Tarkhan stepped forward. His piercing eyes held command—and a hidden intent. Dual blades hung at his sides, each of his movements brimming with threat. The duel erupted with speed and brutality, blow for blow, a flurry of strikes and evasions. But in the end, Rogg's sword hovered at Tarkhan's neck.
"Stop," Rogg hissed, his eyes locked on his opponent's. "Surrender."
But Tarkhan did not waver. Thaldrim's command echoed in his mind. And just when everyone believed the fight was over, a sudden stab flashed—silent, cruel, and laced with poison. A hidden blade shot out from Tarkhan's sleeve, aimed at Rogg's side.
"Argh!"
The blade sliced into his arm, and blood began to seep out. Yet Rogg remained conscious enough to defend himself. With a primal reflex, he kicked Tarkhan square in the head—hard.
DUARR!
A thunderous crack rang out as Tarkhan's body was flung across the floor, landing grotesquely outside the arena. Some nearby knights even thought he had died on the spot.
"What?! Rogg just tried to kill a knight?!"
Murmurs exploded like a storm. The crowd was split. Some cried out in outrage, others shouted with fury.
"He was just defending himself!" someone yelled.
"No! That was clearly murder!" another snapped back.
Chaos swelled. At the honor podium, the Elders were stunned. Even Mother Zeeva couldn't remain seated. Her cloak billowed behind her as she stood and dashed out of the Grand Hall of the Elders, her face stricken with panic—the look of a mother on the verge of losing her son.
Meanwhile, Rogg stood unsteadily. His vision blurred. His breath came in shallow gasps. The wound on his arm darkened quickly.
Poison.
Tarkhan's blade had been coated with a vicious toxin.
A second later—
"Buuussshh!"
His body collapsed to the ground. No cry, no war-cry—only silence, and the thud of his fall echoed through the arena.
"ROGG!!" Yara screamed.
Mother Zeeva ran in, lifting the hem of her robe, bursting into the arena without care for protocol or honor.
Brigita, Nyx, Elandra, and Brando—who were near the arena—leapt in, shoving past the crowd, panic etched into their faces.
At the center of the arena, blood still dripped from Rogg's arm. And his body... lay motionless.
They all rushed to him. Rogg's body sprawled across the stone floor, blood spreading beneath him.
"This… This is Arthemorh Poison," Nyx gasped, his breath catching. "A lethal toxin used only by Master Sigido."
"What?! Don't touch him!" Brisena cried, eyes wide with fear.
"This poison is extremely dangerous! How did Tarkhan get his hands on it?" Elandra demanded.
"Rogg… Wake up, Rogg… Can you hear me?" Brisena whispered, her hands trembling as she shook her brother's body.
"Quick! Lift him! Get him out of the arena—now!" Brando barked, nearly shouting.
Several masters and grandmasters rushed over, checking Rogg's fading condition.
"Isn't this… the poison you developed, Sigido?" Veynor Lauxi asked, his gaze sharp as a dagger.
"What?!" Sigido froze, his face turning pale. "Yes, I created that poison for the elite Doliex force… But I—I had no idea it fell into Tarkhan's hands!"
"Is that so?" Veynor Lauxi took a step closer. "No one can obtain this poison without your approval. Don't you dare lie, Sigido!"
"Bring Tarkhan here immediately!" Sigido finally shouted. "We need to know how he got it!"
Footsteps pounded across the stone floor. Yara arrived with Mother Zeeva, cutting through the crowd. Brisena rushed to them, tears streaming down her face.
"Mother… What do we do? My brother… he…"
Panicked, Yara dropped to her knees beside Rogg. Her eyes scanned the wound, the darkening skin, the weakening breath.
"Mother! Don't touch anything!" Yara warned quickly.
With swift hands, she pulled out her equipment. Long, thin black needles were driven into precise pressure points on Rogg's body.
Her hands did not falter. Her movements were certain.
She had studied every known poison and its antidote. And now—in these critical minutes before Rogg's life faded entirely—Yara was fighting death itself.
Arthemorh Poison. A killer within seconds, spreading through blood, arresting the heart. But Rogg's extraordinary body... slowed its effects. Just barely—but enough.
Panic gripped the arena. For the first time in its history, the Knight's Arena was shaken by such a catastrophe.
