerly, anticipating the conflict.

Evandro's expression tightened, but Elion stood tall, unflinching.

"Elion, this isn't—" Seraphina began, her voice full of concern. Elion might be strong, but he was up against a third-year student, likely someone at the late stages of the Soul-Strengthening Realm, maybe even stronger.

"Trust me, Princess," Elion said, turning to meet her eyes. His calm confidence left her momentarily speechless, and she found herself nodding, unable to argue despite her worries. 

'Why is even doing that? Is he that jealous? Idiot,' thought Seraphina.

Evandro and Elion moved to the center of the space that had been cleared by the gathering students. A hush fell over the hall as anticipation grew. 

Several students quickly began gathering mana to erect a magical barrier, ensuring the impending clash wouldn't spill over and damage the academy's property. The shimmering shield hummed in the air, encapsulating the two combatants. 

Whispers spread through the crowd—third-year versus first-year. Most expected Evandro to easily overpower Elion.

"Since you're so eager to be humiliated in front of the Princess, I won't be polite any longer!" Evandro sneered, discarding the polite facade he had kept up until now.

"Let's see if you're as strong as you think, you fucking demon follower," Elion shot back, his voice sharp.

Evandro's eyes widened in shock. He had assumed Elion's aggression was out of petty jealousy, but it became clear that wasn't the case—Elion knew something.

Within the barrier that muffled their words from the crowd, Evandro dropped all pretense. "Oh, so you figured it out, huh? Doesn't matter. I'll kill you for your insolence, and as for the Princess... if she won't drink the blood willingly, I've got other methods to make her," he threatened with a wicked grin.

Elion channeled his mana core to its fullest capacity, drawing upon every ounce of energy within him. Lightning crackled around his fists and legs as he surged forward, a determined glint in his eyes. 

"You dare to plot against the Princess? First, ask my fist for permission!" he shouted, his voice resonating with power as he closed the distance between them.