ARENA.
Everyone had already gathered at the arena, eagerly anticipating the combat between Myth and Peter. The air was thick with tension as spectators buzzed with excitement, waiting for the combatants to step into the arena.
Karl, seated comfortably, appeared calm, but deep down, he wrestled with worry. He knew that his son might not emerge victorious in this intense battle, yet he feigned indifference. Doubts swirled in his mind about whether his son would even show up for the fight. However, amidst the uncertainty, he clung to hope. He prayed silently, wishing that his son had received the note he had sent, urging him not to participate in the fight. Karl believed that surrendering their kinship was far better than risking the loss of his only son.
As the crowd settled in, anticipation grew. Suddenly, Myth leaped into the arena, raising his arms in triumph. The crowd erupted in cheers, rallying behind him despite the whispers of dissent. Many still believed he had no right to contest for the throne, yet the Genesis Kingdom had a complex relationship with corruption. While some staunchly opposed any hint of wrongdoing, others, easily swayed, began to show their support for Myth, cheering him on.
Holding his helmet in one hand and waving his sword in the other, Myth basked in the adoration of the crowd. His heart swelled with pride as he soaked in their applause. Finally, he made his way toward his father, who was seated on an elevated platform, a position reserved for the king, who would judge the fight.
Kings always occupied a special place in the arena, separate from the ordinary people. As Myth approached, he knelt before his father, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of respect. However, as he looked up into his father’s eyes, he could sense the turmoil within him. The steady beat of Karl’s heart echoed his concern, revealing that he was far from pleased.
King Karl felt his heart shatter as he watched his son step into the arena, despite his numerous warnings urging him not to do so. The weight of his disappointment was heavy. There was nothing he could do now but allow the fight to proceed. To call off the battle would mean relinquishing his throne and leaving the Golden Castle to the rightful heir. With a heavy heart, he nodded as the crowd erupted in cheers once more.
As Myth smiled, brimming with confidence, Karl couldn’t say he was surprised. Deep down, he knew his son’s ambitious nature mirrored his own. After all, ambition flowed through their veins, igniting a fire within them that was hard to extinguish.
With the support of his fans invigorating him, Myth stepped aside, eagerly awaiting Peter’s arrival. Time was running short; Peter had to show up soon, or the fight would be canceled. If that happened, Myth would automatically be declared king, suggesting that Peter had been too afraid to confront him and was unfit for the challenge.
As the seconds ticked away, Karl’s heart raced with anxiety. He found himself hoping against hope that Peter would not appear. If he didn’t, it would mean that the rumors of Peter’s fear were true, and perhaps the kingdom hadn’t misunderstood him after all.
The crowd’s anticipation grew palpable as the countdown began. 59 seconds... 30 seconds... 20 seconds... The tension in the arena was electric, especially among those who opposed Karl’s rule—nearly the entire kingdom seemed to be against him.
With each passing second, the spectators looked around, as if willing Peter to emerge from wherever he was hiding. But hope began to fade as the countdown continued: 5 seconds... 4 seconds... 3 seconds... 2 seconds...
The arena fell silent, the weight of expectation heavy in the air.
As the crowd inhaled collectively, a tension-filled silence enveloped the arena. Just as the timer ticked down to one second, Peter arrived, and the first thing that caught Karl’s attention was the Godkiller sword glinting in his hand.
Peter stepped confidently into the arena just before the clock struck zero. The crowd erupted in cheers, rallying around him with fervor. It was clear that he had captured the hearts of the people, earning their support for the Genesis Kingdom.
While he basked in the adoration of the audience, Peter deliberately refrained from acknowledging Karl. His refusal to approach the king was a clear statement; he saw Karl not as a ruler but as a traitor to the kingdom.
Karl's breath grew heavy as he watched the scene unfold. Just then, Mara emerged from the shadows, climbing up to sit beside him in the judge’s seat. It was her rightful place, as she was one of the judges who would oversee the fight when it concluded.
"It's nice to see you, Karl," she whispered, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I can see the fear etched on your face. I warned you to stop your son from entering the arena. You still have time to save his life. Think about it... if he dies, you will not gain the throne!"
Her words struck deep, sending a chill through Karl. He glanced around, realizing that everything was stacked against him—the audience, the fight, and even the atmosphere felt hostile. Panic began to bubble within him.
He considered calling off the fight, but the reality hit him hard. Doing so would mean handing over power to Mara, and he understood all too well that she would not let him go free. She was dangerous, and if she gained control, she would likely imprison him without hesitation.
Karl took a deep breath, scanning the arena once more. A whirlwind of worry filled his mind. Allowing this fight to continue meant placing his son in grave danger. It would be wiser to call it off.
With resolve, he stood to his feet, and the arena fell into a hushed silence, all eyes fixed on the king as he prepared to address the crowd.
Karl inhaled deeply, aware of the weight of his decision. His instincts urged him to stop the fight, while a part of him hesitated, wondering if Myth could still surprise everyone with his strength and come out victorious but that's not even going to be possible. After all, if legendary figures like Genesis and Dara had fallen to that sword, who was Myth in comparison?
"With the authority vested in me as the current king, I hereby—" he began, but as he spoke, he noticed Mara leaning back in her chair, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. She anticipated his next words, fully aware that he was likely about to call off the fight and return power to her.
Mara's smirk grew as she watched him, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular, reveling in her perceived victory.
But then, with a sudden burst of determination, Karl declared, "I hereby... give the go-ahead for this fight!"
The moment his words left his lips, Mara's smile vanished, her expression shifting to one of disbelief as she slowly turned to meet his gaze.
Did he really want to do this? Karl was sending his son to face certain death, all for the sake of power—a power he would never attain if Myth fell in battle. Deep down, he knew his son stood zero chance against Peter and that godkiller sword.
As he glanced at Mara, she turned away, contemplating the twisted irony of the situation. If this was what he truly wanted, then perhaps it wasn’t so terrible if his son met the same fate as her father—betrayed and murdered. This would be a cycle of betrayal and death, a grim reflection of their shared past.
"Let no man interfere in this fight!" Karl announced, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "This is a fight to the death. Each combatant is entitled to a single sword and a single shield; no other weapons are permitted. If your sword or shield breaks, you may not replace it! Whoever emerges victorious from this arena will be crowned king. Let the fight begin!"
As the starting bell rang, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, their excitement echoing throughout the arena.
Karl sat on his throne, his heart heavy with sorrow. He was truly about to lose his son, and he fought hard to avoid looking at Mara. The more he glanced her way, the more he felt that his son's demise would be a catastrophic tragedy.
"Nice choice... My father died after a betrayal, and my brother would have as well. So I believe it will be a tie," she whispered to Karl from her seat beside him. The weight of her words hung in the air, and he understood all too well the truth behind them.