Chapter 25- What have I done?

It had been a long night.

Morning sunlight crept through the curtains of the inn, but Lyriq Ravelline was far from rested.

In his dream, he was standing in a ruined wasteland.

Screams echoed.

"Please! We didn't do it on purpose—"

A white-haired man stood tall, his crimson eyes colder than frostbitten steel. He walked through the crowd like death incarnate, his blade dripping with blood, face devoid of guilt—slaughtering without pause.

He carved through men, women, innocents—no hesitation, no mercy.

Eight celestial beings descended in shimmering halos, surrounding the white-haired man.

"Stop it!" 

But the man didn't even blink. He gripped a trembling merchant by the neck—stabbed him straight through the chest.

Right in front of the divine.

One of the celestials stepped back.

Another whispered, "He can't be stopped…"

And then the man turned.

His gaze locked with Lyriq's.

His eyes were Lyriq's.

"No… that's…"

Lyriq jolted awake, drenched in sweat.

He clutched his chest. Heart pounding.

"Who… was that man?"

"Why did he look like me?"

But there was no time to think. No time to breathe.

"I need to practice."

He grabbed his wooden swords and started training inside the inn. No breaks. No water. No sound.

Just motion.

Hour after hour, switching grips, slashing, stepping.

He didn't realize he was swaying.

Didn't realize he was falling.

Until a hand landed on his shoulder.

Boselin stood behind him.

"You'll pass out."

Lyriq blinked. He'd been unconscious… while standing.

"Is something bothering you?"

Lyriq didn't respond.

He simply shook his head and resumed breathing.

*****

The Carcel Arena was thunderous that afternoon.

The third round of the Grand Tournament had begun.

Crowds had tripled. Everyone wanted to see Lyriq Ravelline fight. Not just hear about him. See him. The boy with the unpredictable, intelligent swordplay. The boy who, apparently, "dodged time and sliced souls."

The vendors were sold out.

The magazine booths were overflowing.

In the royal viewing stand, Prince Kael stepped out for his match.

The moment he appeared—

"BOOOOOOOOOO!"

It rained.

Not just boos. Tomatoes. Bread. Rotten apples.

Kael froze mid-step. "...Did someone cast a silence-hate spell on me?"

Caviern, watching from the sideline, blinked. "Why are they booing him?"

His attendant whispered. "Young lord… it's the magazine."

"What magazine?"

He handed him the sacred text.

Caviern stared.

On the cover: Kael and Caviern grinning like evil emperors, captioned: 'Two Villains Who Want to Erase Love.'

Caviern flipped through.

Bellania crying into a pond.

Lyriq holding a rose made of steel.

A double-page fanart of Kael kicking a goofy buffalo in frustration.

Caviern choked.

He laughed.

Hard.

He rolled on the bench.

"W-What is this!? This is beautiful! WHO DRAWN THIS!?"

Kael, meanwhile, finished his match.

Still confused. Still booed.

Still wondering if someone poisoned the air.

"I didn't even DO anything," he whispered as tomatoes bounced off his shoulder.

Caviern took the field.

"Let me finish this quickly. I need to read Page 14—'The Evil plot of brothers!'"

He won in under a minute.

Returned to his seat.

Flipped the page.

Muttered: "This is art."

In the waiting room, Lyriq sat still.

Focused.

His heart thudded quietly.

He'd trained with two swords. But it wasn't ready. The time prediction gaps were too wide. Not for this round.

Single sword. Full precision. Mind sharp.

His opponent: Rinclaya Rosa from Rosa kingdom

Age 14. Veteran of multiple tournaments. Winner of regional championships across Meredica's subkingdoms.

More skilled. More experienced. Taller.Stronger.

The crowd buzzed:

"This is it!"

"The match we waited for!"

"Come on Lyriq—win and marry Bellania!"

Magazine sellers were chewing their nails.

If he loses, they will loose their business as lyriq had already become their Brand.

Royal guest were there to watch the third round of matches

Bellania herself peeked from the royal box to observe.

Her mother beside her. Eating apple.

Naron Carcel laughed, "If he wins this round, we're going to arrange a wedding for two lovers."

Queen Ellina laughingly said, "Bellania is already nervous."

Bellania replied angrily,"I'm not and why should I be nervous"

The match began.

Rinclaya stepped forward with grace and precision.

But Lyriq… didn't move.

Not even an inch.

His eyes suddenly unfocused.

His limbs heavy.

He was slipping.

Dream world. Again.

Everything blurred.

He stood in a dark plane.

A monstrous swordsman approached.

Lyriq struck. Fast. Brutal. One cut.

Then two.

Then again.

And again.

Again.

He couldn't stop.

He felt the thrill.

The rush of slicing through flesh.

The thud of bones cracking.

The pleasure.

No! he screamed within. This isn't me—

But he kept going.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

Until—

Hands. Four of them.

Holding him back.

Voices. Screaming.

"STOP!"

Lyriq's eyes snapped open.

He was in the arena.

Panting.

Four tournament officials were gripping his limbs.

He looked around.

Rinclaya was on the ground.

Her limbs twisted. Body bloodied. Wooden sword shattered.

Unconscious.

The audience was silent.

Not a cheer.

Not a sound.

Just thousands of eyes. Staring.

Lyriq trembled.

He didn't even remember fighting.

He looked at his hands.

At the blood.

"What… have I done?"