From Cradle to Coliseum

The fog of the Lower Crescent drifted low, curling like the breath of a tired beast before dawn. Setsuna moved through it with ease, the faint clink of his sword hilt barely louder than the hush of the street. He stopped before an old door, its frame warped with age, and knocked.

It opened almost immediately.

"I suppose you're not here for tea," said Gramps, his voice raspy with age — softened by time, but not weakness.

"Tea wouldn't hurt," Setsuna muttered, stepping inside. "But no. Not exactly."

The small room was unchanged. Dusty. Quiet. And somehow still warmer than most places in the capital. Books were stacked against the walls like bricks in a fortress. The kettle hissed softly.

Setsuna dropped into a chair without waiting for an invitation and poured himself a drink from the chipped pot.

"You know," he said casually, "when Kazuo stood before King Cedric and said, 'You can't kill Gramps — he has noble eyes'… I had to see for myself."

Gramps chuckled low, stirring his tea. "So he noticed. Sounds like he gambled on my life."

"You do realize," Setsuna said, "me being here means Cedric gave me full authority."

Gramps took a sip. "So you saved my neck. Knowing you, that only means you want something in return."

Setsuna smirked. "He sees you as some old noble geezer, rotting quietly in the Lower Crescent."

"But you don't."

Setsuna's expression didn't change.

"Not with your eyes."

They both smirked faintly, the tension softening just for a moment.

Setsuna exhaled. "I'm not here to interrogate you. Honestly, I'm just… confused. A man with violet eyes, living down here. Raising him. You don't strike me as someone who lost their way. You chose this."

"This is the truth," Gramps said, his voice steady but low.

"I'm not lying to you. I wouldn't dare — not to you. I know how deeply you despise lies."

He set the teacup down with a quiet clink, eyes fixed on the memory.

"That night… all I saw was a cradle. A medallion. And a baby who needed someone."

He paused.

"No name. No explanation. Just a boy with eyes that shouldn't have existed… and a silence heavier than any truth I've ever known."

Setsuna's gaze drifted toward the towering piles of books lining the cramped room.

"You trained him. Water Magic," he muttered, not accusingly — just thinking aloud. "That's not something you guess at. It's one of the four original elements… and no one I know in the kingdom wields it. Not a single official record. At least from the records that are still available."

Gramps didn't answer. He didn't need to.

"It's rare," Setsuna continued. "Even among nobles. Even in old war reports. You don't find Water Magic out in the streets — and definitely not in the Lower Crescent."

A silence lingered.

Then Gramps shited the conversation, "How is he doing?"

Setsuna noticed but glanced down into his tea, then gave a short, honest exhale. "Well… his goal is to return to you. That much is obvious. It's what's driving him — that stubborn promise of his."

A faint smile tugged at Gramps' lips.

"He's talented," Setsuna said. "Smart. Powerful. I won't deny that. He learns faster than most, and he has instincts I haven't seen in years."

Then he shrugged, more grounded. "But he's still clumsy. Hesitant. Overthinks every move. His control's rough. Like he's still scared of his own strength — or what it means."

Gramps nodded slowly, the smile fading into something more thoughtful.

"Give him time," he said.

Setsuna looked at him. "You know time is not on his side when he has to enter the Tournament of Nobles."

Another silence.

Setsuna looked more serious now "You still didn't answer my question"

"I taught him what I could." Gramps replied.

"That's not an answer."

Gramps remained quiet.

"…You can't guide a water mage without understanding the nature of it," Setsuna said. "Spell structure. Flow manipulation. Elemental push and recoil. It's not like sword training. You need precise knowledge or you risk stunting him — or worse. Even I can't teach him any new spells."

Gramps finally answered. "There's a book in the Royal Library. Second level, B7. Behind the scrolls on pre-flood philosophy. It's not catalogued. Probably wasn't supposed to survive."

Setsuna blinked. "You read it?"

"Studied it," Gramps said, calmly. "Most of it was theory. But a few spells remained intact. That's what I gave him."

Setsuna stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "We'll be heading there eventually. He'll need more than what you gave him if he wants to survive what's coming."

Gramps gave a quiet nod.

