As Xiaya gradually emerged from the shadows, the clamor of the arena slowly died down.
His aura, a striking fusion of wicked allure and unrestrained wildness, made onlookers wonder if he had been replaced by a completely different person.
"He was supposed to have awakened a brave, lion-like spirit..."
If one had to describe the very first impression Xiaya gave at this moment—
It could only be that of a scout team leader from the Demon King's Army's special slaughter units, tainted and fallen into depravity.
His dark, blood-stained double-layered leather armor fitted snugly underneath while draping loosely on the outside, complete with robe-like sleeves, and a scarf-like collar masked his mouth and chin.
In his left hand, he rested the transparent umbrella over his shoulder, while between the fingers of his right hand slipped several willow-leaf throwing knives from within the wide sleeve.
For a moment, the only sound hovering over the arena was the collective gulp of saliva. It was as if some primal fear had been awakened within the crowd. There was something about him that even the demons in the northern panic footage had lacked.
"Xiaya!"
Viscount Laiwen Chinston gripped the armrest and rose to his feet. Through his unsteady, blood-pressured vision, the entire arena seemed inverted in tone, plunging into utter silence, leaving only a faint hum to signal that time was still flowing.
And yet.
That crimson figure seemed deaf to the call—or perhaps he heard it but could not look back, or perhaps his heart had long since hardened like dark iron, driving him only forward.
Viscount Laiwen Chinston could only stare blankly at Xiaya's unfamiliar back as he moved farther away, until he stepped onto the dueling stage.
Beneath that indelible bloodlust and murderous intent lay sins willingly embraced. The boy who had once been clear-eyed and valiant now stood firmly in a murky pool of blood.
God only knew how many people he had killed over the past few days to manifest such a nearly tangible, sinister aura. This could never have been forged through gentle, meticulous training; it could only be built on the threshold of life and death, piled high upon human lives!
Viscount Laiwen Chinston, having experienced the battlefield, knew this all too well.
Down on the stage.
On the other side of the dueling platform, already waiting upon the bright, pristine marble tiles, Viscount Bourne's son, Dean Bourne, narrowed his eyes slightly before snorting with contempt.
"Heh, are you some young noble lady? If you put on a skirt, you might actually look pretty."
Dean let out a pitying chuckle.
If an intimidating presence alone were enough, the Protos Royal Magic Academy would have opened its doors to Xiaya long ago. A fallen Tier 2 assassin could never stand against a warrior like him, who had undergone orthodox, formal training.
This was the insurmountable divide between formal pedigree and unorthodox tricks, born of a family's sheer strength and accumulated resources.
"..."
Xiaya stepped onto the stage with slow, deliberate steps. His lips were pressed into a flat line, and his eyes seemed to regard Dean as nothing more than a pig waiting to be butchered.
He paid Dean no heed, waiting silently like a well-trained soldier for the command to slaughter.
Dean's gaze also turned cold as he cracked his knuckles.
Although the rules of this duel forbade endangering an opponent's life...
If an "accident" were to happen, Viscount Chinston could hardly do anything to him.
Xiaya did not truly belong to the Chinston family anyway, and his father had already told him to strike to kill if needed, promising to settle the aftermath.
Xiaya, on the other hand, would never dare to deliver a lethal blow. If he so much as wounded Dean, Viscount Bourne would not let him leave in one piece today!
Only dozens of seconds remained before the duel would commence.
A cloud that had drifted overhead moved off with the wind, once again revealing the bright winter sunshine. Light and shadow climbed across the spectators' faces, and the crowd's voices and vitality returned.
They had no idea what had caused this transformation in Xiaya or what it truly signified.
Yet perhaps it was precisely this unexpected direction of growth that made the match all the more thrilling to watch!
High up in the VIP section, Lilith gazed down at the dueling stage in silence, her eyes locked firmly on Xiaya.
Not far away on the other side, Viscount Laiwen Chinston looked toward his daughter, then back at Xiaya. For some reason, a sharp pang of pain shot through the back of his head, reminding him of the news from the past two days—
Outside the city-state, numerous Spectre Party strongholds had been wiped out in a whirlwind offensive, their members brutally slaughtered as if to make an example of them.
Oddly enough, members at Tier 4 or above had almost all been felled in a single strike, whereas those below Tier 4 had met extraordinarily gruesome ends, so much so that it threw the Spectre Party into a panic.
