The arena was already a disaster.

Half the floor had melted, the air shimmered like molten glass, and the training dummies had long since turned to ash.  

Lyssara Veinflare stood at the center, surrounded by a storm of gold-red flame, her fury burning hotter than the sun itself.

Jexy Bakian, meanwhile, stood on the opposite end, one hand raised to shield his face.  

His hair was smoking. His coat was half gone. His patience? Long dead.

“Okay, that’s it!” he shouted over the roar. “If she throws one more fireball, we’re gonna need a *new castle!*”

Above, Dalph Bakian was still laughing like a drunk god.  

“Wonderful! Passion! Destruction! That’s how real love begins!”  

“GRANDPA, THIS ISN’T A ROMANCE, THIS IS ARSON!!”  

But Lyssara didn’t hear him.  

She was already charging another spell, eyes blazing with heat and emotion.  

*If he’s going to keep dodging,* she thought, *then I’ll make sure there’s nowhere left to dodge!*  

Flame pillars erupted from the ground, surrounding Jexy in a spiraling inferno.  

The temperature spiked so high that even the Demon King’s armor began to glow faintly red.

Freya shouted from afar, “SHE’S GOING TO MELT THE FOUNDATIONS!”  

Rhazel yelled back, “SHE’S GONNA MELT *US!*”

Jexy groaned. “Great. She’s angry enough to destroy a city. Fantastic.”

He clenched his fists.  

“Alright. Enough hiding. If I don’t stop her now, there won’t *be* a guild left to pay for the damage.”

He vanished.  

A blur of motion, faster than flame, faster than thought.

One instant he was in front of her—  

the next, behind her.

His arms moved on instinct. He reached out, wrapping around her shoulders, ready to lift and throw her clear of the arena before she blew the entire place up.

But he didn’t expect how *soft* the moment felt.  

Or how close they suddenly were.

“W–what are you doing?!” Lyssara screamed, her entire body freezing mid-swing.  

“WAIT—WHY ARE YOU HUGGING ME?!”

Jexy panicked. “I–I’M NOT HUGGING YOU! IT’S A—IT’S A THROW TECHNIQUE!”  

He immediately let go, flailing his arms. “See?! Nothing! No hugging! ZERO HUGGING!”  

Lyssara’s face turned scarlet. Then—  

**SMACK!**  

**SMACK!**  

**SMACK!**

Three perfect slaps echoed through the yard.  

The flames sputtered out.  

Jexy stood there, stunned, one hand on his cheek, the other raised helplessly.  

“...I swear,” he muttered, “the gods themselves couldn’t design a worse battle.”  

But the duel wasn’t over.  

Lyssara, still fuming (and blushing), charged again.  

Her control was slipping—each step left glowing footprints on the ground.

Jexy sighed.  

“Alright, you asked for it.”

He dodged one last strike, spun behind her, and this time executed a clean, textbook throw.  

Not too hard, not too soft—just enough to send her flying backward, out of the arena.  

She landed safely in the sand outside, eyes wide with disbelief.

Jexy exhaled, lowering his hands.  

“Done. No injuries, no fatalities, no wedding—hopefully.”

Above them, Dalph Bakian clapped, roaring with laughter.  

“Hahaha! Still standing, no burns, no broken bones! Well done, boy!”  

He floated down, grin wider than ever. “You even showed mercy! That’s the Bakian spirit!”

Jexy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, mercy, sure. My face is on fire, but go ahead, celebrate.”  

Dalph slapped his back so hard his spine cracked.  

“Good! I’ll make it official then!”

The Demon King raised a finger, whispering a single incantation—  

a spell that carried his voice across the entire Demon Realm.  

His words echoed through mountains, cities, and taverns.  

Every demon stopped what they were doing as the announcement thundered from the skies.

> “HEAR ME, PEOPLE OF THE DEMON REALM!  

>  ON THE FIRST DAY OF NEXT MONTH,  

>  MY GRANDSON—JEXY BAKIAN—  

>  WILL HOLD HIS WEDDING,  

>  TO CLAIM THE HAND OF LYSSARA VEINFILARE!”  

Silence.

Then chaos.  

Every city exploded with gossip.

“WHAT?!”  

“The Spoiled Heir is getting married?!”  

“To *who*?!”  

“To the Fire Queen of Emberlight!”  

“Poor woman—wait, lucky woman—no, poor woman again!”

Back at the arena, Jexy’s face drained of color.  

He turned to his grandfather, trembling.

“You. Did. *WHAT?!*”

Dalph laughed so hard he almost fell over.  

“Speed is everything in politics, boy! The faster you announce it, the less chance you have to run!”

Jexy covered his face with both hands.  

“Grandpa… please tell me this is a prank.”

“Prank? Nonsense! Invitations are already being printed!”  

Jexy screamed into the sky.  

“WHY DOES THIS FAMILY MOVE FASTER THAN LIGHT?!”

Freya sighed, writing something in her notebook. “Well, I suppose I’ll start planning the reception.”

Rhazel raised a bottle. “To our fearless leader—may he rest in married peace.”

And just like that, across the entire Demon Realm, the news spread:  

**the first and greatest spendthrift of the century—also its strongest hero—  

was about to get married.**