Setsuna moved to the door, adjusting his sword at his hip.

"…The Royal Library, huh," he muttered, glancing back one last time. A thought clicked behind his eyes.

"You know… it's not like you're a Water Magic user."

A beat of silence.

Then he cracked a grin.

"…Just kidding."

He turned — almost left — then stopped again.

The smile faded.

"By the way… does Shiranami know you're here, Professor?"

Gramps flinched. He didn't smile.

But this time, he looked up — directly into Setsuna's eyes.

And said, in a voice low and clear:

"No.

And let's keep it that way."

The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was loaded.

Setsuna didn't push.

He simply stepped out into the mist, leaving behind steam, silence, and a room full of answers wrapped in secrets.

The sun hung high and merciless above the capital, casting long shadows down the marble path leading toward the arena. The white stone shimmered in the heat, and the quiet hum of the city felt distant — like the calm before something far too loud.

Kazuo walked at the front, invitation letter clutched in his hand, thumb smudging the ink on the royal seal. His cloak fluttered with each step, a little too warm for the weather — or maybe that was just his nerves.

Behind him, Tetsu was already sweating. "Why do they schedule things at noon? I'm pretty sure I'm melting."

"Because the nobles want to see us fry," Sora answered cheerfully, flicking a pebble with her boot. "Good lighting for blood and politics."

Setsuna, as usual, said nothing. He walked beside them like a bored ghost with a sword. But his eyes lingered on The Medaillon Kazuo is wearing around his neck.

They were halfway down the curved road to the main gates when a figure stepped from the side alley — hooded, but familiar.

Kazuo froze. "…Rei?"

The hood fell back with a grin.

"Yo."

Kazuo blinked, stunned for a moment, then crossed the distance in two strides and pulled him into a tight hug. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous."

Rei gave a crooked smile, patting him on the back. "Relax. I'm just reporting back to my 'majestic noble boss' or whatever title he's using today. I can't stay anyways."

Kazuo looked pained. "You're not watching the tournament?"

Rei shrugged. "Brown eyes, remember? Not exactly arena seating material. But I'll be nearby. I'm cheering for you. Loudly. Probably illegally."

Tetsu adjusted his glasses. "You're the merchant friend, right? Rei?"

Rei beamed. "So you must be his team members."

Sora tilted her head. "You look less shady than I imagined."

"That's because I'm too poor to afford real villain energy."

Kazuo rolled his eyes, but there was warmth behind it.

Rei leaned toward Tetsu and Sora, lowering his voice just enough to make it theatrical. "Did you know, back when we were fourteen, Kazuo once tried to impress a girl by using Water Magic to summon a—"

"DON'T YOU DARE—" Kazuo warned.

"—giant wet heart shape. It collapsed on him. The girl laughed. I think he swallowed half a bucket of pond water."

Sora burst into laughter. "You serious?"

Kazuo groaned. "It was years ago. Let it die."

Even Tetsu was wheezing. "You tried to cast Water Magic: Love Confession? Is that even a real spell?!"

Rei winked. "He's gotten better. Slightly."

Sora grinned, her catlike fangs barely visible. She glanced at Kazuo, then at Rei. "I like him. When this is all over, I need to know more. We should hang out. Trade stories. Maybe embarrass Kazuo in front of nobles."

Kazuo gave a long, world-weary sigh. "Hope they end me in the arena before I witness that."

Setsuna finally spoke up, as if summoned by the weight of dramatic timing. "Alright guys let's keep going."

As they walked off toward the towering gates, Rei lingered behind for just a second, watching.

"Good luck, Kazuo," he muttered under his breath. "If you die I am going to kill you."

And then he vanished back into the crowd.

As they turned the final corner, the road opened wide — and there it was.

The arena.

A colossal coliseum of polished stone and iron banners, rising like a crown of thorns above the capital. Its gates stood open, yawning like the mouth of some ancient beast ready to devour the brave and the foolish alike. Trumpets echoed faintly from within, ceremonial and sharp.

Kazuo stopped, wind brushing against his hair, the invitation letter still clenched in his hand.

This was it.

The world was watching. The game had begun. And any second now… the opening ceremony would start.

There was no turning back.