"Where is he?!" Sigido roared, eyes blazing. "I will not forgive him!"
"Tarkhan is dead, sir," Mendrova replied firmly. "Killed by Azrakar."
The Elders rose from their seats, faces flushed with rage and disappointment.
"Sigido… You must answer for all of this," said Veynor Gauri, the High Elder.
Sigido could only bow his head, unable to meet anyone's eyes. He saluted in silence.
Rogg was immediately taken to the healing chambers at the knights' mansion in Lumindale, not far from the arena. Mother Zeeva, Yara, and Brisena accompanied him with a contingent of knights.
Veynor Gauri stepped to the center of the podium. His voice boomed across the arena.
"Everyone! Quiet! Listen closely! We will investigate everyone involved in this case!"
His eyes burned into Sigido and the other masters.
"Master Sigido will be interrogated and must solve this case immediately! This isn't just a failure—this is betrayal! A shameful disgrace! For me personally, for all of us, for the Doliex people!"
He raised his hand, his voice rising like thunder.
"From this day forward, I declare: Rogg will always be one of us! No matter what! Though we witnessed something appalling today, we will not run from the truth!"
His tone softened briefly, but carried weight:
"Rogg—our own flesh and blood. A true Doliex. No compensation or apology can match the life nearly lost today!"
Then his voice rose once more:
"We have forgotten who we are! The Doliex are not cowards! We are the Arkhavellian people who uphold justice and honor! A people of order and majesty! A people cloaked in mystery, yet rooted in wisdom!"
Silence.
And then, he declared:
"I hereby proclaim: The Champion of this year's Knight's Arena is—ROGG! The Vermithor Axe is rightfully his! Everyone involved in this conspiracy will be judged—and if found guilty, they will be executed! Today! This is an open trial!"
The Elders of Aeternum Vale nodded solemnly. Veynor Gauri descended from the podium and returned to the seat of honor.
"Very well, Elders," Belaris Velary declared firmly. "Within the next hour, we of the Veridhal Noctis will hold a public tribunal. We ask all Doliex citizens to remain calm and patient. Justice will be served!"
One by one, the masters were interrogated by Veridhal Noctis, the highest judicial authority of the Doliex people. Those who had once stood as head organizers, overseers—even judges—in the Knights' Arena, were now treated as suspects.
Tension filled the interrogation chamber.
Veridhal Noctis was not taking this lightly. They scrutinized every corner, every crevice of possibility. Nothing was overlooked—each detail examined to determine whether this was mere negligence... or betrayal.
And finally, after what felt like a century compressed into an hour, the tribunal commenced.
A public trial—witnessed by thousands of eyes: spectators, nobles, soldiers, and the young souls who had idolized the knights all their lives.
Meanwhile...
Brisena, Nyx, Elandra, and Brando walked back toward the arena. Their expressions had softened slightly, now that they knew Rogg could still be saved.
"Mother, come back to the arena," Yara said gently but firmly. "You need to hear the details of what happened… and how the trial will unfold."
But Mother Zeeva stared blankly into the distance. Her voice was soft, but it trembled the air.
"I… don't want to lose my son a second time, Yara. I won't. And I'm grateful… that my son has you as his wife. You saved his life today."
She exhaled deeply and lowered her head.
"When it comes to the trial… I don't want to be involved. Knowing too much would only drag my heart and mind back into the world of mortals."
Yara bowed her head, tears already streaming down her cheeks.
"Mother… I only pulled Rogg from the jaws of death. But it was your prayer… that called him back from it."
Yara's voice quivered.
"The Tharaxis healers have tended to Rogg. They've confirmed it—the poison… has now fused with his body."
Zeeva's eyes shot up, her breath caught. "What do you mean… fused?"
Yara met her gaze, trying to stay composed, but her voice could not hide the truth.
"Rogg… is now immune to the poison. But it came at a cost. That immunity… will shorten his life."
"What?!" Mother Zeeva gasped, covering her mouth, almost collapsing.
"How is that possible?! Didn't you remove the poison?!"
Yara grabbed her hand quickly. "I did, Mother. But only from his blood. Some of it… had already reached his heart, and worse—his brain. That… can't be neutralized completely."
