The stadium erupted in cheers the moment Rowan stepped into the arena.

His name echoed from the stands, praise and confidence pouring down on him like a storm. He acknowledged the crowd with a faint smirk, basking in their admiration.

E, however, paid none of it any attention.

Her gaze remained fixed forward, her posture calm and unmoved. To her, the noise meant nothing. The only thing that mattered was ending the match—quickly.

Rowan noticed.

“Well?” he called out, tilting his head. “You planning to just stand there? Or are you going to give up before this gets embarrassing?”

His voice carried arrogance, thick with pride. Rowan was known for it—confidence earned through strength, sharpened into conceit.

E didn’t answer.

She didn’t even look at him.

That silence only irritated Rowan further.

High above the arena, Lukas felt it again.

That strange, unfamiliar aura.

His eyes widened slightly as realization struck him.

It’s her…

The presence matched perfectly—the same one he had felt during the night festival. The same person who had explained anima to him so casually, as if it were common knowledge.

So that’s who E is… Lukas thought, a small smile forming. Definitely not a pushover.

The match began.

In an instant, E rushed forward.

Rowan reacted immediately, snapping his fingers as mana surged through the air.

“Wind Magic: Wind Blade.”

Multiple blades of compressed wind tore through the arena, slicing toward E at terrifying speed.

Without hesitation, E swung her sword.

Clang—
Clang—
Clang—

Each wind blade was cut down midair.

The crowd gasped.

What stunned them even more was her weapon.

It wasn’t a massive greatsword or an extravagant magical construct. It was a thin, elegant longsword, narrow and refined, closer in length to a musketeer’s blade.

Simple.

Deadly.

E moved again, releasing a sharp wave of power.

An anima slash tore through the ground toward Rowan.

Rowan’s eyes widened as he leapt into the air, wind lifting his body effortlessly.

“Tch—!”

Hovering above, he countered.

“Wind Magic: Twin Tornado.”

Two violent whirlwinds spiraled toward E, tearing chunks of stone from the arena floor. She dodged, weaving between them with precise footwork.

Rowan laughed lightly. “Impressive. You’re still standing.”

E looked up at him, her voice calm.

“Let’s stop playing around,” she said. “Get serious.”

For the first time, Rowan’s smile sharpened.

“Gladly.”

The battle intensified.

But the disadvantage became clear.

Rowan was a long-range fighter, freely moving through the air, attacking from every angle. E, on the other hand, was a close-range combatant, forced to constantly push forward under relentless pressure.

She advanced again and again—only for Rowan to retreat, strike, and reposition.

Her movements slowed.

Her breathing grew heavier.

She shifted to defense, trying to regain stamina.

Rowan noticed immediately.

“Found an opening.”

Mana surged once more.

“Wind Magic: Twin Tornado.”

As E blocked and evaded the raging winds, Rowan released another spell.

“Wind Magic: Wind Blade.”

E dodged—but not completely.

The blade sliced across her face.

Her mask cracked.

And fell.

The stadium went silent.

Gasps rippled through the crowd like a wave.

Even Rowan froze.

Standing there, revealed beneath the broken mask, was—

Princess Elisabeth of House Aetherian.

The princess of the very kingdom hosting the tournament.

The host stood in stunned silence. Royal knights stiffened instantly. The commander gestured sharply, sending a knight rushing off to report to the king.

Rowan swallowed hard.

He descended slowly and dropped to one knee, bowing deeply.

“Your Highness… please forgive me.” His voice trembled. “If you wish it, strike me down.”

Elisabeth’s eyes hardened.

“I don’t want that,” she said firmly. “Stand. Fight.”

Rowan hesitated. “Princess, I am a noble of the lowest rank. How could I raise my blade against you?”

“I know the danger,” she replied without flinching. “This is an order. Fight me.”

Rowan clenched his fists.

“…As you command.”

In the stands, Marco and Sofie stared in disbelief.

“That’s—!” Sofie whispered.

Lukas blinked. “Huh? Why is he bowing?”

Sofie grabbed him. “Lukas, that’s Princess Elisabeth!”

Lukas paused.

Then chuckled.

“Go for it!”

Marco and Sofie froze in horror.

They tackled him down instantly.

“Are you insane?!” Sofie hissed. “You’ll get us executed!”

Lukas laughed quietly. “Relax.”

Elisabeth noticed the voice—but paid it no mind.

The fight resumed.

But something had changed.

Rowan’s attacks were restrained. His movements careful.

Elisabeth scowled.

“Don’t underestimate me,” she shouted. “Fight with everything you have!”

Rowan’s expression tightened.

Mana surged again as he prepared another spell.

Then—

A presence appeared between them.

The air itself seemed to still.

A man stepped forward, clad in a mantle bearing a royal crest.

No one dared speak.

“Enough,” he said calmly. “This match is over.”

The crowd recognized him instantly.

Reinhard of House Aquelyn.

Captain of the Royal Special Forces.

A powerful ice mage —and an anima user.

One of the three great noble houses.

His gaze swept across the arena.

The tournament had just entered a far more dangerous stage