CHAPTER 20: THE WEIGHT OF VICTORY

Imperial faced the tournament grounds with a storm of emotions swirling inside him—nerves prickling under his skin, yet anchored by a steady flame of determination. The pressure of expectations weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he wore his composure like armor. Few understood the true strength of his lightning magic. Fewer still knew just how much he had concealed, guarding it like a secret weapon for the moment it would truly matter.

And now, against all odds and mounting suspicion, he had advanced to the quarterfinals. With every surprising victory, he had drawn more attention—some admiring, others accusing. Whispers followed him through the halls. Accusations of trickery, of royal tools masking his power, buzzed like flies in dark corners.

Yet none of that mattered now.

Ahead, he saw Magna standing beside a companion. Their voices were low, but the tension in their stances was palpable. Whatever they were discussing, it was serious. Charged.

Then, suddenly, Magna's hand snapped onto his friend's shoulder.

"Just move," he said, voice sharp. "Don't try to fight."

Imperial stepped forward, his frown deepening. "Magna… why are you ignoring me? And earlier, in the side room—you kept staring at me. What's going on?"

Magna turned his head slowly. His eyes, usually burning with competitive fire, were now flat and cold.

"It's none of your business," he said. "The only reason I'm here is to win."

Imperial gave a short laugh, awkward but sincere, trying to crack through the frost. "Yeah… we're all here to win, after all. There's no reason for this… hate, Magna."

Before Magna could respond, his companion stepped in, his voice sharp with resentment.

"Magna doesn't want to talk to you. Or any royal."

Imperial's brows drew together, confused but calm. "But why?"

The friend stepped forward, jaw tight with anger.

"Because you're all the same," he spat. "You think you're better than us. You treat commoners like trash—like slaves to use and throw away."

Magna raised his hand, trying to signal his friend to stop, but the words had already been released like arrows—sharp, impossible to take back.

Imperial's voice dropped. "Is that what you believe?"

The friend's fists clenched at his sides.

"Because of you royals… Magna lost his father. His family lost everything. Now he's fighting to prove that commoners are just as strong as any royal—and deserve to be treated as equals."

Imperial's chest tightened. This wasn't something he had heard before. This wasn't gossip or rivalry. This was pain.

"I'm sorry to hear about your father," he said slowly. "But if you think winning this tournament will change how the royals see the rest of you… you're wrong."

The friend scoffed bitterly. "Listen to yourself. A royal who's had everything handed to him since birth. And you—you can't even control your magic without cheating. Everyone knows you're using some royal gadget to hide it."

Ari, standing beside Imperial, flinched at the insult. Her hand twitched, anger flashing across her face. But Imperial reached out and gently caught her hand, giving her a slight shake of his head. Let them speak.

Then, he turned back to Magna, his voice quieter. "Magna," he said with sincerity, "tell me. What happened to your father?"

There was something in Imperial's tone—an honesty Magna hadn't expected. No arrogance. No mockery. Just a question. Just a boy asking to understand.

Magna hesitated, then looked down, his voice heavy with memory.

"Fifteen years ago… my father was sent on a mission by the royal army. He never came back."

A heavy silence fell between them.

"My family… we were devastated. Not just because we lost him. He was our lifeline. As a soldier, we had food, water, shelter. We lived with dignity. But after he died…"

He swallowed hard, the pain still raw after all these years.

"The royals tore up his contract. No support. No compensation. Just a letter saying he had died with honor."

Imperial didn't move. Didn't interrupt.

Magna's voice began to tremble.

"My mother was already sick. She couldn't work. I was just three years old. Too young to even remember his face."

He clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"My uncle begged the guards to take our case to the higher-ups. To let someone—anyone—know that we needed help. But they refused. Said we were no longer the army's concern."

Ari's eyes welled with tears as she listened. She tried to blink them away, but the weight of Magna's story broke through even her composed exterior.

Magna's voice cracked as he continued.

"A year later, my mother died too. We couldn't afford the medicine. Couldn't afford anything."

He wiped his eyes roughly with the back of his hand.

"My uncle did everything he could to keep me alive after that. We survived on scraps and favors. I started working as soon as I could walk. Cleaning machines. Hauling crates. Anything."

He looked back up, fire burning behind the sorrow.

"This tournament… it's not just a competition for me. It's the only chance I've got to reclaim my father's honor. To show the world that commoners aren't beneath anyone. That we're not trash."

Imperial stood still, the wind seemingly knocked from him. He had lived a life surrounded by luxury and security. And now, standing before him, was someone carved from hardship and pain.

"I'm sorry," Imperial said quietly, his voice thick. "I didn't know."

Ari quickly wiped her cheeks and looked away.

Imperial gave Magna a small but respectful nod.

"I wish you the best, Magna. Fight with all your heart. I hope you achieve what you dream of."

Without waiting for a response, he gently guided Ari away toward the main arena. The noise of the crowd began to rise, flooding the silence behind them.

The commentator's voice boomed across the stadium, amplified by magic.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome… our Top 8 contestants!"

A roar surged from the stands, a wave of excitement washing over the arena.

"First up: NOX!"

(A few polite claps and nods. He was respected—distant, but respected.)

"BRAM!"

The announcer added quickly, "Bram is currently recovering from minor injuries sustained in his last match and will join us shortly."

"RAYNE!"

(A decent cheer, growing louder each time her name was called.)

"MAGNA!"

The commoner section of the arena erupted with thunderous applause. Small but fierce, they screamed his name as though their lives depended on it.

"And last—but certainly not least: IMPERIAL ALDEN!"

The stadium exploded.

His name echoed across the stone walls, carried by voices from all walks of life—nobles, merchants, children waving enchanted glow-banners. Even commoners, unsure of him just days ago, joined in the cheering.

In the crowd, Ari stood, pride swelling in her chest.

At home, Lyra clasped her hands in silent prayer as she watched the magical projection in the city square.

Kai and Zeran, seated in the reserved royal section, smiled knowingly.

"And now, our reserved candidates!"

"Kai Alden!"

"Zeran Drake!"

"Leo!"

The arena roared even louder as the names of favorites and legends rang out.

The commentator raised his voice once more.

"Now, may I request all participants except Nox and Zeran to take their seats?"

One by one, the others stepped aside, forming a neat line of seated warriors. Around the ring, four mages stood at each corner, hands raised as shimmering golden light formed a powerful Barrier Spell—locking the stage in magical safety.

Before sitting down, Imperial turned and ran toward his brother.

Without hesitation, he threw his arms around Kai in a tight hug.

Time seemed to stop.

Kai chuckled warmly, ruffling his younger brother's hair. "It's like we haven't seen each other in decades."

Imperial grinned. "Yeah… I missed you, big bro."

Kai placed a hand on his shoulder. "I watched your match, you know. You've gotten strong. Really strong."

Imperial's grin widened. "Thanks, Kai. And… I want to fight you one day. In a real match."

Kai's eyes sparkled. "I hope we do. And when that day comes—" he smirked, "—I'm not going easy on you."

"Same to you," Imperial said with a laugh.

They took their seats side by side as the commentator called out:

"Everything is set for our first match!"