Mother Zeeva stared in despair. "Yara… but… the poison was in him for only a short time. Just a little while…"
Yara shook her head. "Mother, I trained under the greatest healers of the Naavi tribe, the Rauh Metutu. I studied their ways, even learned to understand poisons from the deepest valleys... But this one…"
She paused, tears falling slowly from her eyes.
"This poison… is the deadliest I've ever seen. Deadlier than any poison of the Doliex. I've never encountered anything like it. But I'll fight it. I'll keep trying, Mother… as long as I can…"
Both women fell silent. No words remained. Only the sound of their quiet weeping echoed in the room—beside the still form of Rogg, caught between life and death.
After the public tribunal and an exhaustive investigation, the truth finally came to light. The Arthemorh poison that nearly claimed Rogg's life had been stolen by Thaldrim Covarthis—from the private vault of none other than Sigido Covarthis. This fact was reinforced by Azrakar's own confession: he had acted under Thaldrim's orders, meant to kill—or at least cripple—Rogg.
The reason? So Rogg would lose and no longer be protected by Doliex law, clearing the way for his immediate extradition to the Empire. Rogg, as it turned out, was part of a covert plan by the Whiteheaven Empire—used as a tool to subjugate the Doliex people and warn them not to interfere in Imperial affairs.
The revelation sent shockwaves through the entire arena. Knights trembled in fury. Spectators boiled with disbelief and betrayal. The tension in the air was unbearable.
Then, Veridhal Noctis—the supreme legal body of the Doliex—delivered their verdict loudly and clearly before the crowd:
Tarkhan, the primary perpetrator who had already perished, was erased from the Doliex lineage. He would be remembered only as a traitor, banished from their history.Azrakar would be exiled, his name stricken from the ancestral records, and his hand severed for killing the perpetrator and destroying critical evidence.Sigido Covarthis received a double sentence. For his failure to secure the Arthemorh poison, he was forever banned from handling poisons or lethal weapons. Additionally, for placing his loyalty to Thaldrim above the nation's interest, he was stripped of his title as Master and Elder Covarthis, and exiled as a commoner to the Zantheris Valley.Veynor Lauxi, Thalion Velary, and the other arena supervisors were demoted to ordinary instructors. They were banned from participating in arena affairs for the next five years.Mendrova Covarthis, one of Thaldrim's knights, was now assigned as the personal guardian of Rogg, the victor of the arena. He, along with all of Thaldrim's subordinates, was henceforth bound only to Rogg's command, as restitution for their conspiracy.Thaldrim was officially declared a traitor to the Doliex nation, and his position as Minister of the Doliex in the Whiteheaven Empire would be revoked immediately.The Knights' Arena would fall under the full control of Veridhal Noctis for the next two tournament cycles.
The moment the decision was announced, a hush fell over the arena. It marked a clear stance: barbaric acts on the sacred grounds of honor would never escape justice. The Knights' Arena was the heart of Doliex culture. Intrigue, intimidation—even alliances among knights—could still be tolerated within certain bounds. But murder? Poison?
That was a betrayal of every ounce of honor their people had forged over centuries.
Then, Veynor Grauri, leader of the High Elders, stepped into the center of the arena. His voice trembled—not with fear, but with fury held back:
"For hundreds of years, this arena has been part of our soul. From here, Doliex knights and assassins have been forged—becoming the deadliest warriors beyond our lands—yet they upheld our values, our code, and our greatness! We kill for duty, for honor, not for petty politics or filthy poison!
Today… I am ashamed! Our trust has been trampled. Our masters were negligent. Our elders were silent. All in the name of personal interest! But we are not a people that can be bought! So today, Thaldrim… is stripped of his title. He no longer represents us in the Empire!
And from this moment forward, our young knight Vuuxi will serve as our new Prime Minister in the Whiteheaven Empire. His deputy… shall be Brando Velary!"
"Wha—?! Me?" Brando shouted, eyes wide in disbelief as thousands stared.
"Congratulations, Brando," Nyx said with a smile.
"Congratulations, Brando," Elandra added warmly.
But Brisena clutched her cloak tightly, tears still streaming.
"Congratulations, Brando… But… I don't care about any of this. I just want to know… Will Rogg survive?" she whispered, her voice broken with grief.
A sealed letter was then dispatched directly to the Whiteheaven Empire. Inside, it held a full report of the events in the arena, the removal of Thaldrim, and the condition of Rogg.