Because of the excessive brutality and gore, several lords of the Snowfield Province had not dared to publicly report the details of what was technically good news before investigating the truth, fearing it would incite equal panic among the populace.
It couldn't... could it...?
Viscount Laiwen Chinston muttered to himself in his heart, the rising and falling murmurs of the townsfolk washing over his ears.
"Legend has it that the Candis family's most famous heirloom magic from the Empire's glory days was a psychokinetic spell blending Human Magic Script and Elven Magic Script. It projects the family head's mental image. Young Master Xiaya's mental image was an umbrella of protection. If it can awaken and transform into other weapons, that will be his chance at victory!"
"Right! That's how it always goes in storybooks! It's getting exciting! Even if he must temporarily fall into darkness, it's all to claim new power!"
Beneath the winter afternoon sun, the hour hand on the great clock was steadily nearing the hour.
Though Xiaya's presence carried an inexplicable eeriness, perhaps that was merely the style of presentation he had chosen.
After all, for the underdog in strength, offering the audience a more suspenseful and mysterious contest was undoubtedly far more captivating.
*Clang... clang.*
As the hands on the clock face pointed toward the heavens, the resonant chime rang out.
Each deep, rhythmic toll heralded the fierce clash about to unfold.
Amidst the lingering reverberations, the spectators' cheers and anticipation erupted into a boisterous roar.
When the final chime faded away, the contest commenced. The victor and the defeated, honor and regret—all would be decided in the moments to come!
At this moment, standing on opposite sides of the arena's center, Xiaya Candis and Dean Bourne faced one another. An unspeakable tension permeated the air.
It seemed as if the slightest movement from either would ignite a tempestuous battle.
"Duel—begin!"
The shout from the commander of the Chinston City knight order, acting as referee, shattered the brief stillness. With that command, the clash erupted instantly!
Contrary to all expectations of a hit-and-run skirmishing strategy, Xiaya completely discarded his role as an assassin. He opened with a direct, head-on charge like a ravenous beast, the white mist puffing from the corners of his mouth brimming with a deep, insatiable thirst for slaughter!
Facing him, Dean hesitated for a fraction of a second, surprised that Xiaya had delivered himself right to his doorstep. But his lips soon curved into a smirk. If an assassin of a lower tier dared to meet him, a warrior, head-on, it would save him a great deal of trouble.
In a flash, the clash of weapons erupted at the center of the stage, rippling outward in humming shockwaves. The vibration stirred the hair of spectators far back in the stands, prompting them to open their eyes wide in tense vigilance. The battle had ignited faster than anticipated, escalating wildly in an instant.
Driven by some primal force, both combatants locked into a merciless struggle!
For Dean, it felt like a brawl.
For Xiaya, it was pure butchery.
Xiaya, clearly inferior in strength and stamina, seemed utterly numb to pain. A manic grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he sought only to carve flesh from Dean's body, treating the fight not with the slightest hint of fear, but as sheer, unadulterated enjoyment!
Dean felt a chill run down his spine. Xiaya showed no regard whatsoever for the competition's rules; from the very beginning, his sole intent was to kill him!
Moreover, unlike Dean's petty, malicious intent, Xiaya's killing intent was a hundred times purer. He stood here born to fight, relentless until death.
"Don't get cocky!"
Dean could not help but roar. Gritting his teeth, he thrust his sword forward once more, infuriated that his momentum had been suppressed for even an instant.
He was clearly the stronger one; if they kept trading blows like this, Xiaya would be the first to fall.
This match proved far bloodier than the audience had ever imagined. Before long, the pristine marble floor was stained red with blood, turning into a mottled, gruesome mess. It was not a magnificent duel; it was horrifying.
This ruthless, death-defying style of fighting, defying rank and superior odds, felt like the very embodiment of the Demon King's Army's will.
Only those who had lived through the cruel Holy War of the past could bear such an unforgettable imprint.
"An ancient saying from the Demon Realm goes... 'Only by crossing the threshold of life and death can one become a true warrior of the Demon Realm'..."
"Could it be that the Demon King's Army's special slaughter units in those earlier recordings were just lacking a bit of madness...?"
Such voices began to surface in the stands.
Even if none could explain why they suddenly thought of the demon race at a moment like this.
Yet now.
Watching Xiaya's silhouette.
Memories buried beneath history and bloodlines began to awaken once more...
Chapter 317